IIARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCCXXV.JUNE, 1~77.Yoi~. IV. CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. IN considering the present state of the fine arts in Gernianv, we find that while, of course, art has always l)een guided there by the organic laws which underlie all true art among the Germans as with other people, certain conditions have attended it quite (listiuct from any thing in the past or l)resent history of art in either England or France. Excepting architecture nnd house- 1101(1 art, which were developed over the greater part of Europe al)ollt the sante time, after tile Dark Ages began to yiuld to the dawning light of tile Renaissance, the arts received little attention in the two nations on citiler si(le tile Channel, for they were too busily engaged in consolidating the races and provinces of which they are composed into two great kingdoms to attend to tite amenities of civilization; an(I in each, when these objects had been accomplished, it was literatnre which first asserted itself rather than art. Foreign artists were called in from abroad to decorate the halls and pal- aces of Francis I. or Henry VIII.; and as late even as the time of Charles I. an(l Louis XIV. The example of these foreign artists, Celhini, Rubens, Holbein, Vandyck, finally had its natural results, and a desire to give expres- sion to the national tastes and emotions in art forms gradually awoke in the hearts of both these races. But it was not until the present century that either iteople produced SENt niscoymiamNe WALLENSTEIN hEAD [itt OTY] Entered acrordiar to Act of Congress, in the year 1S77, by harper and Brotberi~, 1mm thc Office of the Libra- rian of Concress, at Washington. voL. LYNo. S25.1 2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. their best art, cx l)hael, arni Michael cepting possibly in Angelo, and other the case of Poussin, Italian masters Claude Lorraine, these early German Gainshorough, and artists at least mdi- Sir Joshua Reynolds. cated equal or immore And when the great vivid imagination, English and French and as deep an ear- schools finally made nestness in time pur- themselves felt, it suit of art. As early was hi London and, us 1360 we had the Paris that they took school of William up their head-quar- of Cologne and the ters naturally, and Snabian school of without any rival Uhn exerting a pow- schools in other cit- erful influence. Art ies of either king- schools sprung up in domn;aud so it has all parts of Germany, continnud to the and the iteriod of present day. What- the Reformation, the everart schools may most magnificent art have sprung tip in period of Italy, was iting more or less also time most note- other cities exhib- ~ / worthy among the promise, it to Lou- . German statcsqf any don and Paris that ~mLIIELM VON KAuLnAcim. . that has preeeled ~ve look at0mce in this century~ Hol order t& form ~n idea of the natiommal art. hem the elder was followed by such men as There the governmm~eut sc~els are establish- Hans Holbein the younger, Aldegrever, and ed, there the royal pafrettige is bestowed, Albrecht Diirera genius not inferior in there the great annual exhibitions are head, versatility to~Leonardo da Vinci. At this and thither flockthe great army of artists, period, too, wood-engiaving in Germummy was buyers, and amateurs who su~tain and en- cam-ned to a degree scarcely. exceeded at the courage the growth of Eminglish and French present day, as, for example, in the engrav- comitemporary art. j .. ing of Ditrers St. Jerome ammd the Lien, Bu1~ in Germany ft is quite otherwise. while this art was also brought in to point There is a strong~analog~ between the art a satire or a moral, as in The DAnce, of nianifestatiops, as ~mm~the pojlitical conditions, Death. . of Germanyand It~aIy for the last six cen- Altlmough,with the reaction following this tunes. Both were long divided into nu- period of enormuous intellectual eu~rgy and merous small bodies, governed each in its the Thirty Years War, succeeded by the War own way, and presenting a political and in- of the Succession amid the Seven Years War, tellectumd activity entirely individual and art languished in Germany, it never entire- distinct, and often full of fl~ry energy, while ly died out as an active principle in the flu- possessing in common certain genimral race tiopal character. In the last century time qualities. It has fallen to the lot of each rise of the great composers made it essen- to be united at last, in the latter half of the tially the musical ~ra for Germany at