IIARP ERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCLXXYJI.JUNE, 18 73,YOL. XLYII. CHEAP YACHTING. THE day of wooden and sailing vessels, for purposes of war arid commerce, has probably passed. Only twenty years ago, the boys of America, more especially those of the North Atlantic coast, used to read with pride, and repeat with enthusiasm, the exploits of Paul Jones, Decatur, Hull, and Perry, the heroes of our infant navy. We knew by heart the stories of the old Boa- homme Richard, the Constellation, the firing of the Philadelphia at Tripoli, the saucy En- terprise, the ill-fated Chesapeake, and the im- mortal Constitution. Of the merchant ma- rine we fondly cherished the ii amcs of those noble clippers, the Sovereign of the Seas, the Dreadnaupl# t, the Bed Jacket, arid a host of others, the fastest in the world, arid eagerly flocked to the wharves to gaze at them when they came to port. Cooper and Marryat werc our favorite authors in fiction. Midshipman Easy, The Pilot, and Danas Two Years before ti e Mast were our delight, and presented to the youngsters who longed to be afloat a fair picture of the sailors lot. But the romance is now all gone fros poor Jacks life. He is only an ill-paid; Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Harper and Brotherg, in the Office of the Libra nan of Con~ ess, at Washington. Voi. XLvJLNo. 277.i cheAp YAChTING sN IOJZZARI)5 BAYTENPES KNOBS IN TIlE nISTANCE. 2 overworked laborer. His old enemies land and water sharksstill survive; but the rollicking, generous, brave Yankee tar is disappearing. The next generation will only see of him the absurd caricature that appears on the stage, and will infer that the Ancient Mariner was, for the most part, a lunatic. The new era of machinery and iron will, no doubt, benefit commerce, and produce more highly educated and scientific officers; but the fireman and the stewards boy can no longer hope to carry out the venerable old rule, Go in through the hawse-hole to get to the cabin. To the seaman of the old school these steamers and iron - dads, without top-hamper or sails, are an abomi- nation and a curse. His occupation is gone, and he must vanish from off the face of the earth. None felt this more keenly than no- ble Farragut, who, from the time he first smelled powder on th~ Essex till his last cruise was done, ever loved a tapering mast and a swelling sail. The outlook for the future is not encour- aging. It has always been the policy of the United States, until now, to have in time of peace a small fleet, but a good one. We had few vessels, but they were the best of their kind. The frigates and sloops we sent to sea in the war of 1812 were larger, better manned, and more powerfully armed than any of their class in the British navy. Hence the glorious results. This policy was begun during the Revolution, and has only recently fallen into disuse. The Princeton, the Susquehanna, the Niagara, and the Merri- mac, with her sisters, were intended to be the most formidable men-of-war of their rates afloat. At the present time we have not a ship in the navy worth boasting of. Our mercantile marine, as we all know, is choking to death. Are the United States, then, to leave the ocean, and confess themselves an unman- timenation? This question has been happily answered by the spirit of individual enterprise. The bonor of the American flag has been main- tained by the New York Yacht Squadron. We still stand at the head of the world for speed, model, rig, and elegance of schooner yachts. The first decked vessel built within the old United States of which we have any account was constructed on the banks of the Hudson, during the summer of 1614, by Schipper Adrian Van Blok. This vessel Do Laet terms a yacht. In this yacht Blok passed through Hell Gate into the Sound, and steering eastward, discovered a small island, which he named after himself7~ go- ing as far as Cape Cod by the Vineyard pas- sage. * Coopers Naval History. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The two-masted, fore-and-aft rig was first adopted by the hardy Cape Cod mariners, and the schooner is essentially a Yankee craft. Neptune forbid that the long-worn garland of fir be plucked from the brows that so long have carried it! Whatsoever shall encourag~ the youth of the present day to love the sea, teach them to brave its fancied dangers, or arouse in them a desire to excel in the art of naviga- tion, must be of benefit to the whole country. To the New York squadron is due the credit of having, during the past twenty years, so largely increased the interest of Americans in yachting, that the victories of our pleasure craft have become matters of national concern. Our fleet schooners have raced across the Atlantic, gained cups in the British Channel, roamed among the West India Islands, and laid their bones on the reefs of the Mediterranean. Not content with this, their adventurous owners now plan voyages around the world, and long wanderings among the genial isles of the Pacific. The sport, however, is deemed so costly that of the many thousands who admire and long for it, only a few hundreds have found a way to compass their desires. Those who have neither a fortune nor the friendship of a yacht owner generally content themselves with reading exciting accounts of regattas and cruises in the newspapers, or listening to the stirring stories of luckier men. Many treat themselves to a steamboat excursion to a fishing-bank with a large and strange crowd. Some form clubs, charter a coaster, and crawl from port to port in the Sound and on the Eastern coast. All these plans have their charms, but want the essenti~al elements of a true yachtsmans enjoyment. He commands his vessel, and is responsible for her. He goes when he pleases, returns when he chooses, and changes his course whensoever he deems fit. To start with the wind, not knowing how far you will goto make a harbor only when the weather or your own caprice dictates, with no other will to conflict with yours, no surly or lazy skipper to obey, and no fellow-passengers equal rights to consultthis is true pleasure- sailing. Add to the above the study of winds and currents, buoys and beacons, ballast and trim, sail and helm, and anxiety about rocks, ledges, squalls, and fogs, and you have gen- uine yachting. Supreme command, ample time, an ob- serving mind, and a spice of danger, ar~ requisites of an entirely happy cruise. The Sappho, Dauntless, Magic, and others of the class that have made our national reputation, doubtless cost their owners from twenty to fifty thousand dollars a year. This enormous expense is within the means of so few that the mass of the community think pleasure-sailing a pastime only accessible to CHEAP YACHTING. 3 the very richest. Yet any man of moderate fortune may keep his yacht in summer for a trifling sum, provided he has an ardent love of salt-water, a cool head, and a steady hand. It was my fortune to land in England in 1851, just after the America had beaten her fleet of British rivals, and to behold the as- tonishment of the English at so unexpected an event. John Bull was fair-minded, how- ever, and gave unstiuted praise and hearty congratulations to the Yankees. Probably many an American dates from that victory the beginning of an intense eagerness to ex- cel in all water sports. The summer of 1870 found the writer, blessed with plenty of leisure, iu the fair city of New Bedford, at the mouth of Buz- zards Bay, on the southern coast of Massa- chusetts. This old whaling port is too well known to need description. The inhabit- ants and visitors who carefully explore the harbor and neighborhood declare its attrac- tions superior to those of Newport. I there made an attempt to solve the prob- lem of cheap yachting, urged by reasons that usually impel men to do things cheaply. I could not afford any great expense, and I was determined to have a cruise. Previons experience on fishing and sailing parties had shown that no mere passenger can ever learn to manage a sail-boat except in very light breezes. If there is a skipper, he always takes the tiller as soon as any skill is re- quired. If amateur sailors are all the crew, they are constantly meddling, advising, and disconcerting, unless some one is facile princeps. I therefore determined to be captain of my boat. As it must necessarily be small, only one companion conid well be taken along. But as a green hand might become timorous, and I should be held re- sponsible for his safety, and as an old hand would laugh at blunders, or mutiny in case of danger, I decided to go alone. A voyage of this kind, however, must not be undertaken without careful stndy and preparation. A rash start may result in speedy disaster, and cool ones courage for the future. I first made many trips about the harbor in a row-boat, fixing bearings and buoys in my memory, exploring all shallows and rocks, and shaping out in my minds eye the whole basin where two feet of water remained at all tides. Careful at- tention was given to the prevailing winds, to places where flaws from the land might be dangerous, to signs of fog, and the run of the tides. Nor were the best fishing- grounds for tautog and scup neglected. The impetuous blue-fish, too, was courted, but without success. The next step was to go out sailing with a skipper, watch his movements, analyze the manmuvres of jibing, huffing, running off and on the wind, and learn the proper way of reefing, anchoring, and shooting into the wharf. After a week or two of mental training like this, of pulling a heavy row- boat fifteen or twenty miles a day, and ruz sArPuo. 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. swimming in rough water, a man is ready for any adventure. The outfit for the voyage was then fixed upon with studious care. Old army experi- ence was here a great help. The same rule was adopted as when starting upon a march. First gather together all you think you want. It will be an unwieldy mass. Throw out every thing you can possibly dispense with, then something more. Now add one luxury that you are sure will console you for the want of useful articles discarded. You are then equipped for hard work and calm enjoyment. Here are the articles of prime necessity: the oldest and thickest suit of clothes you possess, and a few changes of under-cloth- ing, ancient army woolen and India rubber blankets, a great-coat, and a Coast Survey chartall in a tight valise or canvas bag; a few pounds of hard-tack and boiled meat in a box, and a gallon of water. Let the last be carried in a large wooden keg, with a small nozzle and stout handle, and only half full. Haply this keg shall, prove a life-pre- server in case of capsize. It is on record that a Sandwich Island woman once swam twenty-eight miles to the shore from a foun- dered vessel with only the help of a ships bucket. The luxury I chose was a set of fishing implements, selected with care at a first- rate dealers. A well-balanced bamboo rod, a multiplying reel, two hundred yards of linen bass-line, with a small box of swivels, hooks, spoons, and such gear, are enough to insure delightful sport. You may, if you choose, add a few hand-lines and bait for still fishing. lie loves not the sea who neg- lects the anglers art. The boat was picked out long before, and several trial trips made in her. Fifteen ieet in length, broad of beam, cat -rigged, of eighteen inches draught, decked over for- ward, with a roomy cockpit, she promised to be buoyant, stiff, and quite fast enough to suit a beginner. With a stout kedge and line, a pair of oars to make ash breezes with, baggage and stores stowed carefully, the tiny yacht hoists her sail at noon of a bright August day, and hugging closely a light southwest air, gently glides from the wharf. Where are you hound ~ is asked. I dont know. When are you coming hack ~ I dont know, is again the answer. Slowly crawling under the lee of the New Bedford shore, past Palmers Island, where, by-the-way, a gem of a hotel might be built, we make for mid-channel, my yacht and I. The ripple under the how becomes a streak of foam, soft rocking changes to quick nod- dijig to the choppy waves, and we are soon at the mouth of the harbor. On the right is Clarks Point, with its famous shell road, and the stout little gran- ite fort at the southern end., It was here the British landed during the Revolution, and marching toward the town, surprised an ancestress of mine, fleeing from her house with the most valuable piece of property she MAP OF I3UZZARD8 BAY. V CHEAP YACHTING. 5 could think of in the emergencya pair of bellows! Beyond are Apponegansett, Dumpling Rock, with light-keeper, famous for chow- der, and the line of coast stretching wester- ly toward Westport, Rhode Island. South- ward lie the Elizabeth Islands, light blue in the distance. On the left is dingy Black Rock, sterile West Island, and a low shore, gradually rising hazily in the direction of the upper bay. The southwest breeze is coming straight from the open sea, and shapes our course; so, slacking the sheet, we bound gayly before it up the bay. Before proceeding farther I will devote some space to the most important prelimi- nary of successful water voyaging. In order to fully enjoy the land and sea about us, and even for safetys sake, we must first learn how to handle a boat skillfully. Once out in the middle of the bay, I began to realize how different theory is from prac- tice. With all my previous observation and attention to detail, I soon found myself at fault. A heavy sea was rolling in, the wind was rising rapidly, and the boat rushed over the tops of the waves with startling speed, pitching into the trough beyond as if she intended diving to the bottom. In all my experience hitherto there had been an extra man to take in sail, bnt now I had to stay by the tiller, and the halliards were made fast forward. If the rudder were left for a moment, we should broach to and capsize, and there would be nothing but the water- butt to continne the cruise with. I did, in- deed, try coming up to the wind for a second or two, and was so near going over that I once for all learned the folly of that manosu- vre. There was nothing for it, apparently, but to keep straight on or get the sail down. Waiting for a lull, I sprang to the halliards, let them go, and got back just in time to save a catastrophe. But, alas! I had for- gotten a very important precaution. I had not overhauled my running riggiug. The rope was old and spliced, and would not run through the blocks. The sail still kept up, and pulled like a runaway horse. Here was a dilemmaa choice betweeu rolling over aud turning a somersault. Vainly I yawed the boat and jerked the sheet; the obstinate canvas would not take an inch. The situa- tion was getting serious, and desperate meas- ures became necessary. Lashing the tiller hard a-starboard, I made a frantic rush for- ward, and threw my whole weight upon the bolt-rope. I thought it would never give, but just as the boat jibed and the boom got inboard, down caine the sail, and we lay like a log upon the water. Thankful for safety, and glad not to have any witnesses of my blunder, I took the lesson to heart. There- after all my running rigging was made fast to after-cleats, and kept free. I afterward asked a well-known and experienced boat owner and fisherman of those waters, with a view to getting instructions cor future use, what he would have done if he had gol caught in such a scrape. I wouldnt a got caught in it, said he, with vast disdain; and not a word more did I get ont of the trusty but somewhat crusty skipper. If the art of sailing, like that of war, is best learned from our own mistakes, I must have pretty effectually mastered it during the summer. Going before the wind is easy enough, if you mind the helm well; but the knack of getting full speed while running close to the wind, without making too much leeway, is only acquired by long practice and close attention. There is no more pleasing sight than to watch a thorough seaman beat- ing against a head-wind, and there is nothing more absurd than a novices effort to do the like. At first I spent hours in doing what afterward took only half hours. I jibed ship when I hadnt the slightest intention so to do, much to my astonishment and dismay. There is something thrilling in the first jibe. It is no joke. You find the boom coming in- board as gently as a feather, and before you have had time to wonder why it does so it springs over the other side like a catapult, hitting your head, perhaps taking a turn of the sheet about your legs, and leaving you thankful you are not pitched overboard. On starting from a wharf it is not advis- ableto turn round and wave adieux to your friends, or you may do as I did once, and run into another boat moored close by. The skipper said nothing, probably because there were ladies present, but his face was sad and his look was unkind, and until I had round- ed the point I felt uncomfortable and sheep- ish, for until then I could see him standing upon the wharf, leaning against a post, with an expres~aion on his countenance of mingled contempt for my awkwardness and pity for the inevitable drowning that must soon over- take me. It is well not to anchor on the fiats, at high tide, for a nap. You may find yourself high and dry for hours after you awake. To tack gracefully is most essential to pro- ficiency in navigation, and one goes through a series of most provoking failures before ac- quiring this accomplishment. To miss stays and have to scull round into the wind with canvas flapping and boom swinging furious- ly is highlymortifying, especially before com- pany. The beginner, however, will have to endure it many times before he finally learns to get the sails properly full, to put the helm down gradually, and to keep off judiciously when fairly around. To avoid cohlision,with the least possible deviation from ones course, is still harder. At first I used to be disturbed by vessels that were miles away, and would run away in the most undignified manner from any thing near by, whether I had the right of way or no. Once I threw the an~ 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. merrily up the bay. That big black buoy you see so far out from shore marks the end of a reef stretch- ing out from West Island. Larger craft have to go outside. We will run over without a care. Look down and you will see the big rocks all about us. Yon- der, on our port bow, is a spindle, the sign of a lone rock, and beyond is Matta- poisett light-house, with the town. Do you not like these Indiannames? The coast throngs with them, such as Catan- mut, Potomska, Co- hasset, Wamsutta Acushnet, Agawam. Round about us you see many skiffs at anchor, fishing for tautog, sea bass, and scup. We shall try for nobler game by- and-by. You notice thatthe breeze is strengthen- ing. It is the preva- lent air hereabouts in summer, and almost always freshens in the afternoon. It chor overboard without making the cable comes cool from the ocean, and makes the fast to the boat. climate of this region delightful in summer. Such are some of the trials I went through That light-house ahead is on Bird Island, before I felt entirely at ease in my boat. and stands guard at the entrance to the up- Many days and more than one cruise were per bay. We are now near Marion Harbor, needed to accomplish this result. Boat sail- and will anchor off the point to fish a while. ing is an art that no amount of reading, If you wish to catch tautog, let your sinker theoretical instruction, or observation can lie on the bottom, and dont pull the line teach. Every man must learn it for himself, until the fish runs away ew ith the hook. For by practice, in good weather and bad, by scup keep your bait off bottom, and jerk day and by night. Once acquired, it is the lively at the bite. They do not afford much source of healthful recreation and most ex- sport, but are delicious eating. Now that quisite pleasure. we have a mess, we will make a port at Ma- Now, gentle reader, if you are not weary non, which lies at the head of the pictur- of the preliminary disquisition, pray give esque cove ahead. The inhabitants foolish- me your company to the pleasantest cruis- ly changed the name of their town from ing-grounds in all America. Let the squad- Sippican a few years ago. They are, nev- rons of big yachts show their speed and prove ertheless, a kind and hospitable people. We their strength in waters of deeper blue: we can get our fish cooked and find good beds will creep along the shores that entranced at a farmers house for a trifle, or go to the the Norsemen centuries ago. No inlet shall Bay View House, a cottage-like hotel, which be too shallow for us, no harbor too narrow, is fastbecominga summerresortforoppidans. no island too small to laud upon. We will You are badly sunburned and cramped be joyous explorers by sea and shore. by sitting so long in the boat, but you will Turning the head of our yacht to the soon get used to it. northeast from New Bedford Harbor, we bowl Dawn of the next day finds us creeping / TilE SKIPPER OF MARION. CHEAP YACHTING. 7 slowly toward the - mouth of the land- locked harbor, and past the exquisitely picturesque little isi and which guards its mouth, with a light air from the north- east, which dies away and leaves us be- calmed for a few hours. We improve this opportuaity for a swim. The water is delightfully warm, aud you may stay in as long as you like without chill or lan- guor. The usual south- west breeze now lightly blows. It will last all clay, so we will run out into SOME FISH. the bay and try our luck with the blue- middle of the school, and the new spoon fish. The fishermen about here use hand- works bravely. Will you try your luck, my lines and eel-skin drails, as they call their friend? Let the rod lie easily across your trolls. They get more fish, but have none left arm, and keep your thumb on the baud of the fun of playing them. I shall try my to check the line. Now you have him hooked. new spoon-hook. To joint the rod, attach Dont give him any slack, nor be too eager the reel, and have fifty yards of hue out is to reel in. Take time, but make him feel the work of a momeut. Steering close to the the spring of the rod. See! theres another wind, I easily regulate oar speed, and await one trying to get the spoon away from the the sport with tiller iu one hand and rod in first. They say about here that if the blue- the other. Suddenly down goes the point fish jumps up and shakes his head at you, it of the rod, and out flies the line. Ha! hes means that he is not coming aboard. He hooked; he breaks water; a six-pounder at certainly has a queer knack of getting rid least! He tugs viciously; he runs deep; he of the hook. When you hear your spoon leaps frantic~ hly into the air. It is worth a jingle you may bid good-by to the fish. weeks journey just to play that fish. Slow- The epicure tells us to bleed and draw the ly the winding reel draws him to the side. blue-fish at om!e, and to cook and eat him as Beware of his last flurry near the boat. He soon thereafter as we can. We accordingly g~ts a little line while I haul in the slack of land on Bird Island, where the cheery light- the sheet, but at last is safely brought to keeper, always glad to see strangers, gives gaff. Look out for his teetb: he can bite us a broil such us no city table can boast. like a mad dog. Hurrah! we are in the The island is separated from the main- asan ISLAND LICIIT, ~UZZANnS BAY. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. land by a shallow strait, with a reef of rocks stretching almost across. I ran through there once in a gale of wind, with a line of breakers from shore to shore. I got into Marion Harbor, drenched and exhausted, with my boat half full of water, and have wondered ever since why I wasnt dashed to pieces. It was fiercely exciting, and my life was insured, but I wouldnt try it again. As the sun begins to sink we hoist sail for Great Hill, which looms up almost grandly five miles ahead. On a point at its foot stands the Marion House, a prpaninent build- ing, standing in bold relief against the hill. With broad piazzas on three sides, an(l long windows, all overlooking the water, the building serves as a landmark for all the adjacent waters. No better base of opera- tions can be chosen by those who wish to explore the upper bay. Before sunset we will climb Great Hill. Though not much to brag of as a hill, it looks down quite proudly on the fiat coun- try hereabout. The view from the top is charming. Far to the eastward stretches the capeCape Codso dear to the heart of the Yankee, low and sandy, dotted with vil- lages. You can trace the windings of a score of inlets, each with its little clump of masts. Southeastward lies Falmouth, a fa- vorite trouting resort of Webster, who loved the cape best of all the earth, and was as happy as a boy when he could go on a trip like ours. That smoke at the northeast is from the foundry at Agawam. It is one of the oldest in the country, and cast guns for our forefathers in the Revolutionary war. But the sun has gone down, and so must we. You may, if you choose, pass the aught at the hotel. I long to sleep in the open air again: It will bring to memory the happy army days of 15611865. I scud up time neighboring creek to a land-locked basin, anchor nuder the lee of a beautiful grove, an(l roll up in the faithful blankets that first did service in Virginia. The sighing of the wind through the trees, the gentle ripple of the tide, hell me. I take a last look at flue stars, and sleep like a tired soldier once more Canopied by thc blue sky, So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful That God alone was to be seen in heaven. In the morning we run up to Wareham, fa- muons for its oysters, a quiet town, but full of industry, and a heavy importer of coal. Here we will go ashore for a day, and I will take you to some fresh-water ponds in tile neighborhood, where black bass and pick- erel abound. First we will visit the State fish-hatching establishment in Agawam. A drive of four miles brings us to a small, low, wooden building, in a wild nook, spanning a narrow brook. Therein we may watch the life of a trout from the time he leaves the egg till he is a foot long, aud able to take care of himself. The youug fry are kept in shallow porcelain boxes, arra;ugcd in descending rows, each box overflowing into another, a little below. As they grow time fish are transferred to protected pools and branches of the stream, the different sizes being kept apart, as nothing is so fond of trout diet as the trout itself. Under time floor of tIme house is the basimi for large fish. Take up a plank and give tlmem some miii- TONG Plan, MAITTIIAS vINEYARD. nows. They are tame as kittens, and leap at niiy thing you offer, be it yonr hand or your nose. Many have little numbere silver tags fastened in their backs. These are taken out every season and weighed, to measnre their growth. Some of theni have been to sea to exhibit their ornaments, and come back to the 01(1 home. From here we turn off into a by-road, not wide enough for two teams abreast, and make our way through the Plymouth woods, low stunted growths of oak and pine, very like the Virginia Wilderness, to a pond whose name we will not reveal. Is it not a gem ~ It is as nature made it. Not a sign of man s presence offends tbe eye. How clear and pure the water is! how fresh and bright the foliage! Long before the Pilgrhns landed it was as it is now. From yonder wooded blnff Massasoit has doubtless watched for game, and on this sandy beach the deer still slake their thirst at eve. Five years ago these waters were secretly stocked with black bass, which have thrived and increased prodigiously. The guide draws from a hiding-place in the bushes a light row-boat, and pulls slowly along the shore, while we get the tackle ready. Bend on two single gut leaders, one hook baited with a gaudy fly, the other with a live mummy-chog. There! what a rush that fel- low made! Hes fast to the minnow. Did you ever see a fish leap so high lfour feet, at least, into the air. Gently; give him the butt. Look out! You have another on 9 CHEAP YACHTING. the fly. He pulls his comrade quite out of water when he jumps. They often break water four times before they tire. What game beauties they are! Reel in steadily. Now I have theni both in the landing-net. Both together do not weigh more than seven pounds. This powerful fish comes from the North- ern lakes, and is so greedy of fight as well as of food that the ferocious muskallonge and pike are unable to conquer him. Common pickerel keep out of his way, and no trout can live in his neighborhood. We might spend a week in this region, whipping the streams for trout and paddling about the numerous ponds. To-night we will stay at a farm-house, and in the morn- ing drop down the channel to the bay again. On the left, as we glide out from Warehamn River, is a high bluff, called Tempes Knob. Along the base is a favorite ground fer blue- fishing and sailing parties. In the calm moonlight nights of summer here you will see dozens of row-boats, loaded with merry parties, awakin~ the echoes with music and laughter. Our next port is Cohasset Narrows. The bay here dwindles into a narrow and tortu- ous river up to the railroad cro~sing, and then spre ds out into a broad sheet, called Buttermilk Bay. Then come Gibbss Nar- rows, and another shallow flat, which is the head of the bay. It is best to get in early. I once tried to run in here after dark. The weather was BIASCONSET. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. cloudy, with squalls from the southeast. At __ times the moon would shine out brightly, hut for the most part the night was as dark was carried on as a pocket. I explored inlet after inlet in hy sniall craft vain till after two oclock, and then anchor- creeping down ed under the lee of a hank and turned in, hut the coast to was awakened by a visitor from the shore, Sandwich tran- V who fancied I might be an oyster-thief. He shipping their was qnite amused at the idea of my being loads to Monument, and continuing the pas- out on a pleasure excnrsion, and evidently sage in the same tedious way along Long Isi- thought me a innatic after his theory about and Sound. Passengers were often weeks the oysters had been upset. on the way. From the wharf at Gibbss Narrows, and We will now take advantage of the north- froni the bridge at Cohasset, large numbers east breeze and make a long stretch to of striped bass are caught. At the latter Woods Hole, a strait between the main-land place enthusiastic anglers may be found from and Nashawn, taking care to reach it while May to October. The tide runs between the the tide is flowing out, or we should not be piers like a mill-race. In the September gale able to stem the current. It runs so fast of 1869 the solid stone piers were swept away, that the large channel buoys are almost sub- and the old bridge destroyed. The elevation merged. We whisk by the ledge with alarm- of the roadway gives a fine chance to strike ing speed, and passing by the harbor, shoot and play the fish. They are generally small, into a lovely basin, hedged in by bluffs but an occasional twenty or thirty pounder crowned with tasteful summer-houses. 1-lere gives zest to a whole season. A club from we take leave of the continent for a while. Boston has a house near by. As the wind is fair, let us run across to the A mile away to the southward are the camp ground on Marthas Vineyard. What village and river called Monument. As there a wonderful collection of tiny houses strewii is no structure in the vicinity bearing any about helter-skelter, like toys forgotten by resemblance to a monument, the name is children! Poor and rich flock here froni all probably a corruption of the Indian Monmi- parts of the country to get a day, a week, or met. A ship-canal from tbis point to Cape a month of sea-air and bathing, according Cod Bay has been talked of these fifty years. to the length of their purses. You m~iy The United States government has agreed, peer into tents that have done duty in the it is said, to build a breakwater and pier at Army of the Potomac, and find the familiar the northern outlet. State aid has been in- contrivances of the old soldier brightly be- yoked, and surveys been made, but there are decked by the tasteful handiwork of his wife. no signs that the project will ever be real- You may gaze boldly into the open doors of ized. The canal would save coasters a voy- the most aristocratic homes without giving age around Cape Cod, and much danger in offense. it is said that in the crowded sea- winter, but capital does not seem to have son as many as forty thousand people dwell enough faith in the profits of the scheme to in these cottages by the sea. subscribe for the stock. I fear the hest days of this w~ teriug-place During the war of 1812 a large part of the are gone. Simplicity is fast disappearing. commerce between New York and Boston Tall, pretentious, and g~ udy structures are K iii.- _________ LICnT-nousz, SANKATY HEAl), NANTUCKET. 11 CHEAP YACHTING. going up as dwellings and hotels that will ere long take away from the camp-meeting the great charms of lowliness and humility. If it should once become fashionable, its doom is sealed. We must not leave the Vineyard without a look at Edgarton, a quaint old fishing and whaling town. On a long pier that stretch- es out into the sea the fishermen bold and lasses bright make their evening promenade, in the proportion of about ten of the latter to one of the former. Let us now put our boat in charge of a wharfinger, and make a trip by steanier to Nantucket. It will take only a day. The town and harbor have a decrepit and decay- ing aspect. In former times large ships came in over the bar, and here were the head-quarters of the whalers till New Bed- ford. grew up. No visitor should neglect the drive to Siasconset, a miniature village of low one-story cottages in the southeastern corner of the island. Perched on a bluff that the broad Atlantic is constantly washing away, street after street has been swallowed up by the sea. You may see a house with its back-yard half gone, another overhang- lug the cliff, and still another moving inland to a safer resting-place. At Sankaty Head, farther north, is a tall light-house, and the huts of two hermits ancient mariners, tired. of the world, bat still fond of old oceanwaiting their sum- mons to go aloft. Though living near to- gether, they do not affiliate. Indeed, I am told that each one looks at the other as a disreputable fellow and no genuine hermit, thus showing that seclusion and self-con- templation do not always beget humility. The one is, or rather wasfor he is since deadan Englishman, whose history was unknown to the natives-a converted and repentant pirate, some called him. The oth- er is a Nantucketer horn, driven from the busy marts of commerce and the vortex of society on the other side of the island by a difference of opinion with his spouse. An inspection of their huts shows a marked contrast. One is neat and light, with a small vegetable garden. I found on the rUE aaauir or QuinNEr. 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. rear of the town, is the strangers grave-yard, only too full of un- known sailors, found drowned. We must not fail to read -. the History of Nantucket, written by a Quaker named Macy. The Quakers, being in great majority, de- clared the island independent and neutral during the Revolution, and were heartily cursed by the Continentals for cowardice and trading with the enemy. A British heats crew, however, having helped them- selves too freely to provisions without pay- ing, were served with a copy of resolutions of a town meeting, to the effect that the Friends would, in all love, lay hands upon them and thrust them forth, if these depre- wall an old cut from Harpers Weekly, pie- dations were not stopped. turing a skirmish in which your humble I also read somewhere that in the war servant was wounded. The mention of this of 1812 the famous Yankee privateer Prince fact, and pointing out the most prominent of Neuchatel fought several British men-of- figure as my own, excited some interest in war off the south coast, and that the inhab- the old recluse; but his talk was mainly of itants all fled from that part of the island, fifty year agone. The other is an old en- in horror at the shedding of blood, and the riosity-shop, crammed with odds and ends ruthless deeds of men of wrath, putting of all sortsa fit den for Quilp, within; their fingers to their ears to keep out the without, it is dingy and weather-beaten, and angry sound of the cannon. An old lady, surrounded by trophies of whales vertebra~ however, who was present at the action, as- hung up on poles. The southern coast of sures me that the latter statement is utter- Nantucket makes many wrecks in the course ly incorrect, and that the shore was crowded of the year, and a melancholy sight, at the with people, who watched the combat to the CAY READ, nARTLIAs vinErAsa. CHEAP YACHTING. 13 end complacently, and rejoiced at the final escape of the bold privateer. During the rebellion Nantucket furnished hundreds of men to the army and navy, who did their duty nobly, and the island is now truly loyal. The Isles of Shoals, off the coast of New Hampshire, are now the only portion of our territory in open secession. From Edgarton we start in time to catch the tide on its westward flow through the Sound. A host of coasting schooners, and mayhap a large yacht or two, hear us com- pany. The breeze is just light enough for our little boat, and we make good time past Nashawn, ~vhosu well-wooded hills bjd fair to show us, before many years, a picture of the Elizabeth Islands as they first appeared to the Scandinavian explorer, green with lofty trees to the waters edge. On barren Pasqui, yonder, is a club-house, where, weary of the citys din, many a New Yorker revels in idleness, salt air, and bass- fishing. The tide is turning, so we will pass through Q nicks Hole, and make a harbor for the night on the north side ofNashawenna. This island, of soft Indian name, is a great sbeep pasture, and is fast regaining the forests so im~)rovidently cut down by the first settlers. In an old farni-house of the last century we find the hospitable owners son deep in ag- ricultural lore, but ready to give us a shot at the birds, a pull at the fish, or accompany us on a tramp over the hills. From the highest summit we get a view of Gay head, the western point of the Vine- yard, gay indeed with many brilliant col- ors in the light of the setting sun, the mighty Atlantic, now calmly slumbering, all Buzzards Bay sapphire blue, and the extreme islands of this chain, sandy Cutty- hunk and Piniquese. On a lower ridge, amidst the tall grass, we discover a group of mounds, with head- stones so weather-worn that sacred to the memory of men who (lied a hundred years before we were born can scarcely be de- ciphered. All these islands were thickly peopled in the seventeenth century, and the township of Goswold was of no small importance; but now Cuttyhunk is per- haps the only one that can boast of any na- tives. How delightful is the nights rest in this ancient honmestead! The wind whistles cool and shrill about the eaves; a wood fire gives a welcome glow; drowsiness creeps on apace. By the going down of the sun and the rising up of the same our sonorous slumbers are measured. This morning we will try our luck for striped bass. This is the best ground for them in the country, but it was never my luck to catch a big one, so I can not tell you how it feels. Small ones behave very like a blue-fish. It must be the best of sport to play a sixty-pounder for an hour or so, as the gentlemen of the neighboring clubs fre- quently do, with line and hook and rod that JILUE-rIsluNe. / ~-~--~ 7/ 14 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. you know lie can break at ny moment but for your skill and patience. But the heaviest fish ever taken with rod and reel ,I fancy, is the shark. A noted fish- erman of the other side of the bay accom- plishes this feat by using a wire leader and strong hook, with plenty of menhaden bait. The shark having gobbled the savory mor- sel in shoal water, is stealthily approached and pierced with a lance. As he does not ran far, and is easily allured by more food, the process is repeated till he dies. He is a sluggish fish, and never meddles with man- kind in these waters; but his death always gives pleasure to the sailor, especially if the latter has seen his voracious brother of the tropical seas. It is no small exploit to cap- tnre him with snch slender tackle. Who knows but we shall kill whales by trolling a squid from the mast-head, with a dummy engine to turn the reel and a small howitzer to drive the lance? The steam-whalers of the Arctic Ocean do almost as ninch already. Our coarse is now for the main-land again. We might go westward to Secounet River, and spend a week in Narraganset Bay, bnt Newport, Fall River, or Providence is a bet- ter base of operations for that cruise. We will run into Westport, a perfect gem of a harbor for small craft. The narrow en-. trance is guarded by a high rock, and flank- ed by Horse Neck Beach, hard and wide, a favorite resort for driving and picnics for all the dwellers hereabont. A neat hotel and cottages show the popularity of the spot in summer. Last year the members of a Sun- day-school from a town near by camped out here on a Monday, intending to bait the stand at the foot of the rock for a week be- fore casting a line. Alas! on Sunday morn- ing an irreverent fisherman from New Bed- ford, counting on their scruples on the sa- cred day, took possession of the ground in a boat, and drew ont an enormous load of mighty bass. In vain the party exposta- lated and implored. The arm of the law did not reach so far, and they dared offer no violence. But while we are listening to this story, what is that portentous sonnd, growing niore and more distinct and piercing as the shadows fall? The birds of prey, fiercest of their kind, the great American mosqui- toes, are npon us, avenging the fish, their brothers of watery cradle. 0 for a few lines of Homer to describe the rush of wings, the shrill cries, the heavy swoop of tireless squadrons to the charge! Sode a destro uno sqaillo di tromba A sinistro risponde uno squiBb.... Ecco appare un drappello schierato; Ecco an altro OLi) WhALER, NEW REDFORD. N ____ THE MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. 15 The plain English Confound it, we must get ou.t from here !is, however, best. In killick ! Up with the mainsail ! Pull with a will ! and we eagerly shoot out into the dark, the deep, the much-resounding ah! best of all, the mosquitoless, sea. Good reader, why have I till now omitted to mention this direful part of the story? Why did I put you to bed comfortably in farm-houses and sleep out alone by myself? Why have I artfully provided you with pkas- ant weather, fair winds, and good meals on shore hitherto? It was for fear you might be discouraged by foul weather or coarse fare, and give up a crnise that was delight- ing you. But nowtheres no help for it you must rough it a little. Besides, as you seemed to enjoy each step forward so much, I wish you to be equally glad to get home again. So we will spend the night awake, under short sail, groping about in the dark. The fog shall dim the friendly lights and hide the line of coast. A drizzly rain from the east shall wet us to the skin and chill us to the marrow. We shall peer into the gloom in vain, seeking for our bear- ings, anxiously looking out for breakers. We shall sound with the oar, and find no bottom. The next instant we shall bump ou a rock, and dismally congratulate ourselves we are not wrecked. With every nerve tense and our hearts in our mouths, we shall pass the weary hours till dawn. Aud now that morning has come, the fog has lifted, and the sun come out, as a balmy breeze wafts us up New Bedford Harbor again, even while we hungrily munch our hard-tack andtear our stringybeef, washing them down with stale water, confess that all is fun, the hard as well as the easy part of our adven- ture. Own np that last nights fatigue and danger and sleeplessness have given a zest to our trip that you would not have missed if you could. Finally, as you step, sun - browned and hardy, from the little boat that has carried us so far and so safely, into the hot wilting air of the city, pray tell me, will you try it again next year? I never was on the dull, tame shore # But I loved the great sea more and more. A cruise such as I have tried to picture is not always to be expected; nor should it be attempted without a fair knowledge of boat- sailing and a very accurate knowledge of the coast. It is, in fact, a rdsum6 of a num- ber of trips I have made in the months of July and August. But it is as feasible as delightful to all who will take proper pre- cautions, and in midsummer need take no longer than a week or ten days. The cost need be no greater than that of board at ordinary, unfashionable watering- places. Stout boats, of sufficient size for two men, may be hired for five or ten dollars a week. Good food and comfortable shelter are easily found for as much more, and there is little need of greater expense, except for luxuries. From the above scale of prices to that of the highest class of yachts are many steps, yet it is probable that the greatest enjoyment is to be found in the two extremes. In the one there are magnificent appointments, lux- urious tables, gay company, and elegant dis- play. In the other are healthful exercise, wholesome fare, silent contemplation, and hardy adventure. In the first are ease for the body and excitement for the mind. In the second, labor for the muscles and food for thought are ever present. In both, the highest degrees of pleasure and instruction may be attained. All forms of yachting, from the proudest to the humblest, soften the hard~st hearts, and give rise in the soul of the true lover of nature to feelings of gratitude and devout worship toward the Giver of all mercies. TI-lB MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. FRANCIS RAWDON HASTINGS, better known in our Revolutionary history as Lord Rawdon, was a son of the Earl of Moira. Born in England and educated at Oxford, he became, in his later years, a dis- tinguished subject of the British realm, whom the government was pleased to hon- or with important offices and additional titles. Young Hastings entered the royal army at the age of seventeen years as an ensign in the Sixty-third regiment of foot-soldiers. In the year 1773, when the fires of our Rev- olutionary war were rapidly kindling, he accompanied that regiment to America, and was stationed a while in Castle William, which guarded the entrance to Boston Har- bor. He entered the city of Boston- under the command of General Gage, when that officer was there in 1774, charged with the grave duty of closing the port of that offend- ing city to commerce of every kind, by or- ders of the British ministry. Boston was then an offending city because its inhabitants, led by pastors and patriots, acted in consonance with their convictions that rebellion against tyranny was obedi- ence to God. It was specially an offending city because its port had been made an enor- mous tea-pot a few months before, when its patriotic citizens, in the disguise of Mohawk Indians, cast cargoes of tea, taken from Brit- ish merchant vessels, into its waters, and so committed what was deemed to be an overt act of rebellion. That act greatly incensed the king and his counselors. The ministe- rial members of Parliament evoked the most terrible roar of the British lion, and one of them raised the factious cry of the old Ro

THE MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. 15 The plain English Confound it, we must get ou.t from here !is, however, best. In killick ! Up with the mainsail ! Pull with a will ! and we eagerly shoot out into the dark, the deep, the much-resounding ah! best of all, the mosquitoless, sea. Good reader, why have I till now omitted to mention this direful part of the story? Why did I put you to bed comfortably in farm-houses and sleep out alone by myself? Why have I artfully provided you with pkas- ant weather, fair winds, and good meals on shore hitherto? It was for fear you might be discouraged by foul weather or coarse fare, and give up a crnise that was delight- ing you. But nowtheres no help for it you must rough it a little. Besides, as you seemed to enjoy each step forward so much, I wish you to be equally glad to get home again. So we will spend the night awake, under short sail, groping about in the dark. The fog shall dim the friendly lights and hide the line of coast. A drizzly rain from the east shall wet us to the skin and chill us to the marrow. We shall peer into the gloom in vain, seeking for our bear- ings, anxiously looking out for breakers. We shall sound with the oar, and find no bottom. The next instant we shall bump ou a rock, and dismally congratulate ourselves we are not wrecked. With every nerve tense and our hearts in our mouths, we shall pass the weary hours till dawn. Aud now that morning has come, the fog has lifted, and the sun come out, as a balmy breeze wafts us up New Bedford Harbor again, even while we hungrily munch our hard-tack andtear our stringybeef, washing them down with stale water, confess that all is fun, the hard as well as the easy part of our adven- ture. Own np that last nights fatigue and danger and sleeplessness have given a zest to our trip that you would not have missed if you could. Finally, as you step, sun - browned and hardy, from the little boat that has carried us so far and so safely, into the hot wilting air of the city, pray tell me, will you try it again next year? I never was on the dull, tame shore # But I loved the great sea more and more. A cruise such as I have tried to picture is not always to be expected; nor should it be attempted without a fair knowledge of boat- sailing and a very accurate knowledge of the coast. It is, in fact, a rdsum6 of a num- ber of trips I have made in the months of July and August. But it is as feasible as delightful to all who will take proper pre- cautions, and in midsummer need take no longer than a week or ten days. The cost need be no greater than that of board at ordinary, unfashionable watering- places. Stout boats, of sufficient size for two men, may be hired for five or ten dollars a week. Good food and comfortable shelter are easily found for as much more, and there is little need of greater expense, except for luxuries. From the above scale of prices to that of the highest class of yachts are many steps, yet it is probable that the greatest enjoyment is to be found in the two extremes. In the one there are magnificent appointments, lux- urious tables, gay company, and elegant dis- play. In the other are healthful exercise, wholesome fare, silent contemplation, and hardy adventure. In the first are ease for the body and excitement for the mind. In the second, labor for the muscles and food for thought are ever present. In both, the highest degrees of pleasure and instruction may be attained. All forms of yachting, from the proudest to the humblest, soften the hard~st hearts, and give rise in the soul of the true lover of nature to feelings of gratitude and devout worship toward the Giver of all mercies. TI-lB MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. FRANCIS RAWDON HASTINGS, better known in our Revolutionary history as Lord Rawdon, was a son of the Earl of Moira. Born in England and educated at Oxford, he became, in his later years, a dis- tinguished subject of the British realm, whom the government was pleased to hon- or with important offices and additional titles. Young Hastings entered the royal army at the age of seventeen years as an ensign in the Sixty-third regiment of foot-soldiers. In the year 1773, when the fires of our Rev- olutionary war were rapidly kindling, he accompanied that regiment to America, and was stationed a while in Castle William, which guarded the entrance to Boston Har- bor. He entered the city of Boston- under the command of General Gage, when that officer was there in 1774, charged with the grave duty of closing the port of that offend- ing city to commerce of every kind, by or- ders of the British ministry. Boston was then an offending city because its inhabitants, led by pastors and patriots, acted in consonance with their convictions that rebellion against tyranny was obedi- ence to God. It was specially an offending city because its port had been made an enor- mous tea-pot a few months before, when its patriotic citizens, in the disguise of Mohawk Indians, cast cargoes of tea, taken from Brit- ish merchant vessels, into its waters, and so committed what was deemed to be an overt act of rebellion. That act greatly incensed the king and his counselors. The ministe- rial members of Parliament evoked the most terrible roar of the British lion, and one of them raised the factious cry of the old Ro 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. man orators, Delenda est CarthagoCar- thage must be destroyedand applied it significantly to Boston. Gage was sent to act upon the spirit of that cry, and young Hastings, then nearly twenty years of age, was one of his most efficient subalterns in the work. From that time until near the close of our old war for independeuce, Lord Rawdon held rank among the most active and skillful of the British officers in America. He appears to have been a young man of much observa- tion, and zealous in the garnering of precious facts in his experience while he wets in this couutry. He seems to have obtained from some of the accomplished engineers of the British army a series of sketches, in water- color, of many of the scenes and events in his experience here. A considerable number of these sketches have been preserved until the present time, and in consequence of the unthriftiness of Lord Rawdons grandson and titular successor, the late Marquis of H~ st- ings, they found their way, some of them into the hands of private purchasers, and others into the public auction-rooms of London. Some of these sketches are in the posses- sion of Dr. Thomas Addis Emmet, of the city of New York, for whom a part of them were purchased at the sale of the personal effects of the late Marquis of Hastings a few years ago, and others at subsequent sales. They were made by different artists, but ev- idently at about the same period (1775, 1776), and on the same kind of drawing- paper, for the texture of the materials of all is the same, and each sheet bears the same water-marks. The faithfulness of the draw- ings has been verified by various tests, and they niny be accepted as correct representa- tions of the scenes delineated. They now have a secure resting-place in Dr. Emmets rare collection of drawings, engravings, maps, an(l autographs which illustrate American history and biography. It is un- doubtedly the most complete collection of its kind in the world; and Dr. Emmet is one of the most generous and liberal of the few Americans who indulge in the costly but delightful and useful pastime of gath- ering up for preservation such precious grains of the fine gold of our history, which might otherwise be forever lost. To the kindness of Dr. Emmet we are indebted for the privilege of engravin~ from the sketches gathered by Lord Rawdon the illustrations which accompany this papera paper de- signed to define their relations to our past history. Before proceeding with our task, let us look at a brief sketch of Lord Rawdons career. After serving gallantly as a captain in the Fifth regiment in the battle of Bunker Hill, and with Lord Coruwallis in New York and New Jersey, he was promoted to the of- fice of adjutant-general of the British forces in North America in 1778, with the commis- sion of lieutenant-colonel. He was then only twenty-four years of age. His good conduct at the battle of Monmouth, in June of that year, under Sir Henry Clinton, pro- cured for him the command of a corps in South Carolina, with the commission of a brigadier - general, when he was succeeded in the office of adjutant-general by Major Andre. After much arduous service in the South his health became so impaired by the malaria of the swamps that he was com- pelled to depart for England before the close of the war. While on his voyage he was captured by a French cruiser, but was not long detained. Soon after his release he re- ceived special marks of the favor of his king. He was commissioned a major-general, and was created Baron Rawdon, with other titles of distinction. In 1793 he succeeded his father as Earl of Moira, and the following year he commanded ten thousand troops sent to relieve the Duke of York in Flanders. After a few years of honorable military and civil service at home, he was appointed Got- ernor-General of India in 1812, in which of- fice he remained until 1822, when he became Governor of Malta. While he was absent in India, in 1816, he was created Viscount London, Earl of Rawdon, and Marquis of Hastings. At the age of seventy-two years, in November, 1826, he died near Naples. In the first picture of the series here given, entitled Boston, seen between Castle Will- iam and Governors Island, distant four Miles, the castle, where Lord Rawdon first landed, is the most prominent object in point of importance and antiquity. It is seen upon a bold island (containing about eight acres of land) on the left of the picture. Be- tween it and the ship is seen Boston Neck, in the direction of Roxhury. To the right of the ship, at the middle of the picture, is seen the town of Boston, containing, at the time this sketch was made, about four thou- sand houses an5I twenty thousand inhabit- ants. Beacon Hill and its flag-staff is above all. Further toward the right is seen Charles- town. Just behind the point of Noddles Island, and more in the foreground, is delin- eated Governors Island, upon which, accord- ing to the chroniclers, the first apple-trees that grew in the Massachusetts colony were planted by Governor Winthrop. It was called Governors Island because it was a demesne for the use of the Chief Magistrate. Castle William stood upon Castle Island, which derived its name from the fortifica- tion built upon it in the reign of King Will- ham the Third of England, at the close of the seventeenth century, by Colonel R9mer, a famous engineer. He demolished all the old wdrks that had been constructed there, and reared an entirely new structure, which was named Castle William in honor of the THE MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. 17 king. Before that time the fortifications were irregular works, first begun under the auspices of Governor Dudley, in the year 1634. They were partially dismantled and demolished nine years later. They were re- paired the next year (1644), for England was then heaving with the throes of civil war, and it was unknown what attitude the Bos- tonians might be compelled to take in con- sequence of those convulsions. Built chief- ly of wood, with brick and stone, the fort stood for thirty years guarding the entrance to Boston Harbor, when, in 1674, it was de- stroyed by fire. It lay partially in ruins un- til 1689, when it was taken by the people from Governor Audross when they heard o4 the expulsion of his master, James the Sec- ond from the British throne. This was fol- S lowed by the erection of Castle William, ~ which name it retained until l~99, when ~ z John Adams, then President of the republic, ; on the occasion of his visit to the fortress, ~ changed its name to Fort Independence. It is now one of the finest of the older forts ~ belonging to our government. S Castle William and Boston Harbor have ~ been theatres conjointly of some memora- ble events. The first of these in point of time was the deprivation of the castle of ~ its national colors at the very beginning of its infancy as a mere redoubt. That stern, ~ conscientious, and extremely pious bigot, ~ Governor Endicott, whose hatred of Roman Catholics made the figure of the cross ap- pear to his vision an emblem of antichrist, actually cut out the red cross from the Brit- ish flag, in charge of Ensign Richard Daven- port, in Salem, because it had been original- ly given to the King of England by the Pope. The fort flag was also taken down ~ because it had the cross upon it, and that ~ guardian of the harbor was left without a token of its real character. A standing order ~ S for all vessels passing the guns of the fort ~ to salute it with their flags was disregard- ~ ed, for their masters saw no emblems of an- thority there, and the commander of the fort ~ got into serious trouble by attempting to ~ enforce the order. Officers of vessels, who treated the shorn fortification with con- tempt, boldly declared that the people were rebels and traitors, because they had dis- carded the kings colors. The business assumed a serious aspect. Governor Vane called ship -masters before him, who ft ankly told him that if questioned on their return to England, their simple narrative of facts might cause the colonists a great deal of trouble. There was perplex- ity and alarm, and two of the ship-masters, to relieve the people, offered t~ present them with a set of perfect colors. But so fearful were they that they might tolerate a sym- bol of idolatry that they would not accept them until they could consult the Rev. Mr. Cotton, of Boston, in regard to the matter. VOL XLYH.No. 277.2 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. I It was finally concluded, in view of possible trouble, that while the cross in the ensign was idolatrous, and therefore ought not to be there, as the fort belonged to the king, and was maintained in his name, his colors might be used there. They were restored. When events in the Anglo-American colo- nies were tending toward revolution, a lit- tle more than a hundred years ago, Castle William was a strong fortress, mounting one hundred and twenty guns, and garrisoned by a company of Britisli artillery-men. When public indignation waxed hot against the proceedings of the Commission- ers of Customs, who came to enforce the rev- enue laws, it was made a refuge for those government officers. To that refuge they fled in June, 1767, before the wrath of a Bos- ton populace. When, in September, 1768, troops came into the harbor with a British fleet from Halifax for the purpose of en- forcing the impost laws, the people resolved not to allow them to land. They told them there was room enougli in Castle William. The royal governor ordered the troops to disembark. The guns of the war-ships pro- tected the movement; and on a bright Sun- day morning, while the people were in their places of public worship, the soldiers march- ed tkrough the streets of the New England capital with drums beating and flags flying. The inhabitants were compelled to submit to this violation of their quiet Sabbath, their religious feelings, and their rights as free citizens. From that time there was continual enmity between the citizens and the soldiers, which culminated in a mob and a massacre in March, 1770. Until a few years before this sketch was ma4e, Beacon Hill, one of the three which gave to the peninsula the name of Tn- mountain, or Tremont (seen in the middle of the picture, and looming above Boston), had retained its original height and form, for the Bostonians had determined to pre- serve it as a natural object in the midst of the growing town forever. But Thomas Hodson, an inveterate gravel - digger, who owned a part of the northern slope of Bea- con Hill, untouched by a love of nature, foiled their designs by making broad exca- vations which threatened the demolition of the eminence. He would neither listen to remonstrances nor sell his land. Legisla- tive interference was called for, but in vain. Hodson plied his shovel more vigorously as public indignation increased, until he so scarred the hill that the Boston people lost interest in it, and finally consented to have its summit dug down and cast into the neighboring waters. It dwindled to its present lieight, with its crown of houses, stregts, and the State Capitol. The second picture in the series here no- ticed is entitled Burning of Charlestown, near Boston, New England. This was an incident in the Battle of Bunker Hill an erroneous name for the focus of that conflict, for the American re- doubt was on Breeds Hill, and nearer Bos- ton, and the British fought on the slopes of the latter eminence. But the event has its title in history consecrated by long and com- mon usage, and it will be forever known as the Battle of Bunker Hill. It was fought on the 17th of June, 1775, almost exactly ninety-eight years ago. The closing of the port of Boston in June, 1774, awakened for the suffering town the warmest sympathies of the Anglo-American colonies. Expressions of that sympathy and substantial aid were given by the various provinces. The people of Marblehead and Salem offered the free use of their wharves to the Boston merchants. Articles of food of almost every kind were sent to the doom- ed city; and the corporate authorities of London pointedly rebuked those cruel op- pressions by the government by sending the sum of $100,000 for the relief of the suffering poor of Boston. Gage was warned that a relaxation of jiUzzlije OF OHARLESTOWN. THE MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. 19 vigor must be made, or armed resistance would be the resulting alternative; but, bound by his instructions, he used force in- stead of conciliation for the maintenance of public order. Finally, when he stationed a strong military guard upon Boston Neck, under a false pretense, and so cut off free in- tercourse between the city and country, the lightning of rebellion, which had for years been curbed within the hearts of the peo- ple, leaped forth in manifestations which alarmed the royal servants in Massachu- setts, and startled into serious reflections the hirelings of the crown elsewhere on the continent. The people of that province be- gan to arm themselves and practice mili- tary tactics daily. The organization known as Minute-Men was formed; and the Legis- lature of Massachusetts, in session at Salem, sent forth a proposition for a general Con- tinental Congress to assemble in Philadel- phia in the ensuing September. The procla- mations of General Gage, condemnatory of these rebellious movements, were not only unheeded, but ridiculed in squibs and epi- grams. One ofthese, now before me, begins: Tom Gages Proclamation, Or blustering Denunciation (Replete with Defamation~, Threatening Devastation And speedy Jugulation Of the New England Nation, Who shall his pious ways shun. It closed with, Thus graciously the war I wage, As wit~esseth my hand TOM Giez. By command of Mother Carey, THOMAS FLUCKEM, Secretary. Mr. Flucker was the father of the beauti- ful and accomplished Lucy, who became the wife of General Henry Knox, then a young bookseller in Boston. The Continental Congress met at the be- ginning of the autumn, and took a decided attitude of opposition to the conduct of the ~overument toward the colonies. During the following winter the people prepared for war; and when, in the spring of 1775, Gage sent out troops to seize ammunition and stores which the patriots had collected a few miles from Boston, the people flew to arms, and the skirmishes at Lexington and Concord occurred. The news of the blood- shed there aroused the continent. New York was in a blaze of excitement; and from the Virginia Convention at Richmond went forth the impassioned and significant cry from Patrick Henry, Give me liberty, or give me death ! The British troops had been driven back to Boston in a pell-mell scamper for life by the yeomanry of the neighborhood, and the Americans had learn- ed the important lesson that the soldiers of Great Britain were not absolutely invincible. The events of that memorable 19th of April closed the first act in the drama of the strug- gle for independence. The plot now rapid- ly developed. Fresh troops soon arrived in Boston from England and Ireland, with such experienced leaders as Generals Sir Henry Clinton, Sir John Burgoyne, and William Howe, and increased Gages force to ten thousand men. They prepared to crush the rebellion, and it was declared that the fires of the insurrection should be stamped out in the space of six weeks. Young officers brought fishing-tackle, to indulge in angling in the waters of subdued America, while oth- ers came with the intention of settling here on the confiscated lands of the rebels. But there was another party to the ar- rangement. It consisted of several thou- sand provincial troops, gathered from the hills and valleys of New England, who formed an irregular curved line of invest- ment, extending from Roxbury to Cam- bridge. Their captain-general was Artemas Ward; their lieutenant - general was John Thomas, and their engineer- in - chief was Richard Gridley. All New England was there represented; and such veterans as Putnam, Stark, Pomeroy, and Prescott, who had been educated in the French and Indian war, with Ward and Gridley, were there to lead the eager yeomanry. A Committee of Safety wielded the civil power, and there was perfect concord of sentiment in the council and in the field. When, at the mid- dle of June,it was ascertained that General Gage had fixed upon the night of the 18th of that month to take possession of and for- tify Bunker Hill and Dorchester Heights, the patriot army numbered about twenty thousand men. To prevent the execution of Gages design was now the business of the Americans. A portion of three regiments and a fatigue par- ty of two hundred Connecticut troops, with intrenching tools, paraded in the camp ~ Cambridge at six oclock in the evening of the 16th of June. They were furnished for a campaign of twenty-four hours. Gridleys company of artillery joined them. The Con- necticut troops were placed under the com- mand of Captain Knowlton, of Putnams regiment, who was killed in the battle on Harlem Plains the next year. President Langdon, of Harvard College, commended the party to the protection of the Almighty in an impressive prayer, and at nine oclock the whole force, led by Colonel Prescott, marched in silence to Charlestown Neck, where the troops were first apprised of the object of their expedition. It was to pos- sess and fortify Bunker Hill. There they were joined by General Putnam and one or two other officers. Strict silence was en- joined. A council of officers determined to fortify Breeds Hillless in height, but near- er Boston than Bunkerinstead of the lat- ter. To that elevation, about sixty feet HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 20 above tide-water, they went, and during the marching. A panic seized the loyalists in warm starry night, while the voices from the presence of impending danger, and many British sentinels on ships, Qnd at the foot were converted into professed patriots. of Copps Hill, in Boston, were proclaiming Observing the movements of the British, Alls well ! they worked vigorously. Prescott, at ten oclock, sent to Cambridge At the dawn a formidable redoubt, eight for reinforcements, when Ward forwarded rods square, loomed up near the green sum- the remainder of Starks regiment and the mit of Breeds Hill, at the spot where the whole of Reeds, all from New Hampshire. stately Bunker Hill Monument now stands. At noon the men in the redoubt ceased work, It appeared to the wondering gaze of the and sent their intrenching tools to Bunker British officers in the dim morning twilight Hill, where, under the direction of Putnam, like a work of magic. The history of Brit- a breastwork was thrown up. ~sh engineering furnished no parallel, and Meanwhile between two and three thou- the testimony of British eyes was doubted. sand picked men from the British army em- A sentinel on board the Lively first saw barked in barges at Boston and landed on the apparition. The captain put springs Mortons Point, beyond the eastern foot of upon his cable, and opened a cannonade Breeds Hill. They were commanded by upon the redoubt, without doing it any in- Generals Howe and Pigot, and were covered jury. His guns awoke the sleepers in Bos- by the guns of the Falcon, which lay in the ton, and at sunrise Beacon Hill, Copps Hill, Mystic River. The news of this movement and the roofs of houses swarmed with the had reached Cambridge, and produced great startled inhabitants. The men in the re- commotion there. The drums beat to arms, doubt, sheltered by its ramparts, continued and the bells rang out an alarm. The re- the task of strengthenir~g the work, until mainder of the Massachusetts forces were called to lay aside the pick and shovel and ordered to Charlestown, and thither Put- take up the gun and knapsack. The firing nam conducted those of Connecticut. had ceased for a short time;but was soon re- It was now two oclock in the afternoon. newed, not only by the shipping, but from Howe had been reinforced, and was at the a battery of six guns upon Copps Hill, in the head of about four thousand men. There city. was the deepest anxiety on Breeds Hill. All was now bustle and excitement in Bos- The patriots there, hungry and thirsty, bad ton. The drums beat to arms, dragoons gal- watched the whole martial display prepared loped through the streets, artillery trains for their destruction. They had not been rumbled over the pavements, and regulars largely reinforced, and were half despond- and Tories were marching and counter- ing, when Dr. Joseph Warren and General THE MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. 21 Pomeroy, covered with dust, arrived at the breastworks, and in reserve behind the hills, redoubt. They were greeted by loud huz- were fifteen hundred resolute men, ready at zas. The former was the President of the a given signal to fall upon the invaders. Massachusetts Provincial Congress, then sit- When you can see the whites of their eyes, ting at Watertown. He had been commis- then aim at their waistbands and fire: be sioned a major - general four days before. sure to pick off the commanders, who may When he heard of the landing of the Brit- be known by their handsome coats, were ish he left his seat, and, thongli suffering Prescotts orders. from sickness, hastened forward to confront When they were within gunshot of the the enemy in arms. Prescott offered to give apparently deserted works, the British com- up the command to him, as his superior in menced a random firing. Prescott could rank, when Warren said, I am come to fight scarcely keep his men from respondii~g in as a volunteer, and feel honored in being al- kind. At length the assailants reached the lowed to serve nuder so brave an officer. prescribed distance, when Prescott, waving At the moment when Warren entered the his sword over his head, shouted, Firet redoubt, Howe began his advauce, marching Terrible was the effect of the first volley. around the eastern slopes of Breeds Hill and Whole platoons of the British regulars were along the Mystic River, to flank and gain the laid upon the earth like mown grass. Other rear of the Americans. Already, anticipating deadly volleys followed, and the assailants this movement, the artillery-men in the re- broke and fled toward their boats. The doubt, with two field-pieces, and Captain Fifth regiment, in which the young Lord Knowlton with the Connecticut troops, had Rawdon was serving as captain, was tern- taken a position near Bunker Hill, and bly cut up in this and the succeeding at- formed a breastwork seven hundred feet in tacks. length. Knowlton built another a little in Howe quickly rallied his troops. Putnam front of a strong stone and rail fence, and rode to Bunker Hill to urge on reinforce- between the two was planted a quantity of ments. Others were sent from Cambridge. new-mown grass. This formed a valuable Many of the latter had reached Charlestown protection to the Americans. Neck, but were kept from crossing it by the It was now three oclock in the afternoon, severe enfilading fire of the Glasgow (a ship The American artillery companies were be- which brought troops to Boston in 1768), and tween the breastwork at the east of the re- gondolas in the Charles River, the latter near doubt and the rail-fence on the eastern side a causeway. But few additional troops had of the hill; and the Connecticut and New been brought to Breeds Hill when the second Hampshire troops were at a rail-fence on the attack was made. western side of the redoubt. Others were Four hundred marines from Boston had close by Charlestown, at the foot of the reinforced the British troops. Their artil- southwestern side of Breeds Hill. Warren lery was now better furnished. In the same took post with Prescott within the redoubt, order as at first they moved up toward the where the original builders of that work were redoubt over the slain bodies of scores of put on the defensive, their fellow-soldiers, led by General Howe Howe was checked in his flank movement, in person. Their artillery opened a galling and compelled to make a direct attack upon fire upon the troops at the rail-fences. Mean- the American works. Before doing so he while Howe led his column directly toward ordered the guns on Copps Hill and the the redoubt. As before, the Americans re- ships in the river to pour a storm of round served their fire until the invaders were shot upon the redoubt. At the same moment within the prescribed distance, when they a furious cannonade was opened upon the poured forth their leaden hail with such right wing of the American army at Rox- terrible effect that whole ranks of officers bury, to prevent reinforcements being sent and men were slain. to Charlestown by General Thomas. Meanwhile a carcass and some hot shot Under cover of these discharges of artil- hurled from Copps Hill had set fire to lery, the British army moved up the slopes Charlestown. The houses, built chiefly of of Breeds Hill in two divisions, General wood, were soon in flames, to the number Howe with the right wing, and General of about two hundred. Breeds Hill was Pigot with the left. The former was to shrouded in dense smoke, and under its penetrate the American lines at the rail- thick veil Howe hoped to rush up unseen fence; the latter was to storm the redoubt. and storm the redoubt. But a gentle breeze, Owing to a blunder in furnishing the artil- the first that had been felt that day, came lery, small-arms and bayonets became the from the west, and rolled the smoke away only weapons of the British soldiery, who seaward, exposing to the full view of the toiled silently up the hill, in the bright sun Americans the advancing column of the of a hot June day, burdened with heavy British. Their llne recoiled before the vol- knapsacks. More silent were the inmates leys from the redoubt. At one time General of the redoubt. To the outside observer Howe was left alone, all of his aids having there was no sign of life; but within those perished in the fight. His troops broke and 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fled at several points, and retreated in dis- order to the shore. Sir Henry Clinton, who, with Burgoyne, had been watching the battle from Copps Hill, saw with mortified pride the regulars repulsed a second time. He crossed over in a boat, followed by others with reinforce- ments, and joined the broken army as a vol- unteer. This was the moment chosen by the artist for making the sketch of the Burning of Charlestown. The smoke is seen borne eastward by the gentle breeze. Howe now rallied his troops for a third attack. The powder and ball of the pro- vincials were now nearly exhausted, and as only a few of their muskets had bayonets, they were in a perilous condition. The loose stones in the redoubt were collected to use as missiles, if necessary. Howe had discovered the weakness of the point between the breastwork and the rail- fence on the east of the redoubt, and there he made his third attack. His artillery swept the interior of the breastwork from end to end with fearful effect; and the men who defended it were driven within the re- doubt, toward which the assailants now pressed. There was the same ominous si- lence, but now it was compulsory. The last grain of the powder of the patriots had been consumed. The redoubt was scaled. Hand to hand the belligerents foughtthe British with bayonets, the Americans with clubbed muskets. So overwhelming were the num- bers of the assailants that Prescott ordered a retreat. He and Warren were the last to leave the works. The former escaped with- out injury, but the latter, when he was a short distance from the redoubt, was shot through the head with a bnllet, and fell dead. A panic was communicated to the rest of the troops, who fled across Charles- town Neck, where many of them were slain by the enfilading shots of the Glasgow and gondolas. The British did not follow, but contented themselves with the possession of the Charlestown peninsula. The accom- panying map will make this brief narrative of the battle clearer. The picture of the Burning of Charles- town was evidently made from Beacon Hill; and the church roof and steeple seen in the foreground were probably those of the West Church edifice. It was built of wood, and had a tall steeple, which was re- moved by the British in 1775, because, it is said, the patriots in the city made use of it for signaling to their friends at Cambridge information concerning the military move- ments in Boston. Other church steeples were used for the same purpose. Paul Re- vere has left a statement on record that on returning, from Lexington, whither he had been to see Hancock and Adams, just before the skirmish there, he agreed with gentle- men at Charlestown that if the British went out from Boston by water, he would show two lanterns in the North Church steeple, and if by land, one. On the right of this picture is seen the mill-dam, which held the waters of the tide- mill pond or cove, which was divided from the sea on the northwest by a causeway (now Causeway Street), which had been a foot-path of the Indians over a more eleva- ted part of a marsh. It was raised and widened into a dam, and several tide-mills were constructed for using the pond so form- ed. In 1807 the work of filling it up was be- gun, and continued for about twenty-five years. Copps and Beacon hills furnished the materials. On the extreme right of the picture is seen the Falcon, and a little to the left of her the boats with reinforcements following Sir Henry Clinton to Mortons Point. Im BUNKEa nILL AFTER TILE BATTLE. THE MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. 23 mediately back of Charlestown on fire is Breeds Hill, and the higher eminence to the left is Bunker Hill. Near the centre of the picture and the steeple is seen the Somerset, one of the vessels engaged in the fight; and toward the extreme left is the Glasgow, with the gondolas. Immediately back of the steeple, and projecting each side of it in the picture, is Charlestown Neck, and on the extreme left, Cambridge. The third picture in the series is a view of Bunker [Breeds] Hill after the Battle, taken, apparently, from the shore of the Mystic River, and showing the shape and position of the redoubt and the ruins of the fences near it. We are now led, by the fourth picture of the series, to the city of New York.. In this drawing we have a distant view of that city, entitled, New York, with the En- trance of the North [Hudson] and East Riv- ers. This sketch was doubtless made in ~ the summer or early autumn of 1776. The ~ British troops, under General Howe, had been driven from Boston in March of that ~ year, and retired to Halifax. In the sum- mer they sailed southward, and took pos ~ a session, first of Staten Island, at the en- trance to New York Harbor, and then the ~ western end. of Long Island (seen on the ~ right of the picture); and finally, early in a September, they captured Manhattan Island, ~ with the city of New York. In these events ~ Lord Rawdon participated as an active sub- ~ altern under Coruwallis. The picture must ~ have been sketched before the 21st of Sep- ~ tember, when Trinity Church was burned, ~ for the spire of that edifice is seen in the ~ sketchthe one farthest to the left in the ~ z city. The spire next to the right of Trin- ~ itys was that of the South Dutch, or Gar- ~ den Street Church; the next was of the Mid- H S dle Dutch (now the Post-office); the next ~ S and taller was of St. Pauls; and the one on a the extreme right was of the North Dutch,~~ ~ which has been demolished recently. This picture appears to have been made from a vessel in the harbor a little below Governors Island, which is seen at the right of the city, with the entrance to and ship- ping in the East River, seen between. It may have been drawn on board the Eagle, one of Admiral Richard, Earl Howes fleet, which sailed up the bay at the close of Au- gust, 1776, and anchored near Governors Island. That vessel lay at about the place from which the sketch was evidently made, and came very near becoming the victim of a torpedoau infernal machinecalled a marine turtle, invented by a mechanic of Saybrook, Connecticut. It was constructed so as to contain a living man, and to be nav- igated at will under water. A small maga- zine of gunpowder, so arranged as to be se- cured to a ships bottom, could be carried with it. This magazine was furnished with 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. clock-work, constructed so as to operate a spring and communicate a blow to detona- ting powder, and so ignite the gunpowder of the magazine. The motion of the clock- work was sufficiently slow to allow the sub- marine operator to escape to a safe distance after securing the magazine to a ships bot- tom. With this machine it was proposed to blow up the Eagle. A daring young man named Lee was employed to do the work. He en- tered the water at Whitehall at midnight on the 6th of September. Washington and a few other officers watched anxiously until dawn forthe result, but the cakawaters ofthe bay remained unruffled, and it was believed that the young man had perished. As the chief and his companions were turning from the scene some barges went out from Govern- ors Island toward an object near the Eagle, and suddenly returned with increased speed. In a few moments a column of water ascend- ed a few yards from the Eagle. The cables of the British shipping were instantly cut, and the fleet went down the bay with the ebbing tide in great confusion. Lee had been under the Eagle and other ships, but found their copper sheathing too thick to al- low him to fasten his magazine to a bottom. He set the clock-work in motion and escaped to Whitehall. On the right of the picture, beyond the ves- sel, Brooklyn Heights and other high ground in the vicinity are seen; and on the left of the city is the entrance to the North or Hud- son River, with the Palisades and .other portions of its western shore in the distance between the two vessels. On the extreme left are Elliss and Bedlocs islands. I have mentioned the burning of Trinity Church, in New York, in September, 1776. The fifth picture of the series gives us a view of its ruins, under the title of The I~ng1ish Church built at New York. The sketch was made from the church-yard, a short distance from the southwest corner of the edifice, whose tower and steeple were on the west end, fronting the Hudson River, ) 5 45~~ ____ ___ L7~r CAREENING PLACE, NEW YORE. THE ENGLISH CHUECH BUILT AT NEW YOEE. THE MARQUIS OF HASTINGS IN AMERICA. 0 25 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. which then liad its shore at Greenwich Street. Between the church and the river was the burial - ground and a green lawn. The buildings seen beyond the ruins of the church were along the east side of Broad- way. The short steeple in the distance, ou the right, was that of the Middle Dutch Church, now used as a city post-office. That steeple was taken down last year. The fire that consumed the church acci- dentally broke out in a low groggery and brothel, a wooden building on the wharf near Whitehall Slip, now the Staten Island Ferry station. It was discovered between one and two oclock in the morning of the 21st of September, 1776. There were then only a few inhabitants in the city, and the flames, unchecked, spread rapidly. All the houses between Whitehall and Broad streets up to Beaver Street were consumed, when the wind veered to the southeast, and drove the fire toward Broadway. It burned every thing on each side of Beaver Street to the Bowling Green, a little above which it cross- ed Broadway, and swept all the buildings on each side as far as Exchange Street. On the west side it consumed every building from Morris Street to Partition (now Ful- ton) Street, and threatened new St. Pauls Church. It destroyed Trinity Church, leav- ing nothing but the tower and the walls standing, and made a clean sweep to the river; and it extended west of Kings (now Columbia) College, to Murray Street. In its entire course 493 of the 4000 buildings then in the city were consumed. The sixth picture of the series is entitled, Careening Place, New York, above Colonel Rftt~,erss, East River. It is interesting as showing the form of English war ships j~ that time, the method of preparing them the examination and repairing of their bot- toms by careening them on their beam ends, instead of by the modern contrivance of dry-docks, and the contour of the hills across the East River, on which Williams- burg, or East Brooklyn, now rests. It is p08- sible, and even probable, that this is an act- ual view of the repairing of the forty-gun ship which Admiral Howe sent up the East River on the night after the battle on Long Island, which was damaged by round shot from a battery on Burnt Mill, or Stuyvesant Point, the site of the Novelty Iron-Works. The Careening Place was at Corlears Hook, now the vicinity of the foot of Grand Street. Colonel Rutgerss mansion was on ground now bounded by Monroe, Cherry, Jefferson, and Clinton streets. The last picture of the series to be noticed is entitled Landing of the British Forces in the Jerseys on the 20th of November, 1776, under the Command of Right Hon. Lieuten- ant-General Earl Coruwallis. The story may be briefly told. The scene is at the Palisades, a ridge of trap-rocks extending along the western shore of the Hudson Riv- er from near Haverstraw almost to Hoboken, a distance of about thirty-five miles. Be- tween Piermont and Hoboken these rocks present for a considerable distance an unin- terrupted rude columnar front from 300 to 500 feet in height. This is the story: Fort Washington, situ- ated on the crown of Mount Washington (now Washington Heights), in the upper part of the city of New York, was captured by the British on the 18th of November, 1776. Fort Lee, on the top of the Palisades, nearly opposite Fort Washington, was then the ral- lying point of a greater portion of the Conti- nental army, which had fled across the 1~id- son into New Jersey on the 12th. From ~at fort, Washington, with several general offi- cers, and Thomas Paine, the author of Com- mon Sense, saw the British flag unfurled over Fort Washington. For a moment the great heart of the chief failed him and tears filled his eyes. It was now evidently the design of Howe to push toward Philadelphia, the seat of the rebel government, and Washington re- solved to fly to its defense with his dimin- ishing army, then reduced to three thousand effective men. Fort Lee was abandoned, and the Continental troops made a swift march across New Jersey for Trenton, on the Dela- ware. Coruwallis crossed the Hudson from Dobbs Ferry with six thousand men, scaled the Palisades, took possession of the baggage and military stores left at Fort Lee by the fugitive Continentals, and for three weeks chased Washington across the level country from Hackensack to Trenton. At the latter place the pursued, strengthened by reinforce- ments, turned upon their pursuers and drove them out of New Jersey. IMPROVISATJONS.VJ. HEART, in my bosom beating Fierce, as a po~ver at bay! Ever thy rote repeating Louder, and then retreating, Who shall thy being sway? Over my will and under, Equally king and slave, Sometimes I hear thee thunder, Sometimes falter and blunder Close to the waiting grave! Oft, in the beautiful season, Restless thou art, and wild; Oft, with never a reason, Turnest and doest me treason, Treating the man as a child! Cold, when passion is burning, Quick, when I sigh for rest, Kindler of perished yearning, Curb and government spurning, Thou art lord of the breast! BAYARD TAYLOR.

26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. which then liad its shore at Greenwich Street. Between the church and the river was the burial - ground and a green lawn. The buildings seen beyond the ruins of the church were along the east side of Broad- way. The short steeple in the distance, ou the right, was that of the Middle Dutch Church, now used as a city post-office. That steeple was taken down last year. The fire that consumed the church acci- dentally broke out in a low groggery and brothel, a wooden building on the wharf near Whitehall Slip, now the Staten Island Ferry station. It was discovered between one and two oclock in the morning of the 21st of September, 1776. There were then only a few inhabitants in the city, and the flames, unchecked, spread rapidly. All the houses between Whitehall and Broad streets up to Beaver Street were consumed, when the wind veered to the southeast, and drove the fire toward Broadway. It burned every thing on each side of Beaver Street to the Bowling Green, a little above which it cross- ed Broadway, and swept all the buildings on each side as far as Exchange Street. On the west side it consumed every building from Morris Street to Partition (now Ful- ton) Street, and threatened new St. Pauls Church. It destroyed Trinity Church, leav- ing nothing but the tower and the walls standing, and made a clean sweep to the river; and it extended west of Kings (now Columbia) College, to Murray Street. In its entire course 493 of the 4000 buildings then in the city were consumed. The sixth picture of the series is entitled, Careening Place, New York, above Colonel Rftt~,erss, East River. It is interesting as showing the form of English war ships j~ that time, the method of preparing them the examination and repairing of their bot- toms by careening them on their beam ends, instead of by the modern contrivance of dry-docks, and the contour of the hills across the East River, on which Williams- burg, or East Brooklyn, now rests. It is p08- sible, and even probable, that this is an act- ual view of the repairing of the forty-gun ship which Admiral Howe sent up the East River on the night after the battle on Long Island, which was damaged by round shot from a battery on Burnt Mill, or Stuyvesant Point, the site of the Novelty Iron-Works. The Careening Place was at Corlears Hook, now the vicinity of the foot of Grand Street. Colonel Rutgerss mansion was on ground now bounded by Monroe, Cherry, Jefferson, and Clinton streets. The last picture of the series to be noticed is entitled Landing of the British Forces in the Jerseys on the 20th of November, 1776, under the Command of Right Hon. Lieuten- ant-General Earl Coruwallis. The story may be briefly told. The scene is at the Palisades, a ridge of trap-rocks extending along the western shore of the Hudson Riv- er from near Haverstraw almost to Hoboken, a distance of about thirty-five miles. Be- tween Piermont and Hoboken these rocks present for a considerable distance an unin- terrupted rude columnar front from 300 to 500 feet in height. This is the story: Fort Washington, situ- ated on the crown of Mount Washington (now Washington Heights), in the upper part of the city of New York, was captured by the British on the 18th of November, 1776. Fort Lee, on the top of the Palisades, nearly opposite Fort Washington, was then the ral- lying point of a greater portion of the Conti- nental army, which had fled across the 1~id- son into New Jersey on the 12th. From ~at fort, Washington, with several general offi- cers, and Thomas Paine, the author of Com- mon Sense, saw the British flag unfurled over Fort Washington. For a moment the great heart of the chief failed him and tears filled his eyes. It was now evidently the design of Howe to push toward Philadelphia, the seat of the rebel government, and Washington re- solved to fly to its defense with his dimin- ishing army, then reduced to three thousand effective men. Fort Lee was abandoned, and the Continental troops made a swift march across New Jersey for Trenton, on the Dela- ware. Coruwallis crossed the Hudson from Dobbs Ferry with six thousand men, scaled the Palisades, took possession of the baggage and military stores left at Fort Lee by the fugitive Continentals, and for three weeks chased Washington across the level country from Hackensack to Trenton. At the latter place the pursued, strengthened by reinforce- ments, turned upon their pursuers and drove them out of New Jersey. IMPROVISATJONS.VJ. HEART, in my bosom beating Fierce, as a po~ver at bay! Ever thy rote repeating Louder, and then retreating, Who shall thy being sway? Over my will and under, Equally king and slave, Sometimes I hear thee thunder, Sometimes falter and blunder Close to the waiting grave! Oft, in the beautiful season, Restless thou art, and wild; Oft, with never a reason, Turnest and doest me treason, Treating the man as a child! Cold, when passion is burning, Quick, when I sigh for rest, Kindler of perished yearning, Curb and government spurning, Thou art lord of the breast! BAYARD TAYLOR. THE WINE ISLANDS OF LAKE ERIE. 27 THE WINE ISLANDS OF LAKE ERIE. And glitters oer the liquid miles The jeweled ring of verdant isles, Where generous Nature holds her court Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles. JOHN HAY. where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. for thee and me, A lone sweet isle amid the sea. The representative Lady, type of the many isolated hearts who give their love to some unattainable ideal, lived upon an island; the Master whose exquisite words are like Isles of the blest ! sighed the ancients, as they looked out over the unknown ocean, seeing in the hazy clouds of the horizon the purple shores of everlasting rest. And who among us, when traveling sad and weary over the waters, has not fallen into silence at the sight of far blue islands, mingling the Psalmists wish, 0 that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest, with dreams of the star islands in the sea of infinite space, whither we may be go- ing after death, and where our loved ones may even now be awaiting us. Erie is a dull lake, like persons one meets in life, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither strong nor weak, neither good nor bad. Its name signifies cat, given, say the first ex- plorers, on account of the number of wild- cats upon its borders; and as if this was not evil enough, the antiquated geography of Jedediah Morse, first published in 1789, de- scribes the westera end of the lake and its islands as so infested with rattlesnakes as to render it dangerous to land, acres of these creatures having been seen basking on tbe chords of music placed her, knowing what he did, K _________ T othe imagination there is something attractive in the very name of island. Robinson Crusoe on the main-land would lose the crown of bis glory; it is the island, the island, that fills the boyish heart with wondering interest. For children of a larger growth Reade takes up the tale, and his hero and heroinebut ordinary mortals in Londonare invested with a strange ro- mance when thrown together upon an isl- and; young love reads, young love dreams, and young love wishes,

THE WINE ISLANDS OF LAKE ERIE. 27 THE WINE ISLANDS OF LAKE ERIE. And glitters oer the liquid miles The jeweled ring of verdant isles, Where generous Nature holds her court Of ripened bloom and sunny smiles. JOHN HAY. where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. for thee and me, A lone sweet isle amid the sea. The representative Lady, type of the many isolated hearts who give their love to some unattainable ideal, lived upon an island; the Master whose exquisite words are like Isles of the blest ! sighed the ancients, as they looked out over the unknown ocean, seeing in the hazy clouds of the horizon the purple shores of everlasting rest. And who among us, when traveling sad and weary over the waters, has not fallen into silence at the sight of far blue islands, mingling the Psalmists wish, 0 that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away and be at rest, with dreams of the star islands in the sea of infinite space, whither we may be go- ing after death, and where our loved ones may even now be awaiting us. Erie is a dull lake, like persons one meets in life, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither strong nor weak, neither good nor bad. Its name signifies cat, given, say the first ex- plorers, on account of the number of wild- cats upon its borders; and as if this was not evil enough, the antiquated geography of Jedediah Morse, first published in 1789, de- scribes the westera end of the lake and its islands as so infested with rattlesnakes as to render it dangerous to land, acres of these creatures having been seen basking on tbe chords of music placed her, knowing what he did, K _________ T othe imagination there is something attractive in the very name of island. Robinson Crusoe on the main-land would lose the crown of bis glory; it is the island, the island, that fills the boyish heart with wondering interest. For children of a larger growth Reade takes up the tale, and his hero and heroinebut ordinary mortals in Londonare invested with a strange ro- mance when thrown together upon an isl- and; young love reads, young love dreams, and young love wishes, 28 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. lily leaves whicli stretched in every direc- tion over the shallow water. At the pres- ent day the cats and rattlesnakesunless, indeed, we except Reades and Holmess per- sonifications of themare gone; but the dullness remains, and we may sail froig Buf- falo to Cleveland, and from Cleveland to De- troit, we may cross and follow the Canada shore back again, and in all the 600 miles see nothing worth seeing save the man-made towns, so that we almost wish the eighteen thousand years which the Boston savants have assigned for the lakes evaporation might dwindle to eighteen, and thus let the Ohio corn fields spread their green ranks across to the Dominion shore. For from end to end there is no beauty in it. A Scotchman was once rallied about the total want of beauty in his betrothed. Eh, lads, he answered, dinna ye ken the dim- ple in her elbow ? And in like manner homely Erie has a dimple in her elbow, the group of islands in her southwest corner, as indistinct in the minds of most salt-water Americans as the Atlantis of the ancients. These islands, ten or more in number, vary- ing in size from 2800 acres to a mere dot in the water, lie off San dusky Bay, stretching out into the lake to meet their five Canadian sisters and the long point of Pel6e. The large steamers on their way up and down the lakes pass north of these islands, and generally make the passage in the night, and thus in order to see them one must go to Sandusky, and sail out over its bay in one of the little steamers belonging to the island fleetfor these islanders are a maritime peo- ple, and own a small flotilla of all kinds of craft, from a steamer to a sloop for a one- man crew. Fishing boats, too, they have, in which they sail out to their fish-pounds, and come racing home wing-and-wing, load- ed down with live fish crowded into their boat tanks. Then comes a lively scene, as the slippery creatures are thrown up into boxes standing on the dock, and so deftly is this managed that although tossed up with scarcely a glance, each squirming fish goes safely into his box, and is there trans- ported into the interior, to be eaten by the farmers and their families; for here, as every where else, imported luxuries are preferred; the fish of the islands go into the interior, and the flesh of the interior goes out to the islands. The fish-pounds are numerous, and at night, when, as the law requires, they are all lighted up, the water looks as though a fairy fleet was sailing over it, so low down and so bright twinkle the little lights. In- deed, to a steady-going main-lander who does nothing by chance, the island fishery is but witching work at best. He has, perhaps, spent St. Martins summer among the vine- yards, eating the grapes and drinking the fresh juice from the presses, which, as the old English verse says, Saint Martin afterward Alloweth to be wine a most fortunate miracle for the health of the incautious drinker. But now he sees a cloud rising behind the purple mist; the In- dian summer is over, and thoughts of the home fireside send him on board of the little steamer, which presently sails away, as he supposes, for Sandusky and the railroad. Mistaken supposition! The little boat cir- cles round in the archipelago, now going one way and now another, now slowing, now hastening on, now turning her head in- shore, and then suddenly backing out with- out stopping, until the bewildered traveler wonders whether a will-o-the-wisp is at the bow. At length the charm is pointed out; it proves to be nothing more or less than a white rag. This sign, hung out on the end of a pole, means fish, and as the catch is variable, and the stations numerous, the er- ratic course of the boat is explained. It is within the memory of the generation now passing away that the Lake Erie islands came into the jurisdiction of civilization by means of a United States survey. Before that period their exact situation and size were unknown, and their few inhabitants were wild lords of the isles, beyond the reach of the law, who came occasionally to the main-land settlements to traffic away their rafts of cedar logs, but who lived generally by hunting and fishing, with just a suspicion of a taste for wrecking when the September gales threw a harvest along their shores. But when the Kelley family regularly pur- chased the island since called by their name, the largest of the American group, the day of squatter sovereignty was over, and the hybrid population, with its mud floors and MEMORIAL ro cOMMOnORE PERRY, CIMRALrAR ISLARn. THE WINE ISLANDS OF LAKE ERIE. 29 no windows, slowly gave place to settlers of a better classslowly, since even now some of the islets are uninhabited, several have only a solitary family, and one, of course, has the traditional hermit who will not al- low a womans foot to touch the sacred soil of his retreat. The Indian names of the islands are gone, and they now bear the hap- hazard titles given to them by the sailors and settlers along shore Ballast, Gi- braltar, Sugar, Rattlesnake and the Rattles, Green, The Three ~ The Three Bass, Old Hen and Chickens, Mouse, Starve, Pel6e, and Kelleys, the last formerly known as Cunninghams. The group has its page in history, a page which might well cause envy in the rich main-land cities cherishing a taste for histor- ical societies, and burning for heroes to hon or. Upon this page men well known in American annals appear, for the little archi- pelago has witnessed skirmishes and battles, plots and victories, in the past and in the present, for present still seems the war of the rebellion, althonghwhen we reckon them, nearly a decade of years has passed since its close. First come the Indians. The story of the red men since the coming of Columbus is but a dreary series of wars and rumors of wars, broken truces, migrations, and never-ending trouble. Every plan has been tried, from gifts to rifle-balls, and every religious de- nomination has had an opportunity to try its moral suasion, while the impatient front- ier soldiers and pioneers, who look upon Indians as so many wolves, have been held back by the strong arm of the law from the work of extermination. And what has been accomplished? Nothing. The few feeble successes gained at the expense of precious lives and heavy contributions of money can not color the mass any more than one drop can color a fountain. The Indian question has become a weariness to the nation, and there is a universal skipping whenever the popular heading of Lo appears in the news- paper column. With the universal habit of mortals, however, we cherish an interest in what is beyond our reach. Let an Indian tribe vanish entirely from the earth without leaving a shadow behind, not even one chief- tain to go as a deputation to Washington, not even one brave who refuses to live upon his reservation, and skulks around the settle- ments clad in the cast-off silk hats of the white man, and forthwith we begin to exalt the extinct race with the heart of an anti- quarian and the pen of a novelist. It is only the degenerate, mind-fatiguing Indians of to-day whom we despise; no doubt the tribes of the past were of a nobler nature. Among these tribes of the past there are none more completely past than the Eries, who have left scarcely more than a name behind them. They belonged to that remarkable confedera- cy of tribes called the Neutral Nation, dwell- ing upon the southern shore of Lake Erie, a city of refuge for warring parties on either side. To them belonged the right of lighting the eQuncil-fire of peace, a ceremony which was said to require a maiden hand, and for SHO ES OF PUT-IN-BAYTHE LAKE ERIE YAcHT. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. years they held their place, respected and at give them to us, and you may go, and weT- peace. Upon these western islands were come. But as for us, we are determined to some of their fastuesses; traces of their for- stay, and, if the Great Spirit wills it so, we tifications were discovered there by the first will leave our bones npon the land of our surveyors, earth-works built, apparently to forefathers. For scathing rebuke and in- inclose a village, with gates and sally-ports flexible courage this red mans speech is ad- of wood, and in one place a quantity of new mirable; and it was emphasized by his stone axes and arrow-heads stored away in a death in the first battle that ensueda bat- rude armory for future use. Picture-writ- tIe which he knew was hopeless before it ing was also found, and one rock inscription began, but which his single determination upon Kelleys Island has been pronounced absolutely held in the balance until death the most extensive well - sculptured and struck him down. As the historian says, well - preserved inscription ever found in When his well-known voice was heard no America. The Eries were at the head of more, the battle ceased. the Neutral Nation, and at the time of the The shade of the Indian has passed, and first French explorers they were in the height now enter6 the young commodore, who, upon of their power. So much is known, but no the wild shores of Lake Erie, built a fleet froni more. The Iroquois came and swept them the trees of the forest, and almost nothing from the face of the earth. Of course, says besidesa feat which in the mind of a mod- the student of lake-country history, wearily. em ship-builder surpasses even the subse- The Iroquois are as sure to come sweeping quent victory. With these vessels the young in at the last as Sir William Johnson ! The officer sailed up the lake to the islands, and Eries were so utterly destroyed that the most there, off Put-in-Bay, he fought the battle patient investigator can only say, They of Lake Erie, September 10, 1813, the British were, and they are not. Little besides their fleet surrendering before sunset, and thereby existence is known of them, says Parkman, giving up the whole lake to American con- whose histories are as reliable as they are trol. The story of this battle has been told fascinatingan unusual combination. It is again and again, in prose and verse, in mar- an evil, no doubt, to be unreliable, but oh, ble and oil. There is something in the motto is it not equally evil to be a Dry-as-dust? which Perry hoisted just before the engage- A century and a half passed, during which ment which touches the popular fancy. the history of the lake islands is involved Dont give up the ship! has become one in obscurity, and then upon the scene steps of the peoples sayings, and the dispatch Tecumseh, who belongs to Ohio and Lake announcing the victory, We have met the Erie, as Pontiac belongs to the lovely De- enemy, and they are ours, has been adopted troit River. The chieftain is near his end into the military language of the day; only when we see him; he is making his last Grants We will fight it out on this line, if speech on the shore of the lake near the isl- it takes all summer, can compare with it. ands where he has watched the smoke of A deep principle often underlies a popular the battle at Put-in-Bay, and although he saying, as a deep feeling often underlies a suspects the defeat of his allies, he scorns to popular song. Armies have ridden to vie- retreat, and covers the British general with tory on the chorus of a song, parties have Indian satire. Standing upon the beach, carried a candidate into the White House on and waving his hand toward the islands, in the wave of a saying. The class to which the name of all the tribes he speaks: Fa- belongs George Eliots Mr. Casaubon may, in- ther, listen! Our fleet has gone out; we deed, scorn any thing popular, but what are know they have fought, we have heard the we all but people, and what is the world but great guns, but we know not what has hap- the peoples home! pened to our father with one arm (alluding After the battle the slain officers were bur- to Commodore Barclay, Perrys antagonist, ied on the shore of one of the islands: a who had lost an arm at Trafalgar). Our willow-tree marks the spot. A remarkable in- ships have gone one way, and we are much cident, showing the power of sound, belongs astonished to see our father tying up every to the story of the battle. A Cleveland pi- thing and freparing to run the other! You oneer was engaged that day in building the always told us you would never draw your first log court-house on the public square, foot off British ground, but now we see you when suddenly he was startled by a sound drawing back without even a sight of the which he supposed was thunder. There was enemy, and we must compare our fathers not a cloud in the sky, however, and the conduct to a fat dog who, when he is fright- wondering inhabitants gathered on the bank ened, drops his tail and runs away! Father, of the lake, thirty or forty in all, and looked listen! The Americans have not yet defeat- toward the west, whence the strange sounds ed us by land, and whether or not they have came. At length they recognized the report defeated us by water, we still wish to remain of cannon, and knowing that Perrys fleet here and fight when they appear. You have had gone up toward the islands, they began the arms and ammunition which ou~ great to realize that a battle was taking place, and English father sent to his red children; after a time actually distinguished the Amer THE WINE ISLANDS OP LAKE ERIE. 31 ican guns from the British, as the former were of heavier calibre. When, late in the afternoon, three loud reports were heard, evidently American, the listening band gave three hearty cheers, as sure of the unseen victory as though they had witnessed it from the shore of Put-in-Bay. The distance was seventy miles. The next figures on the page of island history are the patriots of the Canadian movement for liberty in 1838. Sandusky was one of their points of rendezvous, and the islands were tempting strongholds; near Pel~e Island they fought a battle with a force of British cavalry upon the ice, a nov- el battle-ground. And now we come down to our own day, and face a figure not ten years dend-Beall the pirate of Lake Erie. This young Vir- ginian, an officer of the Confederate army, was hung as pirate and spy on Governors Island, New York Harbor, February 24, 1865. The sentence was just, and its execution a necessary part of the discipline of war. Yet now that years have elapsed, and we can review the past without that terrible personal interest that made our hearts burn within us, there is something worthy of note in the story of this man, who, young, wealthy, and educated, threw himself, as it were, into the jaws of death from sincere though mistaken love for his native country. John Yates Beall was a native of Jefferson County, Yirginia~ He graduated at the / University of Virginia, Charlottesville, and at the breaking out of the rebellion owned a large plantation in his native county; his property was estimated at ~$1,5OO,OOO, and in addition he was said to be the heir of an es- tate in England. In the earliest days of the war Beau organized Company G, Second Virginia Infantry, and his regiment after- ward formed part of the original Stonewall Brigade, under Stonewall Jackson. He took part in many battles, but it is his pi- ratical expedition among the islands of Lake Erie which brings him within the range of our subjectan expedition which ended in disaster and death. It is well remembered along the luke shore; Buffalo, Detroit, and Cleveland were filled with excitement the citizens patrolled the streets by night, and visions of piratical craft sailing boldly in and firing upon the defenseless houses filled all eyes. Exhausted Ohio had sent into the field regiment after regiment beyond her quota, but her northern frontier was entire- ly exposed, and it seemed an easy thing to sail across from Canada and batter down her towns. Looking back upon it now, it still seems easy; and yet it was never done, although C nada swarmed with conspira- tors, under the leadership of Jacob Thomp- son, secret agent of the Confederate govern- ment. The United States had but one war vessel on the lakes, the Michigan, a paddle- wheel steamer, carrying eighteen guns. The capture of this boat would enable a small THE STEAMER MIcuIGAN]3U1UAL-PLAOE OF TILE SLAIN IN THE BATTLE OF LAKE ERIE. 