least; nineteenth century, underone general tie- bnt still we observe Amigelii~a Kauffmmmau gemomly. During 7a11 these ages l~be sepa- painting with considerable ability, and rate states of both Italy and Germ~ny have Wiitckelnmanmm writing his masterly ~vork on never entirely lost their individual charac- antique art, follo,~~ed by Lessing atud Goethe tenistics or the national energy, which in composing works bearing on the art qiies- some cases has been continued, especially tion. in the latter, with an ever-increasing glow, Thitis we fluid that at the time when En- that only serves to give greater strength gush and Fren~h art were just coming forth to the empire composed of these different fresh auud foIl of the vigor of youth, Ger- parts welded together in a solid and weighty many had already produced a great school mass. But it is to be noted that as in the of artists centuries before, and it could there- republics and monarchies of Italy in the fore be hardly expected of her, imi the nata- Reimaissance each had an art school of its ml coumrse of events, to keep pace in art with own, so in Germany the developainent of po- these great rising schools, especially since hitical and imitellectuial energy in the free upon each was concentrated tine patronage cities was accompanied by a strong art im- of a poiverfiul and tinited government. pulse. If they did not always show the same But notwithstandimng this, the literary magnificent eye for color, time samne mansterly and scientific impuilse which found a focuis drawimig of the humnami form, as Titian, Ra- at Weimmmar, but was scattered more or less CONTEMPORARy ART IN GERMANY. 3 throughout the states of Germany, was ac- tion too often froni the styles of schools coinpained by a revival of the art feeling, moved by different tastes and opinions and which, as we all know, was chiefly devel- heliets from our own age rather than from oped. at Dusseldorf, Berlin, amid especially the study of nature itself as it appears to Munich, t the latter place nuder the an our eyes in our time, were still impelled by Spice~ of Ludwig I., the late king, the most a true art enthmmisiasni ammil noble aspirations. entinusia tic royal patron art has met since Nething low or demoralizing entered into IiocKL1E1M~.[eRuTzNm.J Loreazo de Medici. Whatever may now he the conceptions of these seekers after the thought l)y some critics of the sculptures ideal. And while we may prefer the style of Schwanthaler, or the frescoes and~ can- and treatment of the contemporary schools vases of Overbeck, Hess, Schnorr, Corneli- of German art, we can not in justice with- us, or Kanihach, it can not be gainsaid that hold from these masters the profound re- they were men of great power, who, if too spect due to earnest pioneers, withont whose convention. I, an(l borrowing their inspira- I previous clearing of the road modern Ger 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. man art would not have reached its Present coimnanding position. in looking over the field, we find several distinct SChOOlS of art still existing in Germany, as in for- mer.ages. In no one place, as yet, is there a concentration of the national art col- ture; for althongh an empire, Germnammy is also a confederation of states, each still preserximmg its mdi- vidnality. To an American it is inter- esting to study this phase of Germanic art, becanse it is likely that, as at preseilt, so in the im mediate future, the developmemmt of the art spirit in the Unit- ed States will be rather by States than na- tional. Thus we see, besides the system of art education in the public schools for the purpose of stinmnlating industrial art, art schools or academies and galleries, supported by government patronage, at Carlsrohe, Dils- seldorf, Stuttgart, Dresden, Berlin, Munich, and Vienna, which, although not yet in- cluded in the German Empire, is essential- ly German, and is so treated in all except merely political relations. The nnion of time old Anstrian duelmy to the German Empire is considered omme of those natural events which must come as a matter of course, be- ing only a question of time. For obvious reasons, the Munich school has been and continnes to be not only the most famous, but the best of these schools in the quality of its art. In no other city in Enrope, not even excepting Paris, is the art impulse so clearly manifest, although the greater size of Paris, and the longer period that art has been accumulating there as spoils of war and in other ways, present such a vast mass of material that one is dazzled by the mag- nificence of the display. Bat although on a much smaller scale, there is enough of the art of time Imast ages collected an(l arranged in Munich to satisfy the most craving art appetite, while the number of artists liv- ing, studying, and painting thereover two thousandexceeds, in proportion to the pop- ulation,the art guilds of ally other city. One meets them at every tnrn, often pictnresqne enough in their appearance,with black beards and keen eyes, everlastingly puffing the rev- erie-inspiring cigar, and almost extimiguislmed nader slouched hats well-nigh as emmormnons as the sombrero of tlmeAdelammtmal& ofthe Seven Cities. Irom time to time they give a great ball iii the Opera-honse. Tile omme at the carni- val of last year was a magnificent affair. The costumes were mill of the thirteenth an(l fourteenth cen- turies, and in sonic cases cost over a thousand dollars. For three months before it caine off, time managers were busy sui~merimmtemiding time arrangeuments. Tile person repre- senting tIme Turkish emllbassador came in with a retinue of forty, all nuagnifi- celltly attired. Fritz Kaulbach. appeared as Charles V., with a lady on his arm as the queen. Young Arnim, a brother of Count von Arnimn, aml(l a pupil of Piloty, was conspicuous in the gorgeous robes of a cardinal. The Knntsverein is aim art union composed of artists in Munich. They have a comnmno- dious gallery, to which every week they sen(1 specimens of their latest work. By attemmd- lug these exhibitions one can forum a toler- able idea of what art is doimmg in Mmnmich, although some of time best artists rarely seimd to then~. At the close of time week the paintimugs are sent to some other city for exhibition, and a new collectiomi takes its place. Time union purchases a certaiim number of tlmese works, when not excee(liilg fifteen hmmdred umarks in price. Aimy one is permitted to become a subscriber on paying twenty marks. At the emmd of the year time paintings are raffled for, and thus fall to the lot of somne of time subscribers, while every one receives an engraving worth ten marks. Besides furimishming time artists with so mammy examples of the schools of other ages, the Bavariami governnmemmt also supports aim Art Academy, in which twelve professors give instruction, three for each departmemmt of art, amid each having a school of Imis own. Piloty, Dietz, Limmdeumsclmmidt, aimd other lea(himmg artists hold these professorshmips, with liberal salaries, and assisted by a imum- her of subordinate imistructors who attend to time rudimnental branches of art. Time Academy is located in a vast aim tiqmie pile wimich was occimluied as a monastery until this century. But as it is hiotim gloomimy amid incomumodious, the govermmmmmemmt is 110W erect- in(r a mmew Acadeimmy mmear time Sieges Tlmor, at KARL TliOi)Eii vo~ rmmoTY. CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 5 an estimate(l cost of two million floriiis; it ic training in that little Bavarian cal)ital, is to be conll)lete(1 in 1878. The expense to while Iliany of the best artists now working the students studying and occupying stu- there are foreigners, or at least from all (lios in the Academy is merely nominal. i parts of Germnauy. Bavarian, Prussian, There are no annual exhibitions, as in Paris Austrian, Suabian, Italian, Greek, Hungari and London, but generally one is held once an, Russian, Pole, Norwegian, Englishman, in tbree or four years. and American there meet on a common Wbat is an(l has for a long time been a ground, burying l)ohitical or national difkr- leading trait of the Munich Academy, is its ences, all ummited by a general emulation for cosmopolitan character. Art has no coun- success toward a common end. Time civil- try, it is universal, nobly said King Luid ized and art worl(l owes a debt of gratitude ~vig. Jim consequence, every encouragement to King Ludwig which should temper what- has been held omit to iimduce artists from ever criticisms might be passed upon the abroad to study or settle in that city. TIme character or policy of the Bavarian line. natural result is that many aui artist, like When we look at the results of this mmimmifl- Mnncazky, for example, who has made Imis cent patronage, we find a vast art activity reputation elsewhere has receive(l his artist (leveloled here dumrimmg halt a cemmtnrv, pn~ JJUsn-mmANeEmLs. [F. I)LETZ.] (3 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ceediug from one step to another in progress ,~ his fame and influence early; but so rapidly until froni extreme conveitionalisai a point has German art ripened