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. body of men to carry destruction from one end of the lake to the other. In September, 1864, the Michigan was lying off Johnsons Island, Sandusky Bay, which had been used since 1862 as a d6p6t for prisoners of war; here were confined 2480 men, all, with the exception of about one hundred, officers of the Confederacy, enough to command an army of 80,000 men. The little island was naturally uppermost in the thoughts of the rebel officers in Canada. It was near at hand, a steamer could run across in the night, and in the winter a laud force could attack it, for the ice was strong, and no- where was there more than five miles be- tween island and island, stretching like step- ping-stones across the lake from Point Pel6e to the Ohio main-land. No other prison was on an exposed frontier like this, and were it not for the guns of the Michigan a rescue might be effected: the Michigan, therefore, mu~t be captured. On the morning of the 19th of Sep- tember the steamer Philo Parsons, plying between Detroit, the islands, and San- dusky, left Detroit at the usual hour on her way down the river; at Sandwich, on the Canadian side, four men came on board, and at Malden a party of twenty more, bringing with them a large old-fashioned trunk tied with ropes. As at this period there was a constant stream of fugitives crossing the border, fleeing from the draft, or coming back with empty pockets, this Malden party excited no comment, and the steamer went on her way through Lake Erie, stopping at the different islands, and taking on a number of passengers for San- dusky. After leaving Kelleys Island, the last of the group, suddenly four men came toward the clerk, who, owing to the absence of the captain, had command of the boat, and leveled revolvers at his head; at the same moment the old black trunk was opened, and the whole party armed them- selves with navy revolvers, bowie - knives, and hatchets, and took possession of the defenseless boat. The course was then changed, and after cruising about at ran- dom for some time the pirates turned back to one of the islandsMiddle Bassand stopped at the dock. While here the Island Queen, a steamer plying between Sandusky and the islands, came alongside, and, sus- pecting nothing, threw out a plank in order to land some freight. Instantly the pirates swarmed up her sides, calling upon the cap- tain to surrender; shots were firedappar- ently more for the purpose cf intimidation than for any real injuryknives and hatch- ets were held over the passengers, among whom were thirty or forty one-hundred-days men on their way to Toledo to be mustered out. The pirates were few in number, but they were well armed, and held both steam- ers at their mercy. The captain of the Island Queen made sturdy resistance, en- deavoring in vain to cut the ropes that bound his boat to the Parsons; and the en- gineer, refusing to obey the orders of the pirates, was shot in the cheek. Resistance was evidently useless; the passengers were put into the hold, with a guard over them, and the captain was asked if many strangers had come to Sandusky that morning, and if there was any excitement there. After some delay and discussion among themselves the pirates decided to exact an oath of se- crecy for twenty-four hours from the women and citizen passengers, and allow them to go on shore, together with the hundred-days men, whom they paroled, and then the two steamers, lashed together, started out to- ward Sandusky, the captain of the Island Queen being retained, with the hope that he could be forced to act as pilot. When four or five miles out the Island Queen was scut- tled and abandoned, and the Parsons went on alone. A debate sprung up among the pirates as to whether or not they should run into Sandusky Bay; evidently something had failed them, some one had disappointed them. At length the captain was again put into the hold, the boats speed was slacken- ed, and she was kept cruising up and down outside as if waiting for a signal. Chief in command of these raiders was John Yates Beall: his appearance and man- ner rendered him conspicuous among the others, who are described, in the language of one who saw them, as a mean, low-lived set; Burley, the second in command, being a perfect desperado. In the report of Jacob Thompson, secret agent of the Confederacy in Canada, a document belonging to the rebel archives, the whole plot is related. There were two parts, the first being the expedi- tion by water tinder Beall, and the second a conspiracy on shore, by means of which the officers of the Michigan were to be thrown off their guard, so that upon a given signal Beall could steam rapidly in, surprise them, and capture the boat. A cannon-shot sent over Johnsons Island was to tell the prison- ers that the hour of rescue had come; San- dusky was next to be attacked, and after horses had been secured the prisoners were to mount and make for Cleveland, the boats co-operating, and from~ Cleveland strike across Ohio for Wheeling and the Virginia border. The key to the whole movement was the capture of the Michigan. The plot on shore was headed by a Con- federate officer named Cole. As has been related, Beall performed his part with entirc success; and had the other head possessed equal capacity, no doubt the plan would have been successful, and the whole North taken by surprise at this daring raid and rescue upon a hitherto peaceful and unno- ticed border. The two thousand young of- ficers riding for their lives through the heart w THE WINE ISLANDS OF LAKE ERIE. 33 of Ohio, where there was no organized force to oppose them, would have seemed like a l)hantom band to the astonished inhabitants. Even the famous raid of John Morgan, well remembered in the great red-brick farm- houses of the central counties, would have been eclipsed by this flying troupe, the flower of the Southern army. On the lake Beall would have held the whole coast at his mercy, and the familiar old Michigan, turned iuto a piratical craft, would have carried terror into every harbor. But the plot on shore failed. Cole spent his money freely in Sandusky, and managed to procure an introduction to the officers of the Michigan, inviting them to supper-par- ties, and playing the part of a genial host whose wines are good and generously offered. The tedium of the daily life upon the steamer and in the small town was enlivened by his hospitality, and for some time all went well; but gradually he began to mar his own plot l)y so much incautiousness and such a want of dexterity in his movements that a si]s- picion was aroused in Sandusky, and his mameuvres were watched. On the evening of the 19th of September Cole had invited the officers of the Michigan to a supper-party. Every thing was prepared for them, the wine was drugged, and when by this means they had been rendered helpless, a signal was to notify Beall that all was ready for his attack. But in the mean time suspiciQil had grown into certainty, and at the very moment of success Cole was arrested by order of the commander of the Michigan, the signal was never given, and Beall, on board of the Par- sons, strained his eyes in vain toward San- dusky and Johnsons Island, cruising up and down outside the bay, now talking with his prisoner, the captain, and now urging his men to dare all and make the attack alone. But the men, a disorderly rabble gathered together in Canada, ref to enter the bay; and at last, disappointed and disheart- ened, Beall gave the signal to turn the boat, and abandoned the attempt. Back went the Parsons, with her pirate crew, past Kelleys Island, where the alarmed inhabitants were burying their valuables, and looking for the flames of burning Sandusky; past Mid- dle Bass, where the unfortunate passengers, watching on the beach shortly after mid- night, saw her fly by, the fire pouring out of her smoke-stacks, and making for the Detroit River like a scared pickerel. The captain and those of the crew who had been retained to manage the boat were put ashore upon an uninhabited island, and after reach- ing the Canadian shore and scuttling the steamer, the pirates disbanded, and Beall, the master-spirit, was left to brood over a failure which had the additional bitterness of possible success. In the morning the lake-country people woke up to hear the news. Incendiaries VOL. XLVILNo. 2T7.3 and conspirators in their midst, raiders by land and pirates by seathese were the tidings of the breakfast-table. Batteries, soldiers, and generals were hurried hither and thither, stern investigations were or- dered, guards doubled, and above it all rose the sound of popular comment in newspapers and on street corners, until the buzz spread through the nation. To be sure, the h6rse was not stolen, if we call the Michigan a horse, but there was an~ immense amount of shutting the stable door. And when the old steed appeared again in the various har- bors of the lake, she was regarded with cu- riosity and redoubled affection as one who had indeed snuffed the battle, though from afar. In less than four months Beall was cap- tured near the Suspension-Bridge, and taken to New York. An attempt to bribe the turn- key with three thousand dollars in gold hav- ing been discovered, the authorities sent him to Fort Lafayette, and while there he made an appeal to the bar of New York to undertake his defense. For a time no one responded, but at length Mr. James T. Brady offered his services, and the trial began before a military court. Beall was charged with the seizure of the steamer Philo Parsons at Kelleys Isl- and, Lake Erie; with the seizure of the steamer Island Qz~een at Middle Bass Island, Lake Erie; with being a rebel spy in Ohio and New York; and with an attempt to throw the express car off the track between Buffalo and Dunkirk, for the purpose of robbing the express companys safe. The officers of the captured steamers came from the West to identify him, and it is said that Beall frankly confirmed their testimony, re- marking that as regarded the lake affair the trial had been fair and impartial. In the defense a manifesto from Jefferson Davis was offered, asserting that these acts upon the border were committed by his authority, and should be recognized as the acts of lawful belligerents. But the court pronounced the verdict of Guilty; and General Dix ap- proved the finding, ordering the prisoner to be hung on Governors Island, Saturday, the 18th of February. In reviewing the testi- mony, General Dix said: The accused is shown to be a man of education and refine- ment, and it is difficult to account for his agency in transactions so abhorrent to the moral sense and so inconsistent with all the rules of honorable warfare. In this opinion all just-minded persons will agree. And yet, as an example of judgment, mistaken but equally sincere, an example of perverted mental vision, take the farewell letter of Beall to his brother, written on the eve of the day appointed for his execution: ....Ilemember me kindly to my friends. Say to them that 1 am not aware of committing any crime against society. I die for my country. No thirst for hlood or lucre animated me in my course... .~Iy handa ~34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. A short respite was afterward granted by President Lincoln to enable the mother to see her son; but on the afternoon of the 24th of February the execntion took place, npon Governors Island, New York Harbor, the prisoner responding to the prayers of the Episcopal service for the dying, but other- wise remaining apparently nnmoved. One item in the newspaper acconnts of the day is worthy of note. Dnring the whole of the long proceedings before the execntion the young man kept his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the sonthern horizon, as if looking to- ward the very heart of the conntry for which he was giving np his life. Beau was finely formed, abont five feet eight inches in height, with hazel eyes, brown hair and beard, and a firmly com- pressed month. He was thirty-two years old at the time of his death. The islands are now free from alarm, the prison barracks on Johnsons, in the bay, are gone, and nothing warlike remains save a few earth-works and traditions of the past, which mingle the stories of 1813 with those of 1864. Grapes are every where: the long ranks of the vines stretch from shore to shore, and even the talk is frnity. Grapes are fastidious in their choice of a home; here they will and there they will not grow. One side of a field they accept, and the other side they reject, and in many localities they refuse to show even a leaf on the trellis. If the soil is unfavorable for the vine, no art can render it favorable. But here on this southern shore of Lake Erie, and npon its islands, the grape fionrishes in unrivaled luxuriance, and even the banks of the Ohio, the first stronghold of the Catawba, have been forced to yield a precedence in many l)oints to the northern rival. Many crops are useful, hut few are in themselves beau- tiful; digging potatoes, for example, can never fignre upon the poets page. But ev- ery thing connected with a vineyard is fnll of beanty, whether it be the green leaves and twining tendrils of the spring, the bunches slowly turning in the hot mid- summer sun, the first picking in early fall, when the long aisles are filled with young girls making merry over their work, or the last ingathering of the Indian snmsner, when the late-ripening bunches hanging on the bare trellises shine through the vineyards in red-purple gleams as far as the eye can reach. Nothing can be more lovely than the islands in this golden season; Dionysius himself would have loved them. The water is blue and tranquil, for even in a gale the fury does not enter here among the land- locked harbors; on all sides stand the isl- ets, some large, some small, some vine-cov- ered and inhabited, others rocky and wild; rUT-IN-BAY sezuzay. are clean of blood, unless spilled in conflict, and not a cent enriched my pocket. ... vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will repay. Therefore do not show un- kindness to the prisoners; they are helpless. Jonz YATES BEALL. THE WINE ISLANDS OF LAKE ERIE. 35 the trees glow with color, and sweeping down to the waters edge, send a brill- iant reflection far out from shore; and over all is spread the dreamy haze of In- dian summer, more beautiful when resting on the water, and deepening here and there upon an island, than it ever can be on the ~ level main-land. A few sail are seen, gen _ __ erally the fishing boats, but sometimes comes a Lake Erie yacht from the shore ities, bound to or from the du~ marshes far up Sandusky Bay. Gibraltar Island, a mere dot in the water, is crowned by a villa whose tower forms a picturesque point in the landscape. This islet is a country-seat belonging to Mr. Jay Cooke, the banker, and upon its rocky sum- mit is a memorial of Commodore Perry, over- looking the scene of the battle of Lake Erie. Upon Kelleys Island also there are some handsome residences, and no doubt they will be built all through the archipelago where- ever a point or a headland can be spared from the grapes. Oh, said our oarsman, as we floated near the Needles Eye of Gibraltar, my brother-in-law could have bought the whole island for seventy-five dollars ! Why did he not do it, then ~ Oh, he never thought as how the old rock would be worth so much; that was be- fore folks took to coming here, and there wasnt many grapes either. Thousands of dollars are now asked for the smallest island. Kelleys, the largest of the group, po~sess- es, in addition to its vineyards, valuable limestone quarries, from which the furnaces from Erie, Pennsylvania, to Marquette, Lake Superior, draw their supplies of lime and flux stone. It has 836 inhabitants, five schools, and four churches. Put-in-Bay Island has 600 inhabitants, and two large hotels, which are fifled in the summer with Southerners fleeing from Mis- souri and Kentucky heat; they find Lake Erie air quite cool, while the Lake Erie peo- ple, panting and oppressed, fly by on steam- ers, and stop not until they reach Mackinac or Lake Superior. Meanwhile the Lake Su- perior people make excursions to the north shore; and no doubt when the north shore is settled, the inhabitants will spend their summers at the arctic circle. The scenery of the islands is never grand, but alwaya lovely. The tired bra.in is not excited to the work of admiration or wonder, but it can find restful pleasure floating on the quiet water in the shade of the cliffs, or dreaming away the days in the beautiful vineyards. We all have our moods when we ask, like the lotos-eaters, Why are we weighed upon with heaviness, Aud utterly consumed with sharp distress, While all thiugs else have rest from weariness ? At such times the islands are like the land in which it seemed always afternoon, and coming here, the weary can fall asleep in a half dream, and take sweet rest after their labors in the busy main-land towns. America has so long imported its wince that it hardly yet realizes the presence of a native production. The wine of the islande is of several kinds, the best known heing the dry Catawba. The expression juice of the grape, however, misleads the igno- rant, who fancy that grapes and a press are all that is necessary. This idea is like that ON P01-IN-BAY ISLAND. 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the young lady who, upon being asked how ~he would prepare a dish of baked beaus, replied, Why, put them in the dish and bake them, of course. Every thing has its chemistry, even beaus; and wine -making is chemical science, whereof the very terms are mysterious to the uninitiated. But the grapes in the heaped barrels and baskets are a sight worth seeing, and the presses, with the juice flowing out in a fragrant stream, bring the Old Testament to our minds, the days when the new wine was preferred to the old. Down in the cellars of the wine- houses, under the presses, stand rows of gi- ant casks, and the superintendent fills a glass from each to show the wine in all its stages. It is goodvery good; and as it is native, it is cheap cheap when compared with even the poorest imported mixture. It has often been asserted that the inhabitants of a vine-growing district are never intemperate. The purity of the wine prevents the excite- ment produced by vile compounds, and its very plentifulness teaches its proper use. There is no need to slip away into obscure places to get it; there is no need for decep- tion or excuse. Every body has it, every bodydrinks it, and the fascination of rarity is gone. If this is true, the native wines should be brought into common use as an antidote against the deadly liquors which so soon blunt the heart and destroy the mind of man. Throughout the West already have they won their way, and gradually are they penetrating into the Eastern markets. Not rapidly, however, for it was only last sum- mer when, after ordering a bottle of dry Catawba, which by some chance had got its name upon the wine list of a fashionable wa- tering-place hotel, the head waiter brought us sparkling Moselle, with the assurance that it was just the same wineexactly the same. The statistics of the grapes and wine for one year will give an idea of the extent of the production: Number of acres in bearing in Ottowa County aud the islauds 2,032 Total product, in pounds 1,462,150 Grapes sold, iu pounds 118,000 Number of gallons of wine made 312,134 The grapes brine from five to eight cents per pound, and the common quality of wine at wholesale brings sixty cents per gallon. There are good years and bad years, the vintage varying in quality and quantity. Al- ready the wine of such-and-such a year is of- fered to the guest with an air which would be foreign if it was not so entirely natire; old-fashioned connoisseurs know all abdut the vintage of such and such a year, but in their day the vintages spoken of were all for- eign. They are not all foreign now. The nativo Bacchus is young and modest, but his follow- ers will gather around him before long. Al- ready the native poet, Americas greatest, has not been ashamed to chant his praises in the following verses: CATAWBA WINE. This song of mine Is a song of the vine, To be sung by the glowing embers Of way-side inns When the rain begins To darken the drear Novembers. It is not a song Of the Scuppernong From warm Carolinian valleys, Nor the Isabel, And the Muscadel, That bask in our garden alleys. ~Iichest and best Is the wine of the West That grows by the beautiful river; Whose sweet perfume Fills all the room With a benison on the giver. Very good in its way Is the Verzenay, Or the Sillery soft and creamy, But Catawba wine Has a taste inure divine, More dulcet, delicious, and dreamy. Pure as a spring Is the wine I sing, And to praise it one needs but name it, For Catawba wine has need of no sign, No tavern-bush to proclaim it. II. W. LONGFELLOW. TO-MORROW. I. DowN in the blossomy orchard she sat, and sang to herself An idle and ancient ballad of king and giant and elf, Set to a dull old measure, crossed by a weird refrain, Yet the pulse of the singers gladness beat wild in every strain. Bird songs were echoed around her; each gay breath of the breeze Made love to a world of blossoms already troihed to the bees; shadows, courted of sunshine, flecked the leaves and tbe ground, And the subtle odors of summer filled all the air around. Flouting the merry young clovers and kingcups yellow and flue, A bit of a brook danced onward, nor recked of shade or of shine. Sky-heights flooded with sunshine, lines of river and hill, Made the heart of a distant picture tinted at Springs sweet will. TO-MORROW. 37 Busily working and singing, she wove the wreath and the vine Over the threads of the linen in many a fanciful line; Busily working, and singing of king and giant and elf, In the midst of the qnaint old ditty she softly laughed to herself. Slowly the notes of the ballad strayed into silence and died; Robins and bees kept the chorus shrill and cheery and wide; Then, musing in that old fashion that maidens understand, Unheeded the folds of linen slid from her careless hand. Ah, how lovely the world is! I could never be sad! Why, the sun and the blossoms elens could make me glad! I am so happy, so happy, I scarce have one regret But, ah! to-morrow, fe-merrew, I shall be happier yet! Birdie, up in the branches, sing me your prettiest lay; Dont grow weary of trilling your clear little songs to-day; Because to-morrow, my birdieah! now you have taken wiub Some one I know of may listen and -hear you when you sing. Somebodys coming to-morrow: I would not care to tell The leaves and the little flowers the name I love so well. I am sure he is comingand sure of something more: If thoughts and wishes could bring him, he would have come before. Only a week since Mondayhow long a week can be ! Monday night, in the gateway, he said good-by to me; And thenbut I am forgetting something else that he said He said good-bys ~vould be over when he and I were wed. When he and I are wedded! Ah, that will be so soon! To think of the long years lying beyond this afternoon! Only a day! so little out of a whole long life Before to-morrow is ended, I shall be his wife. BusiLy wonKiNe AND SINGING, SHE wovn THE WREATH AND THE YIN

TO-MORROW. 37 Busily working and singing, she wove the wreath and the vine Over the threads of the linen in many a fanciful line; Busily working, and singing of king and giant and elf, In the midst of the qnaint old ditty she softly laughed to herself. Slowly the notes of the ballad strayed into silence and died; Robins and bees kept the chorus shrill and cheery and wide; Then, musing in that old fashion that maidens understand, Unheeded the folds of linen slid from her careless hand. Ah, how lovely the world is! I could never be sad! Why, the sun and the blossoms elens could make me glad! I am so happy, so happy, I scarce have one regret But, ah! to-morrow, fe-merrew, I shall be happier yet! Birdie, up in the branches, sing me your prettiest lay; Dont grow weary of trilling your clear little songs to-day; Because to-morrow, my birdieah! now you have taken wiub Some one I know of may listen and -hear you when you sing. Somebodys coming to-morrow: I would not care to tell The leaves and the little flowers the name I love so well. I am sure he is comingand sure of something more: If thoughts and wishes could bring him, he would have come before. Only a week since Mondayhow long a week can be ! Monday night, in the gateway, he said good-by to me; And thenbut I am forgetting something else that he said He said good-bys ~vould be over when he and I were wed. When he and I are wedded! Ah, that will be so soon! To think of the long years lying beyond this afternoon! Only a day! so little out of a whole long life Before to-morrow is ended, I shall be his wife. BusiLy wonKiNe AND SINGING, SHE wovn THE WREATH AND THE YIN 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. I can see him before me, just as he looked that night, Standing under the lilacs, facing the sunset light, Turning back in the gateway to kiss me once again I hope he will look to-morrow just as he look6d then. Some time, far in the future, when I am old and gray, I shall like to look back and think about my wedding-day. I am glad it is coming just in the last of Spring, The time for flowers to blossom, the time for birds to sing. When I am wrinkled and feeble, and like to sit all day In the sunlight or the fire-light, and while the time away With little tasks, and with stories of all that used to be, Of the old days and old faces that were so dear to me, Perhaps I shall then remember how oft I have sat aldne Down here in this little orchard upon this mossy stone, Planning and hoping and dreaming, as girls so like to dream, Telling my fortune with daisies, watching my face in the stream, Wondering, wondering always what I should do and be, And what the life that was coming might have in store for me. Perhaps I shall drop my knitting and smile and wonder again To think of the grand air castles that seemed so solid then. Truly, it matters little what else my life may bring, Because it has brought me Rogerso says tbis golden ring! And not Aladdins genii, with all their wondrous art, Could bring me a gift so priceless as is one loving heart. I would like to be dancing, dancing the whole day through; But I am a grown-up woman, and that would never do. Hark! the clock in the village is strikingone, two, three (I wonder if Roger is thinking about to-morrowand me!) There, my scissors and thimble have fallen into the stream! Here I am idly losing half the day in a dream! Sometimes, when I am thinking, the days seem one and all Only a dream that passes like sunshine on a wall! It will be strange to-morrow, strange to be dressed in white, With all the people gazing, on the left and the right; Stranger still to be thinking that Roger belongs to me And I belong to Roger through all eternity! We shall be happyhappy if good or ill betide Because we love each other better than all beside. Better than God, I wonder ?I think God likes to see Just such a happy marriage as Rogers and mine will he! Roger will think me prettybe always thinks me so But I shall be blushing scarlet half the time, I know. And it all will be so solemn, the promises and the prayer But then how many are married and never seem to care! Some ones calling: I wonder if they are calling me? I think I wlll leave my dreaming a while and go and see. Shadows are getting longer, long as the afternoon: Thank you, my lady shadowsbring me to-morrow soon. Gathering up the linen, scissors, thimble, and thread, She hastened across the grasses with light and careless tread, Out whpre the fields were sleeping in sunshines rich content, Tossing the curls from her forehead, and singing as she went. Down in the blossomy orchard the shadows grew and grew, And the robins and the blackbirds sang all the songs they knew. Sunset wedded the twilight, crowned with a crescent moon, And the night awaited the morningcoming, now, so soon. II. The sun was up, the worid was gay, Her gray-haired father in its place And only softest breezes blew. Laid by the ancient Testament, Laden with many a bloomy spray, Glanced up and smiled to see her face She brushed aside the morning dew. So bright with beauty and content. Her eyes were happy as the day Her mother, busiest of the race That shone upon the world anew; Of housewives, in her aspect blent Her wavy hair was bound away With cheerfulness a quiet grace, From brow and neck with ribbons blue. By simple ways and duties lent. TO-MORROW. 39 Her sisters, laughing in the door, Were wreathing flowers with husy skill; Tjpou the sunny steps and floor The wind strewed leaves and blooms at will. The blossomed boughs,kept sweets in store For bees that had their hives to fill, And peacefully the sky spread oer The distant stretch of wood and hill. The morning, like a happy child, Seemed sent from Heaven, full of glee; Above the dew-wet world it smiled, And made the noon and dawn agree. The orioles, with trillings wild, Sang roundelays in many a tree; And, high in air, the lark beguiled The passing hours with melody. The little winds, in courses free, Lingered and tossed her tresses oer, As if so fair a bride as she Had never sat in cottage door. The streams of sunshine merrily Poured in upon the walls and floor, As if, since days began to he, No wedding-day had come before. And happy repartee and jest Were tossed about among the girls: See, here is rue for Rogers vest, And dandelions to trim your curls. How beautifully wed be dressed If only grooms were knights and earls! I wonder, Maryyou know best If Roger cares for crimps and quiris ? When once her wedding-day is oer, We may have time to think of ours: Its well to settle long before About the bride-maids and the dowers. Ill hang this wreath above the door, And ioop the curtains back with flowers A single sprayit needs no more And leaves will keep it fresh for hours. Now, Mary, when youre saying Yes, You mustnt look at Sue or me: Just count the ruffles on your dress, Or blossoms on the apple-tree. Rogerll he grave enough, I guess; I hope youll do as well as he. Im sure I wish you all success In putting on your dignity I Roger be grave ? Well, hardly that; But graver than his wont, I trow: Ill give his arm a friendly pat If he forgets and answers No. Youll stand just here, where father sat When James was married long ago; Right on the border of the mat Between the door and windowso. And Roger, with his careless grace, Will look as handsome as a king; And you !a rose will match your face Dear me! If Roger drops the ring So, chattering~ all about the piacs, They set the witnesses of Spring, And left a little subtle trace Of love and care on every thing. But she, half laughing at their talk, Kept watchful eyes upon the gate, The roads far wiudings, white as chalk. Then Maud said, gayly, Rogers late! Lets promenade along the walk, And scold because he made us wait; Lets gather each a tansy stalk, And wear a weed in widowed state I The ancient clock upon the wall Was pointing out the sign of ten, And shaded parlor, shaded hall, Seemed fit for haunt of fairy men. The snowy blooms inwreathing all Made shadows white; and now and then A passing breeze let odors fall, And wandered into sun again. Why, where is Roger? See how late! At nine, we thought, he must be here ! Well, time and tide can never wait: The noon will bring him, do not fear. But like a bird without a mate, Restless and seeking what might cheer, Flitting between the door and gate, She waited, straining eye and ear To catch the first faint, distant sign Of his approach; and near and far The fields lay fair in shade and shine; No cloud the breadtlis of sky did mar; The narrow way-side paths were flue With many a blossom-cup and star, And far along the roads white line The cattle grazed by wall and bar. The morning hours passed one by one; The noon came with its world of gold; The petty household tasks were done, And friends were gathered, new and old; And all the wedding mirth begun, And jests were made and tales were told: But still he came not, though the sun Chased shadows from the wood and wold. Within her chamber, new arrayed In laces fairy gossamer, She sat and wondered, half afraid, And starting at the breezes stir; And starting if a bird betrayed Its nearness by a chirp or whir Amazed, and doubting, since he staid, What cause his coming might defer. Her sisters, gay an hour ago, Sought comfort in each others eyes, And filled the moments tardy flow With hasty questions and replies. The wedding guests who sat below Whispered their comments and surprise. The mother, moving to and fro, Still kept her gentle, cheerful guise. The ancient clock, bedecked with flowers, Was pointing out the sign of two: Too swiftly now the busy hours Moved onward in the courses due. The bridal presents, loving dowers Of old affection proved anew, Lay underneath their tiny bowers Unheeded; and the moments grew, And made another hour. The while She waited, grown heart-sick with dread, Her sisters sought with harmless guile To smooth the careful words they said, And tried with many a winning wile To scatter fears that silence fed. Still, with white lips she tried to smile, But turned away and wept instead. He may be ill. If that were so He must have sent us some brief word. We had the note two days ago. Perhaps some new delay occurred. I never knew the time so slow. Said one, in whispers scarcely heard, How strange! If we could only know! His coming ceuld not be deferred And then, what will the people say ? Oh, hush! speak lower; she may hear. Is that a dust-cloud, far away Upon the road, and coming near ? It is! it is! I hope and pray It may be Roger! Little fear But that it is. A wedding-day Without a bridegroom would be queer. 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The noise of wheels had reached her ear, The tramp of horses driven fast: How quickly every brow grew clear That clouds of doubt had overcast! And, laughing out with sudden cheer, She cried, Ah, he is come at last! I knew I had no cause for fear, But yet, thank Heaven the fear is past! I wonder what has kept him so! And seemy eyes are swollen and red Theyre only at the bridge. How slow! Tell me when they are near! she said. She smoothed the laces tumbled snow, Bewreathed the flowers that crowned her head, Smiled at the mirrors pretty show, And paced the floor with restless tread. Theyre here, and there is Roger ! Nay, That is not Roger! Why, who, then ? A stranger, and his hair is gray. But Rogers with him. Look again No. Now hes at the door; but stay Listen. They asked him where? and when? What was it that I heard him say? The Erie Railway? Found at ten ? A knot of people in the door, And voices loud, then hushed and low: How many killed ? You say at four ? A crowded train ! If she should know Dead when you found him ? Long before And killed, I think, by one hard blow. He must have lain six hours or more Netted within the ruins so. He had this letter in his hand; It said he was to wed to-day. I thought, perhapsyou understand The news might come some harder way. Only a girls despairing cry Ringing across the sunny air, A murmur, fading to a sigh, Then sudden silence every where. And none had~inown that she was by, And none had thought to save or spare. They stared, aghast. Was she so nigh ? You did not tell me she was there And still the summer breezes fanned Each tiny leaf and bloomy spray, And still throughout the happy land The blossoms told that it was May; For hearts may break and loves grow cold Betwixt the morning and the eve, And still the sunset gives its gold To those who smile, to those who grieve; And graves are filled and men grow old, And still the busy seasons weave New lives and loves; and last years mould Covers the dust of those they leave. K V WHAT WAS IT THAT I HIIAIID HIM SAY ? WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH SCROGGS? 41 WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH SCROGGS? Br CHARLES NORDILOFF. ACCORDING to the latest returns, there are in the United States forty-one State- prisons, of which New York has three, Penn- sylvania and Indiana two each, and the other States one each, with the exception of Del- aware, where the whipping-post saves them the expense of a penitentiary. The number of county jails is over two thousand; and there are, besides, houses of correction, local penitentiaries, etc., for adults, to the num- ber of twenty-five, chiefly in New York and Massachusetts. The State-prisons of this country contain at this time about 16,000 convicts; and there were in May, 1872, about 38,500 per- sons in confinement for various crimes and offenses, in prisons of all kinds, in the whole United States. It thus appears that, ac- cording to the formula of a sarcastic French- man, the detected and convicted are to the undetected part of our population as about one to one thousand. But as the imprisoned part is mostly between sixteen and forty years of age, a truer comparison would be with the population comprised between those ages, and this would give about one to every 450 in a jail of some kind. When a man or woman is sentenced to prison for a term of years, society ceases to trouble itself about him almost as much as though he had been happily shot or hanged. While he remains in prison he is clothed, warmed, and fed, and more or less disci- plined, at societys expense, and, like a naughty child shut up in a closet, he does not bother any body except his keepers. When his term is served he is summarily turned out from the place which has mean- time become home to him; and with his old clothes, and enough money to pay his way to the nearest big city, he is left to do what he choosesor rather what necessity, weak- ness, ignorance, the force of old associations, the desperation of loneliness, all combined, may tempt him to do. His readiest friends are his old companions in vagrancy or crime, and the top of his ambition is to maintain his place among the great mass of the unde- tected. If the police is too crafty for him, if he is again caught, society, virtuously in- dignant, sends him lack to prison, where, of course, he figures as an incorrigible, and receives double doses of discipline, hortatory and otherwise. In some few cases he re- forms, and becomes a more or less useless member of society. But all who have had to do with criminals report that genuine and lasting reform is but seldom found, and that when a boy once gets into jail, he will probably continue to prey upon society as long as he lives, and that on the score of economy, and leaving humanity out of view, it would have been better to shoot or hang him at the beginning. The general conviction that, as Quetelet puts it, it is society which prepares the crime, the criminal being only the instru- ment which executes it, has be come so deep that society has in modern times con- scientiously imposed upon governments the task of not merely confining, but of trying to reform its criminals. With society or- ganized as at presentthat is to say, very rudely, imperfectly, and selfishlywe know that, given a certain density of population, and we shall find a certain definite and predicable number of thefts, of robberies, of burglaries, and murders. The diffusion of intelligence, the decrease of intemper- ance, and other circumstances affect this result, but they are themselves affected by density of population, and it remains true that the statistician can foretell with start- ling correctness how many thieves, burglars, robbers, and assassins there will be in any Christian community whose .numbers per square mile he knows. Society being con- stituted as it now is, a certain proportion will be criminals, just as a certain other proportion will be dyspeptics, or will have weak eyes, and another proportion will be virtuous, self-denying, conscientious, and ir- ritable. The burglar is as much the natu- ral and legitimate product of society as Jim Fisk was the inevitable result of the inde- cent scramble for wealth, and the semi-bar- barous love of ostentatious living which dis- tinguishes New York. When, therefore, Scroggs is detected, con- victed, and sentenced to Sing Sing, society is guilty with Scroggs; and knowing this, it enjoins upon Scroggss keeper that he shall not torture Scroggs, that he shall give him enough to eat, and a fit place to sleep in, that he shall cause Scroggs to be instructed in letters and morals, and that he shall in general try to prepare him to become a use- ful member of society, instead of a beast of prey. And in order that all this may be done, and thus the guilty social conscience be put at rest, society, which is an Ass, puts politicians in the places of prison managers and inspectors, and then goes about its busi- ness. Its duty is done. By-and-by Scroggs has served out his term, and unless he was a ward politician in which case he is all right, and can take up his old calling without delay or hinder- ancehe is turned out of prison presuina- bly reformed, with good impulses where bad ones were, with virtue triumphant in his bosom, and with an old suit of clothes on his back, and a dollar and a half in his pocket. Now, if it was the duty of society to make a man of him, it has conspicuously failed. If it owed him any thing, it owed him far more than it gives him. For the most part,

WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH SCROGGS? 41 WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH SCROGGS? Br CHARLES NORDILOFF. ACCORDING to the latest returns, there are in the United States forty-one State- prisons, of which New York has three, Penn- sylvania and Indiana two each, and the other States one each, with the exception of Del- aware, where the whipping-post saves them the expense of a penitentiary. The number of county jails is over two thousand; and there are, besides, houses of correction, local penitentiaries, etc., for adults, to the num- ber of twenty-five, chiefly in New York and Massachusetts. The State-prisons of this country contain at this time about 16,000 convicts; and there were in May, 1872, about 38,500 per- sons in confinement for various crimes and offenses, in prisons of all kinds, in the whole United States. It thus appears that, ac- cording to the formula of a sarcastic French- man, the detected and convicted are to the undetected part of our population as about one to one thousand. But as the imprisoned part is mostly between sixteen and forty years of age, a truer comparison would be with the population comprised between those ages, and this would give about one to every 450 in a jail of some kind. When a man or woman is sentenced to prison for a term of years, society ceases to trouble itself about him almost as much as though he had been happily shot or hanged. While he remains in prison he is clothed, warmed, and fed, and more or less disci- plined, at societys expense, and, like a naughty child shut up in a closet, he does not bother any body except his keepers. When his term is served he is summarily turned out from the place which has mean- time become home to him; and with his old clothes, and enough money to pay his way to the nearest big city, he is left to do what he choosesor rather what necessity, weak- ness, ignorance, the force of old associations, the desperation of loneliness, all combined, may tempt him to do. His readiest friends are his old companions in vagrancy or crime, and the top of his ambition is to maintain his place among the great mass of the unde- tected. If the police is too crafty for him, if he is again caught, society, virtuously in- dignant, sends him lack to prison, where, of course, he figures as an incorrigible, and receives double doses of discipline, hortatory and otherwise. In some few cases he re- forms, and becomes a more or less useless member of society. But all who have had to do with criminals report that genuine and lasting reform is but seldom found, and that when a boy once gets into jail, he will probably continue to prey upon society as long as he lives, and that on the score of economy, and leaving humanity out of view, it would have been better to shoot or hang him at the beginning. The general conviction that, as Quetelet puts it, it is society which prepares the crime, the criminal being only the instru- ment which executes it, has be come so deep that society has in modern times con- scientiously imposed upon governments the task of not merely confining, but of trying to reform its criminals. With society or- ganized as at presentthat is to say, very rudely, imperfectly, and selfishlywe know that, given a certain density of population, and we shall find a certain definite and predicable number of thefts, of robberies, of burglaries, and murders. The diffusion of intelligence, the decrease of intemper- ance, and other circumstances affect this result, but they are themselves affected by density of population, and it remains true that the statistician can foretell with start- ling correctness how many thieves, burglars, robbers, and assassins there will be in any Christian community whose .numbers per square mile he knows. Society being con- stituted as it now is, a certain proportion will be criminals, just as a certain other proportion will be dyspeptics, or will have weak eyes, and another proportion will be virtuous, self-denying, conscientious, and ir- ritable. The burglar is as much the natu- ral and legitimate product of society as Jim Fisk was the inevitable result of the inde- cent scramble for wealth, and the semi-bar- barous love of ostentatious living which dis- tinguishes New York. When, therefore, Scroggs is detected, con- victed, and sentenced to Sing Sing, society is guilty with Scroggs; and knowing this, it enjoins upon Scroggss keeper that he shall not torture Scroggs, that he shall give him enough to eat, and a fit place to sleep in, that he shall cause Scroggs to be instructed in letters and morals, and that he shall in general try to prepare him to become a use- ful member of society, instead of a beast of prey. And in order that all this may be done, and thus the guilty social conscience be put at rest, society, which is an Ass, puts politicians in the places of prison managers and inspectors, and then goes about its busi- ness. Its duty is done. By-and-by Scroggs has served out his term, and unless he was a ward politician in which case he is all right, and can take up his old calling without delay or hinder- ancehe is turned out of prison presuina- bly reformed, with good impulses where bad ones were, with virtue triumphant in his bosom, and with an old suit of clothes on his back, and a dollar and a half in his pocket. Now, if it was the duty of society to make a man of him, it has conspicuously failed. If it owed him any thing, it owed him far more than it gives him. For the most part, 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. freed men would not be much better than now. The ruling principle of prison man- agement in modern times is that the protec- tion of society against criminal spoliation shall be united with the thorough reforma- tion of the transgressors. But suppose the criminal is morally reformed, is it not a fact that the life in prison has unfitted him for contact with the world outside; that he comes out a weakling in the race before him ; that his life is a failure to begin with, and no career, however hmnble, opens to him where he may hope to rise and to make the best use of his energies? B. K. Pierce, chaplain of the New York House of Refuge, touched the marrow of this question in an address before the Prison Congress last year. He said: it has not even given him good superiors in prison. Within five years, on an investiga- tion into the management of one of the New York State-prisons, an intelligent convict deposed that the prisoners were the only reputable people in the prison, and there was reason to believe at the time that he did not exaggerate. What with contractors who make fortunes ont of the convicts la- borit is in evidence that a profit of fifty per cent. per annum on the capital thus in- vested is very moderate, and that a hundred per cent. is not unknown; what with poli- ticians filling the places of keepers and sub- ordinates, and making percentages of their own; what with such extravagance in man- agement that, according to an official report, in 1857, 1890 prisoners in New York cost $112 54 per head, and in 1865, 1885 prisoners At this day there are thousands of young men and cost $220 per head; that during twenty-three women, under twenty but over sixteen years of age, years, also in the New York prisons, the av- ~ penitentiaries. As these prisons are now conduct- erage per diem for the hire of convict labor ed, their condition is, humanly speaking, hopeless. increased only fifty per cent., while in the There are now no persons outside the prison walls prepared to receive and encourage discharged prison- same time the cost of maintaining the pris- ers in any considerable numbers, except their old ons increased 300 per cent., and that in the criminal companions. These are ever ready to meet same time the State-prisons cost, to main- them as the door of the prison opens, and to offer tam, ten millions, while the convict labor them shelter, food, and encouragement in a dishonest course. No counting-room, mechanics shop, or even yielded four millions, leaving a deficit of farm labor invites a young discharged prisoner to earn six millions, of which $5,340,000 have been an honest living. If the man will not starve, he must actually raised by taxation within the last steal. He is thus made a bitter enemy of society, and six yearswith such examples of greed, in- becomes desperate in the inevitableness of his condi- tion. They will all as certainly come back here, or capacity, faithlessness to trusts, lack of be sent to another prison, after their discharge, as economy, and general mismanagement be- they live, said the warden of a penitentiary to me fore them~ how can we expect the reforma- a few weeks since, as we stood gazing upon a gang of tion of convicts confined in State-prisons~ a hundred or more young men, averaging eighteen In fact, they are not reformed; and if they years of age, lazily at work in a stone-quarry con- nected with the prison. Where else can they go? were, their condition when they become he asked. WHAT SHALL WE DO WITH SCROGOS? 43 Now what is a criminal? He is a person who has violated the laws, and who threat- ens the security of society. Society, impelled by a just instinct of self-preservation, under- takes to seclude him for a space of time. He is put where, first, he shall have no power for mischief; second, he shall have oppor- tunity to consider his errors; third, he shall be subjected to such discipline as will make him a law-observing and authority-respect- ing rather than a law-defying creature; fourth, he shall receive instruction, moral and otherwise, which society neglected to give him in his earlier days. So much society has a right to do, and ought to do, but it has no right to destroy or seriously impair the criminals chance in life after the expiration of his term of pun- ishment, for to do this is to injure not merely the man, hut society itself. I am not speak- ing here of the rights of criminals out of any morbid or mawkish sentimentalism such as leads many good but mistaken men to op- pose capital punishment. The worst use you can make of some men is not to hang them: it is a summary and wholesome way of abating some nuisances. I should rathen say that the worst use you can make of a man is to stick him into a State-prison for a term of years. Yet we are building several new State-prisons, and this in spite of such facts of mismanagement as have been stated in spite of the fact that while contractors make fortunes and prison officers become wealthy, according to recent reports nearly three-fourths of the State-prisons are not self-supporting, and in spite of such a state of things as was exposed at the London Prison Congress by Mr. F. B. Sanborn. His words apply to the prisons of Massachusetts, probably among the best managed in the country. He said: In all, we may count for the Massachusetts prisons not less than 350 different official persons concerned in their, management and inspection, the number of prisoners in them all never exceeding 3500 at any one time. From this we might infer that the Massachu- setts prisons were thoroughly inspected, however per- plexing might he the system under which it was done. But, in fact, there is no municipal inspector who has been in all the municipal prisons, no county inspector who has been in all the county prisons, few State in- spectors who have been in all the county prisons or in any of the municipal ones, and no one person in the State who has ever visited all the prisons it contains. Consequently there is no proper knowledge any where of the relation of one part of the prison system to the rest, and no proper system at all, hut only a confusion of laws, rules, hoards, and details. Mr. Sanborn said in the same report that of 16,000 convicts in the State-prisons prob- ably between 4000 and 6000 are receiving scanty instruction in schools of some sort; of 22,000 prisoners iA local prisons not 3000 are receiving any secular instruction what- ever. About 20,000 of the 38,000 prisoners are wholly illiterate, and of these less than 8000 are receiving instruction. Now, in place of building new prisons, why should we not try exilepenal trans- portation? We have in Alaska an im- mense territory, in almost every respect well suited to be the scene of a penal col- ony. It is isolated, and escapes would be easily prevented; it is almost uninhabited; it has a chain of islands suitable for sepa- rate colonies; its climate on the coasts is sufficiently mild, and yet not tropical, but bracing and healthful; it offers few or no temptations to vagrancy; and yet it is a country in which convicts who had served out their time, or earned their discharge, could live comfortably, and build up a new and prosperous society. At present Alaska is a useless and expen- sive possession. Two Federal artillery com- panies hold possession; but it lies too far out of the way to tempt settlers. Used as a penal colony, to which.the most hardened of our convicts might at first be sent, it would offer a clear field for interesting and v~duable experiments in the management and reformation of criminals. It is not sickly, like the French penal settlement of Cayenne; nor has it, like Australia, a cli- mate so mild as to enable runaway convicts to live a vagrant life in the bush. It is a country in which industry and foresight are necessary to enable a white man to exist; and thus the natural conditions of life would help in disciplining the criminals sent thither. Being controlled by the Federal govern- ment, it is probable that, if Alaska became a penal colony, West Point officers would be its rulers and guardians; and these, who are, above all, strict disciplinarians, are ad- mirably calculated to manage rightly a con- vict population, which needs, above all oth- er things, to learn obedience to authority, and to be subjected to rigid discipline of mind and body. Moreover, the graduate of West Point is, as a rule, a man of honor and a gentleman. He knows nothing about con- tracts; he performs his duty; he is honest and respectable; and under l4is rule, at least, the convict would not commonly have be- fore him a pernicious example of greed, and other low forms of vice. There would be no lack of work in Alas- ka for a penal colony, however numerous. The country has no roads; it has no public buildings; it has no mechanic arts; it would need,if it had a population, artisans of all kinds; and for half a century to come a penal colony in Alaska rightly managed ought to he self-supporting, with abundance of useful labor for every convict. The question of penal transportation has not come very prominently before the pub- lic in recent years. It was not even dis- cussed at the recent Prison Congress in London, though a report was read upon it by Count di Foresta, Procureur-General of 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ancona, who said: Transportation with compulsory labor in a colony I approve as the best punishment for great criminals. It seems to me to answer perfectly the double object of all punishmentthe protection of society, within the limits of justice, and the reformation of the convict. It fulfills the first of these objectsthe protection of so- cietyfor the most dangerous criminals are thus cast out from the bosom of society; the grave inconveniences of relapse are avoided, and would-be criminals are deterred by the prospect of banishment from their country and family. The second object is equally met, that of moralizing these individuals, and giving them hope and the means of becoming again useful to themselves and society in another country, where, after un- dergoing part of their punishment, they can send for their families or found new ones, thus beginning another existence in an entirely different atmosphere, which will not seduce them into their former errors. This is the true pointto so manage the criminal that when he has suffered his pun- ishment he may have, at least, the chance to begin a new and better life, and to make even his period of punishment as natural and healthful as is consistent with his se- clusion from general society. And this can be best done by exile or penal transporta- tion. It is not done at all under the State- prison system. Two companies of artillery and two reve- nue - cutters now hold Alaska. This force need be but very slightly increased to be sufficiently strong, with proper management, to control and keep under discipline a thou- sand convicts. The Aleutian Isles, the isl- and of Kodiak, and the long Alaska penin- sula offer themselves for isolated stations; and I do not doubt that our engineer officers could elaborate a plan of operations for a convict colony which would make such a colony self-supporting and helpful to the reformation of the convicts, bearing in mind always these words of that most successful manager of a penal colony, Captain Macon- ochie, under whose command that most ter- rible of English prisons, Norfolk Island, was the scene of so much genuine reform, that the true principle is to place the prisoner in a position of stern adversity, from which he must work his way out by his own ex- ertions, by diligent labor, and a constant course of voluntary self-command and self- denial. The convicted criminal does not differ in many things from his fellow-man in freedom. He is gratified with labor if it is useful, and hates it if it is useless, as the tread-mill. He is the better man if his hope is excited, and he sees that good conduct will bring certain rewards. He is the better for living and working in the open air, and in the presence of wild nature. The rigor of military dis cipline he needs, because he has not learned to obey laws or to respect authority. The experience of Captain Maconochie on Nor- folk Island, where he ruled over perhaps the vilest set of miscreants ever gathered to- gether in one spot on this earth, the picked and double-dyed villains and scoundrels who were too dangerous for even Botany Bay, shows abundantly what can be done for and with the worst and most degraded men by a firm yet kind hand repressing and punish- ing evil, but always encouraging and draw- ing out good. Two important points would be secured by establishing a penal colony in Alaska or elsewhere: First, society would rid itself, by a natural and proper method, of the human beasts who prey upon it, and threaten its security. It would say to the burglar, the robber, the conftrmed thief You are no longer worthy to live among us; go into exile.~ And, secondly, we should provide a future and open a career in a new land to such of the convicts as chose to reform and live honest lives. And though the first cost of transporting convicts to so far off a region might be thought large, it would in the end be an economy. We should not need to build or to mismanage new State-prisons. We should be spared the job involved in the construction, and the job involved in the misrule. West Point would rule in Alaska without jobbery and with efficiency, I be- lieve, and, in the long-run, the convicts would cost the States far less there than they now do in the home prisons. With childrens aid societies to rescue the young from vice and crime, and deport our homeless children to the Western prairies, and with penal servitude in distant Alaska for the convicted criminal, we might hope to really and considerably decrease our crim- inal population. DISAPPOINTED. I Tuoucur, to-niglit, to see thy face, And mourn not for the sun gone down; But now the shadow in his place Hangs on my cheated heart its frown. I could not doubt that thy dear voice Would cheer me more than bird or lute How can my heart to-night rejoice, With bird and string and voice all mute! The breath of June upon my cheek I bore, impatient for thy kiss; My fainting lips their anguish speak, The sweetness of thy breath to miss. Oh, why did thy sweet steps delay, Since bird and song and breeze are gone? Slighted for hope of thee, the day! Without thee night puts sackcloth on! Were I away, thou shouldst not chide One heedless moment of delay; I seek my sunshine at thy side Thy voice my sung, thy smile my day.