of late years that lie in the scale of improvement is reached at has lived to see the sceptre pass from his last k)y a thoroughly easy and natural proc- hand. Such is the fate of all reformers. ess, where we find the contemporary school The genius which entitles theni to our yen- ofMnnich, and we may add also of Germany, eration, and increases the worlds stock of holding the foremost position in European culture and progress, so tends to educate the art at the conunenceummemut of the last quarter rising.generation tlmatthe very efforts which of time nineteenth cemutnry. Kaulbach, who placed them on so high a poimit aid to carry has jmmst passed away, is the Germuan artist their pupils still higher amid beyond theum. of this cemitury perhaps the best kno~vmi We can not, however, ascribe to Piloty orig- abroad. Less convemitional than his ~rede- immal powers equal to those of Kamilbacim or of cessors, he undoubtedly possessed a vast sonie of the rising school. But there is sonic gemiius; amid yet lie was weak in color. How graiid work, notwithstandimmg, in a colossal few can excel iii all the art qualities! Ru- painting which he is now executimug for the bemus, equally great in imagination, drawing, new Rathhaus, or City Hall, of Munich, for color, aimd technique, presents an exaniple so which lie is to receive 50,000 for insa large entirely aloiie iii the combination of miiany suma for Gerumany. It is an allegorical rep- (luahities that we feel how rare it is to excel resentation of time city, and comutaimus por- imi all. The works of Kaulbach would be traits of all her citizemus (histimigumishied in her ulumite as iuiih)ressive if rendered siamply in past history. It seems thins far to couitaimi black amid white. Piloty, another artist well more of his good qualities amid less of time kno~vn abroad, at least by reputation, comes fault8 of his other works. He is paimutimig later; he is still in the primiue of life, and in this scene in Kmuulbaclms forumier studio, be- his miianmier serves to mark another stel) in cause his own studio, although a hall thirty- tIme mudvamucing scale of German art. He was five feet square, is not of sufficient length for a l)mlpil of Paul Delarochie, and is aim entha- a canvas that seems over forty feet long. siastic admirer of his master. Hence we Professor A. MUller aui(l Otto Sietz are artists fluid comustamit traces iii his works of time mas- deserving honorable memition in a style of ter, who was, it must be confessed, the supe- color and treatment simmuilar to that of Pihoty, nor of the pupil. In even the best works that is, as holding a position between the of Piloty, ~vho is pre-erninently a historical school imummediately precedimug and that now hiniuiter, there is often perceptible a certaimi coining on the field. Of landscapists still theatrical, stagy effect in the conipositioum painting iii that style amid well kmuown in which takes away from its naturalness. His Anmerica there is a good number, including Colummimbus otlemids very strongly in this also aniiiial painters of comusiderable merit, respect; Thusnelda at the Triumph of as, for example, Voltz amid Paul Weber. But Gerumuanicus, his most ambitious work, is I there is a gemmeral samemmess iii their manner, l)erhaps umore satisfactory; while Semui dis- a lack of character and individuality, pret- coveriuug Wallenstein dead is more simple, j tiness rather than streuigth, and convention- amid is undoubtedly a work of great power ahismim in tone and color, althmoumgh ofteum although open to criticism in details amid conibimmed with real poetic feehimig. - To this color. Time figure of Seni is very imimpressive. schiool we are imidebted for several hundred An interestimug incideiit in commiiection with repetitious of views on the Kimnigs-see-a the comimpositiomi of this paintimug is told. For wild roniantic lake kumown to most travel- several (lays the artist had beeii emudeavorimug hers in Gerumauuy. Buit oime may have too to arraui ge the drapery about the corpse of nmucim evemi of the K5mmigs-see, and time essen- tIme (lead hero, withiomit suuitimug himself. At I timml weakumess of this class of paintings be- last it was adj misted sonmewhat to his liking, counes apparemut wlieu seen by the side of amid hue begaum to sketch it imi, when a knock works of the umew school of art iii Mumnichi. was heard at the door. It was Kimug Lud- Let us be juist. We would not say there is ~vi(~ who ~vas in the habit of walkiuug about I not umuch talemut evideimt in these paintings; tIme city aumd the studios as a private