44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ancona, who said: Transportation with compulsory labor in a colony I approve as the best punishment for great criminals. It seems to me to answer perfectly the double object of all punishmentthe protection of society, within the limits of justice, and the reformation of the convict. It fulfills the first of these objectsthe protection of so- cietyfor the most dangerous criminals are thus cast out from the bosom of society; the grave inconveniences of relapse are avoided, and would-be criminals are deterred by the prospect of banishment from their country and family. The second object is equally met, that of moralizing these individuals, and giving them hope and the means of becoming again useful to themselves and society in another country, where, after un- dergoing part of their punishment, they can send for their families or found new ones, thus beginning another existence in an entirely different atmosphere, which will not seduce them into their former errors. This is the true pointto so manage the criminal that when he has suffered his pun- ishment he may have, at least, the chance to begin a new and better life, and to make even his period of punishment as natural and healthful as is consistent with his se- clusion from general society. And this can be best done by exile or penal transporta- tion. It is not done at all under the State- prison system. Two companies of artillery and two reve- nue - cutters now hold Alaska. This force need be but very slightly increased to be sufficiently strong, with proper management, to control and keep under discipline a thou- sand convicts. The Aleutian Isles, the isl- and of Kodiak, and the long Alaska penin- sula offer themselves for isolated stations; and I do not doubt that our engineer officers could elaborate a plan of operations for a convict colony which would make such a colony self-supporting and helpful to the reformation of the convicts, bearing in mind always these words of that most successful manager of a penal colony, Captain Macon- ochie, under whose command that most ter- rible of English prisons, Norfolk Island, was the scene of so much genuine reform, that the true principle is to place the prisoner in a position of stern adversity, from which he must work his way out by his own ex- ertions, by diligent labor, and a constant course of voluntary self-command and self- denial. The convicted criminal does not differ in many things from his fellow-man in freedom. He is gratified with labor if it is useful, and hates it if it is useless, as the tread-mill. He is the better man if his hope is excited, and he sees that good conduct will bring certain rewards. He is the better for living and working in the open air, and in the presence of wild nature. The rigor of military dis cipline he needs, because he has not learned to obey laws or to respect authority. The experience of Captain Maconochie on Nor- folk Island, where he ruled over perhaps the vilest set of miscreants ever gathered to- gether in one spot on this earth, the picked and double-dyed villains and scoundrels who were too dangerous for even Botany Bay, shows abundantly what can be done for and with the worst and most degraded men by a firm yet kind hand repressing and punish- ing evil, but always encouraging and draw- ing out good. Two important points would be secured by establishing a penal colony in Alaska or elsewhere: First, society would rid itself, by a natural and proper method, of the human beasts who prey upon it, and threaten its security. It would say to the burglar, the robber, the conftrmed thief You are no longer worthy to live among us; go into exile.~ And, secondly, we should provide a future and open a career in a new land to such of the convicts as chose to reform and live honest lives. And though the first cost of transporting convicts to so far off a region might be thought large, it would in the end be an economy. We should not need to build or to mismanage new State-prisons. We should be spared the job involved in the construction, and the job involved in the misrule. West Point would rule in Alaska without jobbery and with efficiency, I be- lieve, and, in the long-run, the convicts would cost the States far less there than they now do in the home prisons. With childrens aid societies to rescue the young from vice and crime, and deport our homeless children to the Western prairies, and with penal servitude in distant Alaska for the convicted criminal, we might hope to really and considerably decrease our crim- inal population. DISAPPOINTED. I Tuoucur, to-niglit, to see thy face, And mourn not for the sun gone down; But now the shadow in his place Hangs on my cheated heart its frown. I could not doubt that thy dear voice Would cheer me more than bird or lute How can my heart to-night rejoice, With bird and string and voice all mute! The breath of June upon my cheek I bore, impatient for thy kiss; My fainting lips their anguish speak, The sweetness of thy breath to miss. Oh, why did thy sweet steps delay, Since bird and song and breeze are gone? Slighted for hope of thee, the day! Without thee night puts sackcloth on! Were I away, thou shouldst not chide One heedless moment of delay; I seek my sunshine at thy side Thy voice my sung, thy smile my day. A SIMPLETON. 45 A SIMPLETON. A STORY OF THE DAY. By CHARLES READE. CHAPTER XIV. S TAINES fell head-foremost into the sea with a heavy plunge. Being an excel- lent swimmer, he struck out the moment he touched the water, and that arrested his dive, and brought him up with a slant, shocked and panting, drenched and confused. The next moment he saw, as through a foghis eyes being full of watersomething fall from the ship. He breasted the big waves, and swam toward it: it rose on the top of a wave, and he saw it was a life-buoy. En- cumbered with wet clothes, he seemed im- potent in the big waves; they threw him up so high, and down so low. Almost exhausted, he got to the life-buoy, and clutched it with a fierce grasp and a wild cry of delight. He got it over his head, and placing his arms round the buoyant circle, stood with his breast and head out of water, gasping. He now drew a long breath, and got his wet hair out of his eyes, already smarting with salt-water, and, raising himself on the buoy, looked out for help. He saw, to his great concern, the ship al- ready at a distance. She seemed to have flown, and she was strn drifting fast away from him. He saw no signs of help. His heart began to turn as cold as his drenched body. A hor- rible fear crossed him. But presently he saw the weather-boat fill- ed, and fall into the water; and then a wave rolled between him and the ship, and he only saw her topmast. The next time he rose on a mighty wave he saw the boats together astern of the yes- eel: but not coming his way; and the gloom was thickening, the shiphecoming indistinct, and all was doubt and horror. A life of agony passed in a few minutes. He rose and fell like a cork on the buoy- ant wavesrose and fell, and saw nothing but the ships lights, now terribly distant. But at last, as he rose and fell, he caught a few fitful glimpses of a smaller light rising and falling like himself. A boat ! he cried, and, raising himself as high as he could, shouted, cried, imploredfor help. He stretch- ed his hands across the water. This way! this way ! The light kept moving, but it came no nearer. They had greatly underrated the drift. The other boat had no light. Minutes passed of suspense, hope, doubt, dismay, terror. Those minutes seemedhours. In the agony of suspense the quaking heart sent beads of sweat to the brow, though the body was immersed. And the gloom deepened, and the cold waves flung him up to heaven with their gi- ant arms, and then down again to hell: and still that light, his only hope, was several hundred yards from him. Only for a moment at a time could his eye- balls, straining with agony, catch this will- o-the-wisp, the boats light. It groped the sea up and down, but came no nearer. When what seemed days of agony had passed, suddenly a rocket rose in the horizon so it seemed to him. The lost man gave a shriek of joy; so prone are we to interpret things hopefully. Misery! The next time he saw that little light, that solitary spark of hope, it was not quite so near as before. A mortal sickness fell on his heart. The ship had recalled the boats by rocket. He shrieked, he cried, he screamed, lie raved. Oh, Rosa! Rosa! for her sake, men, men, do not leave me. I am here! Here ! In vain. The miserable man saw the boats little light retire, recede, and melt into the ships larger light, and that light glided away. Then a cold, deadly stupor fell on him. Then Deaths icy claw seized his heart, and seemed to run from it to every part of him. He was a dead man. Only a question of time. Nothing to gain by floating. But the despairing mind could not quit the world in peace, and even here in the cold, cruel sea the quivering body clung to this fragment of life, and winced at deaths touch, though more merciful. He despised this weakness, he raged at it; he could not overcome it. Unable to live or to die, condemned to float slowly, hour by hour, down into Deathsjaws. To a long, death - like stupor succeeded frenzy. Fury seized this great and long- suffering mind. It rose against the cruelty and injustice of his fate. He cursed the world, whose stupidity had driven him to sea; he cursed remorseless nature; and at last he railed on the God who made him, and made the cruel water that was waiting for his body. Gods justice! Gods mercy! Gods power! they are all lies, he shouted, dreams, chimeras, like Him, the all-power- ful and good, men babble of by the fire. If there was a God more powerful than the sea, and only half as good as men are, He would pity my poor Rosa and me, and send a hurricane to drive those caitiffs back to

A SIMPLETON. 45 A SIMPLETON. A STORY OF THE DAY. By CHARLES READE. CHAPTER XIV. S TAINES fell head-foremost into the sea with a heavy plunge. Being an excel- lent swimmer, he struck out the moment he touched the water, and that arrested his dive, and brought him up with a slant, shocked and panting, drenched and confused. The next moment he saw, as through a foghis eyes being full of watersomething fall from the ship. He breasted the big waves, and swam toward it: it rose on the top of a wave, and he saw it was a life-buoy. En- cumbered with wet clothes, he seemed im- potent in the big waves; they threw him up so high, and down so low. Almost exhausted, he got to the life-buoy, and clutched it with a fierce grasp and a wild cry of delight. He got it over his head, and placing his arms round the buoyant circle, stood with his breast and head out of water, gasping. He now drew a long breath, and got his wet hair out of his eyes, already smarting with salt-water, and, raising himself on the buoy, looked out for help. He saw, to his great concern, the ship al- ready at a distance. She seemed to have flown, and she was strn drifting fast away from him. He saw no signs of help. His heart began to turn as cold as his drenched body. A hor- rible fear crossed him. But presently he saw the weather-boat fill- ed, and fall into the water; and then a wave rolled between him and the ship, and he only saw her topmast. The next time he rose on a mighty wave he saw the boats together astern of the yes- eel: but not coming his way; and the gloom was thickening, the shiphecoming indistinct, and all was doubt and horror. A life of agony passed in a few minutes. He rose and fell like a cork on the buoy- ant wavesrose and fell, and saw nothing but the ships lights, now terribly distant. But at last, as he rose and fell, he caught a few fitful glimpses of a smaller light rising and falling like himself. A boat ! he cried, and, raising himself as high as he could, shouted, cried, imploredfor help. He stretch- ed his hands across the water. This way! this way ! The light kept moving, but it came no nearer. They had greatly underrated the drift. The other boat had no light. Minutes passed of suspense, hope, doubt, dismay, terror. Those minutes seemedhours. In the agony of suspense the quaking heart sent beads of sweat to the brow, though the body was immersed. And the gloom deepened, and the cold waves flung him up to heaven with their gi- ant arms, and then down again to hell: and still that light, his only hope, was several hundred yards from him. Only for a moment at a time could his eye- balls, straining with agony, catch this will- o-the-wisp, the boats light. It groped the sea up and down, but came no nearer. When what seemed days of agony had passed, suddenly a rocket rose in the horizon so it seemed to him. The lost man gave a shriek of joy; so prone are we to interpret things hopefully. Misery! The next time he saw that little light, that solitary spark of hope, it was not quite so near as before. A mortal sickness fell on his heart. The ship had recalled the boats by rocket. He shrieked, he cried, he screamed, lie raved. Oh, Rosa! Rosa! for her sake, men, men, do not leave me. I am here! Here ! In vain. The miserable man saw the boats little light retire, recede, and melt into the ships larger light, and that light glided away. Then a cold, deadly stupor fell on him. Then Deaths icy claw seized his heart, and seemed to run from it to every part of him. He was a dead man. Only a question of time. Nothing to gain by floating. But the despairing mind could not quit the world in peace, and even here in the cold, cruel sea the quivering body clung to this fragment of life, and winced at deaths touch, though more merciful. He despised this weakness, he raged at it; he could not overcome it. Unable to live or to die, condemned to float slowly, hour by hour, down into Deathsjaws. To a long, death - like stupor succeeded frenzy. Fury seized this great and long- suffering mind. It rose against the cruelty and injustice of his fate. He cursed the world, whose stupidity had driven him to sea; he cursed remorseless nature; and at last he railed on the God who made him, and made the cruel water that was waiting for his body. Gods justice! Gods mercy! Gods power! they are all lies, he shouted, dreams, chimeras, like Him, the all-power- ful and good, men babble of by the fire. If there was a God more powerful than the sea, and only half as good as men are, He would pity my poor Rosa and me, and send a hurricane to drive those caitiffs back to 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the wretch they have abandoned. Nature alone is mighty. Oh, if I could have her on my side, and only God against me! But she is as deaf to prayer as He is: as mechanical and remorseless. I am a bubble melting into the sea. Soul I have none; my body will soon be nothing, nothing. So ends an honest, loving life. I always tried to love my fellow - creatures. Curse them! curse them! Curse the earth! Curse the sea! Curse all nature: there is no other God for me to curse. The moon came out. He raised his head and staring eyeballs, and cursed her. The wind began to whistle, and flung spray in his face. He raised his fallen head and staring eye- balls, and cursed the wind. While he was thus raving he became sensible of a black object to windward. It looked like a rail, and a man leaning on it. He stared, he cleared the wet hair from his eyes, and stared again. The thing, being larger than himself and partly out of water, was drifting to leeward faster than himself. He stared and trembled, and at last it came nearly abreast, black, black. He gave a loud cry, and tried to swim to- ward it; but, encumbered with his life-buoy, he made little progress. The thing drifted abreast of him, but ten yards distant. As they each rose high upon the waves he saw it plainly. It was the very raft that had been the in- nocent cause of his sad fate. He shouted with hope, he swam, he strug- gled; he got near it, but not to it; it drifted past, and he lost his chance of intercepting it. He struggled after it. The life - buoy would not let him catch it. Then he gave a cry of agony, rage, de- spair, and flung off the life-buoy, and risk- ed all on this one chance. He gains a little on the raft. He loses. He gains : he cries, Rosa ! Rosa ! and struggles with all his soul, as well as his body: he gains. But, when almost within reach, a wave half drowns him, and he loses. He cries, Rosa! Rosa ! and swims high and strong. Rosa! Rosa! Rosa ! He is near it. He cries,Rosa! Rosa ! and, with all the energy of love and life, flings himself almost out of the water, and catches hold of the nearest thing on the raft. It was the dead mans leg. It seemed as if it would come away in his grasp. He dared not try to pull himself up by that. But he held on by it, panting, ex- hausting, faint. This faintnessterrifiedhim. Oh,thought he, if I faint now, all is over. Holding by that terrible and strange sup- port, he made a grasp, and caught hold of the wood-work at the bottom of the rail. He tried to draw himself up. Impossible. He was no better off than with his life- buoy. But in situations so dreadful men think fast; he worked gradually round the bottom of the raft by his hands, till he got to lee- ward, still holding on. There he found a solid block of wood at the edge of the raft. He prized himself carefully up: the raft in that part then sank a little: he got his knee upon the timber of the raft, and, with a wild cry, seized the nearest upright, and threw both arms round it and clung tight. Then first he found breath to speak. THANK GOD ! he cried, kneeling on the timber, and grasping the upright post OH, THANK GOD! THANK GOD ! CHAPTER XV. THANK God ? why, according to his theory, it should have been Thank Na- ture. But I observe that, in such cases, even philosophers are ungrateful to the mis- tress they worship. Our philosopher not only thanked God, but, being on his knees, prayed forgiveness for his late ravings, prayed hard, with one arm curled round the upright, lest the sea, which ever and anon rushed over the bottom of the raft, should swallow him up in a mo- ment. Then he rose carefully, and wedged him- self into the corner of the raft opposite to that other figure, ominous relic of the wild voyage the new-coiner had entered upon; he put both arms over the rail and stood erect. The moon was now up; but so was the breeze: fleecy clouds flew with vast rapidity across her bright face, and it was by fitful though vivid glances Staines examined the raft and his companion. The raft was large and well made of tim- bers tied and nailed together, and a stron~, rail ran round it resting on several uprights. There were also some blocks of a very light wood screwed to the horizontal timbers, and these made it float high. But what arrested and fascinated the mans gaze was his dead companion, sole survivor, doubtless, of a horrible voyage, since the raft was not made for one, nor by one. It was a skeleton, or nearly, whose clothes the sea-birds had torn, and pecked every limb in all the fleshy parts; the rest of the body had dried to dark leather on the bones. The head was little more than an eyeless skull but, in the fitful moonlight, those hnge hol- low caverns seemed gigantic lamp-like eves. and glared at him fiendishly, arpallingly. He sickened at the sight. He tried not to A SIMPLETON. 47 look at it; but it would be looked at, and was near. There was nothing but the love- threaten him in the moonlight with great lack-lustre eyes. The windwhistled, and lashed hisface with spray torn off the big waves, and the water was nearly always up to his knees, and the raft tossed so wildly, it was all he could do to hold on in his corner; in which struggle still those monstrous lack-lustre eyes, like lamps of death, glared at him in the moon, and all else dark, except the fiery crests of the black mountain billows, tumbling and raging all around. What a night! But before morning the breeze sank, the moon set, and a sombre quiet succeeded, with only that grim figure in outline dimly visible. Owing to the motion still retained by the waves it seemed to nod and rear, and be ever preparing to rush upon him. The sun rose glorious on a lovely scene, the sky was a very mosaic of colors sweet and vivid, and the tranquil, rippling sea, peach-colored to the horizon, with lines of diamonds where the myriad ripples broke into smiles. Staines was asleep, exhausted. Soon the light awoke him, and he looked up. What an incongruous picture met his eye: that heaven of color all above and around, and right before him, like a devil stuck in mid- heaven, that grinning corpse, whose fate foreshadowed his own. But daylight is a great strengthener of the nerves; the figure no longer appalled him a man who had long learned to look with sciences calm eye upon the dead. When the sea became like glass, and from peach- color deepened to rose, he walked along the raft, and inspected the dead man. He found it was a man of color, but not a black. The body was not kept in its place, as he had supposed, merely by being jammed into the angle caused by the rail; it was also lashed to the corner upright by a long, stout belt. Staines concluded this had kept the body there, and its companions had been swept away. This was not lost on him: he removed the belt for his own use; he then found it was not only a belt, but a receptacle; it was nearly full of small hard substances that felt like stones. When he had taken it off the body he felt a compunction. Ought he to rob the dead, and expose it to be swept into the sea at the first wave, like a dead dog ? He was about to replace the belt, when a middle course occurred to him. He was a man who always carried certain useful little things about him,viz., needles, thread, scis- sors, and string. He took a piece of string, and easily secured this poor light skeleton to the raft. The belt he strapped to the rail, and kept for his own need. And now hunger gnawed him. No food ly sea and sky, mosaic with color, and that grim, ominous skeleton. Hunger comes and goes many times before it becomes insupportable. All that day and night, and the next day, he suffered its pangs; and then it became torture, but the thirst maddening. Toward night fell a gentle rain. He spread a handkerchief and caught it. He sucked the handkerchief. This revived him, and even allayed in some degree the pangs of hunger. Next day was cloudless. A hot sun glared on his unprotected head, and battered down his enfeebled frame. He resisted as well as he could. He often dipped his head, and as often the persistent sun, with cruel glare, made it smoke again. Next day the same: but the strength to meet it was waning. He lay down and thought of Rosa, and wept bitterly. He took the dead mans belt, and lashed him- self to the upright. That act, and his tears for his beloved, were almost his last acts of perfect reason: for next day came the delu- sions and the dreams that succeed when hnnger ceases to torture, and the vital pow- ers begin to ebb. He lay and saw pleasant meadows, with meandering streams, and clusters of rich fruit, that courted the hand and melted in the month. Ever and anon they vanished, and he saw grim death looking down on him with those big cavernous eyes. By-and-by, whether his bodys eye saw the grim skeleton, or his minds eye the juicy fruits, green meadows, and pearly brooks, all was shadowy. So, in a placid calm, beneath a blue sky, the raft drifted dead, with its dead freight, upon the glassy purple, and he drifted too toward the world unknown. There came across the waters to that dis- mal raft a thing none too common by sea or landa good man. He was tall, stalwart, bronzed, and had hair like snow, before his time; for he had known trouble. He commanded a merchant steamer, bound for Calcutta, on the old route. The man at the mast-head descried a float- ing wreck, and hailed the deck accordingly. The captain altered his course without one moments hesitation, and brought up along- side, lowered a boat, and brought~the dead and the breathing man on board. A young middy lifted Staines in his arms from the wreck to the boat: he whose per- son I described in Chapter I. weighed now no more than that. Men are not always rougher than women. Their strength and nerve enable them now and then to be gentler than butter-fingered angels, who drop frail things through sensi- tive agitation and break them. These rough 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. men saw St~ines was hovering between life and death, and they handled him like a thing the ebbing life might be shaken out of in a moment. It was pretty to see how gingerly the sailors carried the sinking man up the ladder, and one fetched swabs, and the others laid him down softly on them at their cap- tains feet. Well done, men,~~ said he. Poor fellow! Pray Heaven we may not have come too late. Now stand aloof a bit. Send the surgeon aft. The surgeon came, and looked and felt the heart. He shook his beady and called for brandy. He had Stainess head raised, and got half a spoonful of diluted brandy down his throat. But there was an ominous gurgling. After several such attempts at intervals he said plainly the mans life could not be saved by ordinary means. Then try extraordinary, said the cap- tain. My orders are that he is to be saved. There is life in him. You have only got to keep it there. He mu8t be saved; he shall be saved. I should like to try Dr. Stainess reme- dy, said the surgeon. Try it, then: what is it A bath of beef tea. Dr. Staines says he applied it to a starved childin the Lancet. Take a hundred-weight of beef, and boil it in the coppers. Thus encouraged, the surgeon went to the cook~andverysoonbeefwassteamingona scale and at a rate unparalleled. Meantime Captain Dodd had the patient taken to his own cabin, and he and his serv- ant administered weak brandy-and-water with great caution and skill. There was no perceptible result. But, at all events, there was life and vital instinct left, or he could not have swallowed. Thus they hovered about him for some hours, and then the bath was ready. The captain took charge of the patients clothes; the surgeon and a sailor bathed him in lukewarm beef tea, and then covered ~ him very warm with blankets next the skin. Guess how near a thing it seemed to them when I tell you they dared not rub him. Just before sunset his pulse became per- ceptible. The surgeon administered half a spoonful of egg-flip. The patient swallow- ed it. By-and-by he sighed. He must not be left, day or night, said the captain. I dont know who or what lie is, but he is a man; and I could nof bear him to die now.~~ That night Captain Dodd overhauled the patients clothes, and looked for marks on his linen. There were none. Poor devil ! said Captain Dodd. He is a bachelor. Captain Dodd found his pocketbook, with bank-notes 200. He took the numbers, made a memorandum of them, and locked the notes up. He lighted his lamp, examined the belt, unripped it, and poured out the contents on his table. They were dazzling. A great many large pieces of amethyst, and some of white topaz and rock-crystal; a large number of smaller stones, carbuncles, chrysolites, and not a few emeralds. Dodd looked at them with pleasure, sparkling in the lamp-light. What a lot ! said he. I wonder what they are worth ? He sent for the first mate, who, he knew, did a little private business in precious stones. Masterton, said he, oblige me by counting these stones with me, and valuing them. Mr. Masterton stared, and his mouth wa- tered. However, he named the various stones and valued them. He said there was only one stone, a large emerald without a flaw, that was worth a heavy sum by itself; but the pearls, very flue; and, looking at the great number, they must be worth a thou- sand pounds. Captain Dodd then entered the whole business carefully in the ships log: the liv- ing man he described thus,About five feet six in height, and about fifty years of age. Then he described the notes and the stones very exactly, and made Masterton, the val- uer, sign the log. Staines took a good deal of egg-flip that night, and next day ate solid food; but they questioned him in vain; his zeason was en- tirely in abeyance: he had become an eat- er, and nothing else. Whenever they gave him food he showed a sort of fawning, an- imal gratitude. Other sentiment he had none, nor did words enter his mind any more than a birds. And, since it is not pleasant to dwell on the wreck of a fine un- derstanding, I will only say that they land- ed him at Cape Town, out of bodily danger, but weak, and his mind, to all appearance, a hopeless blank. They buried the skeleton~ read the serv- ice of the English Church over a Malabar heathen. Dodd took Staines to the hospital, and left twenty pounds with the governor of it to cure him. But he deposited Stainess money and jewels with a friendly banker, and begged that the principal cashier might see the man, and be able to recognize him should he ap- ply for his own. The cashier came and examined him, and also the ruby ring on his fingera parting gift from Rosaand remarked this was a new way of doing business. Why, it is the only one, Sir, said Dodd. How can we give you his signature? He is not in his right mind. Nor never will be. Dont say that, Sir. Let us hope for the best, poor fellow. A SIMPLETON. 49 Having made these provisions, the wortliy captain weighed anchor, with a warm heart and a good conscience. Yet the image of the man he bad saved pursued him, and he resolved to look after him nexttime he should coal at Cape Town, homeward bound. Staines recovered his strength in about two months; bilt his mind returned in frag- ments, and very slowly. For a long, long time he remembered nothing that had pre- ceded his great calamity. His mind started afresh, aided only by certain fixed habits; for instance, he could read and write; but, strange as it may appear, he had no idea who he was; and when his memory cleared a little on that head he thought his surname was Christie, but he was not sure. Nevertheless, the presiding physician dis- covered in him a certain progress of intelli- gence, which gave him great hopes. In the fifth month, having shown a marked interest in the other sick patients, coupled with a disposition to be careful and attentive, they made him a nurse, or rather a sub-nurse un- der the special orders of a responsible nurse. I really believe it was done at first to avoid the alternative of sending him adrift or trans- ferring him to the insane ward of the hos- pital. In this congenial pursuit he showed such watchfulness and skill that by-and-by they found they had got a treasure. Two months after that he began to talk about medicine, and astonished them still more. He became the puzzle of the establishment. The doctor and surgeon would converse with him, and try and leadhim to his past life; but when it came to that he used to put his hands to his head, with a face of great distress, and it was clear some impassable barrier lay be- tween his growing intelligence and the past events of his life. Indeed, on one occasion, he said to his kind friend the doctor, The past !a black wall! a black wall ! Ten months after his admission he was promoted to be an attendant, with a salary. He put by every shilling of it; for he said, A voice from the dark past tells me money is every thing in this world. A discussion was held by the authorities as to whether he should be informed he had money and jewels at the bank or not. Upon the whole, it was thought advisable to postpone this information, lest he should throw it away; but they told him he had been picked up at sea, and both money and jewels found on him; they were in safe hands; only the person was away for the time. Still he was not to look upon himself as either friendless or moneyless. At this communication he showed an al- most childish delight, that confirmed the doctor in his opinion he was acting prudent- ly, and for the real benefit of an amiable and afflicted person, not yet to be trusted with money and jewels. VOL. XLVII.No. 2T1.4 CHAPTER XVI: IN his quality of attendant on the sick, Staines sometimes conducted a weak but convalescent patient into the open air, and he was always pleased to do this, for the air of the Cape carries health and vigor on its wings. He had seen its fine recreative prop- erties, and he divined, somehow, that the minds of convalescents ought to be amused; and so he often begged the doctor to let him take a convalescent abroad. Sooner than not, he would draw the patient several mile in a Bath chair. He rather liked this~ for he was a Hercules, and had no egotism or false pride where the sick were concerned. Now these open-air walks exerted a bene- ficial influence on his own darkened mind. It is one thing to struggle from idea to idea; it is another when material objects mingle with the retrospect; they seem to supply stepping-stones in the gradual resuscitation of memory and reason. The ships going out of port were such a stepping-stone to him, and a vague con- sciousness came back to him of having been in a ship. Unfortunately, along with this reminis- cence came a desire to go in one again, and this sowed discontent in his mind; and the more that mind enlarged, the more he began to dislike the hospital and its confinement. The feeling grew, and bade fair to disqualify liim for his humble office. The authorities could not fail to hear o1~ this, and they had a little discussion about parting with him; but they hesitated to turn him adrift, and they still doubted the propriety of trusting him with money and jewels. While matters were in this. state, a re- markable event occurred. He drew a sick patient down to the quay one morning, and watched the business of the port with thc keenest interest. A ship at anchor was un- loading, and a great heavy boat was stick- ing to her side like a black leech. Presently this boat came away, and moved sluggishiy toward the shore, rather by help of the tide than of the two men who went through the form of propelling her with two monstrous sweeps, while a third steered her. She con- tained English goods: agricultural imple- ments, some cases, four horses, and a buxom young woman with a thorough English face. The woman seemed a little excited, and as she neared the landing-place she called out, in jocund tones, to a young man on the shore, It is all right, Dick; they are beauties ; and she patted the beasts as people do who are fond of them. She stepped lightly ashore; and then came the slower work of landing her imports. She bustled about, like a hen over her brood, and wasnt always talking, but put in her word every now and then, never crossly, and al- ways to the point. 50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Staines list~ned to her, and examined her but you was a good friend to me, and theres with a sort of puzzled look; but she took no my liand. notice of him; her whole soul was in the cattle. They got the things on board well enough; but the horses were frightened at the gang- way, and jibbed. Then a ftian was for driv- ing them, and poked one of them in the quar- ter; he snorted and reared directly. Man alive ! cried the young woman, that is not the way. They are docile enough, but frightened. Encourage em, and let em look at it. Give em time. More haste less speed, with timorsome cat- tle. That is a very pleasant voice, said poor Staines, rather more dictatorially than be- came the present state of his intellect. He added, softly, A true woman~s voice ; then gloomily, a voice of the pastthe dark, dark past.~~ At this speech intruding itself upon the ehort sentences of business, there was a roar of laughter; and Phebe Falcon turned sharply round to look at the speaker. She stared at him ; she cried Oh ! and clasped her hands, and colored all over. Why, sure,~~ said she, I cant be mistook. Those eyestis you, Doctor, isnt it ? Doctor ! said Staines, with a puzzled look. Yes: I think they called me doc- tor once. Im an attendant in the hospital now. Dick! cried Phiebe, in no little agita- tion. Come here this minute. What, afore I get the horses ashore ? Ay, before you do another thing, or say another word. Come here, now. So he came, and she told him to take a good look at the man. Now, said she, who is that? Blest if I know,~~ said he. What, not know the man that saved your own life! Oh, Dick, what are your eyes worth I This discourse brought the few persons within hearing into one band of excited starers. Dick took a good look, and said, Im blest if I dont, though; it is the doctor that cut my throat. This strange statement drew forth quite a shout of ejaculations. Oh, better breathe through a slit than not at all, said Dick. Saved my life with that cut, he diddidnij he, Pheeb I That he did,Dick. Dear heart, I hard- ly know whether I am in my senses or not, seeing him a-looking so blank. You try him. Dick came forward. Sure you remember me,Sir. Dick Dale. You cut my throat, and saved my life. Cut your throat! why, that would kill you. Not the way you done it. Well, Sir, you aint the man you was, that is clear: Thank you, Dick, said Staines, and took his hand. I dont remember yos. Perhaps you are one of the past. The past is a dead- wall to mea dark dead-wall ; and he put his hands to his head with a look of dis- tress. Every bod~r there now suspected the truth~ and some pointed mysteriously to their own heads. Phc3be whispered an inquiry to the sick person. He said, a little pettishly, All I know is. he is the kindest attendant in the ward, and very attentive. Oh, then, he is in the public hospital. Of course he is. The invalid, with the selfishness of his class, then begged Staines to take him out of all this bustle down to the beach. Staines complied at once, with the utmost meekness, and said, Good-by, old friends; forgive me for not remembering you. It is my great af- fliction that the past is gone from megone, gone. And he went sadly away, drawing his sick charge like a patient mule. Phnbe Falcon looked after him, and began to cry. Nay, nay, Phebe, said Dick; dont ye take on about it. Iwonder at you, sobbed Pho~be. Good people, Im fonder of my brother than he is of himself, it seems; for I cant take it so easy. Well, the world is full of trouble. Let us do what we are here for. But I shall pray for the poor soul every night, that his mind may be given back to him. So then she bustled, and gave herself to getting the cattle on shore, and the things put on board her wagon. But, when this was done, she said to her brother, Dick, I did not think any thing on earth could take my heart off the cattle and the things we have got from home; but I cant leave this without going to the hospital about our poor dear doctor; and it is late for making a start, any wayand you mustnt forget the newspapers for Reginald, he is so fond of themand you must contrive to have one sent out regular after this, and Ill go to the hospitaL She went, a~nd saw the head doctor, and told him he had got an attendant there she had known in England in a very different condition, and she had come to see if there was any thing she could do for himfor she felt very grateful to him, and grieved to see him so. The doctor was pleased and surprised, and put several questions. Then she gave him a clear statement of what he had done for Dick in England. Well, said the doctor, I believe it is the same man; for, now you tell me this yes, one of the nurses told me he knew more A SIMPLETON. 51 medicine than she did. His name, if you please. His name, Sir ? Yes, his name. Of course you know his name. Is it Christie I Doctor, said Pho~be, blushing, I dont know what you will think of me, but I dont know his name. Laws forgive me, I never had the sense to ask it. A shade of suspicion crossed the doctors face. Pha3be saw it, and colored to the temples. Oh, Sir, she cried, piteously, dont go for to think I have told you a lie! why should I? and indeed Jam not of that sort,nor Dick neither. Sir, Ill bring him to you, and he will say the same. Well, we were all in ter- ror and confusion, and I met him accidentally in the street. He was only a customer till then, and paid ready money, so that is how I never knew his name; but if I hadnt been the greatest fool in England, I should have asked his wife. What! he has a wife ? Ay, Sir, the loveliest lady you ever clapped eyes on, and he is almost as hand- some; has eyes in his head like jewels; twas by them I knew him on the quay, and I think he knew my voice againsaid as good as he had heard it in past times. Did he? Then we have got him, cried the doctor, energetically. La, Sir. Yes; if he knows your voice, you will be able in time to lead his memory back; at least,Ithink so. Do you live in Cape Town? Dear heart, no. I live at my own farm, a hundred and eighty miles from this. What a pity ! Why, Sir ? Wellhum ~ Oh, if you think I could do the poor doc- tor good by having him with me, you have only to say the words and out he goes with Dick and me to-morrowmorning.~ We should have started for home to-night but for this. Are you in earnest, madam ? said the doctor, opening his eyes. Would you real- ly encumber yourself with a person whose reason is in suspense, and may never return I But that is not his fault, Sir. Why, if a dog had saved my brothers life, Id take it home,and keep it all its days: and this is a man, and a worthy man. Oh, Sir, whenJ saw him brought down so, and his beautiful eyes clouded like, my very bosom yearned over the poor soul: a kind act done in dear old England, who could see the man in trouble here and not repay itny, if it cost ones blood. But, indeed, he is strong and healthy, and hands always scarce our way, and the odds are he will earn his meat one way or tother; and if he doesnt, why, all the bet- terfor me; I shall have the pleasure of serv- ing him for naught that once served me for neither money nor reward. You are a good woman, said the doctor, warmly. Theres better, and theres worse, said Pho~be, quietly, and even a little coldly. More of the latter, said the doctor, dry- ly. Well, Mrs.~~ Falcon, Sir. We shall hand him over to your care; but firstjust for formif you are a married woman,we should like to see Dick here: he is your husband, I presume. Phcube laughed merrily. Dick is my brother; and he cant be spared to come here. Dick! hed say black was white, if I told him to. Then let us see your husband about it just for form. My husband is at the farm. I could not venture so far away, and not leave him in charge. If she had said, I will not bring him into temptation, that would have been nearer the truth. Let that fly stick on the wall, Sir. WIAt I do my husband will ap prove. - I see how it is. You rule the roost. Phc~be did not reply point-blank to that; she merely said, All my chickens are hap- py, great and small, and an expression of lofty, womanly, innocent pride illuminated her face and made it superb for a moment. In short, it was settled that Staines should accompany her next morning to Dales Kloof Farm, if he chose. On inquiry, it appeared that he had just returned to the hospital with his patient. He was sent for, and Pha~be asked him sweetly if he would go with her to her house, one hundred ana eighty miles away, and she would be kind to him. On the water I Nay, by land; but tis a fine country, and you will see beautiful deer and things run- ning across the plains, and Shall I find the past again, the past again ? Ay, poor soul, that we shall, God willing. You and I, we will hnut it together. He looked at her, and gave her his hand. I will go with you. Your face belongs to the past, so does your voice. He then inquired, rather abruptly, had she any children. She smiled. Ay, that I have, the loveliest little boy you ever saw. When you are as you used to be, you will be his doctor, wont you ? Yes, I will nurse him, and you will help me find the Past. Phcebe then begged Staines to be ready to start at six in the morning. She and Dick would take him up on their way. While she was talking to him the doctor slipped out, and, to tell the truth, he went to consult with another authority whether he should take this opportunity of telling Staines that he had money and jewels at the bank: he himself was half inclined to do so; HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. but the other, who had not seen Phe~bes an ineffable expression of sweetness and face, advised him to do nothing of the kind. They are always short of money, these co- lonial farmers, said he; she would get every shilling out of him. Most would; but this is such an honest face. Well, but she is a mother, you say. Yes. Well, what mother could be just to a lunatic, with her own sweet angel babes to provide for ~ That is true, said Dr. . Mater- nal love is apt to modify the conscience. What I would do, I would take her ad- dress, and make her promise to write if he gets well; and, if he does get well, then write to him, and tell him all about it. Dr. acted on this shrewd advice,and ordered a bundle to be made up for the trav- eler out of the hospital stores: it contained a nice light summer suit and two of linen. changes CHAPTER XVII. NEXT morning Staines and Dick Dale walked through the streets of Cape Town side by side. Dick felt the uneasiness of a sane man, not familiar with the mentally afflicted, who suddenly finds himself alone with one. Insanity turns men oftenest into sheep and hares; but it does now and then make them wolves and tigers; and that has saddled the insane in general with a char- acter for ferocity. Young Dale, then, cast niany a suspicious glance at his comrade, as he took him along. These glances were re- assuring: Christophers face had no longer the mobility, the expressive changes, that mark the superior mind; his countenance was monotonous: but the one expression was engaging; there was a sweet, patient, lamb-like look: the glorious eye a little troubled and perplexed, but wonderfully mild. Dick Dale looked and looked, and his uneasiness vanished. And the more he looked the more did a certain wonder creep over him, and make him scarce believe the thing he knew, viz., that a learned doctor had saved him from the jaws of death by rare knowledge, sagacity, courage, and skill combined; and that mighty man of wisdom was brought down to this lamb, and would go north, south, east, or west with sweet and perfect submission, even as he, Dick Dale, should appoint. With these reflec- tions honest Dick felt his eyes get a little misty, and, to use those words of Scripture ~which nothing can surpass or equal, his bow- els yearned over the man. As for Christopher, he looked straight for- ward, and said not a word till they cleared the town; but, when he saw the vast flow- ery vale, and the far-off violet hills, like & ~otland glorified, he turned to Dick with good-fellowship, and said, Oh, beautiful! Well hunt the Past together. Wewillso, said Dick, with a sturdy and, indeed, almost a stern resolution. Now this he said, not that he cared for the Past, nor intended to waste the Present by going upon its predecessors trail; but he had come to a resolution-full three min- utes agoto humor his companion to thc top of his bent, and say YeW with hypo- critical vigor to every thing not directly and immediately destructive to him and his. The next moment they turned a corner and came upon the rest of their party, hith- erto hidden by the apricot hedge and a turn- ing in the road. A blue-black Kafir, with two yellow Hottentot drivers, man and boy, was harnessing, in the most primitive mode, four horses on to the six oxen attached to the wagon; and the horses were flattening their ears, and otherwise resenting the in- congruity. Meantime a fourth figure, a co- lossal young Kafir woman, looked on supe- rior with folded arms, like a sable Juno, look- ing down with that absolute composure upon the struggles of man and other animals which Lucretius and his master Epicurus assigned to the divine nature. Without jest- ing, the grandeur, majesty, and repose of this figure were unsurpassable in nature, and such as have vanished from sculpture two thou- sand years and more. Dick Dale joined the group immediately, and soon arranged the matter. Meantime Pho~be descended from the wagon, and wel- comed Christopher very kindly, and asked him if he would like to sit beside her, or to walk. He glanced into the wagon; it was cov- ered and curtained, and dark as a cupboard. I think,said he, timidly, I shall see more of the Past out here. So you will, poor soul, said Phmnbe, kind- ly, and better for your health: but you must not go far from the wagon, for Im a Fidget; and I have got the care of you now, you know, for want of a better. Come, Uca- tella; you must ride with me, and help me sort the things; they are all higgledy-pig- gledy. So those two got into the wagon through the back curtains. Then the Kafir driver flourished his kambok, or long whip, in the air, and made it crack like a pistol, and the horses reared, and the oxen started and slowly bored in between them, for the y whinnied, and kicked, and spread out like a fan ali over the road; but a flick or two from the terrible kambok soon sent them bleeding and trembling and rubbing shoul- ders, and the oxen mildlybutpersistentlygor- ing their recalcitratiug haunches, the intel- ligent animals went ahead, and revenged themselves by breaking the harness. But that goes for little in Cape traveL The body of the wagon was long and low A SIMPLETON. 53 and very stout. The tilt strong and tight made. The roof inside, and most of the sides, lined with green baize. Curtains of the same to the little window and the back. There was a sort of hold literally built full of pur- chases; a small fire-proof safe; huge blocks of salt; saws, axes, pickaxes, adzes, flails, tools innumerable, bales of wool and linen stuff, hams, and two hundred empty sacks strewn over alL In large pigeon-holes fixed to the sides were light goods, groceries, col- lars, glaring cotton handkerchiefs for Phce- bes aboriginal domestics, since not every year did she go to Cape Town, a twenty days journey by wagon: things dangled from the very roof; but no hard goods there, if you please, to batter ones head in a spill. Out- side were latticed grooves with tent, tent- poles, and rifles. Great pieces of cork and bags of hay and corn hung dangling from mighty hooksthe latter to feed the cattle, should they be compelled to camp out on some sterile spot in the Veldt, and, methinks, to act as buffers, should the whole concern roll down a nullah or little precipiceno very uncommon incident in the blessed re- gion they must pass to reach Dales Kloof. Harness mended; fresh start. The Hot- tentots and Kafir vociferated and yelled, and made the unearthly row of ~ dozen wild beasts wrangling: the horses drew the bul- locks, they the wagon; it crawled and creak- ed, and its appendages wobbled finely. Slowly they creaked and wobbled past apricot hedges and detached houses and huts, and got into an open country without a tree, but here and there a stunted camel- thorn. The soil was arid, and grew little food for man or beast; yet, by a singular freak of nature, it put forth abundantly things that here at home we find it harder to raise than homely grass and oats; the ground was thickly clad with flowers of de- lightful hues; pyramids of snow or rose-col- or bordered the track; yellow and crimson stars bejeweled the ground, and a thousand bulbous plants burst into all imaginable colors, and spread a rainbow carpet to the foot of the violet hills; and all this glowed and gleamed and glittered in a sun shining with incredible brightness and purity of light, but, somehow, without giving-a head- ache or making the air sultry. Christopher fell to gathering flowers, and interrogating the Past by means of them; for he had studied botany. The Past gave him back some pitiably vague ideas. He sighed. Never mind, said he to Dick, and tapped his forehead; it is here: it is only locked ~ All right, said Dick; nothing i~ lost when you know where ~ This is a beautiful country, suggested Christopher. It is all flowers. It is like the garden ofthe garden of Locked up. It is delightful, replied the self- compelled optimist, sturdily. But here na- ture gave way; he was obliged to relieve his agricultural bile by getting into the cart and complaining to his sister. Twill take us all our time to cure him. He have been bepraising this here soil, which it is only fit to clean the womens kettles. Twouldnt feed three larks to an acre, Iknow; no, nor half 80 many. Poor soul! mayhap the flowers have took his eye. Sit here a bit, Dick. I want to talk to you about a many things. While these two were conversing, Ucatel- la, who was very fond of Phcebe, but ab- horred wagons, stepped out and stalked by the side, like an ostrich, a camelopard, or a Taglioni; nor did the effort with which she subdued her stride to the pace of the pro- cession appear: it was the poetry of walk- ing. Christopher admired it a moment; but the noble expanse tempted him, and he strode forth like a giant, his lungs inflating in the glorious air, and soon left the wagon far behind. The consequence was that when they came to a halt, and Dick and Pha~be got out to release and water the cattle, there was Christophers figure retiring into space. Hanc rem a~gr~ tulit Pho~be, as my old friend Livy would say~ Oh dear! oh dear! if he strays so far from us he will be eaten up at night-fall by jackals, or lions, or something. One of you must go after him. Me go, missy, said Ucatella, zealously, pleased with an excuse for stretching her magnificent limbs. Ay, but mayhap he will not come back with you: will he, Dick ? That he will, like a lamb. Dick want- ed to look after the cattle. Yuke, my girl, said Phcebe, listen. He has been a good friend of ours in trouble; and now he is not quite right here. So be very kind to him, but be sure and bring him back, or keep him till we come. Me bring him back alive, certain sure, said Ucatella, smiling from ear to ear. She started with a sudden glide, like a boat tak- ing the water, and appeared almost to saun- ter away, so easy was the motion; but when you looked at the ground she was covering, the stride, or glide, or whatever it was, was amazing She seemed in walking to devour the way. Christopher walked fast, but nothing~like this; and as he stopped at times to bota- nize and gaze at the violet hills, and interro- gate the Past, she came up with him about five miles from the halting-place. She laid her hand quietly on his shoulder, and said, with a broad genial smile and a musical chuckle, Ucatella come for you. Missy want to speak you. Oh! very well ; and he turned back 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. with her directly; but she took him by the hand to make sure; and they marched back peaceably, in silence,. and hand in hand. But he looked and looked at her, and at last he stopped dead short, and said, a little ar- rogantly, Come! I know you. You are not locked up: and he inspected her point- blank. She stood like an antique statue, and faced the examination. You are the noble savage, said he, having concluded his inspection. Nay, said she. I be the house-maid. The house-maid ! Iss, the house-maid, Ucatella. So come on. And she drew him along, sore per- plexed. They met the cavalcade a mile from the halting-place, and Pho~be apologized a little to Christopher. I hope youll excuse me, Sir, said she; but I am just for all the world like a hen with her chickens; if but one strays, Im all in a flutter till I get him back. ~ said Christopher, I am very unhappy at the way things are locked up. Please tell me truly is this the house-maid, or the noble savage? Well, she is both, if you go to that, and the best creature ever breathed. Then she is the noble savage. Ay, so they call her, because she is black. Then, thank Heaven, said Christopher, the Past is not all locked up. That afternoon they stopped at an inn. I But Dick slept in the cart. At three in the morning they took the road again, and creaked along supernaturally loud under a purple firmament studded with huge stars, all bright as moons, that lit the way quite clear, and showed black things innumerable flitting to and fro; these made Phcebe shud- der, but were no doubt harmless; still Dick carried his double rifle, and a revolver in his belt. They made a fine march in the cool, until some slight mists gathered, and then they halted and breakfasted near a silvery kloof, and watered the cattle. While thus em- ployed, suddenly a golden tinge seemed to fall like a lash on the vapors of night; they scudded away directly, as jackals before the lion; the stars paled, and with one incredi- ble bound the mighty sun leaped into the horizon, and rose into the sky. In a mo- ment all the lesser lamps of heaven were out, though late so glorious, and there was nothing but one vast vaulted turquois, and a great flaming topaz mounting with eter- nal ardor to its centre. This did not escape Christopher. What is this ? said he. No twilight. The trop- ics ! He managed to dig that word out of the past in a moment. At ten oclock the sun was so hot that they halted, and let the oxen loose till sundown. Then they began to climb the mountains. The way was steep and rugged; indeed, so rough in places that the cattle had to jump over the holes, and, as the wagon could not jump so cleverly, it jolted appallingly, and many a scream issued forth. Near the summit, when the poor beasts were dead beat, they got into clouds and storms, and the wind rushed howling at them through the narrow pass with such fury, it flattened the horses ears, and bade fair to sweep the whole cavalcade to the plains below. Christopher and Dick walked close behind, under the lee of the wagon. Christopher said in Dicks ear, Dye hear that? Time to reef top-sails, captain. It is time to do something, said Dick. He took advantage of a jutting rock, drew the wagon half behind it and across the road, propped the wheels with stones, and they all huddled to leeward, man and beast indiscriminately. Ah ! said Christopher, approvingly, we are lying to: a verypropercourse. They huddied and shivered three hours, and then the sun leaped into the sky, and lo! a transformation scene. The cold clouds were first ro~y fleeces, then golden ones, then gold-dust, then gone: the rain was big dia- monds, then crystal sparks, then gone: the rocks and the bushes sparkled with gem-like drops, and shone and smiled. The shivering party bustled and toasted the potent luminary in hot coffee; for Phiu- bes wagon had a stove and chimney; and then they yoked their miscellaneous cattle again, and breasted the hill. With many a jump and bump and jolt, and scream from inside, they reached the summit, and looked down on a vast slope flowering but arid, a region of gaudy sterility. The descent was more tremendous than the ascent, and Phc~be got out, and told Christopher she would liever cross the ocean twice than this dreadful mountain once. The Hottentot with the reins was now bent like a bow all the time, keeping the cattle from flowing diverse over precipices, and the Kalir with his kambok was here and there and every where, 14s whip flicking like a lancet, and cracking like a horse-pistol, and th~ pairvied like Apollo and Pan, not which could siug8weetest, but swearloudest. Hav- ing the loftyhill for some hours between them and. the sun, they bumped and jolted, and studJ~ ia~ mud-holes, and flogged and wore. the: 0s,ttle out of them again, till at lastthe~ got to the bottom, where ran a tur- bid ~loof, sir stream. It was fordable, but the recent rains had licked s~way the slope; so the existing bank ~vt~ two feet above the stream. Little reeked the demon drivers or the parched cattle; in they plunged pro- miscuously, with a flop like thunder, follGw A SIMPLETON. 55 * ed by an awful splashing. The wagon stuck fast in the mud, the horses tied themselves in a knot, and rolled about in the stream, and the oxen drank, imperturbable. Oh, the salt! the salt ! screamed Pho~be, and the rocks re-echoed her lamentations. The wagon was inextricable, the cattle done up, the savages lazy: so they staid for several hours. Christopher botanized; but not alone. Phcnbe drew Ucatella apart, and explained to her that when a man is a little wrong in the head, it makes a child of him. So, said she, you must think he is your child, and never let him out of your sight. All right, said the sable Juno, who spoke English ridiculously well, and rapped out idioms, especially Come on, and All right. About dusk, what the drivers had foreseen, though they had not the sense to explain it, took place; the kloof dwindled to a mere gutter, and the wagon stuck high and dry. Pha~be waved her handkerchief to Ucatella. Ucatella, who had dogged Christopher about four hours without a word, now took his hand, and said, My child, missy wants us; come on ; and so led him~ unresistingly. The drivers, flogging like devils, cursing. like troopers, and yelling like hyenas gone mad, tried to get the wagon off; but it was fast as a rock. Then Dick and the Hottentot put their shoulders to one wheel, and tried to prize it up, while the Kafir encouraged the cattle with his thong. Observing this, Christopher went in, with his sable custo- dian at his heels, and heaved at the other imbedded wheel. The wagon was lifted directly, so that the cattle tugged it out, and they got clear. On examination, the salt had just escaped. Says Ucatella to Phebe, a little ostenta- .tiously, My child is strong and useful; make little missy a good slave. A slave! Heaven forbid! said Pho~be. Hell be a father to us all, once he gets his head back: and I do think it is comingbut very slow. The next three days offered the ordinary incidents of African travel, but nothing that operated much on Christophers mind, which is the true point of this iiarrative; and, as there are many admirable books of African travel, it is the more proper I should confine myself to what may be called the relevant incidents of the journey; On the sixth day from Cape Town they came up with a large wagon stuck in a mud- hole. There was quite a party of Boers, Hottentots, Kafirs, round it, armed with whips, kamboks, and oaths, lashing and cursing without intermission, or any good effect; and there were the wretched beasts straining in vain at their choking yokes, moaning with anguish, trembling with ter- tor, their poor mild eyes dilated with agony and fear, and often, when the blows of the cruel kamboks cut open their bleeding flesh, they bellowed to Heaven their miserable and vain protest against this devils work. Then the Past opened its stores, and lent Christopher a word. BARBARIANs 1 he roared, and & eized a gigantic Kafir by the throat, just as his kambok descended for the hundredth time. There was a mighty struggle, as of two Ti- tans; dust flew round the combatants in a cloud; a whirling of big bodies, and down they both went with an awful thud, the Saxon uppermost, by Natures law. The Kafirs companions, amazed at first, began to roll their eyes and draw ~a knife or two, but Dick ran forward, and said, Dont hurt him: he is wrong here. This representation pacified them more readily than one might have expected. Dick added, hastily, Well get you out of the hole our way, and cry quits. The proposal was favorably received, and the next minute Christopher and Ucatella at one wheel, and Dick and th~ Hottentot at the other, with no other help than two pointed iron bars bought for their shepherds, had effected what sixteen oxen could not. To do this Dick Dale had bared his arm to the shoulder; it was a stalwart limb, like his sisters, and he now held it out all swollen and corded, and slapped it with his other hand. Lookee here, you chaps, said he: the worst use a man can put that there t6 is to go cutting out a poor beasts heart for not doing more than he can. You are good fellows, you Kafirs; but I think you have sworn never to put your shoulder to~a wheel. But, bless your poor silly hearts, a little strength put on at the right place is better than a deal at the wroug. You hear that, you Kafir chaps ~ in- quired Ucatella, a little arrogantlyfor a Kafir. The Kafirs, who had stood quite silent to imbibe these remarks, bowed their heads with all the dignity and politeness of Ro- man senators, Spanish grandees, etc.; and one of the said party replied, gravely, The words of the white man are always wise.