citizen. but it is talemut rather than genius, conven- Being a little (leaf, lie did not hear the re- tioumahism rather thian originality; amud while ummomistramuces of the artist, aimd ruthlessly the Munich school was producimug omily such walked iuuto the newly adjuisted drapery, works, it comuld not comiscientiously claimim an thirowimug it imuto disorder. Of course nothi- equmal place with time great landscapes amid imug could be said, but after lie heft, Pihoty I figure pieces of time French school even of huegan to swear amid pumhi his hair with vexa- time last twenty years. tion. Simuldenly lie looked around, amid be- It is a curious circumstance that by a lucid apparent a new fold iii tIme (hisor(lered species of tacit comnuon comuselut so mimany of drapery. whichm was exactly what lie ~vammted. time pupils (if Pihoty huimiuschf should have Sittiuug dowum at once, lie sk~tclmed it oum time broken loose fromui his influmemuce even while canvas in time shape in which it is now seen studying under hiuim, and, as if umucomusciously imi time finished painting. I moved by a certain law, formed a style so Piloty has founded a school; he achievel, differemut froni his own. Time chief points CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 7 of distinction which separate contemporary But although so far resembling the French German art from its predecessors seem to be school, there is no reason to believe that the result, to a remarkable degree, of a very the I)reseut Munich school is an inmitator of careful study of certain masters of the Dutch, that; for iu the choice of snbjects it is alto- Flemish, and German artists of the Renais- gether at variance with it, and the lead- sance l)eriod on the part of a few men who I ers in the new movement have never stud- brought to the study a new way of using ied in France, and have generally not been tlmeir powers of observation, and in tmmrmm in- out ot Gerumany. Time causes seemmi rather fluenced other artists of their own age. It to be as foreshadowed on a previous page. is, beyond question, to this cause that we Leibl is one of the originators of time new immust attribute the tnrn given to French art school, and in the rendering of sonme of its at the time ~vhen it began to yield to the chief~points Imas no superior. The texture of influence of Troyon and Rousseau. Rulmens, flesh, the myriad delicate pearly grays aii(l Rembrandt, Rmmysdael, Franz Hals, Ald egre- I)imiks, ammd snbtle lines of light and shadow ver, Diirer, although dead ages ago, still iim- playing on tlme imurnan countenaimee or in tlnence art, and have proved to the greatest the muscles and sinews of the lmmmnd, amid in- artists of this century what Homer ammd Time- dicatimig elmaracter, lie seizes within miniasterly ocritus, Daiite aiid Spenser, imave beemn to skill. Amm artist wino introduces such study iiiodermm poetsmiot sources of iiispiratiou, of nature amid sucii mmiethods of umnitatimig it for no man of gemnius gains his imispiration. imito art practice is really great even if de- except directly from nature, but teachers, ficient in mamiy other respects. un order to (lirectors hi art methods, and, above all, in- understand tine iniportance of the reforinus structors in time great truth that siniphicity imitroduced by Leibi and his co-laborers in is a prommuneinnt characteristic of the highest time field, one has but to visit time miew Pi- art, wimether in letters or in paintiiig, amid nakotumek, or gallery, binmilt entirely for time that in the expression of time ideal itself permmiamneinnt receptiomi of tine so-called New timere is no model superior to miature. The School of Paintiiig, that is, of represeiitative leading characteristics of time ne~v German works produced by leading Miminmicim artists scimool seenm to be, therefore, greater breadth since the foiimndatiomi of time Acadeumy. The in the treatmemit of detminils, preferriiig gemm- rapidity of the chamige is so great as almost eral effect to excellence in parts of a work, to exceed belief. Piloty amind Kaulbachi, al- greater boldiness amid (lash, amnd consequent- thmonigim represented by their fiminest works, ly more freshninness in time haindling of pig- seenmi already of time past, amid they are giamits inemnts, the suggestion of textume and sub- compared within somne whose works are there. stance by masses of paint, aimd the touch of The contrast is still more marked on turin- the briinsim imi accordance with the nature of ing to paimitiinigs by Biickhin, of the later time object represented, and, finally, a