~~ And his arm blanked * strong, said Christophers late opponent, from whose mind, however, all resentment had vanished. Thus spake the Kafirs, yet to this day never hath a man of all their tribe put his shoulder to a wheel, so strong is custom in South Africa; probably in all Africa; since I remember St. Augustin found it stronger than he liked, at Carthage. Ucatella went to Phebe, and said, Missy, my child is good and brave. Bother you and your child ! said poor Pho~be. To think of his flying at a giant * ~ take this very useful expression ftom a delight- ful volume by Mr. Boyle. 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. like that, and you letting of him. Im all of a tremble from head to foot and Plicebe relieved herself with a cry. Oh, missy! said Ucatella. There, never mind me. Do go and look after ypur child, and keep him ont of more mischief. I wish we were safe at Dales Kloof I do. Ucatella complied, and went botanizing with Dr. Staines; but that gentleman, in the course of his scientific researches into camomile flowers and blasted heath, which were all that lovely region afforded, sudden- ly succnmbed and stretched out his limbs, and said, sleepily, Good-nightUcat and was off into the land of Nod. The wagon, which, by-the-way, had passed the larger but slower vehicle, found him fast asleep, and Ucatella standing by him, as or- dered, motionless and grand. Oh dear! what now ! said Phcebe; but, being a sensible woman, though in the hen and chickens line, she said, Tis the fight- ing and theexcitement. Twill do him more good than harm, I think ; and she had him bestowed in the wagon, and never disturbed him night nor day. He slept thirty-six hours at a stretch; and, when he awoke, she no- ticed a slight change in his eye. He looked at her with an interest he had not shown before, and said, Madam, I know you. Thank God for that, said Phcebe. You kept a little shop in the other world. Phcebe opened her eyes with some little alarm. You understandthe world that is lock- ed upfor the present. Well, Sir, so I did: and sold you milk and butter. Dont you mind ? Nothe milk and butter they are locked up. The country became wilder, the signs of life miserably sparse; about every twenty miles the farm-house or hut of a degenerate Boer, whose children and slaves pigged to- gether, and all ran jostling, and the mistress screamed in her shrill Dutch, and the Hot- tentots all chirped together, and confusion reigned for want of method: often they went miles and saw nothing but a hnt or two, with a nude Hottentot eating flesh, burned a little, but not cooked, at the door; andthe kloofs became deeper and more turbid, and Phcebe was in agony about her salt, and Christopher advised her to break it in big lumps and hang it all about the wagon in sacks; and she did, and Ucatella said, pro- foundly, My child is wise ; and they began to draw near home, and Phcebe to fidget; and she said to Christopher, Oh dear! I hope they are all alive and well: once you leave home, you dont know what may have happened by then you come back. One com- fort, Ive go~ Sophy: she is very dependable, and no beauty, thank my stars. That night, the last they had to travel, was cloudy, for a wonder, and they groped with lanterns. Ucatella and her child brought up the rear. Presently there was a light patter- ing behind them. The swift-eared Ucatella clutched Christophers arm, and, turning round, pointed back, with eyeballs white and rolling. There were full a dozen ani- mals following them, whose bodies seemed colorless as shadows, but their eyes little balls of flhming lime-light. GUN ! said Christie, and gave the Kafirs arm a pinch. She flew to the caravan: he walked backward, facing the foe. The wag- on was halted, and Dick ran back with two loaded rifles. In his haste he gave one to Christopher, and repented at leisure; but Christopher took it, and handled it like an experienced person, and said; with delight, VOLUNTEER. But with this the cautious animals had vanished like bubbles. But Dick told Christopher they would be sure to come back; he ordered Ucatella into the wagon, and told her to warn Phcebe not to be frightened if guns should be fired. This soothing message brought Phcebes white ~face out between the curtains, and she im- plored them to get into the wagon, and not tempt Providence. Not till I have got thee a karos& of jack- als fur. Ill never wear it ! said Phcebe, violent- ly, to divert him from his purpose. Time will showy? saidDick, dryly. These varmint are on and off like shadows, and as cunning as old Nick. We two will walk on quite unconcerned like, and as soon as ever the varmint are at our heels you give us the office; and well pepper their fur, wont we, doctor ? Wewillpeppertheir fur, said Christopher, repeating what to him was a lesson in the ancient and venerable English tongue. So they walked on expectant; and by- and-by the four-footed shadows with large lime-light eyes came stealing on; and Phcebe shrieked, and they vanished before the men could draw a bead on them. Thous no use at this work, Pheeb, said Dick. Shut thy eyes, and let us have Yuke. Iss, master: here I be. You can bleat like a lamb; for Ive heard ye. Iss, master. I bleats beautiful ; and she showed snowy teeth from ear to ear. Well, then, when the varmint are at our- heels, draw in thy woolly head and bleat like a young lamb. They wont turn from that, I know, the vagabonds. Matters being thus prepared, they saun- tered on; but the jackals were very wary. They came like shadows, so departed a great many times; but at last, being rein- A SIMPLETON. 57 forced, they lessened the distance, and got so close that Ucatella withdrew her head, and bleated faintly inside the wagon. The men turned, leveling their rifles, and found the troop within t~enty yards of them. They wheeled directly, but the four barrels poured their flame, four loud reports startled the night, and one jackal lay dead as a stone, another limped behind the flying crowd, and one lay kicking. He was soon dispatched, and both carcasses flung over the patient oxen; and good-by jackals for the rest of that journey. Ucatelia, with all a Kafirs love of fire- arms, clapped her hands with delight. My child shoots loud and strong, said she. Ay, ay, replied Pho~be; they are all alike; wherever theres men, look for quar- reling and firing off. We had only to sit quiet in the wagon. Ay, said Dick, the cattle especially for it is them the varmint were afterand let em eat my Hottentots. At this picture of the cattle inside the wagon, and the jackals supping on cold Hot- tentot alongside, Phzebe, who had no more humor than a cat, but a heart of gold, shut up, and turned red with confusion at her false estimate of the recent transaction in fur. When the sun rose they found themselves in a tract somewhat less arid and inhuman; and at last, at the rise of a gentle slope, they saw, half a mile before them, a large farm- house partly clad with creepers, and a little plot of turf:, the fruit of eternal watering; item, a flower bed; item, snow-white pa- lings; item, an air of cleanliness and neat- ness scarcely known to those dirty descend- ants of clean ancestors, the Boers. At some distance a very large dam glittered in the sun, and a troop of snow-white sheep were watering at it. ENGLAND ! cried Christopher. Ay, Sir, said Phcebe; as nigh as man can make it. But soon she began to fret: Oh dear! where are they all? If it was me, Id be at the door looking out. Ah, there goes Yuke to rouse them up. Come, Pheeb, dont you fidget, said Dick, kindly. Why, the lazy lot are scarce out of their beds by this time. More shame for em. If they were away from me, and coming home, I should be at the door day and night, I know. Ah ! She uttered a scream of delight; for just then out came Ucatelia, with little Tommy on her shoulder, and danced along to meet her. As she came close, she raised the chub- by child high in the air, and he crowed; and then she lowered him to his mother, who rushed at him, seized, and devoured him with a hundred inarticulate cries of joy and love unspeakable. NATURE ! said Christopher, dogmatical- ly, recognizing an old acquaintance, and booking it as one more conquest gained over the Past. But there was too much ex- citement over the cherub to attend to him. So he watched the women gravely, and be- gan to moralize with all his might. This, said he, is what we used to call maternal love; and all animals had it, and that is why the noble savage went for him. It was very good of you, Miss Savage, said the poor soul, sententiously. Good of her ! cried Phcebe. She is all goodness. Savage! find me a Dutchwomaa like her, Ill give her a good cuddle for it : and she took the Kafir round the neck, and gave her a hearty kiss, and made the little boy kiss her too. At this moment out came a colly-dog, hunt- ing Ucatella by scent alone, which process landed him headlong in th~ group; he gave loud barks of recognition, fawned on Phcebe and Dick, smelled poor Christopher, gave a growl of suspicion, and lurked about, squint- ing, dissatisfied, and lowering his tail. Thou art wrong, lad, for once, said Dick; for hes an old friend, and a good one. Mter the dog, perhaps some Christian will come to welcome us, said poor Pho~be. Obedient to the wish, out walked Sophy, the English nurse, a scraggy woman, with a very cocked nose and thin pinched lips, and an air of respectability and pertness mingled. She dropped a short courtesy, shot the glance of a basilisk at Ucatella, and said, stiffly, You are welcome home, ~ Then she took the little boy as one having author- ity. Not that Phebe would have surren- dered him, but just then Mr. Falcon strolled out, with a cigar in his mouth, and Phebe, with her heart in her mouth, flew to meet him. There was a rapturous conjugal em- brace, followed by mutual inquiries, and the wagon drew up at the door. Then, for the first time, Falcon observed Staines, saw at once he was a gentleman, and touched his hat to him, to which Christopher responded in kind, and remembered he had done so in the locked-up Past. Pho~be instantly drew her husband apart by the sleeve. Who do you think that is ~ Youll never guess. Tis the great doctor that saved Dicks life in England with cut- ting of his throat. But oh, my dear, he is not the man he was. He is afflicted. Out of his mind partly. Well, we must cure him, and square the account for Dick. Im a proud woman at finding him, and bringing him here to make him all right again, I can tell you. Oh,I a happy, lam happy. Little did I think to be so happy as Jam. And, my dear, I have brought you a whole sackful of news- papers, old and new. That is a good girl. But tell me a little more about him. What is his name I Christie. Dr. Christie ? No doubt. He wasnt an apothecary or 58 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. a chemist, you may be sure, but a high doc- tor, and the cleverest ever was or ever will be: and isnt it sad, love, to see him brought down so? My heart yearns for the poor man: and then his wifethe sweetest, loveliest creature you everoh 1 Pho~be stopped very short, for she remem- bered something all of a sudden; nor did she ever again give Falcon a chance of know- ing that the woman whose presence had so disturbed him was this very Dr. Christies wife. Curious ! thought she to herself the world to be so large, and yet so small. Then aloud, They areunpacking the wagon; come, dear. I dont think I have forgotten any thing of yours. Theres cigars and to- hacco, and powder and shot and bullets, and every thing to make you comfortable, as my dutytis; andoh,but Im a happy woman ! Hottentots, big and little, clustered about the wagon. Treasure after treasure was de- livered with cries of delight; the dogs found out it was. a joyful time, and barked about the wheeled treasury; and the place did not quiet down till sunset. A plain but tidy little room was given to Christopher, and he slept there like a top. Next morning his nurse called him up to help her water the grass. She led the way with a tub on her head and two buckets in it. She took him to the dam; when she got there she took out the buckets, left one on the bank, and gave the other to Christie. She then went down the steps till the w~ater was up to her neck, and bade Christie Illi the tub. He poured eight bucketfuls in. Then she came slowly out, straight as an ar- row, balancing this tub fuli on her head. Then she held out her hands for the two buckets. Christie filled them, wondering, and gave them to her. She took them like toy buckets, and glided slowly home with this enormous weight, and never spilled a drop. Indeed, the walk was more smooth and noble than ever, if possible. When she reached the house she hailed a Hottentot, and it cost the man and Christo- pher a great effort of strength to lower her tub between them. What a vertebralcolumn youmusthave! said Christopher. You must not speak badwords, mychild, said she. Now you water the grass and the flowers. She gave him a watering-pot, and watched him maternally, but did not put a hand to it. She evidently considered this part of the business as childs play, and not a fit exercise of her powers. It was only by drowning that little oasis twice a day that the grass was kept green and the flowers alive. She found him other jobs in course of the day, and, indeed, he was always helping somebody or other, and became quite ruddy, bronzed, and plump of cheek, and wore a strange look of happiness, except at times when he got apart and tried to recall the distant Past. Then he would knit his brow, and look perplexed and sad. Ttiey were getting quite used to him and he to them, when on~ day he did not come in to dinner. Phcebe sent out for him; but they could not find him. The sun set. Phe~be became greatlyalarm- ed, and even Dick was anxious. They ali turned out, with guns and dogs, and hunted for him beneath the stars. Just before daybreak Dick Dale saw a fire sparkle by the side of a distant thicket. He went to it, and there was Ucatella seated, calm and grand as antique statue, and Chris- topher lying by her side, with a shawl thrown over him. As Dale came hurriedly up, she put her finger to her lips, and said, My child sleeps. Do not wake him. When he sleeps, he hunts the Past, as Colly hunts the spring- bok. Heres a go !~ said Dick. Then, hearing a chuckle, he looked up, and was aware of a comical appendage to the scene. There hung, head downward, from a branch, a Kafir boy, who was, in fact, the brother of the stately Ucatella, only went farther into antiquity for his models of deportment; for, as she imitated the antique marbles, he re- produced the habits of that epoch when man roosted, and was arboreal. Wheel somer- saults, and, above all, swinging head down- ward from a branch, were the sweetness of his existence. Oh! you are there, are you ? said Dick. 4ss, said Ucatella. Tim good boy. Tim found my child. Well, said Dick, he has chosen a nice place. This is the clump the lest lion came out of at least they say so. For my part, I never saw an African lion: Falcon says theyve all took ship and gone to England. However, I shall stay here with my rifle till daybreak. Tis tempting Providence to lie down onthe skirt of the wood for Lord knows what to jump out on ye unawares. Tim was sent home for Hottentots, and Christopher was carried home, still sleeping, and laid on his own bed. He slept twenty-four hours more, and, when he was fairly awake, a sort of mist seemed to clear away in places, and he re- membered things at random. He remember- ed being at sea on the raft with the dead body; that picture was quite vivid to him. He. remembered, too, being in the hospital, and meeting Pho~be, and every succeeding incident; but as respected the more distant past, he could not recall it by any effort of his wilL - His mind could only go into that re- moter past by material stepping-stones; and what stepping-stones he had about him here led him back to general knowledge, but not to his private history. In this condition he puzzled them all strangely at the farm; his mind was alter- A SONG IN MANY KEYS. 59 nately so clear and so obscure. He would chat with Pho~be, and sometimes give her a good practical hint; but the next moment helpless for want of memory, that great fac- ulty without which judgment can not act, having no material. After some days of this he had another great sleep. It brought him back the dis- tant past in chapters. His wedding-day. His wifes face and dress npon that day. His parting with her: his whole voyage out: but, strange to say, it swept away one-half of that which he had recovered at his last sleep, and he no longer remembered clearly how he came to be at Dales Kloof. Thus his mind might be compared to one climbing a slippery place, who gains a foot or two,then slips back; but, on the whole, gains more than he loses. He took a great liking to Falcon. That gentleman had the art of pleasing, and the tact never to offend. Falcon affected to treat the poor souls want of memory as a common infirmity; pre- tended lie was himself very often troubled in the same way, and advised him to read the newspapers. My good wife, said he, has brought me a whole file of the Cape Gazette. Id read them if I was you. The deuce is in it, if you dont rake up something or other. Christopher thanked him warmly for this: he got the papers to his own little room, and had always one or tw.o in his pocket for read- ing. At first he found a good many hard words that puzzled him; and he borrowed a pencil of Pho~be, and noted them down. Strange to say, the words that puzzled him were always common words, that his unac- countable memory had forgotten: a hard word, he was sure to remember that. One day he had to ask Falcon the meaning of spendthrift. Falcon told him briefly. He~ could have illustrated the word by a striking example; but he did not. He add- ed, in his polite way, No fellow can under- stand all the words in a newspaper. Now heres a word in mine, Anemometer~ who the deuce can understand such a word ? Oh, that is a common word enough, said poor Christopher. It means a machine for measuring the force of the wind. Oh, indeed, said Falcon; but did not believe a word of it. One sultry day Christopher had a violent headache, and complained to Ucatella. She told Pinube, and they bound his brows with a wet handkerchief:, and advised him to keep in-doors. He sat down in the coolest part of the house, and held his head with his hands, for it seemed as if it would explode into two great fragments. All in a moment the sky was overcast with angry clouds, whiriing this way and that. Huge drops of hail pattered down, and the next minute came a tremendous flash of lightning, accompanied, rather than follow- ed, by a crash of thunder close over their heads. This was the opening. Down came a del- uge out of clouds that looked mountains of pitch, and made the day night but for the fast and furious strokes of lightning that fired the air. The scream of wind and awful peals of thunder completed the horrors of the scene. In the midst of this, by what agency I know no more than science or a sheep does, something went off inside Christophers head, like a pistol-shot. He gave a sort of scream, and dashed out into the weather. Phnbe heard his scream and his flying footstep, and uttered an ejaculation of fear. The whole household was alarmed,and~ un- der other circumstances, would have follow- ed him; but you could not see ten yards. A chill sense of impending misfortune set- tled on the house. Phcel3e threw her apron over her head, and rocked in her chair. Dick himself looked very grave. Ucatella would have tried to follow him; but Dick forbade her. Tis no ~ said he. When it clears, we that be men will go for him. Pray Heaven you may find him alive. I dont think but what we shall. Theres nowhere he can fall down to hurt himself; nor yet drown himself, but our dam; and he has not gone that way. But But what ? If we do find him, we must take him back to Cape Town, before he does himself or some one, a mischief. Why, Phube, dont you see the man has gone raving mad ? A SONG IN MANY KEYS. PERHAPS for the reason that it was im- possible for him to go to Watkins Park, Mr. John Taylor determined upon going. His presence would give he knew what pleasure to his cousin, Mrs. Horatio Watkins. She had always been his favorite, and so he penned a letter of acceptance in answer to her note of invitation, and proceeded to decide on the gifts he would carry with him. She should have those rose - leaved ornaments, each brightened by a diamond dew-drop, which he so much admired. He knew Sallys taste. Things delicate, chaste, and costly she liked, and he could well afford to con- sider what jewels she would choose if free to select. No doubt Sally, mother-like, would now prefer that these ornaments should be pre- sented to Elsie instead of herself. No mat- ter. She might make of them what.ever dis- position she pleased, but she should know that he had purchased them for herself. There were other ornaments in filigree and enamel which were pretty enough for a girl, and all the rage, and among these he found

A SONG IN MANY KEYS. 59 nately so clear and so obscure. He would chat with Pho~be, and sometimes give her a good practical hint; but the next moment helpless for want of memory, that great fac- ulty without which judgment can not act, having no material. After some days of this he had another great sleep. It brought him back the dis- tant past in chapters. His wedding-day. His wifes face and dress npon that day. His parting with her: his whole voyage out: but, strange to say, it swept away one-half of that which he had recovered at his last sleep, and he no longer remembered clearly how he came to be at Dales Kloof. Thus his mind might be compared to one climbing a slippery place, who gains a foot or two,then slips back; but, on the whole, gains more than he loses. He took a great liking to Falcon. That gentleman had the art of pleasing, and the tact never to offend. Falcon affected to treat the poor souls want of memory as a common infirmity; pre- tended lie was himself very often troubled in the same way, and advised him to read the newspapers. My good wife, said he, has brought me a whole file of the Cape Gazette. Id read them if I was you. The deuce is in it, if you dont rake up something or other. Christopher thanked him warmly for this: he got the papers to his own little room, and had always one or tw.o in his pocket for read- ing. At first he found a good many hard words that puzzled him; and he borrowed a pencil of Pho~be, and noted them down. Strange to say, the words that puzzled him were always common words, that his unac- countable memory had forgotten: a hard word, he was sure to remember that. One day he had to ask Falcon the meaning of spendthrift. Falcon told him briefly. He~ could have illustrated the word by a striking example; but he did not. He add- ed, in his polite way, No fellow can under- stand all the words in a newspaper. Now heres a word in mine, Anemometer~ who the deuce can understand such a word ? Oh, that is a common word enough, said poor Christopher. It means a machine for measuring the force of the wind. Oh, indeed, said Falcon; but did not believe a word of it. One sultry day Christopher had a violent headache, and complained to Ucatella. She told Pinube, and they bound his brows with a wet handkerchief:, and advised him to keep in-doors. He sat down in the coolest part of the house, and held his head with his hands, for it seemed as if it would explode into two great fragments. All in a moment the sky was overcast with angry clouds, whiriing this way and that. Huge drops of hail pattered down, and the next minute came a tremendous flash of lightning, accompanied, rather than follow- ed, by a crash of thunder close over their heads. This was the opening. Down came a del- uge out of clouds that looked mountains of pitch, and made the day night but for the fast and furious strokes of lightning that fired the air. The scream of wind and awful peals of thunder completed the horrors of the scene. In the midst of this, by what agency I know no more than science or a sheep does, something went off inside Christophers head, like a pistol-shot. He gave a sort of scream, and dashed out into the weather. Phnbe heard his scream and his flying footstep, and uttered an ejaculation of fear. The whole household was alarmed,and~ un- der other circumstances, would have follow- ed him; but you could not see ten yards. A chill sense of impending misfortune set- tled on the house. Phcel3e threw her apron over her head, and rocked in her chair. Dick himself looked very grave. Ucatella would have tried to follow him; but Dick forbade her. Tis no ~ said he. When it clears, we that be men will go for him. Pray Heaven you may find him alive. I dont think but what we shall. Theres nowhere he can fall down to hurt himself; nor yet drown himself, but our dam; and he has not gone that way. But But what ? If we do find him, we must take him back to Cape Town, before he does himself or some one, a mischief. Why, Phube, dont you see the man has gone raving mad ? A SONG IN MANY KEYS. PERHAPS for the reason that it was im- possible for him to go to Watkins Park, Mr. John Taylor determined upon going. His presence would give he knew what pleasure to his cousin, Mrs. Horatio Watkins. She had always been his favorite, and so he penned a letter of acceptance in answer to her note of invitation, and proceeded to decide on the gifts he would carry with him. She should have those rose - leaved ornaments, each brightened by a diamond dew-drop, which he so much admired. He knew Sallys taste. Things delicate, chaste, and costly she liked, and he could well afford to con- sider what jewels she would choose if free to select. No doubt Sally, mother-like, would now prefer that these ornaments should be pre- sented to Elsie instead of herself. No mat- ter. She might make of them what.ever dis- position she pleased, but she should know that he had purchased them for herself. There were other ornaments in filigree and enamel which were pretty enough for a girl, and all the rage, and among these he found 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. perfect beauties for his cousins young daughter; so that business was dispatched. There remained now bnt one thing to do he must take himself to the d6p6t, if he would present himself among the masquer- aders to assemble to-morrow night at Wat- kins Park. This feat was the most difficult to accomplish. Nobody could complain of John TaylorA indecision in the gold-room; it was only when he fell back on himself for the transaction of business of a purely per- sonal nature that he found himself in the lurch. His friends so well understood this that they invariably took the conduct of him when he had made an engagement of a social character. One of these devoted individuals stood on the pavement in front of the hotel, waiting for his appearance, while John in his room made his final preparations. The watchman had evidently determined on performing a desperate deed at a given moment. He stood with his eyes fixed on the hotel clock: when the minute-hand should reach a certain point he purposed an attack. John Taylor meantime was laying in his valise exquisite evidences of himselfem- broidered shirts, vests white, buff and lav- ender, and coats which my rough pen ab- solutely refuses to describe.. These things, and the fine gloves and the perfumes, per- tained to him as really as his wise doings in brokerage, and though the latter might sometimes excite his misgivings, these never did. The paraphernalia of fashion stowed away, it only remained for him to get to the d6p6t. He was thinking of this while he put the key of his valise into his pock- et, when somebody knocked at the door; it opened, and there stood William Wells. ~ said William, the watchman who had stood waiting on the pavement below, staring at the clock for half an hour oh, youre here ~ I believe I am, said John, throwing himself onthe sofa. But, my dear fellow, do you intend to go on the four train ? Certainly. Well, you have just five minutes to get to it. I was afraid you would think you had all day before you. Theres a carriage wait- ing for you: I ordered it. Where are you going with my baggage? exclaimed John, springing from the sofa and catching up his hat. Follow and learn, answered William, half-way down the stairs. Go like lightning ! he directed the driv- er, when he had John safely in the carriage; and the order was obeyed. I have your ticket. Secure a seat, and Ill throw your check after you. The cars will be moving in less than a minute. Will- iam said this ~s he sprang from the carriage, with the valise in his hand. What should I do without that good fel- low ? asked John of himself, as he jumped on board the train. He would not have performed his journey that day, we may be very certain. And what if he had not? Why, this song would not have been snug. In the baggage-masters office there was so much confusion it looked as if there might easily be a hitch in Williams operations. But he was a resolute youth; he wasnt afraid of pushingthat art of arts pursued with so much ardor by our young folks; and though there were at least twenty-five persons in the office waiting to be served at the same moment, and though an old friend whom he had not seen for years must needs present himself for recognition precisely on the in- stant when he was demanding his check, Will kept his eye on his game, and having bagged it, walked off triumphant to present check and ticket on the head of his cane at the window whence Johns arm projected, just as the engine began to move. In the car which carried Mr. John Taylor sat a woman, who gave a little start when she saw him coming in: a start of recogni- tionof recognition, though, that looked for no return. The cat looked at the king, we may believe, but it was never hinted that the king looked at the cat. Not to suggest that Mrs. James Thompson had any feline resemblances. No; merely because of her decent poverty do I remind myself of the proverb. The fortunes of these two persons were obviously so different, they were sepa- rated by so great a gulf, that it would be no more difficult to think of a cat perceiving a king than it would be to suppose the ex- istence of friendly relations between these two. The conductor, if a judge of human na- ture, looking at the one, might have felt a little difficulty about prbnouncing upon him: he was a bull perhaps, a bear per- haps, or a fancy gentlemanone would prefer not to be positive; but as to the woman in shabby mourning, she unmistak- ably was the earner of her own living: not that she looked defiant, or in the least de- gree strong-minded, but she did look self- respectful. Evidently a widow, evidently decent, something had done its best to put her down, and that something had succeeded in a measure. Produce me the clairvoyant who could have discovered to the conductor any thing like a connecting link between the two! After a few miles Mr. Taylor, who had given himself up to the luxury of lazy ob- servation, tired of the entertainment, and taking out his note-book, was reminded on the first glance of Bowless letter, which he had intended to answer before he left town. Then he felt in his pockets for the letter, A SONG IN MANY KEYS. 61 and found that he had left it behind him. Still there were the points written in his note-hook to which he had intended to re- ply. Bowles, it seemed, was hard up. His invention answered admirably: it did every thing claimed for it; but somehow he must have money to bridge over, or he must stay on the side opposite success. Mr. Taylor had already served him such a good turn about the patent, perhaps he might advise him whether it would be best to try to get up a stock company, or to sell out to some wealthy manufacturer, or to hang on in the way he was now doing. Mr. Taylor reflected, and went to sleep over it, and slept through all the pauses at way-stations steadily on, through sunset and even-tide and moonlight, until, at twelve oclock, he heard somebody shouting Hen- derson ! in his ears. Meanwhile, though many people came and went, the woman to whom we have alluded kept her seat; but though she knew when she left the city d6p6t that many an hour of travel was before her, she sat and thought, and to sleep was the last thing attempted, desired, or possible. Was she not going to her son I Yes. But without any very joy- ful anticipation, if one might take into con- sideration the anxious expression of her face. What might not have happened before she went back to town on Saturday, to resume her life there copying papers for the great firm of Brydges ? She would have given her son away. But has she not already done this? Has not the bitterness of death been tasted? And yet she reminds herself while the train speeds on, Is not the Spirit of the Lord still moving on the waters, as of old, in the beginning ? and can one perish in them who relies on Him?, She, too, has a letter in her mind, and the answer to it which she had made. Only since the week began that letter was received from her son, and since then the world seemed to have come to an end. James had not written to ask her advice, but to make known to her his intention. Next Thursday morning, he said, he was to be married. At nine oclock, bright and early, in the old church~ould she come? Of course she must. rns desperation had made him see his duty clearlywhat would hers do for her? The only argument he used was, I know, dear mother, that Im acting as my father would have done. Was he? she thought. She knew the circumstances. Mr. Jackson had died sud- denly; the family were left quite destitute; the girls must support themselves, Netty, the youngest, who had been three years en- gaged to James, as well as the rest. And why not Netty as well as the rest? Was she not capable? And was not James merely another mans man, and not his own master? Mrs. Thompson was twenty-three years beyond the time when she would have al- lowed a lover to act as her son had deter- mined to act. She had passed through very dreary and sorrowful experiences. So clear had become her convictions with regard to this world, so difficult was the path which she saw opening before her son, valiantly taking on himself who could foretell what cares, that her first impulse had been to write him that he must do no such crazy thing as fulfill his declared intention. He must wait, in justice to the young lady he must wait, until he felt certain that he could support her in a way that a man ought to wish to support his wife. He had ~io right to ask a young girl to share his fortunes un- til there was a prospect that they would be less hard than now seemed likely. But no such letter was written, or even begun. James should never know that she had contemplated the duty of writing in such a strain to him. Poor widow! she found herself occupying in imagination the place of that young lady, and choosing to share the fortunes of the man she loved, however hard they might be; and so she had carried her sons letter to bed, laid it under her pillow, bathed that pillow in tears, and in the morning answered it in a w~y that should make all women proud of her. Hail to the human heart grown wise in the wis- dom of the world, and able still, on the great election days, to cast its vote for the cause that may insure earthly tribulation, but also, and in spite of that, everlasting peace! And then she had made her little prepara- tions to attend the wedding, obtained leave of absence, and a friend secured her check for her, at the last moment, too, as Mr. John Taylors had been secured for him. And there she sat now, with the check in hand, thinking of all these things, and glad when the conductor relieved her of her tick- et, because she would then have one thing less to burden her aching brain. When you consider that she was traveling like a nabob, on the strength of the ticket she had paid for, you may wonder that she started and seemed so embarrassed when she saw that Mr. Taylor was also a passenger on the train. But then you do not understand how all persons employed in the office of the Brydges regarded this gentleman. The widow was one of the copyists who wrote there, and she, with all the rest, bowed dowu abased, figuratively speaking, when the great man crossed the threshold of the firm. I suppose it was the homage done there to SuccEss, as represented by this successful broker, that made the woman even now, when acting on an independent basis, feel that it wasnt quite the thing for her to be sitting at her ease there on a car level with Mr. Taylor. In her own world there was no cause for fear that she would not behave 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. with decorum and self-respectinteriorly as well as externally she would preserve her equilibriumbut the atmosphere breathed at Brydges was denaturalized, and she had breathed it now for three or four years con- tinuously. The Henderson House was a notable inn near the Henderson station, and here Mr. Taylor found himself at midnight. In the morning, as he ascertained, he could obtain any kind of vehicle he might wish for, and a pleasant ride of five miles would bring him to Watkins Park. He might then resume his nap at once in the large cool chamber to which he was con- ducted. Wellyesit might seem so. But a lit- tle mistake which had been made in the matter of baggage kept him awake and rather busily reflecting. When he gave his check to the baggage- master, as he glanced at the valise produced he thought that it had suffered from the journey more than he had. It looked so shabby, indeed, that for an instant he had suspected that a mistake had been made somewhere. Half asleep though he was, he had said to the baggage-master, That Isnt my trap, and the man had answered, You gave me your check, didnt you ? and then had walked off. Of course it was his check, and there was J. T. in small white letters at the end of the valise. But now in his chamber, as he unlocked the portmanteau, hardly expecting that his key would perform the service, and set at ease by the instantaneousness with which it executed the feat, there was re- vealed to his eyes a marvel which equaled in result any one of Signor Blitzs magic performances. In the first place out floated an odor of violet and mignonette; then he saw a gar- ment of black silk, ajid then a book; then a pair of womanly boots, a pair of lilac gloves, a shawl, and finally a bouquet in a llttle box, the cover of which had slipped off. He saw all these things at a glance, as you might say, and yet several glances were re- quired before the several impressions an- swerable to shawl, gloves, boots, dress, book, flowers, were produced. Making these glances he felt as a thief may be supposed to feel, yet a certain fas- cination held his eyes until he clearly un- derstood that by some mistake he had be- come possessed of a womans Jaggage in- stead of his own. The flowers and the gloves made him think of his own missing splendors and of Sallys party. Was the fair owner of this property likely to make her appearance in it to-morrow night at Watkins Park? The sweet odors of the flowers, and the delicate hue of the unworn lilac gloves, must, I think, have conciliated the gazer, and 1 awakened his sympathy, for he said to him- self, as he stood there looking dt the valise, Who knows but here is a leading ? It was one of John Taylors habits of miud, one of his weaknesses, if you like, to look at all events that concerned him as in some sort leadings. He s~w that he had made an opening, and he was lazily concerned to dis- cover whither it might conduct. The book might give him a clew. He took it from the place where it had been laid by the owner, and of course he felt a little shocked when he did so. He was curious, vulgarly curious, to learn the name of the owner. There it was on the fly-leaf: a wom- an s name, possibly a fair young girls name anyway, Dorothy Davidsons. Next he turned the kavesstill seeking a clew, I supposehumming, meanwhile, Come, Dorothy, come. Then he paced the room, felt in his vest pocket to satisfy him- self that the trinkets he had purchased for Sally and her daughterwere there, and final- ly he threw himself upon the bed. The book then opened of itself it seemed to him,at a little poem entitled Philip, my King, and he read it. Twice he read it, for it was not as familiar to this gentleman as it is to you and to me. Twice he read it, ~snd then turned the page, and tears were in his eyes, for he thought of his mother, and of what he might do for her (who had all heaven!) if she was only living now. The leaf had a soft, worn, cottony feeling, as if it had often been turned; the gloss was quite worn off. A folded paper was lying between the leaves, and that he opened and read. Shameful! Most trne! But then it was true also that he said to himself he was seeking a clew that would direct him to the owner. So I make this statement, hop- ing to obtain for him a more kindly verdict. The man is no client of mine-he must look for another apologist. But perhaps you will now feel disposed to justify him. I dont. What he read was this, written as if by the hand of an engraver who had studied clear- ness, simplicity, and precision: Let me, oh, let me cease to llve so entire- ly for the safe oxie, the delivered, the immor- tal! Stand thou, my son, where thy father stood, and while I live I will serve thee. Sa- cred to me art thou because of that sacred one yonder. 0 thou infinite lover, in whom I love husband and son, thou caust lead us~ thou must. At dawn John Taylor was still lying on his bed, awake, with the book in his hand, thinking of the exceedingly narrow range he had allowed his sympathies and his facul- ties during the six prosperous years wliich had passed since his name became known to the board of brokers. And he either really wished, or else imagined that he wished, that something would happen to prevent his re- turn to town, now that he was fairly out of it. A SONG IN MANY KEYS. 63 I havent found yet the work or the place I was meant for, said he. Fancy the waves of sound conveying a message like that to the Brydges, who quoted him every day of their lives as the one eminently suc- cessful man! He remembered a girl who might have written concerning him what some woman had written here concerning some man. To have so loved as to have won such love, would not that have been a truer success than he had achieved? Lovewas it a real power still in the world? He groaned when he thought of the unbelief which had ob- tained an influence so hardening over him. But then he believed that he could still l6ve such a woman as this Dorothy, perhapsat least such a woman as his own mother. But where could such a one be found? Perhaps at his cousin Saliys, to-day. But then this mistake of baggage seemed to have inter- posed to prevent whatever might have hap- pened at bis cousin Sallys! So he lay there and discussed the point. f~eluctant always to make a change that in- volved any exertion, a week spent in bed at the Henderson House began to look more attractive to him than the scene on which he would be gazing, probably, within four or five hours. The mistake of the valise could only be rectilled by some activity on his part. He must either recover his missing effects at once or provide himself with other appareling. A return to town in either case seemed necessary, and of that he felt incapa- ble. The bed on which he was lying, there- fore, appeared to be the one place desirable. The haven he had gained he had no wish to leave. His mind continued to dwell upon the peace and the comfort of it till he recol- lected what Sally had told him about the station and the house in the years when she was accustomed to spend the autumn there for the sake of the gorgeous woods. He might remain where he was, and send his gifts forward with apologies. Sally would have no reason to suspect his near- ness. He was dull, too dull for the society of young folks met for pleasure, and he felt worked out, now that he had leisure to as- certain his feelings. The more he thought of all this the less disposed he felt to mingle with youth and gayety. Diamonds and filigree would more than fill his place. Having proceeded so far in reflection, John arose and looked from the windows. He would dispatch a messen- ger forthwith to Watkins Park, and tele- graph Will to hunt up his valise; after that he would go to bed, if nothing better offered. It was still early when he went down stairs to the hotel office and asked for writ- ing materials. Furnished with these, he eat down to write a note to his cousin. He was in the midst of a well-constructed sen- tence which displayed nota little tact, when an elderly woman came in from the street, and addressed the clerk at his desk. Was any mistake made here about bag- gage last night ? said she. The clerk told her, with an air, This is not the baggage office, madam. No, she said, I know it. I have been there. But I thought perhaps you might have heard somethingsomebody inquiring, maybe. John Taylor, hearing all this, began to hum Come, Dorothy, and to make non- sense of his letter. Of course this individu- al wasnt Dorothy, but she was quite obvi- ously involved in this trick of fortune which concerned merely Dorothy and himself. She was an elderly friend, perhaps, of that sweet- hearted widow. Is there any mark on your valise ? ask- ed the clerk. The same mark there is on this, that dont belong to me, was the answer. But I saw the minute I looked at it that it wasnt mine. Well, said the clerk, Ill inquire among the passengers; theres one of them sitting there at that table now. Thank you, Sir, said the woman, and she turned quickly toward the table, and sawMr. John Taylor! But a cat may look at a king. This second observation of J. T. since she h~d left the town office was not as startling to her as the first had been. She was able now to perceive that Mr. Taylor was merely a transient guest in the Henderson House, though elsewhere his nod might mean mill- ions. Under certain circumstances it might have taken her breath away to think of having his property in her hands, but just now she was cool enough. By this you will understand that, left to herself she remem- bered effectually, if not very distinctly, that the blood of two or three generations of Americans was in her veins. It was Mr. Taylor, in fact, who felt a lit- tle misgiving looking at her, for his common- sense dispelled the illusion he had allowed to envelop Dorothy, and he said to himself Of course the things are hersthe flowers, gloves, and all, and he blushed in a way that showed it was not agreeable to think that he had, uninvited, possessed himself of a thought or two of hers. It was time he should make a sign, so he looked up, pushed the writing materials away~ and glancing toward the clerks desk, invited the question, which he heard the next minute, whether he had found his bag- gage all right the night before. Ali wrong, he said. Then the woman explained, and it appear- ed that there was another J. T. in this world besides John Taylor; and before he was call- ed to breakfast Mr. Taylor and Mrs. Thomp- son had exchanged portmanteaus, and J. T., 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. par excellence, had privately decided to go on to Factoryville by the eight-oclock stage. Why? Because this Mrs. Thompson was going. Absurd! I know it, but that is his business. Bowles, though, I may mention, lived at Factoryville. There was no calcu- lating with certainty as to what Mr. Taylor would or would not do, or where, or how, or when he would come out with success in his hand; the only thing to be relied on was the 8nccess. Every body said so who had deal- ings with him. They had a good many miles before them, and the greater part of the day were the only passengers. We shall have a peaceable journey, said Mr. Taylor, as the driver shut the door on the surprised woman and the man who was following his leading. ~ she answered, if our baggage dont fall out by the way ; and then they both laughed, lie precisely as if he were not worth his millions, andsheasifshedidnot know that he was, and as if also she had forgotten that she was going, sad-hearted as to a funeral, to the wedding of her son. Were they to make a silent journey? Time must decide. Times decision was that there should be no lack of talk between them. The woman knew every mile-stone on the road, and her husband and she knew Bowles of Factoryville, of course. Ah, yes! She spoke of her husband in such a way that her fellow-passenger for a long tinie supposed that he might be llving on earth yet. At last, however, it became as clear to his mind as Wall Street is clear on a Sun- day that she was a widow, and Dorothy be- sides; and that she was a fair-faced, sweet- voiced woman his eyes and ears assured him. And then he learned the poor little in~ig- nificant fact that it was her husband who built the first factory that was ever set to work in Factoryville. Factoryville had a history of its own which she knew well. It had grown, within her memory, from a ham- let of two hundred to a town of eight or ten thousand inhabitants, and was now making a great effort to get rid of its name. And had she friends still living there? Oh yes, it was there her son livedher only son, James. So she was to speak, as it were by invi- tation, a bout her son to Mr. TaylorMr. John Taylor. To think of it! It was her boy she was going to visit. In fact, he was to be married the next day, and she had obtained leave of absence from Mr. Brydges, Jun., to attend his wedding. Mr. Brydges? Yes: she copied papers in his office. Ah! Sweet odors of mignonette seemed to float around Mr. John Taylor as he listened to this brief story, and he seemed to have a vision of white lilies. He was surely about to begin life over again. I found myself too late to attend one festival, said he, in a lively tone, and he had actually persuaded himself that this was true. I might attend another if I had an invitation. If you are going to stop over, said the widow, politelyshe was as old-fashioned as politeness itself is if you are going to stop over, the wedding is to be in the church~ very early; at nine oclock in the morning. After a little reflection, or perhaps it was only a pause of hesitation, she added, I did not expect it for six months yet. It is quite sudden. Dont you agree with him as to the wis- dom of the movement ? asked tlie man from the gold-room, as if he had been her brother. They say you can not travel with a woman half a day in car or stage - coach (I dont know how it is about steamboats), without having a revelation granted you of all the se- crets of her experience. But it would seem that the information Mr. Taylor obtained on this days journey was not altogether thrust upon him. He asked a good many ques- tions; provoked, perhaps, some expecta- tions. At least nobody will wonder at it if the mother thought while they talked, Heres a man who does what he pleases and theres my poor James ! It might have been better on some ac- counts if James had waited a little, said she. Yet I dont know that it would be right to say so to either of them. I can not say it. You see, Sir, the young ladys father died quite unexpectediy, and my son says he feels bound to make the family smaller by one, and he has a better salary than he had at first. James is very ingenious. He is like his father. I dont think Mr. Bowles would part with him on any account. And so it came out very clearly that James Thompson was with Mr. Bowles. There, thats it ! thought Mr. Taylor. I knew there was something to come. One of the great differences between individuals is this, all are expecting something, but all dont know when it arrives. What says the prov- erb, Many meet the gods, but few aalute them. If your son is an inventor, said he, tak- ing his time to say it, his way is easy enough. Theres nothing that I know of equal to the head of an inventor. It is the best kind of head a man can have on his shoulders. John Taylor thoroughly believed this, and the widow could not doubt his sincerity. Yes, she thought, it is a great thing to be an inventor; but she could not think without a pang of the years through which her hus- band had passedthe make-shifts, the pov- erty, and death ending all just as they were coming into port after their long, tempestu- ous voyaging. A SONG IN MANY KEYS. 65 But it was, as the gentleman said, a great thing, a very great thing, to have the head of an inventor. A smile lighted up her face, and seemed to renovate each feature, as she dwelt upon it. Perhaps it might not be the most profitable head, as he had claimed, but certainly it was the noblest; and sweetest of all smiles that ever glowed on mortal countenance was that which in painful de- feat or in victory had shone op her husbands countenance. She did not speak; she was busied with these recollections which all lay on the other side of the graveon that unapproachable earthly side over which the sunshine was always so solemnly resting. By-and-by she was startled, perhaps by the sound of a voice rather than by what the voice said. How is it about Mr. Bowlesand your son? Does James satisfy him ? Oh yes. Why dont he take him in as a partner ? That isnt possible, she said; but not because she had not thought the possibility over, and reasoned with herself many and many a time on the impossibility. He is the foreman, though, you say, and nece55ary.~~ Mr. Bowles told me last year, she an- swered,that he didnt know how he could get on without James. He wont let him go if the business is worth a cent. Your son must make use of his opportunity, said John, speaking for- cibly, from conviction: this was the business he was to attend to; for what else should he spend the day on the road to Factoryville instead of answering Bowless letter by mail? I will tell you, said the motherand you know that she believed the Spirit of the Lord to be still moving on the dark waters, and also that she, poor soul, still trusted in Providence I think if my son dont push his way now, he never will be his own man as long as he lives. Mr. Bowles and every other man will let him stand in the back- ground as long as he will consent to do so. This is the thing that has troubled me. Per- haps I dont do right to say it, Sir; but you will understand me. Was it not enough to make one smile to hear her saying that to Mr. John Taylor? But he did not smile. Her anxiety, her ear- nestness, her modesty, lier humility, touched his heart. I am glad you have told me, said he. As you say, marriage is the making of a good many men, but it nips off the enterprise and the hope of a good many too. I believe in Providence myself, maam. I agree with you that if James is like other men, he is going to take his stand to-morrow, and it speaks well for him that he is determined to marry the young lady off-hand, now that she is in trouble. I like it better than if he had voa. XLVILNo. 2Th5 let her go away to earn her own living. If she has a mind to help him, its better she should do so after theyre married. If he wanted to know whether he had spoken to the purpose, Mr. John Taylor had only to look at the widow. Who would have prophesied, when she set out on her journey, her heart so filled with gloom, that before she had arrived at Fac- toryville the voice of a man so wise in the affairs of this world, and so successful, would be saying to her words whicli would make her see the world, as it were, created anew for her son? How ashamed in her heart was she that she had dared to doubt or to murmur, as though Heaven could have in store for her any thing really heart-breaking and evil! How ashamed of the tears she had shed on the receipt of her dear boys letter, and of that feeling that in giving her con- sent to his marriage she had, as it were, lost him! When the stage drew up toward the steps of the Factoryville inn the widow said: I cant tell you how I feel your kind- ness. You are the last man I would have expected to tell all this to. There is my son waiting for me! I can speak to him now with some courage: I believe all will be well, just as you think. May I come to the wedding, if I can find my way to the church ? asked Mr. Taylor, as James came toward the stage door to open it. He had seen that his mother was a pas- senger. Do come ! she answered. Any body can tell you where it is. At nine oclock ! She had apparently forgotten all the aston- ishing and magnificent things that she had ever heard about him, and invited him as cordially as she would have invited an old friend, or you or me. Standing for a moment on the green in front of the inn, Mr. John Taylor looked at the widows son, and made up his mind. The widow said, as she walked away with her boy: That gentleman, James, is one of the richest men in the city. And made all his money himself. Arid such a sensible man! I wouldnt have believed it! I told him about you, and he says youre going to do the right thing, bless you ! Whereupon, moved by the tearful energy with which the last words were spoken, the young mana sturdy, dark-browed son of labor kissed his mother on the public street. Theres an extry fine piece of crockery for you, said one of the loafers on the tav- ern steps to another, turning and looking at Mr. John Taylor as he walked into the bar- room. Soft bake, said another. But what if they had seen the rose leaves and diamonds 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in the strangers vest pocket, or surveyed the contents of his portmanteau I Or what if they had known the thoughts that he was thinking about his ended journey I Wherever he was, in Factoryville or else- where, Mr. Taylors pnrposes were distinctly ascertained. He had now to answer Bowless letter, but moreover, and chiefly, to find out about James. And first of all he must as- certain the general estimate and opinion of business done at the factory, and the impor- tance of James Thompson in the establish- ment. If the lovely young bride had known all he was thinking, and the wonderful delight he had in his thinking, she would not have been so surprised when she saw him next morning looking at her so kindly from the front pew, where he stood with Mr. Bowles during the ceremony. And if she had known what her husband knew when she walked out of the church, leaning on his arm, she could not have been so surprised to see how untroubled his eyes looked, and how serene his face, as he said, You and I must trust in Providence. Theres nothing like Providence for us, Net- ty. It is all right. For while he waited in the porch for Net- ty and her family, standing there with his mother, Mr. Bowles had come in with the stranger who rode over to Factoryville in the stage yesterday, and had said to him, I have brought you a wedding present, James. You come into the firm with me to- day, as well as make your contract with Miss Netty. And then Nettyhad come, and the organ was sending forth the glad sound of the Wedding March, and the minister stood in the chancel, and the sexton outside had his hand on the bell-rope ready to tell all the good folk far and near of the brave deed done in the village church at that early morning hour. So there was no time to be talking about business. It is a good thing to have influencea great thing to have earned it. John Taylor felt that, of all his operations, this was the one that paid him best when he stood in the little parlor of Nettys mother, and it was talked over in the happy circle that Mr. Bowles would take James into partnership with himself that day. He smiled benignly as a god when he made his wedding present to the bride through Jamess motherthe very ornaments he had bought for his cousin Sallys daughter, thinking meanwhile how different the trip he had made and the fes- tival he had attended from any thing he could have anticipated. But who that sets out on a journey will venture to say where he is going, or what may be the end thereof I Of course he had bought a share in Bowless business, and had saved Bowles not a little perplexity by the answer he made to his letter, coming forward so unexpectedly with plenty of money when it was so badly wanted. James Thompson did not discover all this till some years laterabout the time, prob- ably, when Mr. Taylor went to Factoryville and bought out Bowles, and himself entered into business with J. T., Jun., as a machinist and an inventor, and so realized the dream of his youth, which was to produce some- thing, and not merely to accumulate. I dare say you are wishing now that he had also married Dorothy in those good days. That may have been his wishin fact, it was! But how could it be done when she was always thinking of one who waited for her in the heavenly place 0? No; but there was another good woman in the world for a good loverand so, of course, he found her. WHEN A DREAM COMES TRUE. I noan your hand in mine, my darling, darling; I look within your eyes; I ask you idle questions, only caring To hear your low replies. And all the while the glimmer of a wonder A moon-lit rack of cloud Flits oer my silent heaven of joy, while under Its stars my soul is bowed. I think how oft the future will require it Ah, how then did it seem ? To-morrow and to-morrow will desire it Vainly as any dream. What is it more? In dreams the eyes are holden; They know not ueV from far; I wake with outspre~d arms, a shadow folding And such lifes visions are. It is but touch and sight a little plainer, A voice that telling, hides; I doubt, 0 heart, art thou so much a gainer? For something still divides. o fire of God, 0 living, wingid creature That in this clay doth rise, Ilow caust thou warm to thy diviner nature These lips and hands and eyes? Too eager quest, that hastest to their meeting, Hoping desire to fill, Thou standest half abashed, in tenderest greeting, Yet finding welcome chill. With stiuted bread the life-long hunger staying, With fasting visions blessed, With longing that makes life perpetual praying, A stranger her confessed. If yet, 0 dearest heart, the world grows dearer, Because tis sweet to stand (While that which never has enough cries, Nearer) One moment hand to hand, What will it he when every barrier breaking Lets heart to heart come through? Will heaven leave one corner for an aching When the long dream comes true?

66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in the strangers vest pocket, or surveyed the contents of his portmanteau I Or what if they had known the thoughts that he was thinking about his ended journey I Wherever he was, in Factoryville or else- where, Mr. Taylors pnrposes were distinctly ascertained. He had now to answer Bowless letter, but moreover, and chiefly, to find out about James. And first of all he must as- certain the general estimate and opinion of business done at the factory, and the impor- tance of James Thompson in the establish- ment. If the lovely young bride had known all he was thinking, and the wonderful delight he had in his thinking, she would not have been so surprised when she saw him next morning looking at her so kindly from the front pew, where he stood with Mr. Bowles during the ceremony. And if she had known what her husband knew when she walked out of the church, leaning on his arm, she could not have been so surprised to see how untroubled his eyes looked, and how serene his face, as he said, You and I must trust in Providence. Theres nothing like Providence for us, Net- ty. It is all right. For while he waited in the porch for Net- ty and her family, standing there with his mother, Mr. Bowles had come in with the stranger who rode over to Factoryville in the stage yesterday, and had said to him, I have brought you a wedding present, James. You come into the firm with me to- day, as well as make your contract with Miss Netty. And then Nettyhad come, and the organ was sending forth the glad sound of the Wedding March, and the minister stood in the chancel, and the sexton outside had his hand on the bell-rope ready to tell all the good folk far and near of the brave deed done in the village church at that early morning hour. So there was no time to be talking about business. It is a good thing to have influencea great thing to have earned it. John Taylor felt that, of all his operations, this was the one that paid him best when he stood in the little parlor of Nettys mother, and it was talked over in the happy circle that Mr. Bowles would take James into partnership with himself that day. He smiled benignly as a god when he made his wedding present to the bride through Jamess motherthe very ornaments he had bought for his cousin Sallys daughter, thinking meanwhile how different the trip he had made and the fes- tival he had attended from any thing he could have anticipated. But who that sets out on a journey will venture to say where he is going, or what may be the end thereof I Of course he had bought a share in Bowless business, and had saved Bowles not a little perplexity by the answer he made to his letter, coming forward so unexpectedly with plenty of money when it was so badly wanted. James Thompson did not discover all this till some years laterabout the time, prob- ably, when Mr. Taylor went to Factoryville and bought out Bowles, and himself entered into business with J. T., Jun., as a machinist and an inventor, and so realized the dream of his youth, which was to produce some- thing, and not merely to accumulate. I dare say you are wishing now that he had also married Dorothy in those good days. That may have been his wishin fact, it was! But how could it be done when she was always thinking of one who waited for her in the heavenly place 0? No; but there was another good woman in the world for a good loverand so, of course, he found her. WHEN A DREAM COMES TRUE. I noan your hand in mine, my darling, darling; I look within your eyes; I ask you idle questions, only caring To hear your low replies. And all the while the glimmer of a wonder A moon-lit rack of cloud Flits oer my silent heaven of joy, while under Its stars my soul is bowed. I think how oft the future will require it Ah, how then did it seem ? To-morrow and to-morrow will desire it Vainly as any dream. What is it more? In dreams the eyes are holden; They know not ueV from far; I wake with outspre~d arms, a shadow folding And such lifes visions are. It is but touch and sight a little plainer, A voice that telling, hides; I doubt, 0 heart, art thou so much a gainer? For something still divides. o fire of God, 0 living, wingid creature That in this clay doth rise, Ilow caust thou warm to thy diviner nature These lips and hands and eyes? Too eager quest, that hastest to their meeting, Hoping desire to fill, Thou standest half abashed, in tenderest greeting, Yet finding welcome chill. With stiuted bread the life-long hunger staying, With fasting visions blessed, With longing that makes life perpetual praying, A stranger her confessed. If yet, 0 dearest heart, the world grows dearer, Because tis sweet to stand (While that which never has enough cries, Nearer) One moment hand to hand, What will it he when every barrier breaking Lets heart to heart come through? Will heaven leave one corner for an aching When the long dream comes true? THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 67 THE HARZ MOUNTAINS: A TOUR IN THE TOY COUNTRY. Br HENRY BLACKBURN. ON a low seat, in an old-fashioned, un- fashionable pub- lie garden, on the south side of Hanover, there is little Gretchen surrounded by ba- bies, knitting and staring with all her eyes. It is a quiet, rather deserted-looking spot, with no attempt at trimness or attractivenessa poor dilapidated Terrasse, or public walk, with old wooden seats, where Carl and Fritz have carved their names, and hacked about with pocket - knives, and otherwise made themselves disagreeably at home. But it is, nevertheless, the place in Hanover to-day for quiet and rest; a place where babies, strapped in stiff card-board packets, are brought to sleep, where lovers come to love, and old men to dream. Unler den Linden ,~ as we sit here to-day, let us turn our eyes sonthward, and scan the blue horizon. As we look we can trace a far-off sea of mountains, low, smooth, and spreading east and west, like a receding tide upon the sands. It is a deep seaa sea of many mysteries, le- gends, and dreams the source of inspiration of Goe- thes poetry and Heines phi- losophy. Unter den Lin- den, there come upon the south wind echoes of the Walpnrgisnacht, and memo- ries of the loves of Mar- gnerite. The spirit-land of Northern Germany is before us. Poets, artists, philoso- phers, and the children of a thousand German homes have fed their fancies, and moulded their ideas of life beyond cities, from the lit- tle range of monutains which we shall venture to call the Toy Country of Northern Germany. We will not dwell on the poetic associations of the Harz at the outset, but rather tell the reader what it is like to- daywhat it is that attracts in such numbers the inhab- itants of Bremen, Hamburg, Hanover, and Brunswick, ud why the traveler on his way from London to Berlin or Vienna would do well to turn aside for a few days and explore a region about which scarcely any thing seems to be known. If the tourist refers to his hand- book for Northern Germany, he will there be told that it is hardly worth the while of the hunter after the picturesque who has seen other parts of Europe to go far out of his way to explore the Harz, unless he be a geologist, or interested in mining operations, and he will learn that this, the most northerly range of mountains in Ger- many, is only about sixty miles by thirty in extent, and that its highest peak, the Brocken, is only three thousand feet above the level of the sea. The attractions of the Harz Mountains to the inhabitants of the flat countries, in the burniug days of July and August, are greater than the sea-breezes of their coast. The charm of mountaineer- ing, and walking on heather-covered hill- sides, and wandering freely in forests of pines, is greater and more alluring than the casinos on the sea-shore. Thus it is that the capitalists of the northern towns of Ger- many, especially Bremen, are popularizing the principal valleys in the Harz, construct- ON TIlE WAY TO TUE BIlOOK~N.

THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 67 THE HARZ MOUNTAINS: A TOUR IN THE TOY COUNTRY. Br HENRY BLACKBURN. ON a low seat, in an old-fashioned, un- fashionable pub- lie garden, on the south side of Hanover, there is little Gretchen surrounded by ba- bies, knitting and staring with all her eyes. It is a quiet, rather deserted-looking spot, with no attempt at trimness or attractivenessa poor dilapidated Terrasse, or public walk, with old wooden seats, where Carl and Fritz have carved their names, and hacked about with pocket - knives, and otherwise made themselves disagreeably at home. But it is, nevertheless, the place in Hanover to-day for quiet and rest; a place where babies, strapped in stiff card-board packets, are brought to sleep, where lovers come to love, and old men to dream. Unler den Linden ,~ as we sit here to-day, let us turn our eyes sonthward, and scan the blue horizon. As we look we can trace a far-off sea of mountains, low, smooth, and spreading east and west, like a receding tide upon the sands. It is a deep seaa sea of many mysteries, le- gends, and dreams the source of inspiration of Goe- thes poetry and Heines phi- losophy. Unter den Lin- den, there come upon the south wind echoes of the Walpnrgisnacht, and memo- ries of the loves of Mar- gnerite. The spirit-land of Northern Germany is before us. Poets, artists, philoso- phers, and the children of a thousand German homes have fed their fancies, and moulded their ideas of life beyond cities, from the lit- tle range of monutains which we shall venture to call the Toy Country of Northern Germany. We will not dwell on the poetic associations of the Harz at the outset, but rather tell the reader what it is like to- daywhat it is that attracts in such numbers the inhab- itants of Bremen, Hamburg, Hanover, and Brunswick, ud why the traveler on his way from London to Berlin or Vienna would do well to turn aside for a few days and explore a region about which scarcely any thing seems to be known. If the tourist refers to his hand- book for Northern Germany, he will there be told that it is hardly worth the while of the hunter after the picturesque who has seen other parts of Europe to go far out of his way to explore the Harz, unless he be a geologist, or interested in mining operations, and he will learn that this, the most northerly range of mountains in Ger- many, is only about sixty miles by thirty in extent, and that its highest peak, the Brocken, is only three thousand feet above the level of the sea. The attractions of the Harz Mountains to the inhabitants of the flat countries, in the burniug days of July and August, are greater than the sea-breezes of their coast. The charm of mountaineer- ing, and walking on heather-covered hill- sides, and wandering freely in forests of pines, is greater and more alluring than the casinos on the sea-shore. Thus it is that the capitalists of the northern towns of Ger- many, especially Bremen, are popularizing the principal valleys in the Harz, construct- ON TIlE WAY TO TUE BIlOOK~N. 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing railways and hotels, and turning little villages into prosperous summer towns. The crowded inhabitants of the old streets of Bremen and Leipsic, where children live like caged birds for nine months in the year, fly with natural instinct to trees and woods, to freedom and fresh air, to see in real life the little red and white houses, the stiff pine- trees, the flat-sided sheep, the spotted cows, the herdsmen in brown and green Noahs- ark coats, and the formal procession of pigs, goats, and sheep that they had played with in babyhood. The process is now made easy enough for all classes. A through ticket can be taken from Bremen to Harz- burg, and the journey is accomplished in about six hours. What there is to see in the Harz Mount- ains, and how the holiday-makers beguile their summer days, the tourist who is hur- rying to Dresden, where the lovely Madonna dcl Sisti wili greet his delighted eyes, or to Vienna, where the worlds fair of 1873 will open before him, may see for himself in less than a week, by following the route indi- cated in this narrative, with the assistance of the above map. Leaving Hanover, with its dirty streets and sunburned walls, with its old palaces covered with Prussian affiches, we take the railway to Brnnswick and so on southward A GLIMPSE OF HANOVER. to Goslat, in the Harz Mountains. The railway sta- tion and its sur- roundings ~re so modern and pro- saic, and the shrieking of the engines so inces- sant, that we might fancy our- selves at Lyons or Manchester~ were it not for the car- riages which are JJ still stamped with a royal crown, and for the unmistakably German faces in the crowd. From Hanoverwe pass eastward to old- fashioned Brunswick, and, witha glimpse, of its old gables and streets, we are soon again in the open country, winding through corn fields, past formal little villages with houses of the familiar toy pattern, and little wood- A MID-DAY DiIEAM. en childiun standing bare-headed in the sun. We spend several hours unnecessarily at wayside stations, while the conductors of the express train consume innumerable flag- ons of beer, and sit down to smoke with the station-masters in a mid-day dream. One of these long delays is at the little station of Vienenburg, a junction between two lines of railway, one to Harzburg, the other to Goslar. In about an hour after leaving Yienenburg we find ourselves grad- ually ascending the mountain slopes that hide the city from our view. A glance backward toward the plains, and we can discern the distant cities of Brunswick and Hanover glistening in the sunlight; a glance forward and upward, and we find ourselves winding round and under the wails of a great city. There are watch-towers above our heads, and the cutting through which the train passes is in reality the old castle moat. The distance we have come from Brunswick by the mall train is twenty-seven miles, and the time occupied on the journey has been four hours. But the transition is 1 7U C) 0 THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 69 rapid enough, and the contrast between the But Goslarthis strange old town set on old and the new is both sudden and striking, the slopes of beautiful hillswhoever heard On one side, as we approach this old impe- of it before, excepting as the head-quarters rial city, are the watch-towers, where war- of a mining districtbleak, dull, and unin- riors with bows and arrows stood guard teresting l Have we not made a discovery over its treasnres eight hundred years ago; here of a new world of interest? What is on the other side the railway signal-man of its historyto compass in a few words eight 1872. centuries of time? A city rich, flourishing, A STREET IN OOSLAR. 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and powerful, with imperial rights and dig- nities, once the residence of emperors and the seat of the German Diet; the source of almost unbounded wealth in its gold and sil- ver mines, guarded from its watch - towers by trained bands of warriors day and night; a city not only planned and fortified with wonderful knowledge of the science of de- fense, but set upon a line of hills with sucli admirable design that it must have been a de- lightful place of residence in imperial days. A pause of five hundred years, and the old Ronianesque buildingswhich are still traceable here and there, such as the Dom- ca~pelle, a relic of the imperial Dom erected by Conrad II. iu the year 916are swept away, and a new element of life makes its mark in Goslar: a period of commercial pros- perity takes the place of the more romantic and warlike; the arms and insignia of an im- perial city are thrust aside, and guilds and corporations erect town-halls, warehoinies, and massive, high - gabled beer breweries. The Gothic Kaiserwerth (now turned into a hotel) standing in the central square gives in itself a new character to the city, and bows and arrows give place to more peaceful weapons. A new city is built, so to speak, within the walls of the old ; new customs and new sciences are introduced, manufac- tures are encouraged, and the art of mining and smeltingthe source of wealth, the raison d~tre, it may be said, of Goslaris carried to such perfection that the world, and the worlds wealth, flock hither from all parts of Germany. Schools of mining are established, geological experiments of great scientific importance are carried on, and the little river Gose, which once flowed a wide stream through the town, has its tributaries diverted for mining purposes, and dwindles almost out of sight. Three hundred years more, and the city is asleep. Its population has dwindled away; its min- ing operations are no longer the worlds won- der; its halls are turned into granaries; the walls of its old beer breweries totter and fall; the wooden gables lean; the carved wood- work on its doorways becomes defaced; there is silence in its streets. Why is it asleep ? is the natural ques- tion; and why should such a grand old city remain untenanted? What is to become of Goslar? Will it, because trade has for the time been diverted into other channels, dis- appear slowly from the map of Enrope, or be once more a populous and thriving city? Forty thousand people living in Goslar in barbaric days, and now only nine thousand! A city dwindling away for want of being known,and several hundred thousands of people reminded of its existence through the pages of an American magazine, in these modern days of enterprise and rail- way communication! Let us endeavor to sketch its modern aspect, and the welcome it can give to strangers. There is no very good inn in the Harz Mountains, but there i~ plain, and generally clean, German accom- modation; there are always ridiculous little beds, and food which the mountain air ren- ders more than tolerable. Herr Paul, at the inn near the round tower, is an attentive host, who speaks English, and is adapting himself to English habits and customs as far as he has opportunities of observing tbem. The Kaiserwerth in the market-place is the principal inna picturesque old building of the fifteenth century, adorned exteriorly with statues of former emperorsand there are several others in the town. The streets are roughly paved, and some not too clean; but the old houses, with their carved frontages and high-pitched gables, fringed with orna- ment and decorated with grotesque figures, the creepers growing over the closed lattices, the solid brass door-knockers in the likeness of mermaids, satyrs, dolphins, dragons, and griffins, the deep rich color of the time- stained wood, and the peeps of the bills at the ends of the streets, lead the visitor on OVER THE comaE-STONES. and on, over innumerable and wearying cobble-stones. To see what are called the show-places in the town, the visitor will probably do best to take a human guide, and give him- self up to his care for one day. He will then see in detail what we can only indicate here the relics of a wonderful tenth-century city. He will be shown the remains of the impe- rial Dom, and what is said to be a votive altar of the early Saxons; and what is more interesting, because more authentic, the walls of the ancient Kaiserhaus, erected by the Emperor Henry III. in 1059. Its style is Romanesque, and its proportions and situa- tion make many similar buildings of a later THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 71 date look mean and poor. It is true that we There are parts of this building, now used as can repeat the best lines in architecture that a granary and piled up with rubbish, which are the monopoly of past ages, but we are full of suggestion, and worthy of exam- miss almost always the simple grandeur and ination, we venture to think, by any archi- fitness which arc the stamp of ancient work. tect who comes this waysuch, for instance, C S S C S S S 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. as the arrangement of the windows so as to command the best views and the finest air. In the Rathhaus, on one side of the market- place, there is an elaborately wrought silver tankard of the fourteenth century, with fig- ures and implements in high relief, the ex- pressions on the faces of the figures being wonderfully worked on a small scale. In this, and in some specimens of early stained glass, we are again reminded of the lost arts of which we have lately heard so much. If not lost, these things are certainly fad- ing before our eyes. The relics in Goslar are not, however, its principal attraction. The visitor will be more struck by the picturesque aspects of its old streets, the variety and grandeur in de- sign of its granaries and dwe]ling-houses, built of wood and stone, with dark wooden gables and lattices and massive timbers, sharp in outline and well preserved where the stone and brick foundations are crum- bling away. The ornamentations of the ex- teriors of the houses should not be passed over, nor the patterns in the wood carving in the interiors. Here and there we may see, as in Moorish work, the conventional forms of flowers and plants introduced in ornament in the most natural way. Just above our heads, on the front of a small dwellinghouse, the ripe fruit and leaves of the Indian corn are carved in scrolls as a fringe to the ga- bles, and grapes and fi9wers are modeled on the panels. Artists n~ight settle down in Goslar with a summers work before them of the rarest kind, for, happily for those who are yet to~ome, it is still almost unknown. But ancient Goslar has already a fashion- able life of its own, and affects, to some ex- tent, the manners of to-day. It does not attempt to compete with Harzburg or the more modern watering-places of Blanken- burg or Wernigerode, but it is a watering- place, and it has its own particular prome- nade. Let us come this afternoon and see life in Goslar, or, in other words, the procession of the sick. The figures are pilgrims that have come from far and wide to combine the attractions of a holiday with the benefits of a wonderful cure for which the town has long been celebrated. The promenades and walks on the ramparts, lined with trees, are crowded at certain periods of the day with valetmidinarians, who are going through a prescribed course of getting up early, taking regular exercise, at tending strictly to their diet, and generally undoing what they have been steadily doing since their last visit. The fine air and regular habits which are strictly enforced have the natural beneficial effect on the majority, but there are some who require stronger measures, and whose regimen consists in drinking daily several quarts of a dark mix- ture having the appearance, taste, and effect of taraxacum or senna. The bottles of this liquid are supplied to the patients at the public gardens and little caf6s, situated at convenient distances in the suburbs of Gos- lar. The usual time prescribed by the phy- sician under whose control the gardens are managed is about a fortnight for each pa- tient, who takes two or three bottles a day. It is a serious business with some of them, but they generally put a good face on the matter, so that a stranger to the place would merely regard them as holiday-makers of a rather dilapidated and eccentric type. We have sketched the scene at one of these gar- dens about four oclock in the afternoon, when the conviviality is at its height. Among the antiquities of Goslar we must not omit to speak of the mines. About a mile up the valley, in a southward direction, there is a mine that has been worked for at least eight centuries, yielding gold and sil- ver, copper, lead, zinc, sulphur, vitriol, and atum. We repeat the catalogue of minerals as given to strangers who visit the Ram- melsberg mine. At the present time there is little activity, as the yield hardly pays the expense of working. iN NARZBU1~G. The situation of Harzburg, the next town on our route, at the head of a little valley, closed in on either side by woods, will re- mind the traveler of the watering-places of the Pyrenees. It is in a cul-de-sac, from which there is no easy escape, except by returning northward into the plains. As we drive up the valley, past the rail- way terminus, we pass a long line of scat- tered cottages of the peasants before reach- ing the new and fashionable Harzburg, the growth of the last few years. The road is wide and smooth as we leave the old village behind us; on either side are large hotels, out-door caf6s, and private, park-like villas, with prettily laid out gardens. Through the gates of one of these gardens the driver turns, and stops at the veranda of a large, noisy hotel. The Juliushalle is so celebrated THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 73 for its (German) comforts and its admirable chance wayfarers can be accommodated. It cuisine, and is so popular as a boarding- is a large, rambling, booth-like building, with house and bathing establishment, that it is a strong sense of cooking and good living seldom, during the height of the season, that pervading itan odor which, combined with A S 0 0 S S 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tobacco, clings to the valley on a summers night, and quite overwhelms the scent of the pines. It is evening when we stroll up the val- ley, and the peasants are returning from the mountains; cattle, sheep, pigs, goats, and geese line the roads, and the people all stop to stare as usual. We have only 1)een in the mountains a few days, but these figures and the lines of fir-trees above our heads seem strangely familiar. Where have we seen these grave peasants in long coats, these wooden-faced women with baskets on their backs, these spotted cows, flat-sided pigs, and uniform geese? Where these formal-looking houses, rows of stiff-looking trees, white, staring dogs, and grave, fat- faced children? It is the childs box of German toys, suddenly opened and turned out before us; the strange impression pro- duced upon a childwho shall say how many years ago ?reproduced in life before our eyes! Here are all the living materials for Noahs arks and Christmas-trees. Noah, with his long brown coat in stiff wood- en folds, and his hat and stick, as presented to us in childhood; ~his wife and family in red, brown, and buff standing staring va- cantly in a row; the shepherd with his horn and gigantic crook, painted green; cows and goats walking home two by two; and pigs lying fiat upon the ground, like little toys thrown down. Under the trees, as the sun goes down, our Christmas-tree is lighted up, and the figures that move before us only want packing up and selling at two sons each at a childs bazar. We have called the Harz Mountains the Toy Country of North Germany, because it is suggestive at every turn of toys and children. Every mountain we shall ascend is covered with rows of those stiff-looking trees which are carved in wood by the chil- dren of the Black Forest and the towns of Germany. Every hill-side is a plantation hence their formalityand there are com- plete forests of fir-trees of all sizes, accord- ing to the year of growth. The effect is curious on a mountain walk, when, after threading a path- way with Lilliput footsteps through a forest of enormous pines, you suddenly come to a nursery of little trees, a niinia- ture forest, on which you look down like Brobdingnag, stepping at one stride over a mountain- ette covered with a hundred trees; and so on through the en- tire tour of the Harz. But we ? must not anticipate. There are clouds at the head of the valley next morning, and behind the clouds it is raining on the Brocken; but the sun is so hot by ten oclock that we are glad to get out of the valley and walk up through the woods, which we enter by a wicket gate nearly opposite to the Julius- halle, to the Burgberg, or castle hill, just above the town. In about a quarter of an hour we are surprised to find ourselves at the summit. There are the ruins of a fortress on this eminence, and there is, says Baedeker, a small but comfortable hotel on the Burg- berg, aftording a fine view. A flag hoisted in summer indicates that rooms are still dis- engaged. Guides, carriages, and donkeys can be hired at Harzburg. The ascent takes forty minutes. This announcement brings numerous excursionists from Brunswick ev- ery Sunday, who accomplish the feat in one day, returning to Brunswick at night. Whether it is worth while for any one to walk up to this noisy little beer garden, where the shouts of waiters and the clink of glasses drown every other sound, we will not say. The walk through the woods gives us beautiful peeps of the valley, and we see as on a map beneath us the chalets and gar- dens that are rising in every direction, and covering every available plot of ground. From the top the view is much impeded by the masses of fir-trees; but we obtain a good idea of the formation of the valley, and in clear weather see the distant peaks and slopes of the Upper Harz. Under the long veranda of the Juliushalle we have ample opportunity for sketching the motley throng which this little toy village has brought together. There is contrast and variety enough in the group before our eyes. Standing in the sun with shining morning face, her light hair tightly braided, her handkerchief tied over her head, with the stolid face and fixed wooden stare that we know so well, there is little Mathilde, with her basket of white Alpine roses for sale. She is generallywelcome, and disposes of her bouquets quickly enough. But she has no more tact than the rest of her race, and is sometimes decidedly de trop. In her round this morning through the caf6 she has disturbed a philosopher at the ft ~ C A ( I, ON THE BU~HERG. THE HARZ. MOUNTAINS. 75 wrong moment, and is the inno- cent subject of excited anathe- mas. The scene is worth record- ing for the curi- ous contrast of the two figures the violence of the professor and the stolidity of TIlE PROFESSOR, the girl; while underlying the irritability of the one and the immobility of the other there is a chord of sympathy and a mutual understanding, which we, as foreigners, can not penetrate. If we were not accustomed to such scenes, we should be surprised to find them all to- gether in the afternoon on the common roundabout of the country, the professor astride of a wooden horse, and little Ma- thilde, with a baby in a basket-chair, whir- ling round and round under the dusty trees to the sound of a hand-organ, the ringing of bells, and the shouting of children. And what of the ladies that crowd these watering-places, who are sitting about in the rooms leading on to the gardens, and in the summer - houses, reading and chat- ting over their worsted-work? The youn- ger ones are of the fashionable colorless type which we all know well. They have evidently plenty of money, and have put themselves into the hands of a modiste from Berlin; they have put on whatever they have been told, regardless of whether the color suits them, or whether the pattern of their dresses should be worn by short people or tall, stout or slight. Thus their individuali- ty is gone; they are all moulded to one pat- tern, in different colors, like machine-made toys; the only vestige of nature is in their almost expressionless faces, in the blue of their large eyes, and in the glimpses of wonderfully fair hair. What is to be said, what description ~an we give, from such meagre details? The artist is at a disad- vantage in every respect; for these dresses have been made so beautifully and packed so carefully that they do not even fall into natural folds, or give the slightest expres- sion or character to the wearer. Moreover, these young girls can neither walk erect nor show any grace of motion. Velasquez was a court painter, and struggled man- fully with the stiff hooped dresses of his time, giving wondrous individuality to the hands of most of his portraits; Murillo had easier work in painting picturesque rags and limbs of beggar-boys. Were a great painter in Harzburg to-day, he would find little work to his hand. One head only in all this assembly stands out with marked character and individuality; it is unfash- ionable and prosaic, but not uninteresting. There is a concert of young people just com- menced in the inner room, and a lady who has been working near us stops to listen; we note it rapidly in this sketch, but it is worthy the pencil of Holbein. From Harzburg there is a carriage-road to the inn at the top of the A rORTRAIT. Brocken, but the pleas- antest way is to drive to Ilsenberg, and then walk, the distance from the latter be- ing about seven miles. The walk is alto- gether beautiful, through woods, by water- falls, and under the shadow of great rocks, until the upper and more Alpine region is reached. We pass through open glades and pastures here and there, then into a thick forest of pines, then out again on to the road for a while, following the windings of the Ilse. On our left hand, as we ascend, an al- most perpendicular ridge of rock towers over the valley, and we .pass a little sign- post which tells us that by a digression of three-quarters of an hour we can ascend the Ilsestein. From this prominence, where an iron cross is shining in the sun about 350 feet above our heads, there are views of scenery wilder and more grand than any thing that can be imagined from below. Continuing the ascent, whi~h changes every moment from rocks and streams to the quiet and solitude of pines and firsnow walking on a carpet of living moss or dead fir cones, now coming npon a little garden of wild flowers, red, white, and blue, under our feet, with red berries, Al pine roses, and blue for- get-me-nots, purple heath in the distance, and above our heads mosses and creepers growing round projecting boulderswe come suddenly upon a little plantation of toy fir-trees, from four to six inches higb, railed off like a miniature parka nursery for forests for our great-grandchildren to walk in when the trees above our heads are turned into the eaves and gables of towns. No one touches these plantations, which are to be seen on the mountain-side in various sizes, planted out wider year by year as they grow larger, un- til they spread into a living forest. Here and there we come upon masses of felled timber, and the encampments of charcoal - burners, with the women hard at work, as usual, with grimy faces, and shawls tied over their heads. A scHooL-GIRL. And here it is that 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fl~J (~ki Yu~ NOAH AND HIS PAJMILY. our summer holiday-making parties come face to face with the slaves of the Harz. A young lady fresh from school in fashiona- ble Berlin (who has come upon a pony) stares with all her eyes at a care-worn woman who has seen no more summers than herself an old girl of seventeen, who has carried loads of wood since she was four, and who knows of no life but labor. A rest for half an hour near one of these encampments, and we are again ascending, meeting several more barefooted, wild-look- ing women, who are porters, coming from the Brocken. The path now leaves the stream and all traces of the road, and we enter open ground, up a steep and stony path, across heather and furze, and between great blocks of granite, where there is no track visible; then into more woods, and so by an easy ascent of three hours to the top of the Brocken. The air has been crisp and keen, the sky is almost cloudless, and the aspect of the mountain during the last half hour reminds us for the first time of Switz- erland. We are climbing on up the last steep ascent, strewn with enormous moss- grown boulders, which hide the view above us, and are unaware until we are within a few yards of the inn that we have reached the summit of the famous Blocksberg, the spot haunted by spectres, witches, and bo- gies from the earliest times. Here we are in the Toy Country~~ again, but this time it is Noah and his family that we see before us. There is, as our sketch will indicate, the identical form of packing- case which the religious world of all nations has vulgarized into a plaything for children. There is the host with his three sons com- ing out to meet us; the people walking two and two; the horses, sheep, pigs, and goats all stowed away at the great side - doors. The resemblance is irresistible, and more fas- cinating to our minds than the legends and mysteries with which German imagination has peopled this district. As we ascended from Ilsenberg, every spot of interest on the path, every weather-beaten pine, had some story of witchcraft or devilry attached to it; but the thing is overdone, and in this romantic neighborhood there is too much devilry and blue fire. The traveler who would dwell upon the poetic fancy of Goethe, who would hear in imagination the songs of the spirit- world that haunt this lonely summit, has little chance for reverie. The at- mosphere is too the- atrical and forced from beginning to end~ and he will be more likely to find himself on arrival, listening by force to some holiday-making members of Gungls band, recalling the Faust of the stage, or Mephistopheles de- scending through a trap-door in a blaze of fire. The sun is setting upon the weather- beaten walls of our house of refuge, and shining across the far-off plains as we ar- rive. The sky is clear overhead, and the drifting white clouds that floated round at intervals during the day now settle down in the dark valleys like little snow-fields, and rest among the branches of the pines. The sun is burning upon the distant town of Halberstadt, while the villages beneath us are all in gloom. Before ns~in the far distance, there are little specks dotted on the plains, which indicate (we are told) the towns of Brunswick and Hanover; and nearer to us, just beneath, is the valley of Harzburg and other watering-places of the Lower Harz. Turning to the southwest, the upper district, where the positions of An- dreasberg and Clausthal can be just dis- cerned through the rising mist, we see a va- riety of pine-covered summits in undulating line. The view northward, so much spoken of is the least interesting part, because, al- though you may with a telescope, from a tower a few feet above the inn, just see Hamburg, there is little more than a speck to be made out on the clearest day. Of the bogie which haunts the Brocken, the famous optical illusion which, under cer- tain conditions of the atmosphere, reflects figures of enormous size on the clouds, we can only speak by hearsay, as it is seldom seenbut once or twice during a summer. The spectre is said to appear at sunset, or whenever the mists happen to ascend per- pendicularly out of the valley, on the side opposite to the sun, and leave the mountain- top itself free from vapor. The shadow of the mountain is reflected against the perpen- dicular face of the rising vapor as it were against a gigantic wall. The inn then be- comes a palace in size, and the human be- ings on the summit become giants. This spectre and the dance of witches on the eve of May-day are the two associations of the Brocken which no traveler comes away without hearing of, nor without having pointed out to him the great granite blocks _________________ THE HARZ MOUNTA[NS. 17 called the Witches Altar, the Devils and plain, hut we are all sheltered from tho Pulpit, and other monuments commemora pitiless storm outside, and are kept alive tive, it is said, of the conversion of the early until the morning. Saxons to Christianity. The ordinary as- The day breaks and the sun ris es over the pect of the Brocken is described in a few plains of Europe, while we sixty travelers words by Andersen. It gives me, he says, are enveloped in mist. There is a view at an idea of a Northern tumulus on a grand sunrise here once in a summer, which those scale. Here stoW~ lies piled on stone, and a who have not slept on the Righi or Mount strange silence rests over the whole. Not a Pilate, in Switzerland, describe as surpass- bird twitters in the low pines; round about ingly beautiful. it is a relief to descend are white grave-flowers growing in the high again into the region of sunshine, to walk moss, and stones lie in masses on the sides across green pastures, and in moss-covered of the mountaiutop. We were now on the woods, to rest by picturesque water-falls1 top, but every thing was in a mist; it began and hear the thunder of the stream, swollen to blow, and the wind drove the clouds on- by the clouds that we have left behind us. ward over the mountains top as if they were It is a beautiful romantic walk by the foot- flocks of sheep. And thus it is in a few paths down to Wernigerode; we meet hard- minutes with us. In less time than it takes ly any travelers but the charcoal - burners to write these lines the whole aspect of the and woodmen for the first two hours, when mountain has changed, the clouds have the path by the stream, winding out be- come up from the valleys, and we are under a veil of mist. Here and there it has cleared for a moment, and revealed to us the only spectres of the Brocken we ever saw dur- ing our staysad, wet, and weary travelers waiting for the view. Another minute and they disappear in the clouds, and the strains of Gounods music coming from the Broc a- haus, and the sounds of voices and the clink- ing of glasses, make us beat a retreat. The transition to the scene within is as startling as a transformation scene in a pantomime, and almost as grotesque. Here are at least sixty people crowded together~Engl~5h Americans, French, Spaniards, and Germans, the latter already hard at work on the viands which the slaves of the Harz had brought up from the valleys on their backs. The accom- modation for travelers is, of course, rough THE JnLocxzE~nMys. srEcTzEs Off THE EROCKEN. 78 HARPEPS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tween the granite rocks, crosses a rough wooden bridge, and we come suddenly on two figures that have a familiar aspect. and soon we find a caf& i, anti a little bazar for the sale of photographs, crystals, and the like. There are about twenty Germans reposing after the labors of the climb to this spot from Wernigerode (they have left their car- ria~, es a few feet below), and varions restor- atives are being applied by the host in the kitchen of his wood cabin. From hence through Hasserode to Wernigerode we meet more holiday groups than we have done on our travels. It is a sudden change to civilization to approach Wernigerode from the mountains. On descending from the Brocken we are scarcely prepared for a macadamized road a mile long, lined with modern villas and pleasure-gardens, and to see fine carriages and horses, and people driving about in the fashions of Berlin. But changes are being made rapidly at Wer- nigerode: the castle and beautiful park, with its woods that skirt the northern slopes of the mount- ains, remain, but the property is passing into Prussian hands, and the old town it- self, which was mod- ernized after the fire in 1844, will soon lose its antique character. It is a spot much too delightful and healthy as a residence, and al- together too valuable, in the vicinity of such beautiful scenery, to escape this fate; and no one but the antiquary or the artist need regret it, for with railway communication, and good roads and walks, it is one of the best situations for a residence during summer. There are a few fine old tim- ber houses left, and the Rathhaus that we have sketched on the market-place, in the front of our hotel windows, is both picturesque and curious. The line broad road by which we leave the town on our way to Elbingerode is lined with people promenading on this fine summer afternoon; there are girls schools, loungers, and ennuy6es, fashion- able equestrians, and numerous hand- some carriages, but none of the walking parties that we see elsewhere in the neighborhood of mountains, and very few knapsacks or dusty pedestrians. There is a good carriage-road to Elbin- gerode, past which, with its hard-work- ing and dingy population, through the valleys where the smoke hangs over us, and the fumes from the mines seem to blight the land, through dreary valleys, with strange forms of rocks on either side, we come in about three hours to the village of Rilbeland, deep in the gorge through which runs the river Bode. Here, as at Elbingerode, there is no thought of natural beauty, and the valley is picturesque in spite of its inhabitants. The general as- pect is of work, smoke, and the grinding of machinery, and the pe4ple, from their ap- pearance, might have conie from Stafford- shire, in England. On a fine summers day many visitors come to see the celebrated stalactite caverns, and give Rilbeland for the time a holiday aspect. In front of the lila (the Goldener Liiwe) there are numerous carriages and guides to conduct visitors to the caverns; in short, Rilbeland is turned TII EATHilAUS, WE1IY~E1IOD rilE iOLNT OF UNION. THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 79 (nto a show-place dur- ing three months in the year. Every traveler who drives through this sombre valley is stopped at the door of the inn, and a waiter, ia the full - dress of civilization, is ready to receive him ; his thoughts are turned at once from the romantic aspect of the valley, from the spots immor- talized by Goethe and Schiller, to the most prosaic associations; and it is well to aban- don bimself at once to the situation, for in Rilbeland there is no The finest stalactites have long been re- escape. To dine, and see the caverns moved from Rilbelaud, aud it is only here lighted by Bengal-lights, is the programme and there that we get a glimpse of those for all, wonderful colors which have inspired Ger These stalactite caverns, which extend man poets of all ages. for long distances under the limestone rocks Passing up the valley of the Bode, leav- at Rilbeland, assume the most fantastic lug the black iron -foundries and ochre shapes, and when lighted up are a wonder- mines, we soon arrive at a bleak, flat table- ful sight. The principal caves shown to land, where the air is keen and fresh, and, visitors are the Baumannsh& hle and the Biels- I in about two honrs after leaving Rilbeland, heyhle, the former a natural cavern, discov- turn oft suddenly front the high-road to a ered more than 200 years ago. It is now en- spot where a view bursts upon us as unex- tered by an opening cut in the rocks, 144 pected as it is beautiful. We are at the feet above the village, through which visit- Ziegenkoff, on the heights above Blanken- ors descend by spiral staircases and ladders. burg, a promontory 1360 feet above the ~n ~4.o~ vtew FROM TOTE ZOEGENKOtT. HE SUOILOSS, ItLAo& iENttUttO. A. norizon Ltne.I3. Magdeburg.c. Hatb rotadt.D. Part of Ittankenborg.R. The 5chtoos.F. Rtdge of Ltmestone Rocks. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. plains, with an uninterrupted view looking northward and eastward, which may be fairly called one of the noblest in the Harz. The plateau of mountains on which we have been traveling here ends abruptly; it is the end of the upper world, but the plains seem illimitable. It is about an hour before sunset when we arrive at the spot from which we obtained the view outlined on the pre- vious page; the air is still and the sky is clear, with a few little clouds over the plain and on the hills behind us, obscuring the suns brightest rays. There is nothing be- tween us and Berlin, nothing to impede the a a a S fri N a S a 5 0 a a a S a 0 a a a S view, which is too extensive to describe ade- quately in this article.5 The more immediate foreground of this view, and the features that give character and interest to it, may be gathered from the sketch. There is the castle, or Schloss, on the heights, the town of Blankenburg at our feet, the strange wall of rocks, with their goblin histories, which crest the hills in the middle distance, the curves of the valleys, the smooth pastures, the undula- See The Ilarz Mount ins: a Tour in the Toy Coon- By 1Jaaa~ BLACKBURN. With forty illustrations and map. London: Sampson Low and Co., 1813. so THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 81 THE WAITERS GREETING. ting woods, and the roads winding a way across the plains. Its central point of inter- est is the church spire, with its cluster of houses spreading upward to the protecting walls of the ch~tean, with its massive walls and terraces fringed with trees. There is the most exquisite variety of forms in their curves and windings, which are worthy of study, if only as suggestive of feudal times, when the feeling of support and protection from the castle was a natural expression of the people, and not, as now, only a pic- tnresque effect. Descending to the town, we find the streets of Blankenbnrg as rough and ill- paved as any artist could desire. The buildings are most interesting; there is something to study in the exterior of nearly every house, and the outline is varied in ev- ery gable. The perspective down the steep streets near the old market-place, which is almost under the walls of the castle, is full of variety and color, and the figures of the luarket - women have a more picturesque aspect than in any other town in the Harz. Blankenburg, as we said, is old-fashioned and homely, and we are introduced at the table dhdte of the principal inn to some char- acteristics of the country. Opposite to us, for instance, is seated a general in the Prus- sian army, whose appearance on parade is imposing enough, and whose information and tone of conversation on acquaintance are rather belied by his attitude and ap- pearance when preparing for a charge on the Mittagsessen, the event of the day in time of peace. There are many curious customs to be studied at the table of the Weisser Adler, where the host shows us with pride the list of distinguished strangers who have enjoyed his hospitality. VoT~. XLvILNo. 217.6 Thale, the next place on our list, is neither a town nor a village: it is a place which it is almost impossible to describe satisfactorily, and about which no two people are agreed. The guide-books speak of it as the terminus of the Halberstadt Railway, and, indeed, it is little more. The railway passes the actual village of Thale without stopping, its termi- nus being a mile higher, at the head of the valley, close to a large modern hotel, stand- ing in its own grounds. There are prome- nades laid out, avenues of little trees, and a few summer-houses springing up in the mod- ern Thale, and there is an aspect of town comfort and convenience, includin gcarriages of the last Berlin pattern, which take the traveler by surprisean air of civillEation quite inconsistent with its immediate sur- roundings of smelting - works on one side, and bold rocky scenery and dreary-looking moraine on the other. The mountains which close it in are beautifully wooded, and pre- served, as usual, but Thale itself is little more than what is stated in Baedeker (Hotel Zehnpfund. Bail. Bestaur.). There is so little to see in Thale, excepting the inn, that we may at once ascend the mountain on the opposite side of the Bode, through a wood, to the famous rock called the Rosstrappe, an almost perpendicular ridge of granite, which stands out like a wall, and hems in the entrance to the val- ley. There is a path to the most projecting point, which commands a view up and down the valley of the Bode, with its gray rocks and trees overhanging precipices, its water- falls and its dark recesses, and beyond, to- ward Treseburg, mountains rising one be- hind the other, covered with trees. The Rosstrappe is scarcely 1400 feet above the sea-level, but its shape, like a narrow wedge, and its isolated position, with sides descend- ing almost perpendicularly beneath us, ren- der it one of the most striking sights in the Harz. The romantic legend of a princess having leaped across this valley is learned by heart by every visitor, and the proof of the feat is shown in the marks of a gigantic horses hoofs on the rock! We will not at- tempt to describe the grandeur of the view from the Rosstrappe, because immediately A PRUSSIAN GENERAL. I,--, -~ 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. opposite to us is another eminence projecting height and apparent distance by the mist into the valley, from which it is even more (as its grandeur is exaggerated in story) and remarkable. The valley is crossed by a pre- by the clouds that ever surround it. Stand cipitous descent of 800 feet, and by an ascent still on the rocks just behind the inn, and on the other side by a staircase cut in the watch the transformations as the sun goes rock with 1100 steps, to reach the Hexen down; see its slanting rays lighting up the Tanzplatzthe platform ofrockfrom which highest rocks near the Rosstrappe, the bright our drawing is taken. The immediate fore- gleams that cross the valley hiding the in- ground of the view is, of course, an inn, where terveniug mountains, and leaving the Brock- an artist mightwelltake up his summer quar- en soaring, as it were, in mid-air. Wait a ters; and in little nooks and natural recesses few moments more, and the Brocken disap- of the rock he will, if a figure painter, find pears in a cloud of rain, while the tips of the many subjects for his pencil, especially the beech and fir trees are still tinged with gold, groups of thirsty natives sitting with their and the valley beneath us is in deep gloom. Turn from this dark abyssover which the rocks stretch out their fanPlstic armsto the broad plain on our right hand, where cities and villages, far away down the valley of the Bode, are in full light of day, and the heavy rain- clouds that will settle upon Thale pres- ently are casting shadows for miles across the distant fields. Watch the glow-worm lights of a town three hun- dred feet below; hear the bells of the goats, the jodel of the herdsmen, the rush of water, and the distant thunder echoing near the Brocken. See this view at sunrise and sunset, and in its various aspects of sunshine and storm, before reading what Ruskin says of the Harz Mountains in Ethics of the Dust. I have done myself much harm already, he says, by seeing the monoto- nous and heavy form of the Brocken; but whether the mountains be picturesque or not, the tricks which the goblins teach th crystals in them are incomparably pretty. We can wish for nothing better for the credit of the landscape of the Harz than that Mr. Ruskin should see this view, and the one from Blankenburg of which we have already spoken. At Thale the tourist who is merely pass- ing through the Harz district may leave the mountains, with the knowledge that it is in this neighborhood that its beauties cul- minate; unless he is going southward, when it will be well to drive through Gernrode to Ballenstedt, where there is a railway sta- tion. The pedestrian who wishes to make a complete tour can work his way from Thale westward to Clausthal on foot (see map, page 68). It will take at least two days, for there is great variety in this walk, and the geologist or the botanist will be es- pecially rewarded. The extraordinary forms of some of the masses of rock; the precip- itous sides of the valleys, with trees grow- ing on their walls, apparently without soil, one above the other; the park-like aspect of some of the breaks in the pine forests; the variety of treesbeech, oak, birch, syc- amore, and chestnut, with beautiful varie- ties of ivy on their stems; the density of the growth in places where, if the path is backs to the view that they have come many miles to see. He will be continually dis- turbed in the middle of the day by a holiday crowd, and by much singing, shouting, and the firing of guns to disturb the echoes; but the sunset over the valley of the Bode in the evening light, when the clink of glasses is over and the holiday-makers have gone down the hill, is a sight and a sensation never to be forgotten. There is a romance about the name and associations of the Harz that we all feel in- stinctively at a distance; but it is only when we come into districts like these that we re- alize the poetical aspect of the Harz Mount- ains, and understand their being chosen as the seats of the goblin literature of North Germany. We have seeu, during the last few days, forms of rocks more wild and gro- tesque in outline than any thing in Dor6s dreams; and here before us this evening- across a dark chasm so deep and distant in its recesses that trees and woods look like little clumps of moss set in the recesses of a stonethere is spread before us a view so extensive and varied in outline that neither pencil nor pen can depict its beauties. Im- mediately before us there is an amphitheatre of mountains, clothed as richly with trees as the preserves of a private park; and stretch- ing away beyond there rises wave after wave of foliage glowing in the evening sunlight, and a further horizon of golden mist, through which we see the Brocken, exaggerated in ) THIRSTY NATIVES. THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 83 A OLAUSTHALER. missed, it is often necessary (but illegal) to cut through with a hatchet; the sudden and unexpected views that are obtained; the mosses and wild flowers that abound and have never been thoroughly collectedare attractions to the pedestrian, who may wan- der for a week withont meeting a fellow- traveler, and find plenty of occupation with a sketch-book or a geological hammer. ~.t Clausthal we are in a district where the whole business and interest of the pop- ulation are under-ground. There are bright green fields, beautiful pastures, old-timber- ed houses in gardens full of flowers, with their red-tiled roofs, with creepers twining round them. There is sweet air from the mountains, and such freshness in nature overhead that the aspect of the human pop- ulation filing down the paths in a long black procession, like some accursed race, throws a gloom over the landscape this morning which it is difficult to shake off. Bleak, barren, and gloomy, a city of per- petual rain, built on an elevation where corn ceases to ripen, where storms make havoc, and where there is no protection from the windsa long, straggling, wooden town, built on the top and slopes of a hill, the houses roofed and their sides covered with slate for protectiona town with a desolate look about it, which no one should visit excepting on some serious er- rand. This is the almost universal descrip- tion of it, varied a little by accounts of the miners f~ites, of the home life behind these dark timber dwellings, and of the doings of the young students who come from Ger- many, England, and America to learn min- ing practically in the government schools, and who winter at Clausthal. But we are looking at the bright side of Clausthal. It is the finest summer morning of the year: the sky is clear, the distant mountains are in full view, and down the long wide streets the houses rise and fall in picturesque perspective until they end in fields of brilliant green. There is plenty of color and contrast: the red tiles relieve the gray roofs and dark walls; over the door- ways and round the houses (some with beau- tiful carving on their beams) there are in- numerable creepers, and crisp bright mount- ain flowers decorate the windows and gar- dens. The streets are nearly empty, and these little weather-beaten wooden houses, sprinkled thickly on the rise and fall of the hills, resemble nothing so much as a fleet of fishing boats at anchor off the shore. It is like the long groundswell of a subsiding sea, on which there rides grandlyold and battered, its paint worn off; its beams strain- ed,its figure-head pointed eastward and glit- tering in the morning sunthe Ark of Ref- uge of the little fleet that surrounds it, the wooden church of Clausthal. It stands high above the houses in the principal square, the little windows in its wooden sides giving it a strange appearance for a church. It was burned down in 1844, and at once recon- structed with the materials nearest to hand. Its design is simple enough: add a spire to the childs Noahs ark, place it in the rain until the paint has been washed off and there is the wooden church of Clausthal. Opposite to the church there is the chief object of interest to visitors, the Bergsschuie the government school of mines and the museum. It is here that several hundred pupils from all parts of the world are gratu- itously instructed in mining operations, hav- ing in the course of their studies to practice under-groundevery pupil having to learn the use of miners tools, and work with the men for a certain time in each operation. In the museum there are models of the machinery used in the mines, miniature shafts and gal- leriesin short, the whole under-ground life of the Harz Mountains is here presented to us in the easiest way. There is a very fine collection of minerals, classified carefully, and within easy reach for reference. The models of machinery, of the trucks, and of the different smelting processes are all mov- able and made to scale, so that a mornings study in the museum gives the uninitiated a much clearer idea of the working at Claus- 84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. thai than a visit to the mines. Nearly all the operations are carried on by water-pow- er, and every spring and river in the neigh- borhood has been diverted for that purpose. In order to descend the mines at Claus- thai, visitors have to divest themselves of the costume of ordinary civilization, and be arrayed in the cast-off suits of the miners, which are left at the entrance of the mine for the purpose. As we approach the mouth of the shaft, where the miners are waiting with lanterns to commence the descent, our partyconsisting, it may be stated, of four Englishmena professor of geology, a direct- or of mines, an editor, and an artistpre- sent the somewhat undignified aspect in the sketch. With lantern in hand, we commence the descent by steep ladders for about five hun- dred feet. The shaft is small, but well ven- tilated, and at intervals we rest on a wooden platform, where we can see down dark side galleries, and hear the miners pick at work. We pass along narrow galleries, which are in reality water-conduits board- ed over; the walls are streaming with water, and there is scarcely room to creep throu,gh. Leading out of these at right angles along darker passages, we find a party of work- people, men and women, resting in a cavern. They are scarcely distinguishable in the un- certain light; but on the arrival of our party with more lanterns there is a flashing light here and there overhead from specks of silver ore, and a glitter of human eyes. The fig- ures scarcely move, but they make a curious half-hollow sound, and all mutter the words Gliick auf to the stranger. It means, lit- erally, well out of the mine, or good luck to you, but it means also backshish the universal cry of the human creature wherever the traveler finds him, whether burrowing two thousand feet below the surface, or clambering ten thousand feet above it. There is little information of a scien- tific nature to be gathered in the hurry of these under-ground wanderings, and to those who have visited mines in other countries we can hardly recommend a visit. It is a fatiguing march of about three hours in dark wet passages, and during the greater part of the time there is nothing to see but the wet heels of a miner, and the. glimmer of his lantern overhead. At certain points the visitor is shown some crystals or seine bright specks of ore, which are dislodged and presented to him as a memorial of the visit; at another place he has pointed out to him the enormous timber-works which have been constructed to support the shafts and galleries, the pumping ap- paratus, and the perfect system of venti- lation. Lamps are carried about unc~v- ered, and a mass of tow is lighted with- out risk at one place, and thrown down a shaft to show its enormous depth: the effect of this as the fire floats down, light- ing up the sides of an apparently bottom- less pit, is worth seeing; but the sudden firing of guns in the narrow galleries to awaken the echoes startles us to a con- sciousness that we are, as usual, making a show-place of a mine in which there is much serious work. The population of Clausthal is about ten thousand, and of these there are at least a thousand under-ground. If we follow the tunnels, we shall come to the smelting-works already spoken of, where the trucks of loose wet soil are wheeled, and the rubbish, as it appears, is made to yield up its riches. In these processes of crush- ing, washing, sifting, etc., at least another thousand people are employed, and in the neighboring town of Zellerfeld the same works are being carried on. We should mention the man-lift used on our upward journey. This elevator, or manlift ~ which is also in use in Cornwall, in England, and other places, is worked by water-power, and is an ingenious substitute for the ordinary rope and bucket. An enor- mous crank, working slowly, raises and low- ers two continuous beams alternately, and the miners, by clinging to the ascending one, are raised to the surface with comparative ease. One of our last days at Clausthal is the day of Sedan ; the whole town is enf~te, and no one goes under-ground. Every house is decorated, and the Prussian tricolor is flying on the dark timbers of the houses. From windows full of flowers there are red, white, and black streamers, and the streets are fes~ tooned across with flowers and devices, with PREPAzED roz raz DESOENT. THE HARZ MOUNTAINS. 85 the word Sedan, and gigantic portraits of the king, Bismarck, and Count Moltke. It is a great day, and a great occasion to enjoy the hospitality of the inhabitants of Claus- thai, and to see what charming interiors there are nnder those dark, weather-beaten roofs; what delightful rooms, with carved furniture, snow-white curtains, old embroid- eries, shining silver ornaments, lace-work vases and plates made of iron, wrought into the most delicate and beautiful open- work patterns, this last a specialty of the Harz. Across the bright, fresh fields again, leav- ing Clausthal hud the great smelting-works in the valley which they desolatea walk on springy turf across sweet pastures, through park-like little forests and deep glades, be- tween regiments of silent pines over hill and dale for six miles, brings us to the brow of a hill, from which we first see Grand. In the midst of a series of what we may call mountainettes, tinted with the most delicate gradations of gray, we see sloping woods and fields, set with bright, red-tiled gables and glittering spires, and little paths leading from them, with processions of goats and cattle coming down, led by toy shepherds (of one of whom the central figure in our il- lustration on page 73 is an exact portrait), and hear the tinkle of innumerable bells and the distant mountain-horn. This is our first impression of Grund. Winding down into the irregular streets, where old men and women are seated about, and the cattle that have parted from the droves are grave- ly walking in at the front-doors of their houses, unattended, we stop at the princi- pal inn, in front of a market-place, which occupies a few yards of open level ground in the middle of the town. The view is lim- ited from the windows on the front; the val- ley and the curtains of trees above and be- low shut us in from the outer world, and give, it must be confessed, a rather close feeling to one of the loveliest mountain vil- lages in Europe. We are encompassed by rocks and streams and trees; and when the clouds come down and shut off our view of the blue sky, we begin to think it can scarce- ly be as healthy for invalids-as is generally supposed. We are comfortably housed at Grund, but even inthis retired valley there is no peace to-night. Here, as at Clausthal, the peQple have been keeping the feast of Sedan; they appear to go to bed at three, and to rise at four. As the last villager goes home to bed he meets the first cow on its way to pasture; as the last song dies away we hear the tinkle of bells and the summons of the mountain-horn. The town has the most pastoral appear- ance of any in the Harz, although many of the inhabitants are engaged in the neigh- l)oring mines. There is but one good inn (Rathskeller), which in the summer is crowded with visitors, who come to take the pine-baths for which this valley has, in spite of its visitors, an old reputation; but it is altogether more rustic and simple in appearance than any village of the same importance in the Harz. English or Amer- ican travelers are seldom seen at Grund, and the habits of the visitors at the inn are, in all respects, German. The Rathskeller is the market - house, town - hall, and centre of all the judicial business of the district, so that at certain seasons the scene from the gallery of the old inn is very animated, and the gatherings of the village magnates round the fire in autumn evenings a sight to be remembered. The inn is a rambling, spa- cious building, with remnants of the origi- nal structure (anno 1675) still remaining; it has been greatly enlarged, to accommodate the crowds of travelers who pay it a flying visit. Grand has a great reputation for its scenery, its whey cures, and its baths, and it has also a reputation for rain. The im- pression of half the visitors to Grund is of a valley filled with vapor, of a damp-looking little inn, with streams pouring from above on all sides, but of an interior warm and spacious, with large wood fires in June, and plenty of spiced beer. Let us endeavor to picture it t& the read- er as we last saw it in 1872. In a deep cleft in the mountain side a stream descends, winding in and out between overhanging trees, now disappearing in some crevice, now descending almost perpendicularly, now spreading out right and left, but ever fol- lowing the form and structure of the mount- ain down which it pours. It is a stream of red-tiled cottages, with dark gables, shelter- ii (\K. TuE nAN-LIFT. 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing atoms of human lifea mountain vil- lage, as hriglit and glittering as a stream of water winding its way through green pas- tures, between gray rocks and waving trees. This is its distant aspect on a fine sum- mers evening in 1872, before the railway, which is already making heneath our feet, is completed, and the kitchen of some Grand Hotel sends its smoke up the valley. After visiting Grund there is no prettier or moire delightful way of quitting this dis- trict than through the valley northward to Lautenthal, and then to Seesen, where the system of railways is reached again. To the general question, Are the Harz Mountains really worth visiting for a short summer tour ? we must answer, No, if by so do- ing the traveler should miss seeing Switzer- land, or even the Alps of Southern Germany. It is not a place to recommend English-or American travelers to visit without some special purpose. The artist would do well to come straight here from the nearest sea- port, and spend a summer in the neighbor- hood of Thale and Rilbeland. He would never regret it, because he could work ins- molested, and bring home a portfolio of draw- ings of scenes unknown to the greater part of the world. With a knapsack, a little knowledge of German, and a few thalers, he could spend a summer more useful, peaceful, and delightful than could he imagined from a visit to more crowded places; and we may remind him that the Harz is not a black coun- try, as is generally supposedit is really no more desolated or disfigured by mining oper- ations than the green fields of the south of England are affected by the smoke of Staf- fordshire; and that in the beauty of its for- ests, the forms of its rocks, in the romantic aspects of its scenery, it is still almost a terra incognita. As a land of bogies, tradi- tion, mysteries, smoke, and blue fire, it is familiar to children of all ages and nations. But the romance of the Harz is in hooks and dreams, and at far-off firesides; in a holiday scamper, or in a sketching tour, the legends attaching to the district are felt rather as an intrusion, and disturb the quiet apprecia- tion of its beauties. OLD KENSINGTON. Br MISS THACKERAY. THAT THOU ART BLAMED SHALL N& T BE THY DEFECT. ONCE, as Dolly was hurrying away through the passages to the great front entrance, she looked hack, for she thought she heard Roberts step coming after her. It was only Casimir, the servant, who had been loitering by a staircase, and had seen her pass. She came to the great wide doors of the music-hall, where the people were con- ~,regated, the servants carrying their mis- tresses carriage cloaks over their arms, the tout~rs and vendors of programmes. The music was still in her ears; she felt very calm, very strange. Casimir would have darted off for the carriage if she had not stopped him. Is Mademoiselle indisposed? Shall I ac- company her ? he asked. But although Dolly looked very pale, she said she was not ill; she would go home alone: and when she was safely seated in the little open carriage he called for her the color came back into her cheeks. She leaned hack, for she was very tired. As she drove along she tried to remember what had happened, to think what more would happen, hut she could not do so. It was a feeling, not an event, that had moved her so; and the out- ward events that relate these great unseen histories to others are to the actors them- selves of little consequence. As for the fu- ture, Dolly could scarcely believe in a future. Was any thing left to her now? Her life seemed over, and she was scarcely twenty: she was sorry for herself. She did not regret what she had done, for he did not love her. It was IThoda whom he lovedRhoda who seemed to have absorbed every thing, little by little. There was nothing that she had spared. Dollywonderedwhattheywonldsay at the Court. She thought of Frank Rahan, too. If the squires news was true, Frank Rahan would be thinking no more of her, but absorbed in other interests. Even Frank was any one faithful in life? Then she thought of George: he had not failed: he had been, true to the end, and this comforted her. Every thing seemed to have failed with CHAPTER LIII.

86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing atoms of human lifea mountain vil- lage, as hriglit and glittering as a stream of water winding its way through green pas- tures, between gray rocks and waving trees. This is its distant aspect on a fine sum- mers evening in 1872, before the railway, which is already making heneath our feet, is completed, and the kitchen of some Grand Hotel sends its smoke up the valley. After visiting Grund there is no prettier or moire delightful way of quitting this dis- trict than through the valley northward to Lautenthal, and then to Seesen, where the system of railways is reached again. To the general question, Are the Harz Mountains really worth visiting for a short summer tour ? we must answer, No, if by so do- ing the traveler should miss seeing Switzer- land, or even the Alps of Southern Germany. It is not a place to recommend English-or American travelers to visit without some special purpose. The artist would do well to come straight here from the nearest sea- port, and spend a summer in the neighbor- hood of Thale and Rilbeland. He would never regret it, because he could work ins- molested, and bring home a portfolio of draw- ings of scenes unknown to the greater part of the world. With a knapsack, a little knowledge of German, and a few thalers, he could spend a summer more useful, peaceful, and delightful than could he imagined from a visit to more crowded places; and we may remind him that the Harz is not a black coun- try, as is generally supposedit is really no more desolated or disfigured by mining oper- ations than the green fields of the south of England are affected by the smoke of Staf- fordshire; and that in the beauty of its for- ests, the forms of its rocks, in the romantic aspects of its scenery, it is still almost a terra incognita. As a land of bogies, tradi- tion, mysteries, smoke, and blue fire, it is familiar to children of all ages and nations. But the romance of the Harz is in hooks and dreams, and at far-off firesides; in a holiday scamper, or in a sketching tour, the legends attaching to the district are felt rather as an intrusion, and disturb the quiet apprecia- tion of its beauties. OLD KENSINGTON. Br MISS THACKERAY. THAT THOU ART BLAMED SHALL N& T BE THY DEFECT. ONCE, as Dolly was hurrying away through the passages to the great front entrance, she looked hack, for she thought she heard Roberts step coming after her. It was only Casimir, the servant, who had been loitering by a staircase, and had seen her pass. She came to the great wide doors of the music-hall, where the people were con- ~,regated, the servants carrying their mis- tresses carriage cloaks over their arms, the tout~rs and vendors of programmes. The music was still in her ears; she felt very calm, very strange. Casimir would have darted off for the carriage if she had not stopped him. Is Mademoiselle indisposed? Shall I ac- company her ? he asked. But although Dolly looked very pale, she said she was not ill; she would go home alone: and when she was safely seated in the little open carriage he called for her the color came back into her cheeks. She leaned hack, for she was very tired. As she drove along she tried to remember what had happened, to think what more would happen, hut she could not do so. It was a feeling, not an event, that had moved her so; and the out- ward events that relate these great unseen histories to others are to the actors them- selves of little consequence. As for the fu- ture, Dolly could scarcely believe in a future. Was any thing left to her now? Her life seemed over, and she was scarcely twenty: she was sorry for herself. She did not regret what she had done, for he did not love her. It was IThoda whom he lovedRhoda who seemed to have absorbed every thing, little by little. There was nothing that she had spared. Dollywonderedwhattheywonldsay at the Court. She thought of Frank Rahan, too. If the squires news was true, Frank Rahan would be thinking no more of her, but absorbed in other interests. Even Frank was any one faithful in life? Then she thought of George: he had not failed: he had been, true to the end, and this comforted her. Every thing seemed to have failed with CHAPTER LIII. OLD KENSINGTON. 57 her, and yethow shall I explain it ?Dolly was at peace with herself. In her heart she knew that she had tried, always tried, to do her best. No pangs of conscience assailed her as she drove home through this strange chaos of regrets and forgetfulness. Her hands fell into her lap as she leaned back in the little carriage: it was bringing her away through the dull rattle of tlie streets to a new home, a new life, swept and garnished, so it seemed to Dolly, where every thing was strange aud bareone in which, perhaps, little honor was to be found, little credit. What did she care! She was too true a lady to trouble herself about resentments and petty slights and difficulties. They had both meant to do right. As for Rhoda, Dolly would not think of Rhoda just then; it hurt her. For Georges sake she must try to think kindly of her; was it for her to cast a stone? Dolly came up stairs slowly and steadily, opened the door, which was on the latch, :ind came in, looking for her mother. Miss Yanborough had never, not even in the days of her happy love, looked more beautiful than she did as she came into the little sitting- room at home. A light was in her face; it was the self-forgetful look of some one who has passed for a moment beyond the common state of life, escaping the assaults of selfish passion, into a state where feeling is not de- stroyed but multiplied beyond itself. In these moods sacrifice scarcely exists. The vanities of the world glitter in vain, discord can not jar, and in the midst of tumult and sorrow souls are at peace. Mrs. Palmer was not alone; the squire was there. He had brought news. He had been detaiued by a peremptory telegram from Norah Jonah arrives Paris to - morrow; mamma says, remain; bring Jonah homeand Jonah, who had come almost at the same time as the telegram, had accompauied the squire, and was waiting impatiently enough, hoping to see Dolly. He had been somewhat bored by the little elderly flirtation which had been going on for the last half hour be- tween his aunt and his godfather (which sort of pot-pourri, retaining a certain faint perfume of by-gone roses, is not uncommon); but he did not move, except to go and stand out upon the balcony and stare lip and down the street; he was leaning over the slender ailing when Dolly came in, and so it hap- pened that at first she only saw the squire sitting by her mothers easy-chair. She gave him her hand. He stood holding it in his, und looking at her, for he saw that some- thing had happened. Alone ! said Mrs. Palmer. Is Robert with you? I have some news for you; guess, Dolly; and Philippa looked archly toward he window. Dolly looked at her mother. I left them: 4t the concert, she said, not asking what the news was. What made you leave them? Why do you stare at me like that ? cried Mrs. Palm- er, forgetting her news. Have you had another quarrel? Dolly, I have only just been saying so to Mr. Anley; nnder the cir- cumstances you really should notyou really should It has all been a mistake, mamma said Dolly, looking up, though she did not see much before her. Every thing is over. Robert and I have parted, quite parted, she repeated, sadly. Parted ! exclaimed the squire. Has it come to this ? Parted! cried poor exasperated Philip- pa. I warned you. It is your own fault, Dolly; you have been possessed all along. Mr. Anley, what is to be done ? cried the poor lady, turning from one to the other. Is it your doing or Roberts? Dolly, what is it all about ? Dolly did not answer for an instant, for she could not speak. The squire began muttering something between his teeth, as he strode up and down the room with his hands in his pockets. Take care! you will knock over the jar- dini~ire, cried Mrs. Palmer. Dollys eyes were all full of tears by this time. As he turned she laid her hand upon the old mans arm. It is my doing, not his, she said. You must not be hard upon him; indeed, it is all my doing. It is your doing now, and most properly, said the squire, very gravely, and not in the least in his usnal half-joking manner. I can only congratulate you upon having got rid of that abominable prig; but you must not take it all upon yourself, my poor child. Dolly blushed up. You think it is not my fault, she said, and the glow spread and deepened. He was not bound when he left me, onlyl had promisedto wait. Then, with sudden courage, You will not blame him when I tell you this, she said: I have not been true ~him,not quitetrue; Jtoldhim so: it was a pity, all a pity, she said, with a sigh. She stood with hanging hands and a sweet, wistfnl, tender face; her voice was like a song in its unconscious rhythms, for deep feeling gives a note to peoples vdices that is very affecting sometimes. You told him so! What will people say ? shrieked poor Mrs. Palmer. And here is Jonah, whom we have quite forgotten. Jonah was standing listening with all his honest ears. It seemed to the young soldier that he also had been listening to music, to some sweet sobbing air played with tender touch. It seemed to fill the room even after Dolly had left it; for when she turned and suddenly saw her cousin it was the climax of that days agitation. She came up and kissed him with a little sob of surprise and emotion, tried to speak in welcome, and th& n 85 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. shook her head and quickly wentaway, shut- ting the door behind her. As Dolly left the room the two men looked at one another. They were almost too indignant with Henley to care to say what they thought of his con- duct. Had not we better go I said Jonah, awkwardly, after a pause. But Mrs. Palmer could not possibly dis- pense with an andience on such an occasion as this: she made Jonah promise to return to dinner; she detained the squire altogether to detail to him the inmost feelings of a mothers heart; she sent for cups of tea. Is Miss Dolly in her room, Julie o?~~ she asked. Yes, madame; she has locked the door, said Julie. Go and knock, then, immediately, Julie; and come and tell me what she says, poor dear. Then Mrs. Palmer stirs her own tea~ and describes all that she has felt ever since first convinced of Roberts change of feeling. Her experience had long ago taught her to dis- cover those signs of indiffe~ence which The poor squire listens in some impatience. While Robert and Rhoda are driving home together from the concert, flattered, dazzled, each pursuing their own selfish schemes, ach seeing the fulfillment of small ambi- tions at hand, Dolly, sitting at the foot of her bed, is saying good-by again and again. The person she had loved and longed to see, and thought of day after day and hour after hour, was not Henley, but some oth- er quite different man, with his face, per- haps, but with another soul and nature That Robert who had been so dear to her at one time, so vivid, so close a friend, so wise, so sympathetic, so strong, and so tender, was nothing, no onehe had never existed. The death of this familiar friend, the dispersion of this familiar ghost, seemed, for a few hours, as if it meant her own annihilation. All her future seemed to have ended here. It was true that she had accused herself openly of want of faithfulness; but the mere fact of having accused herself seemed to make that self-reproach lighter and more easy to bear. After some time she roused herself. Marker was at the door, and saying that it was dinner-time, and Dolly let her in, and dressed for dinner in a dreamy sort of way, taking the things, as Marker handed them to her, in silence, one by one. The squire and Jonah were both in the sitting - room when Dolly came in in the white dress she usually wore, with some black ribbons round her waist and tied into her bronze hair. She did not want to look as if she was a victim, and she tried to smile as usual. You must not mind me, she said, pres- ently, in return for the squires look of sym- pathy. It is not to-day that this has hap- pened; it began so long ago that I am nsed to it now. Then she added, Mamma, I should like to see Robert again this even- ing, for I left him very abruptly, and I am afraid he may be unhappy about me. Oh, as to that, Dolly, from what the squire tells me, I dont think you need be at all alarmed, cried Dollys mamma: Jonah met him on the stairs with Rhoda, and really, from what I hear, I think he must have al- ready proposed. I wonder if he will have the face to come in himself to announce it. Both Jonah and the squire began to talk together, hoping to stop Mrs. Palmers abrupt disclosures; but who was there who could silence Mrs. Palmer? She alluded a great deal to a certain little birdand repeatedly asked Dolly during dinner whether she thought this dreadful news could be true, and Robert really engaged to Rhoda? I think it is likely to be true before long, mamma, said Dolly, patiently: I hope so. She seemed to droop and turn paler and paler in the twilight. She was not able to pretend to good spirits that she did not feel; but her sweetness and simplicity went straight to the heart of her two champions, who would have gladly thrown Robert out of the first-floor window if Dolly had shown the slightest wish for it. After dinner, as they all sat in the front- room, with wide evening windows, Julie brought in the lamp. She would have shut out the evening and drawn down the blinds if they had not prevented her. The little party sat silently watching the light dancing and thrilling behind the house-tops; nobody spoke. Dolly leaned back wearily. From time to time Mrs. Palmer whispered any fresh surmise into the squiresear. Why did not Robert come? Was she keeping him back ? Presently Mrs. Palmer started up: a new idea had occurred to her. She would go in herself unannouneed; she would learn the truth; the squire, he too must come. The squire did as he was bid. As they left the room Jonah got up shyly from his sent, and went and stood out on the balcony. Dolly asked him whether there was a moon. There is a moon rising, said the captain, but you cant se~ it from where you sit; there, from the sofa, you can see it. And then he came back, and wheeled the sofa round, and began turning down the wheel of the lamp, saying it put the moonlight out. As the lamp went out suddenly with a splutter, all the dim radiance of the silver evening came in a soft vibration to light the darkened room. One stream of moonlight trickled along the balcony, another came lapping the stone coping of the window: the moon was rising in state and in silence, and Dolly leaned back among her cushions, watching it all with wide-open eyes. Jo- nahs dark cropped head rose dark against the Milky Way. As the moon rose above the gable of the opposite roof a burst of chill light flooded the balcony, and overflowed, ~nd presently reached the foot of the conch OLD KENSINGTON. 59 where Dolly was lying, worn out by lier long day. Robert, who had been taking a rapid walk on the pavement outside, had not noticed the moon: he was preoccupied by more im- portant matters. Rhodas speeches were ringing in his ears. Yet it was Dollys fault all along; he was ready to justify himself; to meet coml)laint with complaint; she might have been a happy woman. He had behaved honorably and forbearingly; and now it was really unfair that she should expect any thing more from him, or complain because lie had found his ideal in another and more feminine character. Dolly had heard the roll of the wheels of the carriage that brought Robert and Rhoda home, but she had not heard the short lit- tle dialogue which was being spoken as the wheels rolled under the gateway. The two had not said much on the way. Rhoda wait- ed for Robert to speak. Robert sat gazing at his boots. One knows what every body will say, he said at last, very crossly. The people who know you as I do will say that Dollymight have been a happy wom- an, Rhoda answered; that she has wreck- ed her own happiness. And then they were both again silent. Rhoda was frightened, and trembled as she looked into Roberts offended face. She thought that the end of it all might be that he would goleave her and all other com- plications, and Rhoda had not a few of her own. If he were to break free? Rhodas heart beat with apprehension; her feeling for Robert was more genuine than most of her feelings, and this was her one excuse for the part she had played. Her nature was so narrow, her life had been so stinted, that the first touch of sentiment overbalanced and carried her away. Dolly possessed the gen- ius of living and loving and being to a de- gree that Rhoda could not even conceive; with all her tact and quickness, she could not reach beyond herself. For some days past she had secretly hoped for some such catastrophe as that which had just occurred. She had taken the situation for granted. One sometimes knows by instinct what people feel, she said at last. I have long felt that Dolly did not understand you; but then, indeed, you are not easy to under- stand. And Robert, raising his eyes from his boots, met the beautiful gloom of her speaking eyes. One has sometimes watched a cat winding its way betweem brittle perils of every sort. Rhoda softly and instinctively avoided the vanities of Roberts mind; she was presently telling him of her troubles, money troubles among the rest. She had spent more than her income ; she did not dare confess to Mr. Tapeall; she felt utterly incapable of man- aging that fortune which ought never to have been herswhich she was ready to give up at any hour. Cleverer people than I am might do something with all this money, said Rhoda: something worth doing; but I seem only to get into trouble. You say you will help me, but you will soon be gone. I shall be always ready to advise you, said Robert. If there is any thing at any time But when you are gone ? said Rhoda, with great emotion. - There was a pause; the horses clattered in under the gateway. You must tell me to stay, said Robert, in a low voice, as he helped Rhoda out of the carriage. As the two slowly mounted the staircase which Dolly had climbed, Jonah, coming away from his aunts apartment, almost ran up against them. Robert exclaimed, but Jonah passed on. What did Rhoda care that he brushed past as if he had not seen them? She was sure he had seen them, and Rhoda had her own reasons for wishing no time to be lost before her news was made public. She had won her great stake, se- cnred her prize: her triumph was not com- plete until others were made aware of all that had happened. She urged Robert to tell his aunt at once. It is only fair to yourself. Dolly will be telling her storydear Dolly! she is always so kind; but still, as you have often said, there are two sides to a question. I am afraid your cousin passed us intentionally, said Rhoda. Not that I care for any thing now. Let us have our dinner in peace, said Robert, and then I will tell them any thing you like. And he sank down comfortably into one of the big arm-chairs, not sorry to put after dinner out of her mind. While he was with Rhoda he was at ease with him- self and thought of nothing else; but he had vague feelings of a conscience standing outside on the landing, and ready to clutch him as he passed out of the charm of her presence. He did not go straight off to his aunt when he left Rhoda, and so it happened that he missed Mrs. Palmer when she burst in upon Rhoda and Miss Rougemont. The res- olute Robert was pacing the pavement out- side, and trying to make up his mind to face those who seemed to him more like life-long enemies than friends. He took courage at last, and determined to get it over, and he turned up the street again, and climbed the staircase once more. Philippa had left the hall door open, and Robert walked in as he had been used to do. He opened the draw- ing-room door. He was angry with Dolly still, angry with her mother, and ready to resent their reproaches. Robert opened the 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. drawing-room door, and stopped short at the threshold. The room was not dark, for the bright moonlight was pouring in. Dolly was still lying, asleep. A log burned low in the fire- place, crimsoning the silver light. Robert was startled. He came forward a few steps and stood in the darkened room looking at the sleeping girl: something in her uncon- scionsness, in the utter silence, in the ab- sence of reproach, smote him as no words of blame or appeal could have done. His ex- cuses, his self-assertions, of what good were they herewho cared for them here? She scarcely moved; she scarcely seemed to l)reathe; her face looked calmit was almost like the face of a dead person; and so she wasdead to him. For an instant he was touched, taken by surprise; he longed to waken her, to ask her to forgive him for leaving her; but as he stood there a dark figure appeared in the open window. Ii~ was Jonah, who did not speak, but who pointed to the door. At any other time Robert might have re- sented this, but to - night something had moved his cold and selfish heart, so me ray from Dollys generous spirit had uncon- sciously reached him at last. He turned away and went quietly out of the room, leaving her sleeping still. He did not see her again; two days later she left for England. CHAPTER LIV. HOLY ST. FRANcIs, WHAT A CHANGE IS HERE! TWELVE oclock is striking in a bare room full of sunshine. A woman, who is spending her twelfth year in bed, is eating tripe out of a basin; another, sittlug by the fire is din- ing off gruel; beds and women alternate all down the ward; two nurses are coming and going, one of them with a black eye. Little garlands of paper, cleverly cut out, decorate the place in honor of some royal birthday. Two little flags are stuck up against the wall and flying triumphantly from the farther end of the room. A print of the royal fam- ily, brilliantly colored, is also pinned up. Mrs. Fane is walking down the middle of the work-house infirmary with a basket on her arm, when one of the old women puts out a wrinkled hand to call her back. Aint we grand, mum l says the old woman, looking up. It does us all good ; and she nods and goes on with her gruel again. How is Betty Hodge to-day ? says Mrs. Fane. The old woman points significantly. All this time some one has been lying quite still at the further end of the room, covered by a sheet. At eight oclock this morning she went off werry comfortable, says the old woman. Mrs. Baker she is to scrub the steps now; the matron sent word this morning.~~ That is alL In this infirmary of the work- house it is a matter of course that people should die. It does not mean a black car- riage, nodding feathers, nor blinds drawn, and tombstones with inscriptions. It means ease at last, release from the poor old body that used to scrub the steps so wearily day after day. There it was, quite still in the sunshine, with the garlands on the wall. I shant be long, said the old tripe wom- an, sententiously. She has been expecting to go for months. A friend has sent her a shroud and some silver paper ready cut: she says it is all ready, and she has seen the priest. Ah! Mrs. Blaney, you are a sufferer, says the nurse with the black eye. She cant eat, mum, but she likes her cup of tea ; and the nurse, who also likes her cup of tea, eyes the little packet which she sees coming out of Mrs. Fanes basket, and fetches a canister, into which she elaborately shakes the refreshing shower. Mrs. Fane hurries on, for she has a guest at home expecting her, and a tea-party or- ganizing for that afternoon, and she has still a visit to pay in the mens ward. Some one brought her a messageSmith wanted to speak to her; and she walked alongthewhite- washed walls, and past check blue counter- panes, lookiuig for her petitioner. By one of the high windows of the ward lay a brown haggard face, with a rough chin, and the lit- tle old slipshod messenger pointed to attract Mrs. Fanes attention. She remembered the man at once. He had come to see her not long before. She had sent him some money to Parishis own money, that he had given to a nurse to keep. Mrs. Fane looked with her kind round eyes into the worn face that tried to upraise itself to greet her. I am sorry to see you here, she said. Did you not find your friends ? Gone to America, gasped the man. You know I have still got some of your money, said Mrs. Fane, sitting down by the bedside. It were about that I made so bold as to hask for to see you, mum, said the man. I have a boy at Dartford, he went on, breathing painfully. He aint a good boy, but Ive wrote to him to go to you, and if you would please keep the money for him, mumthree pound sixteen the reverend calclated itwith what you sent for my journey here. I had better have stopped where I was, and where the young lady found me. Lord! what a turn she give me. I knowd it was all up when I seed her come ~ He was muttering on vacantly, as people do who are very weak. Mrs. Fanes kind heart ached for his lonely woe-begone state. OLD KENSINGTON. 91 She took his hand in hershow many sick hands had she clasped in her healing palm! but poor Smith was beyond her help. I see a young fellow that died beside me at the battle of the Alma, said Smith, and when that young lady came np, as you might be, it brought it all back as it might be now. He was a gentleman, they said; he werent half a bad chap. Who are you speaking of? said Mrs. Fane, not qnite following. They called him GeorgeGeorge Vance, said the man; but that were not his name no more than Smith is mine. I have heard of a man of that name who was wounded at the Alma. I did not know that he had died there, said Mrs. Fane. Her hand began to tremble a little, but she spoke very quietly. Smith hesitated for a minute; then he looked up into the clear, constraining eyes that seemed to him to be expecting his an- swer. It aint no odds to me now, he said, hoarsely, whether I speak the truuth or not; youre a lady, and will keep the money safe for my poor lad. Captain Henley he offered a matter o twenty pound if we found poor Vance alive. He were a free-handed chap were poor Vance. We knowd he would not grudge the money And when the Roosians shot him, poor fellow, it wasnt no odds to him. Mrs. Fane, looking round, saw the chap- lain passing, and she whispered to the old ~ttendant to bring him to her. And so you said that you had found him alive, I suppose ? said Mrs. Fane, quickly guessing at the truth, and drawing away her hand. Well, mum, you aint far wrong, said Smith, looking at his thin brown fingers. There was another poor chap of our corps died on the way to the ships. It were a long way down to the shore; we changed their names. We didnt think we had done no great harm; for twenty pound is twenty pound; but I have heard as how a fortune was lost through it alla poor chap like me has no fortune to lose. It was the young lady you saw who lost her fortune, said Mrs. Fane, controlling her- sell; and trying to hide her agitation. You did her great injury, you see, though you did not mean it. But you can repair this wrong. I think you will like to do so, she said, andandwe shall all be very much obliged to you. She would not bribe the poor dying man by promising that she would keep his money all the same. Mr. Mor- gan, Mrs. Fane continued , turning to the (~haplain, who had come up to the bedside, here is a poor fellow who wishes to do us a service, and to make a statement, and I want you to take it down. She had writ- ing materials in her basket. She often wrote the sick peoples letters for them. What is it, my man 7 said the chaplain; but as he listened his face changed. He wrote and signed the paper; Mrs. Fane signed it; and then, at her request, poor be- wildered Smith feebly scrawled his name. He did it because he was told: he did not seem to care much one way or another for any thing more. Joe can tell you all about it, he said. Joe Carterhe has took his discharge. I dont know where he isLiverpool maybe. John Morgan could hardly contain his ex- citement, and his umbrella whirled like a mill as he left the work-house. You have done a good mornings work, said the chap- lain, as he came away with Mrs. Fane; say nothing more at present. We must find out this Joe who was with him. Afterward it turned out that it would have ben better far if John Morgan had spoken openly at the time; but his terror of Rhodas schemes was so great that he felt that if she only kne~v all she would lay hands on Joe, carry off Smith himseli, make him unsay all he had said. There is no knowing what tbat woman may not do, said Morgan. She wrote to me; I have not answered the letter. Do you know that the marriage is actually fixed? I am very glad that you have got Dolly away from that adders nest. So am I, said Mrs. Fane, beaming for an instant: she had long ago taken JI~ol1y to her heart with a confused feeling of some maternal fibre strung, of something more ten- der and more enduring than the mere friend- ship between a girl and an older woman. I can not help it if most of those who knew my Dolly persisted in spoiling her. She wanted every bit of kindness and sunshine that came in her way. And yet she was free from the strain that had wrenched her poor little life; she need no longer doubt her own feelings, nor blind herself to that which she would so gladly escape. The morbid fight was over, and the world was at peace. It was at peace, but unutter- ably sad, empty, meaningless. When peo- ple complain that their lives are dull and have no meaning, it is that they themselves have no meaning. Dolly felt as if she had been in the thick of the fight, and come away wounded. I may as well be here as any where else, she had said that moonlight evening when poor Jonah had entreated her in vain to come away with him. Dolly would not go back to henley; she had her own reasons for keeping away. But next morning, when an opportune letter came from Mrs. Fane, Dolly, who had lain awake all night, went to her mother, who had slept very comfortably, and said, Mam- ma, if you can spare me, I think I will go over to England with the squire and Jonah for a little time, until the marriage is over. Mrs. Palmer was delighted. 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. To Yorkshire? Yes, dearest, the very best thing you can do. Not to Henley, mamma, ~Dolly~aid. I should like, please, to go to Mrs. Fanes, if you do not object. What a child you are ! cried Mrs. Palm- er; you prefer poking yourself away in that horrid, dismal hospital, when poor Jo- nah is on his knees to you to go back to Hen- ley with him. Perhaps that is the reason why I must not go, mamma, said Dolly, smiling. I must not have any explanations with Jo- nah. Mrs. Palmer was seriously angry, and settled herself down for another nap. How can you pretend not to know that you have been going against my wishes all along? Take your own way, however, dear- est. Tell Julie not to come until I ring. So Dolly came to England one summers afternoon, escorted by her faithful knights. All the streets were warm and welcoming, the windows were open, and the shadows were painting the pretty old towers and steeples of the city: some glint of an Italian sky had come to visit our northern world. John Morgan met her at the train, Mrs. Pane stood on the door-step to welcome her, the roar of the streets soundedhome-like and hopeful once more. As for Lady Henley, she was furiously jealous when she heard of Dolly in London, and with Mrs. Pane. She abused her to ev- ery body for a fortnight. Jonah had come home for two days, and then returned to town again. That is allwe get of him, aft- er all we have gone through, cried poor Lady Henley; however, perhaps there is a good reason for it; all one wants is to see ones children happy, said the little lady to Mr. Redmayne, who was dining at the Court. John Morgan lost no time in writing to his confessor, Frank Raban, to tell him of the strange turn that events had taken. I entreat you to say no word of this to any one, said Morgan. I am afraid of other influence being brought to bear upon this man that we are in search of and it is most necessary that we should neglect noprecan- tions. Dollys interests have been too care- lessly served by us all. Raban was rather annoyed by this sentence in Morgans letter. What good would it have done to raise an opposition that would have only pained a person who was already sorely tried in other ways? Frank somewhat shared Dollys care- lessness about money, as we know. Perhaps in his secret heart it had seemed to him that it was not for him to be striving to gain a for- tune for Dollya fortune that she did not want. When she looked at him entreating- ly and asked him not to interfere, he imme- diately gave in to her wish, which somehow coincided with his own; now he suddenly be,,an to blame himseli, and determined to leave no stone unturned to find the evidence that was wanted. And yet he was more es- tranged from Dolly at this moment than he had ever been in his life before. He had purposely abstained from any communica- tion with her. He knew she was in London, and he kept away. Frank Raban was a man of a curious dog- gedness and tenderness of nature. When he had once set his mind to a thing, he went through with his mind. He could not help himself any more than some people can help being easily moved and dissuaded from their own inclinations. It was this unrelenting determination which had first estranged him from his home, and made him live in some disregard of some received traditions. This one, for instance, that people in the Court Guide are not to marry into the Com- mercial Directory. Frank had found out his mistake as far as Emma Penfold herself was concerned. Custom would have ap- proved of Rabans second choice, but Frank did not consult other people~s opinions any more about Dolly than he had done when he married poor Emma, the gardeners daugh- ter; only he could not help listening in some degree to the accounts that now reached him of the catastrophe at Paris, and feel. ing that any faint, persistent hope was now crushed forever. Lady Henleys wishes were apt to color her impression of events as they happened. According to her version, it was for Jonahs sake that Dolly had broken with Robert. It was to Jonah that Dolly had confided her real reason for parting from her cousin. You know it yourself squire. It was pain- ful, but far better than the alternative. Miss Vauboroughs confidences did not extend so far as you imagine, my dear lady, said Mr. Anley: I must honestly confess that I heard nothing of the sort. Lady Henley was peremptory. She wa~ not at liberty to show her sons last letter, but she had full authority for her informa- tion. She was not in the habit of speaking at random. Time would show. Lady Hen- ley looked obstinate. The squire seemed annoyed. Frank Raban said nothing; he walked away gloomily; he came less and less to the Court; he looked very cross at times, although the work he had taken in hand was prospering. Whitewashed cot- tages were multiplying; a cricket field had been laid out for the use of the village; Medmere was drained and sown with turnip seed. Frank was now supposed to be an experienced agriculturist. He looked in the Farmers Friend regularly. Tanner used to consult him upon a variety of subjects. What was to be done about the sheep? Pitch plaster was no good, should they try Spanish ointment? Those hurdles must be seen to, and what about the fines and the grinders down at the mill? Notwithstanding these all-absorbing in- OLD KENSINGTON. 93 terests, Frank no sooner received Morgans letter with its surprising news than he start- ed off at once to concert measures with the rector. Joe was supposed to be at Liv- erpool, and Frank started for Liverpool and spent a fruitless week looking up all the dis- charged and invalided soldiers for ten miles round. He thought he had found some trace of the man he was in search of, but it was tiresome work, even in Dorotheas interest. John Morgan wrote that Jonah was in Lon- don, kind and helpful. Foolish Frank, who should have known better by this time, said to himself that they could have settled their business very well without Jonahs help. Frauk did him justice, and wished him back in Yorkshire. Lady Henleys hints and wild assertions could not be altogether without foundation, thought this diffident lover. May he be forgiven! Diffidence and jealousy are hun?an failings that bring many a trouble in their train. True love should be far beyond such pitiful preoccupations: and yet, if ever any man loved any woman honestly and faithfully, Frank Raban loved Dorothea, although his fidelity may have shown want of spirit, and his jealousy want of common-sense. Dolly had vaguely hoped that Raban might have written to her, but the jealous thought that she might show Jonah his letter had prevented him from writing. John Marplot wrote that Jouah was often in S Street. Why did not the good rector add that it was Mrs. Fane who asked him to come there? Dolly was rather provoked when Jonah reappeared time after time and offered himself to join them in a little expedition that Mrs. Fane had planned. Mrs. Fane was pleased to welcome the rector and the captain too. Six hours fresh air were to set John Morgan up for his Sunday services. Dolly looked pale; some fresh air would do her good, said her friend. CHAPTER LV. SEE YOU NOT SOMETHING BESIDES MASONRY? ON the Friday before they were to start on their little expedition Mrs. Fane was busy; Dolly had been sitting alone for some time. She suddenly called to old Marker, asked her to put on her bonnet and come out with her. Dolly made Marker stop a cab, and they drove off; the old nurse wanted to turn back when she found out where Dolly was going, but she could not resist the girls pleading looks. It will do me good, Mar- ker, said Dolly; indeed it will. I want to see the dear old place again. All that morning she felt a longing to see the old place once more: somethiug seemed to tell her that she must go. One often thinks that to be in such a place would bring ease, that the sight of such a person would solve all difficulties, and one travels off, and one seeks out the friend, and it was but a fancy after all. Poor old Church House! Dolly had often thought of going there, but Mrs. Fane had dissuaded her hith- erto. All night long Dolly had been dream- ing of her home, unwinding the skeins of the past one by one. It may have been a fancy that brought Dolly, but it was a curious chance. They had come to the top of the lane, and Dolly got out and paid her cab. Her eyes were dim with the past, that was coming as a veil or a shroud between her and the pres- ent. She had no faint suspicion of what wm at hand. They walked on unsuspiciously to the ivy gate: suddenly Marker cried out, and then Dolly too gave a little gasp. What cruel blow had fallen? what desecrating hand had dared to touch the dear old haunt? What was this? She had not dreamed this. The garden wall, so sweet with jasmine, was ly- ing low; the prostrate ivy was struggliag over a heap of bricks and rubbish; tracks of wheelbarrows ran from the house to the cruel heap, the lawn was tossed up, a mound of bricks stood raised by the drawing-room windows; the windows were gone, black hollows stood in their places, a great gap ran down from Dollys old bedroom up above to the oak room on the terrace; part of the dining-room was gone: pathetic, black, charred, dismantled, the old house stood stricken and falling from its foundation. Dollys heart beat furiously as she caught Markers arm. What has happened ? she said. It is not fireit isoh, Marker, this is too much! Poor Marker could not say one word; the two women stood clinging to each other in the middle of the garden walk. The sky was golden, the shadows were purple among the fallen bricks. This is too much, Dolly repeated, a lit- tle wildly; and then she broke away from Marker, crying out, Dont come! dont come ! The workmen were gone: for some reason the place was deserted, and there was no one to hear Dollys sobs as she impatiently fled across the lawn. Was it foolish that these poor old bricks should be so dear to her? foolish that their fall should seem to her something more than a symbol of all that had fallen and passed away? Ah, no,no !While the old house stood she had not felt quite parted, but now the very place of her life would be no more; all the grief of that year seemedbrought back to her, whenshe stopped short suddenly and stood looking round and about in a scared sort of way. She was look- ing for something that was not any more listening for silent voices. Dolly! cried the voices, and the girls whole heart answered as she stood stretching out her arms toward 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the ulterior shores. At that minute she would have been very glad to lie down on the old stone terrace and never rise again. Time was so long, it weighed and weighed, and seemed to be crushing her. She had tried to be brave, but her cup was full, and she felt as if she could bear no more, not one heavy hour more. This great weight on her heart seemed to have been gathering from a long way off, to have been lasting for years and years: no tears came to ease this pain. Marker had sat down on the stone ledge, and was wiping her grief in her handkerchief. Dolly was at her old haunt by the pond, and bending over and looking into the depth with strange circling eyes. This heavy weight seemed to be weighing her down and drawing her to the very brink of the old pond. She longed to be at rest, to go one step beyond the present, to be ly- ing straight in the murky gray water, rest- ing and at peace. Who wanted her any more? No one now. Those who had loved her best were dead; Robert had left her: every one had left her. The people outside in the lane may have seen her through the gap in the wall, a dark figure stooping among the purple shadows: she heard their voices calling, but she did not heed them; they were only living voices: then she heard a step upon the gravel close at hand, and she started back, for, looking up, she saw it was Frank Raban who came forward. Dolly was not surprised to see him. Every thing to-day was so strange, so unnatural, that this sudden meeting seemed but a part of all the rest. She threw up her hands and sank down upon the old bench. His steady eyes were fixed upon her. What are you doing here I he said, fright- ened by the look in her face, and forgetting in his agitation to greet her formally. What does it all matter? said Dolly, an- swering his reproachful glance, and speak- ing in a shrill voice: I dont care about any thing anymore; I am tired out, yes, very tired, the girl repeated. She was wrought up and speaking to herself as much as to him, crying out, not to be heard, but because this heavy weight was upon her, and she was struggling to be rid of it and reckless she must speak to him, to any body, to the shivering bushes, to the summer dust and silence, as she had spoken to the stag- nant water of the pond. She was in a state which is not a common one, in which pain plays the part of great joy, and excitement unloosens the tongue, forces men and wom- en into momentary sincerity, and directness carries all before ft; her long self- control had broken down, she was at the end of her powersshe was only thinking of her own grief and not of him just then. As she turn- ed her pale stone-cut face away and looked across the low laurel bushes, Frank Raban felt a pang of pity for her of which Dorothea had no conception. He came up to the bench. Dont lose courage, he said not yet, you have been so good all this time. It was not so much what he said which touched her, as the way in which he said it. He seemed to know how terribly she had been suffering, to be in tune even with this remorseless fugue of pain repeated. His kindness suddenly overcame her and touch- ed her; she hid her face in her hands and burst out crying, and the tears eased and softened her strained nerves. It was coming here that brought it nil back,~~ she said ; and finding She looked round. I am very much shocked, more so than I can tell you, said Frank. It was to-day quite by chance that I heard what had hap- pened. I came off at once. I have been to your house. It seems Miss P~irnell must have wanted money, and that she suddenly closed with a builders offer. Mr. Tapeall should have warned us. I can hardly tell you the rest, or you will never forgive our fatal de- lay. They had no right whatever to do what they have done. You are the only person interested; it is you only to whom they should have applied, and we have been most blamable in not telling you this be- fore. Frank then and there began to tell Dolly of the curious discovery which Mrs. Fane had made, of Smiths confession, and of all that it involved. He told her very careful- ly, sparing her in every way, thinking of the words which would be simplest and least likely to give pain. We ought to have told you before, he repeated. I shall never forgive myself. We meant to spare you until all the facts were clearly ascertained. We have made a fatal mistake, and now I am only adding to your pain.~~ But the tears with which Dolly listened to him were not bitter, his voice was 50 kind, his words so manly and simple. He did not shirk the truth, as some people some- times do when they speak of sorrow, but he faced the worst with the simplicity and di- rectness of a man who had seen it all very near. Please dont blame yourself, she said. If there are certain states of mind in which facts seem exaggerated and every feeling is overwrought, it is at these very times that people are most ready to accept the bless- ings of consolation. Peace, he still, said the Divine Voice, speaking to the tossing waves. And voices come, speaking in hu- man tones to many a poor tempest-tossed soul. It may be only a friend who speaks, only a lover perhaps, or a brothers or sisters voice. Love, friendship, brotherhood, give a meaning to the words. Only that day Dolly had thought that all was over, and already OLD KENSINGTON. 95 the miracle was working, the storm was passing from her heart, and peace was near at hand. It all seemed as a dream in the night, when she thought it over afterward. Some few days had passed. She had not seen Frank again, but to have seen him once more made all the difference to her. Dolly was standing out on the balcony, carefully holding her black silk dress away from the dusty iron bars. It was a bright, gentle - winded Sunday morning, and the countless bells of the district were jangling together, and in different notes calling their votaries to different shrines. The high bell striking quick and clear, the low bell with melancholy cadence, the old-fashioned par- ish bell swinging on in a sing-song way: a little Catholic chapel had begun its chime an honr before. From the house doors came Sunday folkschildren trotting along, with their best hats and conscious little legs, mammas radiant, maid-servants running, cabs going off laden. All this cheerful jin- gle-jangling filled Dollys heart with a hap- py sadness. It was so long since she had heard it, and it was all so dear and so famil- iar, as she stood listening to it all, that it was a little service in her heart of grateful love and thanksfor love and for praise; for life to utter her love for the peace which had come to her after her many troubles. She was not more happy outwardly in cir- cumstance, but how much more happy in herself none but she herself could tell. How it had come about she could scarcely have explained; but so it was. She had ceased to struggle; the wild storm in her heart had hushed away; she was now content with the fate which had seemed to her so terrible in the days of her girlhood. Unloved, misun- derstood, was this her fate ~? she had in some fashion risen above it, and she felt that the same peace and strength were hers. Peace, she knew not why; strength, coming she scarcely knew how or whence. It was no small thing to be one voice in the great cho- rus of voices, to be one aspiration in the great breath of life, and to know that her own wishes and her own happiness were not the sum of all her wants. CHAPTER LVI. THE PLAY IS PLAYED, THE CURTAIN DROPS. COLONEL FANE was not a rich man, but he had a house which had been his fathers be- fore him, and to which he returned now and again in the intervals of service. It stood at a bend of the river, and among hollows and ivy. He looked forward to ending his work there some day, and resting for a year or two. In the mean While the old house was often let in snmmer, and Mrs. Fane looked after the repairs and necessary ren- ovations. She sometimes spent a few hours among the sedges and shady chestnut-trees. She loved the old placeas who does not love it who has ever been there ?and dis- covered this sleeping bower, where one may dream of chivalry, of fairy-land, or of peace on earth, or that one is sunshine, or a river washing between heavy banks; or turn ones back to the stream and see a pasture coun- try sliding away toward the hills, through shade and fragrant hours, with songs from the hedges and mellow echoes from the dis- tant farms. The little party came down, not unpre- pared to be happy. Mrs. Fane, who never wasted an opportunity, had also brought a little girl from her orphanage, who was to remain for a time with the housekeeper at Quceusmedethat was the name of the old house. The child was a bright little creat- ure, with merry soft eyes flashing in wild ex- citement, and the kind lady was somewhat divided between her interest in some news that John Morgan was giving her and her anxiety lest little Charlotte, her goddaugh- ter, should jump out of window. We have to thank the captain here,~~ said John Morgan, for finding the man we were in search of. I have sent to Tapeall, said John, rubbing his bands. I find that, after all my precautions, Rhoda got a hint from him last week. Tapeall was evidently pre- pared for something of the sort when I called there yesterday. However, it is all right thanks to the captain. I dont deserve any thanks, said Jonah. Poor Carter found me out. He wanted to borrow lOs. When did all this happen 1 said Mrs. Fane; and she kissed Dolly. Only yesterday, answered the rector. Itelegraphed to Raban; poor fellow, he had gone off to Shoeburyness on some false scent; I left word at home in case he should call. Dolly stooped down and held up little Charlotte to see the pretty golden fields fly past, and the sheep and the lambs frisking. Are they gold flowers ? said the little girl. Is that where ladies gets their mon- ey? Is you going to be very rich ? Dolly did not answer; she had scarcely heard what they all were saying, so many voices were speaking to her, as she watched the flying fields and frisking lambs. Was it all to be hers? The old house was gone and this was what she most dwelt upon money was but little in comparison to the desolate home. Could she ever forgive Rhoda this cruel blow? AhI she might have had it all, if she had but spared the dear home. A letter had come from Robert only that morning, and all this time Dolly was carrying it unopened in her pocket, fail- ing courage to break the seal and open up the past. IIARPEPOS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Shadows and foreboding clouds were far away from that tranquil valley, from the shady chestnut-tree beneath which Dolly is sitting, resting and shading her eyes from the light. When the banquet is over they get np from their feast and stroll down to the river- side, throngh the silent village into the over- ~,rown meadow, where green waving things are throwing their shadows, where an old half-ruined nunnery stands fronting the sun, and the silver river beyond the fields. p There were nuns at Qneensmede once: one might fancy a Guinevere ending her sad life there in tranqnil penitence; a knight on his knees by the river; a horse browsing in the meadow. The old bnilding still stands among wild flowers and hay, within sight of the river bend; the deserted garden is un- fenced, and the roses are growing straggling in the field, and mingle their petals with the clover and poppies that spring luxnriantly. The stable is a gabled bnilding with slender laiieet Will(loW5, with open doors swinging OLD KENSINGTON. 97 on the latch. The nuns have passed out one by one from the Lady House, so they call it still. Dolly peeped in at the dismantled walls, and pictured their former occupants to herselfwomen singing and praying with pale sweet faces radiant in the sweet tran- quillity of the old place, and yet their life seemed thin and sad somehow. It was not what she herself had ever dreamed of; a less beautiful existence wonld better con- tent her, thought Dolly. It was here that she found courage at last to read Roberts letter as she stood in the doorway. She pulled it out and broke the seal. My DEAR DoRoTaEA,Notwithstanding all that has happened, I still feel that it is no common tie of friend- ship and interest which must always bind us together, and that it is due to you that I myself should Inform you of a determination which will, as I trust, eventually contribute to every bodys happiness. After what you said to me it will, I know, be no surprise to you to have heard that I have proposed to Rhoda, and been accept- ed by her, but I am anxious to spare your learning from any body but myself the fact that we have de- termined to put on our marriage, and that this letter will reach you on our wedding-day. Yourfriend Rhodahas entirelythrown herself upon my guidance, and under the circumstancesit has seem- ed advisable to me to urge no longer delay. My affairs require my presence in England; hers also need the most careful management. I am not satisfied with the manner in which certain Investments have been dis- posed of. Notwithstanding someperhaps not unnat- uralreluctance on her part, I propose returning to Church House immediately after our wedding, where, let me tell you, my dear Dora, you will ever find a hearty welcome, and a home if need he, although lam anxious to forget the past, particularly under my present cir- cumstances. I can not but recall once more to you how differently events might have turned out. I have never had an opportunity of explaining that to you, but I hope you do me the justice to believe that it was not your change of fortune which affected my decision to abideby your determination. I have been most anx- ious to assure you of this. It was your want of trust which first made me feel how dissimilar we were in many ways, how little chance there was in my being ahle to influence you as a husbancL Forgive me for saying that you did not understand my motives, nor do entire justice to the feelings 1hich made mc endeavor to persuade you for your own advantage as well as mine. If you had cojne to India when I wished it, much anxiety to yourself and much sorrow would have been spared you. Now it is too late to think of what might or might not have been: only this fact remains, and do not forget it, dear Dora, that you will never have a more sincere friend, nor one more ready to ad- vise and assist you in any difficulty, than Your affectionate cousin, H. flxm.xv. Rhoda (did she know I was writing) would unite in most affectionate love. I find her society more and more congenial and delightful to me. What are you reading, Dolly ? said Jo- nah, coming up. I ought to know that confounded blue paper. Has that fellow the impudence to write to you ? Then he ask- ed, more shyly, May I see the letter ? No, dear Jonah, Dolly said, folding it up. It is a kind letter, written kindly. Then. she looked hard at him and blushed a little. This is. his wedding-day,. she said; that is why he wrote to me. Dolly would not show her letter to any one, except to Mrs. Pane. She felt that it VoL. XLVII.No. 2Th7 would be commented on; she was grateful to Robert for writing it; and yet the letter made her ashamed, now that she began to see him not as he was, but to judge from an- other standard, and to look at him with oth- er peoples eyes. In after-days she scarcely ever spoka of him even to her nearest and dearest. To-day she merely repeated the news. No one made any comment in her hearing. They were anxious at first, but Dollys face was serene, and they could see that she was not unhappy. One thing neither Dolly nor Mrs. Pane could understand. Robert evidently knew nothing of the destruction of Church House. I am glad Robert had nothing to do with it, said Dolly. Will you come wiss me? said little Char- lotte, running up and taking Dollys hand. Miss Yanborougli was not sorry to leave the discussion of Roberts prospects to others, and she walked away, with the little girl still holding by her hand, and went and stood for a minute on the bridge, looking down nt the river and the barge floating by; it slid un- der her feet with its cargo of felled wood, and its wild and silent human cargo, and. then it went floating away between the summer banks. The waters deepened and wavered. Tall waving grasses were also floating and drag- ging upon the banks, crimson poppies start- ing here and there, golden irises hanging their heads by the river. Little ~Charlotto presently ran away, and, half sunk in the grasses, stood struggling with a daisy. A sunshiny man came leading a horse from the sleepy old barn that stood beyond the Lady House. Its old bricks were hung with green veils, and with purple and golden nets of lichen and of moss. Dolly stoppedwas it a burst of music? It was a sweet overpowering rush of honey- suckle scent coming from the deserted gar- den. In this pastoral landscape there was no sound louder than the lap of the water, or the flowing gurgle of the pigeons strag- gling from one to another moss-grown ledge. Chance lights stole from the sedge to the grassy banks, from the creek by sweet tum- bled grasses to the deserted old grange. Round about stood the rose-trees, flowering in the wilderness, dropping their blossoms; the swallows were flying about the eaves; the daisies sparkled where they caught the sunlight. The indescribable peace and si- lence of it all tranquillized Dorotheas trou- bled heart, althougb.eventhen some thoughts came to her of the life she had wasted, and the love she had thrown away. It was not as in that day when in her despair she had thought there was nothing left; the bitter- ness of her wound was healed: it was not for the news that had come that she was grieving. While Dolly and little Charlotte were 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. gathering their flowers, Frank Raban, who came walking along the fields by the river, had joined the others by the Lady House. Morgans telegram had summoned him back to London, and his message had brought him on to Queensmede. He had heard the news; he said very little about it. Where is Miss Yanborough ? he asked, presently. Dont you see her on the bridge ? said Jonah, pointing. Frank walked on a few steps. He saw her standing on the bridge, high above the torrent; then he saw her come slowly along, followed by her little companion. They were walking slowly away from the field and the deserted garden. As they all straggled slowly homeward, with shadows at their feet, the old ivy buttresses of the walls were beginning to shine with vesper light, with deeper and crisper lines in the pure il- lumination all around. Dolly thought of Haydns andante again, only here it was light that brought music out of all these instru- mentssilences, perfumes, and heavy creep- ers from the bewildering, sweet old place, overflown with birds, heaped up and falling into hollows. Frank walked silently beside Dolly. He had come prepared to sympathize: full of concern for her, and she did not seem to want his help, or to care for it any more. That day by the pond, when she had first turned to him in her grief, he had felt near- er to her than now, when in her reserve she said no word of all that he knew she must be feeling. Could this be pride? Did she show this indifferent face to the world? was she determined that no one should guess at the secret strain? Was she treating him as the first-come acquaintance? It was very proper, no doubt, and very dignified, but he was disappointed. He could not understand it. She must be unhappy, and yet as he looked at her face he saw no effort there only peace shining from it. She had stopped before a garland of briony that was drooping with beautiful leaves, making a garland of shadows upon the bricks. She pointed it out to him. It is very pretty, said Raban, but I am in no appreciative mood ; and he looked back at Jonah, who came up just then, and began admiring. Why was Jonah always with her? Why did he seem to join into all their talk? Frank was jealous of Jonah, but he was still more jealous of Dorotheas confi- dence. There seemed to je no end to Dollys cousins. Here was Jonah, to whom she had already given more of her confidence than to himJonah, who had served her effectually, while he, Frank, had done nothing. He had not quitebelievedLadyHenleys intimations, but now he began to believe them, and he looked up at Dolly, who was walking along, still looking at the bunches of briony she had gathered. It was not a very heroic mood, and I am truly ashamed of my heros pass- ing ill humor, coming as it did at this inop- portune moment to trouble Miss Vanbor- oughs tardy happiness. And yet somehow it did not trouble her; she saw that Frank was silent and gloomy, but with her instinct for idealizing those she loved, she supposed there was some good reason for it, and she felt that she might perhaps even try to find out what was amiss; it was no longer wrong to take an interest in all that affected him even Dollys conscience allowed thisand, when the others walked on, in her sweet voice she asked if any thing was wrong, and as she spoke her gray eyes opened kind ly. Dolly loved to take care of the people she loved. There was a motherly instinct in all her affection. My only concern is for you, and for the news that Jonah Henley has told me, said Frank; but you did not tell me yourself, so I did not like to speak of it to you. Dolly sighedthen looked up again. I do not know how to talk of it all, she said, and that is why I said nothing. You arc right ! Frank answered, with a sort of sneer; when one comes to think of it, there are no words in common language that can characterize such conduct. Please dont, said Dolly, pained; then she added, I have been so unhappy that I must not ever pretend to feel what I am not feeling. Perhaps you may think it strange I am happy, not unhappy, to-day. Yon are all so kindevery thing is so kind. Look at that Virginia creeper over the gateand that ocean of ivy. I feel as if I could be- lieve in happiness again. I am only begin- ning now to believe in it. I am sure I hope they will have a great deal in their lives. Robert has written to me very kindly. Is not Jonah calling us ? Jonah was waiting for them at the gate of the house, and wav- ing a long, shadowy arm, that seemed to reach across the road. Happiness, said Frank, lingering, and cross again, and looking round. This is the sort of thing people mean, I suppose; green pastures and still waters, and if one can be satisfied with grass, as the people were in the Psalms, so much the better for ones self; one may enjoy all the things one didnt particularly wantand watch an- other man win the prize; another perhaps who doesnt even Frank stopped short what was he saying? he might be giving pain, and he hated himself and his ill humor, jarring and jangling in the peaceful seren- ity. But Dolly finished the sentence calmly enough. Who doesnt care for it; perhaps the prize isnt worth having, she said, very slowly. She did not think of herself until she had spoken; then suddenly her heart began to beat, and she blushed crimson; for OLD KENSINGTON. 99 her eyes met his, and his looks spoke plainly enoughso plainly that Dollys gray orbs fell beneath that fixed dreamy gaze. It seemed to look through her heart. Could he read all that she was thinking? Ah! he might read her heart, for she was only think- ing as she stood there of all her friends long fidelity and steady friendship. What had she ever done to deserve it all? And her heart seemed to answer her thought with a strange silent response. Now she might own to herself the blessing of his unfailing friendship; it was no longer a wrong to any human being. Even if she were never any thing more to him, she might openly and gratefully accept his help and his interest; acknowledge the blessing, the new life it had brought her. She had struggled so long to keep the feeling hidden away, it was an unspeakable relief to have nothing more to conceal from herself nor from others nothing more. She knew at last that she loved him, and she was not ashamed. What a journey she had traveled since they had stood by the spring that autumn day, not a year ago! what terrible countries she had visited! and had it come to this once more? Might she love now in happiness as well as in sorrow? Was she not happy, standing in this golden hollow, with the person whose society she loved best in all the world? No other human being was in sight, nothing but the old shady village, floating into over- flowing green, the sleepy hay-cocks, the emp- tybarn, the heaping ivy on the wall, the sun- light slanting upon the silence. She did not mean to speak, but Frank, in this utter silence, heard her secret thought at last. Dont you know ? said Dorothea. Oh, Frank, dont you know ? Did she speak the words or look them? He could never tell: only this he knew, that she was his, that life is kind, that true hearts do come togeth- er, that one moment of such happiness and completeness lights up a whole nights wild chaos, and reveals the sweetness of the dawn- ing world. Jonah, who had gone on with Mrs. Fane, came to the door to call them again, but they did not see him, and he went back into the house, where Mrs. Fane and John Mor- gan were hard at work upon an inventory. Here, let me help you, said Jonah; Im not too clumsy to count tea-cups. Little Charlotte made herself very useful by carry- ing a plate from one chair to another. She finally let it drop, and would have cried when it broke, if the good-natured young captain had not immediately given her the ink to hold. This mark of confidence filled her with pride, and dried her tears. Sall I old it up very high ? she said. Can you draw a ziant? I can, wiss your pen. It took them nearly an hour to get through their task, and by this time the tea was ready in the library, the old-fashioned urn hissing and steaming, and Jonah and John Morgan were preparing to set out on their journey home. Frank went with them, and then when he was gone Dolly told her friend her story, and the two sat talking until late into the starlight. Two days afterward an announcement appeared in the Time8, and the world learned that Robert Henley and Miss Rhoda Parnell had been married at the British Embassy at Paris by special license by tbe Bishop of Orinoco. The next news was that of Dollys marriage to Frank Raban. Pebblesthwaite was very much excited. Lady Henleys in- dignation was boundless at first, but was happily diverted by the news of her favorite daughter Norahs engagement to Mr. Jack Redmayne. James Brands blue eyes twinkled a kindly sympathy when the letter came announcing Franks happiness. He came up to be pres- ent at the wedding. It was in the little city church, with its smoke-stained windows. John Morgans voice failed as he read the opening words and looked down at the bent heads of the two who had met at last hand in hand. In perfect love and peace, he said; and, as he said it, he felt that the words were no vain prayers. He had no fear for them, nor had they fear for each other. Some one standing in the drizzle of the street outside saw them drive off with calm and happy faces. It was Rob- ert Henley, who was passing through Lon- don with his wife. Philippa, who saw him, kissed her hand and would have stopped him, but he walked on without looking back. He had been to Mr. Tapealls that morning, after a painful explanation with RhodaRhoda, who was moodily sitting at the window of her room in the noisy hotel, and going over the wretched details of that mornings talk. It was true that she had sold Church House, tempted by the builders liberal offer, and wanting money to clear the many extravagances of her Paris life; it was true that she had concealed the lawyers letter from Robert in which she learned that her title to the property was about to be disputed. She had hurried on their wedding, she had won the prize for which her foolish soul had longed: it was not love so much as the pride of life and of gratified vanity. These things bad dazzled her, for these things this foolish little creat- ure had sacrificed her all. Dolly might have been happy in time even married to Robert, but for Rhoda what chance was there? Would her French kid gloves put out their primrose fingers to help her in her lonely hours? would her smart bonnets crown her home with peace and the content of a lov- ing spirit? She lived long enough to find out something of the truth, and to come to Dolly one day to help her in her sorest need. This was long after, when Dolly had long 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. been living at Ravensrick, when her children Oh, Frank, dont ask me, said Dolly, were playing round about her, and the sun- hastily going up to the fire that was burning shine of her later life had warmed and bright- in the grate, and flinging the packet into the ened the sadness of her youth. What more flames; then she ran up to him, and clung hold of his arm for a minute. She could not speak. Frank looked at the burning packet, at the open drawers, and then he understood it all. I thought I had burned those let- ters long ago, he said; and stooping, he took his wifes hand in his and kissed it. * * ,* * * * As I write the snow lies thick upon the ground outside, upon the branches of the trees, upon the lawns. Here, within, the fire leaps brightly in its iron cage; the chil- dren cluster round the chair by the chimney- corner, where the mother sits reading their beloved fairy tales. The hearth was empty oncethe home was desolate; but time after time, day by day, we see the phenix of home and of love springing from the dead ashes; hopes are fulfilled that seemed too sweet to dream of; love kindles and warms chilled hearts to life. Take courage, say the happy, to those in sorrow and trouble; are there not many mansions even here? seasons in their course, harvests in their season, thanks be to the merciful ordinance that metes out sorrow and peace, and longing and fulfill- ment, and rest after the storm. Take courage, say the happythe mes- sage of the sorrowful is harder to under- stand. The echoes come from afar, and reach beyond our ken. As the cry passes beyond us into the awful unknown, we feel that this is, perhaps, the voice in life that reaches beyond life itself. Their fires are out, their hearths are in ashes, but see, it was the sunlight that put out the flame. THE END. shall I say of my heroine? That sweet and generous soul, ripening by degrees, slow and credulous, not imbittered by the petty pains of life, faithful and tender and vibrating to many tones, is no uncommon type. Her name is one that I gave her long ago, but her real names are many, and are those of the friends whom we love. Church House was never rebuilt. At Dollys wish a row of model lodgings, with iron balconies, patent boilers, ventilators, and clothes hanging out to dry on every floor, have been erected on the site of the place where Lady Sarah lived; and so the kind womans dreams and helpful schemes have come true. We could not put back the old house, said Dolly, and we thought this would be the next best thing to do. The rooms are let Lit a somewhat cheaper rate than the crowded lodging-houses round about. Peo- ple, as a rule, dislike the periodical white- washing, and are fond of stuffing up the ventilators, but otherwise they are very well satisfied. Dolly did not receive many wedding pres- ents. Some time after her marriage Rhoda sent Dolly a diamond cross; it was that one that Frank Raban had given her many years before. She was abroad at the time, and for many years neither Rhoda nor Dolly met again. Mrs. Palmer used to write home ac- counts of Rhodas beauty and fashion from Ems and other watering-places where she used to spend her summers. The Admiral, who was still abroad, made it a special point, so Philippa declared, that she should spend her summers on the Con- tinent. One day Mrs. Raban was turning out some papers in a drawer in her husbands writing- table, when she came upon a packet of let- ters that she thought must belong to herself. They were written in a familiar writing that she knew at once, for it was Henleys. They were not addressed, and Dolly could not at first imagine how these letters had come there, nor when she had received them. As she looked she was still more bewildered. They were letters not unlike some that she had received, and yet they had entirely~ passed from her mind. Presently turning over a page, she read not her own name on the address, but that of Emma Penfold, and a sentence: It is best for your welfare that we should not meet again, wrote Henley. I am not a marrying man myselfcircum- stances render it impossible. May you be as happy in your new life. You will have an excellent husband, and one who What have you got there ? said Frank, who had come in. RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. Yotices of conspicuous Public Men, with characteristic Anecdotes illustrating their Peculiarities.Accounta of Congressional and other Duels, a d personal Col- lisions in Congress, including a Glance at Washing- ton Public Life during several Administrations. MORE ABOUT GAMBLING. MANY amusing stories were current at different times illustrative of the pe- culiar habits and customs of the people who procured a livelihood by playing upon the weaknesses and passions of the communi- ties in which they resided, or, in other words, lived by their wits. In the old time this class of men came nearer social recognition than at the present day. I do not refer to the enforced association of the race-course, growing out of a community of pursuits and tastes not dissimilar. Blacklegs and gentle- men stand on the same plane, and meet on apparently equal terms, with betting books in their hands. Neither in this respect nor

100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. been living at Ravensrick, when her children Oh, Frank, dont ask me, said Dolly, were playing round about her, and the sun- hastily going up to the fire that was burning shine of her later life had warmed and bright- in the grate, and flinging the packet into the ened the sadness of her youth. What more flames; then she ran up to him, and clung hold of his arm for a minute. She could not speak. Frank looked at the burning packet, at the open drawers, and then he understood it all. I thought I had burned those let- ters long ago, he said; and stooping, he took his wifes hand in his and kissed it. * * ,* * * * As I write the snow lies thick upon the ground outside, upon the branches of the trees, upon the lawns. Here, within, the fire leaps brightly in its iron cage; the chil- dren cluster round the chair by the chimney- corner, where the mother sits reading their beloved fairy tales. The hearth was empty oncethe home was desolate; but time after time, day by day, we see the phenix of home and of love springing from the dead ashes; hopes are fulfilled that seemed too sweet to dream of; love kindles and warms chilled hearts to life. Take courage, say the happy, to those in sorrow and trouble; are there not many mansions even here? seasons in their course, harvests in their season, thanks be to the merciful ordinance that metes out sorrow and peace, and longing and fulfill- ment, and rest after the storm. Take courage, say the happythe mes- sage of the sorrowful is harder to under- stand. The echoes come from afar, and reach beyond our ken. As the cry passes beyond us into the awful unknown, we feel that this is, perhaps, the voice in life that reaches beyond life itself. Their fires are out, their hearths are in ashes, but see, it was the sunlight that put out the flame. THE END. shall I say of my heroine? That sweet and generous soul, ripening by degrees, slow and credulous, not imbittered by the petty pains of life, faithful and tender and vibrating to many tones, is no uncommon type. Her name is one that I gave her long ago, but her real names are many, and are those of the friends whom we love. Church House was never rebuilt. At Dollys wish a row of model lodgings, with iron balconies, patent boilers, ventilators, and clothes hanging out to dry on every floor, have been erected on the site of the place where Lady Sarah lived; and so the kind womans dreams and helpful schemes have come true. We could not put back the old house, said Dolly, and we thought this would be the next best thing to do. The rooms are let Lit a somewhat cheaper rate than the crowded lodging-houses round about. Peo- ple, as a rule, dislike the periodical white- washing, and are fond of stuffing up the ventilators, but otherwise they are very well satisfied. Dolly did not receive many wedding pres- ents. Some time after her marriage Rhoda sent Dolly a diamond cross; it was that one that Frank Raban had given her many years before. She was abroad at the time, and for many years neither Rhoda nor Dolly met again. Mrs. Palmer used to write home ac- counts of Rhodas beauty and fashion from Ems and other watering-places where she used to spend her summers. The Admiral, who was still abroad, made it a special point, so Philippa declared, that she should spend her summers on the Con- tinent. One day Mrs. Raban was turning out some papers in a drawer in her husbands writing- table, when she came upon a packet of let- ters that she thought must belong to herself. They were written in a familiar writing that she knew at once, for it was Henleys. They were not addressed, and Dolly could not at first imagine how these letters had come there, nor when she had received them. As she looked she was still more bewildered. They were letters not unlike some that she had received, and yet they had entirely~ passed from her mind. Presently turning over a page, she read not her own name on the address, but that of Emma Penfold, and a sentence: It is best for your welfare that we should not meet again, wrote Henley. I am not a marrying man myselfcircum- stances render it impossible. May you be as happy in your new life. You will have an excellent husband, and one who What have you got there ? said Frank, who had come in. RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. Yotices of conspicuous Public Men, with characteristic Anecdotes illustrating their Peculiarities.Accounta of Congressional and other Duels, a d personal Col- lisions in Congress, including a Glance at Washing- ton Public Life during several Administrations. MORE ABOUT GAMBLING. MANY amusing stories were current at different times illustrative of the pe- culiar habits and customs of the people who procured a livelihood by playing upon the weaknesses and passions of the communi- ties in which they resided, or, in other words, lived by their wits. In the old time this class of men came nearer social recognition than at the present day. I do not refer to the enforced association of the race-course, growing out of a community of pursuits and tastes not dissimilar. Blacklegs and gentle- men stand on the same plane, and meet on apparently equal terms, with betting books in their hands. Neither in this respect nor RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. 101 in the character of the transactions on the turf has there been any sensible change within the last third of a century. Gam- bling in every form is always demoraliz- ing, and those who habitually indulge in the practice get their notions of right and wrong much mixed up. On the race-course the outsiders used to be taken in and plun- dered by the knowing ones. Experienced turfmen were accustomed to laugh at the idea of a fair race. The result was known to a few favored ones in advance. This was the case in important races with hardly an exception. I heard the Napoleon of the turf as Colonel~Johnson, of Virginia, was termed, say, in a moment of exuberant con- viviality, that Bob Stockton was worth a clean ten thousand dollars a year to him. I never let him win a race, he continued, but he generally runs a good second, and hopes for better luck next time. Hes full of pluck, and is sure of winning on the next trjal. James Long, who was a joint owner with Colonel Johnson of the famous racer Boston, in a fit of extravagant frankness, the result of a drinking bout of unusual length; told an acquaintance in advance of the race that Fashion was to beat the old sorrel, that the thing was all arranged, and advised him to yiake up his betting book accordingly. This might have been the mere vagary of a drunken man, or he might unwittingly have revealed a secret intended to be confined to a limited number of sharpers. Long was the principal proprietor of the well-known gain- bling-house on the corner of Sixth Street and the Avenue; where Thaddeus Stevens and Franklin Pierce sometimes risked their mon- ey. The great turfinen act upon this plan at the present day, and a similar device is adopted by experts in every species of gam- bling. The brokers of Wall and Broad streets would grow rich but slowly if th6ir operations were confined to fleecing each other. The country speculators are their natural prey, and the losses of the scores who fall victims to their artful represen- tations, if small individually,~ constitute a large sum in the aggregate. The Washington gambling-houses have never been supported to any considerable extent by the resi4ent population. Mem- bers of Congress, particularly from the South, Southwest, and West, were the lar- gest contributors to the incomEs of the sporting men: Contractors and Indian trad- ers were generally bold and sometimes des- perate players. Members of the House fre- quently staked their mileage and per diem at the faro-table, and they played all sorts of round games, short cards, as they were called, in the club rooms. Probably the amount risked would not constitute what is termed high play in these days, but the losses of these men of limited means were often sufficient to keep them impoverished and embarrassed during their entire Con- gressional service. Some men played for excitement chiefly, not caring much wheth- er they won or lost. Thaddeus Stevens was one of this description. He was like Fox, who described winning at hazard as the greatest pleasure in life, and losing at the same game as the next greatest. Stevens lost and won with the same apparent indif- ference. He played with consummate cool- ness, never lost his temper, and never in- creased the amount of his bet either to re- trieve his losses or more rapidly to increase his winnings. His sarcastic remarks upon the discomposure of his fellow-players, who sometimes exclaimed with rage and profan- ity at their ill luck, were always witty as well as cutting. While they were eating and drinking with the voracity of c~mo- rants, he never indulged in any thing more stimulating than a cracker and a sip of wa- ter. The contrast between his coolness and apparent apathy and the eager, fierce excite- ment of others sitting at the same table and engaged in the same pursuit was amazing. I have rarely seen a more pitiable and pain- ful exhibition than was often presented by the ungoverned passions of a gamester after a run of ill luck. To Mr. Stevens such dis- plays of weakness seemed to afford amuse- ment rather than to excite sympathy or com- passion. He was a hard, cynical man, capa- ble of acts of benevoleni~e under strong emo- tion, but gentleness or tenderness was not his ordinary mood. He threw off more good things in conversation without effort than any man I ever saw, and his sayings were pointed with a degree of epigrammatic force that I never witnessed in any other man. I am surprised that a biography of Mr. Stevens should not ere this have been pre- pared by a competent hand. Hundreds of greatly inferior men have had their lives written up and published, notwithstanding their obscurity and the uneventful nature of their careers. Mr. Stevens was a most dextrous and effective controversial de- bater. He was never seen at his best in Congress. In the Constitutional Conven- tion of Pennsylvania in 1836, and subse- quently in the Legislature, he distinguished himself beyond all his contemporaries in that capacity. Self-possessed, conscious of his strength, and rather aggressive in his dispo- sition, he defied all comers, and was in a perpetual contest, never finding his match in a personal discussion. - There was a story current at Washington in the closing year of Mr. Tylers administra- tion which created some merriment among those acquainted with the parties to the af- fair. A well-known gambler, who had a faro-bank on Pennsylvania Avenue, opened a place of business at the White Sulphur Springs, in Virginia. The wife of the gam- bler was a well-connected woman & f Wash 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ington, of good character, of fine culture, mode, undoubtedly tends to great demoral- and considerable social experience. The so- ization. Men of the highest repute and of ciety at the White Sulphur was inclined to the nicest sense of honor get their notions exclusiveness, and while the gentlemen asso- of right and wrong sadly confused nuder ciated freely with the gambler, lost their the temptations of the race-course. A more money at his table, partook of his hospi- chivalric, high-toned, and gallant gentleman tality without scruple or hesitation, and rec- than General Jackson did not live among oguized him on all occasions, his wife was his contemporaries. And yet a story was cut dead by the ladies in public and private. current in Tennessee some fifty years ago She had an elegant establishment, drove a whether true or false I am not able to say beautiful pair of ponies in a stylish phaeton, which goes to show that even he was dressed more richly and iu better taste than shrewdly suspected of playing his game any other, lady at the Springs, wore more with the advantages, in the dainty phrase- costly jewels, and really bore herself in a ology of sporting men. The story ran in this proper and becoming manner. But all this wise: had no effect upon the aristocratic ladies The general became discontented with a who composed a large portion of the visitors mulatto boy, who had been his favorite rid- at the Springs, except that, being annoyed er, and sold him to a neighbor, who was his by her superior display, they manifested great rival on the turf. The boy was to their vexation by loftier airs and a more rig- ride in a very important race against a fa- orons enforcement of the exclusion to which vorite horse of the generals. Jackson had they had subjected her at the outset. She a heavy bet pending on the race, and he was lived in a condition of isolation and solitude overheard remonstrating with his la~te rider. as utter as if she had been on a desert island, You blaek rascal, mind what you are about. and this at a fashionable and well-attended None of your old tricks with me. If I catch watering-place. As the season approached you squirting your tobacco juice in my boys the close, and the visitors were about to dis- eyes Ill cut your heart out ! perse, the lady determined to free her mind, This may have been a pure fabrication; and at the same time acquaint her censors but if sharp practice on the turf had not with her view of the situation. One fine been the rule rather than the exception, an morning, when most of the ladies were as- anecdote of this description could not have sembled in the parlor, she appeared among obtained currency as applied to General them, much to their astonishment. With Jackson. perfect composure, and the air of a well-bred I have quoted it not as reflecting any woman, she addressed them substantially as discredit upon a man who stood above re- follows: Ladies, we have been here in the proach among his neighbors, but as indica- same house most of us for more than two ting the general moral tone which prevailed months, and not a word has been addressed among turfmen half a century ago. Whether to me by one of you during that time. I am there has been any great improvement in as well born, as well educated, as well be- that regard since that time I shall not un- haved, an~ of as good character as any lady dertake to decide. That the tendency of among you. Not a syllable has ever been gaming of all kinds is to lower the tone heard derogatory to my reputation, and yet of public morals is a proposition that few you have treated me with less consideration reflecting men will be inclined to dispute. than if I had been one of your negro slaves. The pretense that the main purpose of gain- You have passed me with a supercilious toss bling is a pleasurable wholesome excite- of the head, as though there was contamina- ment, irrespective of the pecuniary conse- tion in my touch. The cause of this arro- quences of the practice, is too absurd to be gance and insolence is obvious enough. You maintained for a moment. The love of gain refuse to recognize me because my husband lies at the foundation of all gaming, and is a gambler. That such is his profession I every other consideration is subordinated to avow without hesitation. But what of that? that overmastering passion. Your husbands are all gamblers. They risk their money at his table. They are on one THE MEXICAN COMMISSION. side of that table, and he on the other. You The commission to settle the claims of can not make a distinction between them on American citizens upon Mexico had many that ground. But that my husbands is the strange cases before it. The board was best side of the table is proved by .the fact composed of George Evans, Caleb Smith, that they lose and he wins the money bet on of Indiana, afterward Secretary of the late- the cards. nor under Mr. Lincoln, and Colonel Payne, The ladies looked at each other in amaze- of North Carolina. The claims were many ment. But, as one of them remarked after- in number, and enormous in amount. A ward, the arguments to refute the proposi- large portion of them were of undoubted tions of the gamblers wife did not seem to validity, and when supported by adequate occur to any of them. proof, were allowed without difficulty. Gambling on the turf or in any other Others were of doubtful character, and these RECOLLECTIONS OF AN OLD STAGER. 103 the commissioners subjected to the most rigid scrutiny. There was one that gave the board a great deal of trouble and per- plexity. The claimant was a Dr. Gardi- ner, originally of Philadelphia. He was a iuan of imposing appearance and tine ad- dress. He pressed his claim with a sort of audacity that excited some suspicion in the board. The whole thing proved to be a fraud in the end, and Gardiner committed suicide to avoid the earthly consequences of his crime. He had practiced dentistry in Mexico, but he had suffered no wrong from the government, nor had he been engaged in any enterprise there upon which to base a claim for indemnity. It was a great scheme of villainy, concocted with much ingenuity, and executed with a degree of boldness and address that set detection at defiance, as against the means ordinarily employed to ascertain the facts in such cases. The scene was laid in a remote and inac- cessible part of the country, where the man claimed to have had a productive silver mine, with mills, machinery, and all other necessary appliances for raising and smelt- ing the ore. He alleged that he was work- ing it at an immense profit, making sixty or seventy thousand dollars a year, when he was despoiled of his property, his works destroyed, and he driven out of the coun- try. He employed several eminent counsel, Thomas Corwin, afterward Secretary of the Treasury under Mr. Fillmore, being among the number. The case was made out per- fectly. In fact, the proofs were so ample and ~c~implete that the commissioners became suspicious of the verity of the evidence. They suspected simulation and forgery, and hesitated about acting finally upon it. The president of the board,~ Mr. Evans, was specially concerned and distrustful. When the counsel pointed to the mass of evidence by which the claim was supported, he in- sisted that that of itself was a suspicious circumstance. There was too much of it. A fraudulent claim was certain to be fully sustained. The work of fabrication once begun, the knaves engaged in it were more likely to overwork the case and provoke close scrutiny by the multiplicity of their proofs than to fail by their inadequacy. While the matter was before the board, I went with Mr. Evans to call upon the Presi- dent, General Taylor. He narrated the cir- cumstances to the President, and suggested that as the amount was so largethe sum demanded being nearly half a million of dol- larsa person should be sent toMexico to as- certain the facts. He said an investigation would probably ascertain that Gardiner had no claim whatever; that as the case then stood the claim could not be rejected. An award to a large amount must be made ; and if it should prove to be fraudulent, it would damage the board essentially, and the ad- ministration would suffer from the scandal. General Taylor was reluctant to take the responsibility of acting upon the suggestion of Mr. Evans. He seemed to doubt his au- thority in the premises, and advised an ap- plication to Congress. The result was that nothing was done, and an award was finally made in favor of Gardiner, and he drew from the treasury the sum of nearly four hundred thousand dollars. When the fraud was dis- covered there was a great deal of public clamor, and allegations of connivance and complicity were bruited about, involving several prominent men. But no evidence ever appeared tending to prove that Gar- diner had any accomplices in his stupen- dous scheme of villainy. There was a degree of form and ceremony about the organization of the board, which was endeavored to be carried out in the pro- ceedings, altogether distasteful to the com- missioners, who were practical, sensible men, with no nonsense about them. There was a secretary, a clerk, and two messengers, and these understrappers had contrived to sur- round the board with a sort of solemn dig- nity, the refiox of which they expected to enjoy themselves in an enhanced degree of obsequiousness and servility on the part of claimants. This thing was carried so far as to provoke some merriment among gentle- men visiting the commission, and in the board also. A newspaper correspondent, on intimate terms with the gentlemen compos- ing the board, determined to shock the sen- sitive nerves of the subordinates who had formed such an exaggerated estimate of the dignity and consequence of the concern. Calling in at the antechamber, he desired one of the messengers to inquire whether the board was specially engaged. The negro made the inquiry, and informed the gentle- man that the honorable commissioners were considering a case, but they would receive any communication which Mr. might wish to make. Entering the presence, he asked if the board was prepared to enter- tain a proposition which he desired to offer. The secretary and clerk opened their eyes in amazement, confounded by his presump- tion. The president courteously replied that the board was considering an important case, but would hear any thing which the gentleman might have to propose. I move, said he, that the board ad- journ, and go around to Potters and take a drink. Carried unanimously, replied the presi- dent, and the sitting was closed for the day. THE MASON FAMILY. A gentleman who is recognized as a high- ly respectable member of Congress some th