more selmool. That we speak iii sucin terms is not correct eye mm perceiving tine relations of owing merely to time fact that the presemit colors to each otinerthe quality of subtle school is ninore new, and therefore prefera- tiints in flesh, for exannpiean(l therefore a ble. For the best painting in tine collection more just rel)resentatiou of time mysterious is Wilkies Opemnimig of the Will, painted unarniomnies of nature, while there is every some sixty years ago, amnd strangely imung where apparent a masterly skill in the in- in timat place. Simein reinderimig of character (himemitary branches of art. These have for or mutation of flesh-tints kills every tinimig long been the distimignishing traits of the aronmid it, and has not been approached by modern French scimool, but they have only modern Gerinamin art until the present school recently begumin to attract atteimtion in unod- came in. Leibi revels mi painting time rough- erim Gernmany, and to those accustomed to featured, roughly clad Binmmmers or l)easants of tine older school it requires a certain degree tine Bavarian hammilets, and the results are of art education to perceive the excelling sometiumes qinmite amarvelous. He can also, quality of these methods. But connoisseurs if he so chooses, paimit tine delicate beauty or those who look at art in generah need to of a ladys hand with a truth to nature that umunderstand that no less than in literature throws emithunsiastic yoummg artists unto rapt- (hoes tIme ~sthetic taste require to be culti- mires. But lie does imot oftemi so choose. Aund vated. Some have at an early period a ca- this leads us rehuctamitly to say that time es- pacity to appreciate Shakspeare, but to most senitial coarseness of his character prevemits the growth of their appreciation of mini may Inim from beimig as great an artist as his abil- be taken as tine measure of their growth imin ities might (itlierwise have made mini. Tine imitehiectual culture and life experiemice. Of greatest artists combine with strength a cer- course in Gerunany as in France there are taiin refineimmeint, apparenit in thndir works if artists who carry the practice of timese art muot in their unamminers. Beauty in tine ordi- niethmods to an extreuine, once they become a mary seminse of time term lmas no attractiomns for fashion and jurofitable. But ~ve (10 mnot speak Leibl. Even ainni(hst time homnehy ummicouthin- here of extremisf s or disciples amid iimnita- ness of (Aermaim peasantry, hnandsome menu tors, but of masters wIno originate a style and comely nnaideiis are to be foumud. He annd demomnstrminte only its legitiummate results. seenis to go out of mis way to give us time HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. S most repulsive specimens of both sexes that very careful study of character, and in this he can find, respect, at least, reminds one of Velasquez, Lenbach is another artist, who, in a style although his treatment is more that of Rem- quite different from that of Leibi, is fully brandt. Lenbach is fortunately possessed his equal in technique; if not superior in of sufficient means to paint only what he ability, his canvases give ns more satisfac- pleases, and will not attempt the portrait tion. He chiefly devotes, himself to nor- of every one who applies. Having decided traiture, although sometimes making adnii- to paint a ~)ei~5oii, he is not satisfied with rable copies from the masters, and ideal corn- one pose, but makes a full oil sketch from positions, such as, for example, his young tbree or four different positions, nutil he herdsman lying on the grass on a sunny hits upon one that best represents the char- day, shading his eyes with his hand, or the acter or individuality of the subject. Thus three Orientals standing in a magnificent the results reached are quite marvelous. group on the brow of a bill. He makes a His portraits of You Moltke and Liszt nrc CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 9 strong examples among many that might lie alluded to; nor is he less successful in rendering the beauty or charactex of a wom- ans face. And he does not rest his efforts after art perfection here. He works evenings after effi~cts both chromatic and in chiaro- oscuro, especially by the use of a frame cov- ered with a thin black gauze. Behind this a person is placed in different positions, with the light, also behind the gauze, falling upon him; the effect is that of an oil-painting. His studio, built expressly for him in a gar- den, consists of three apartments, furiiislied with a profusion of antique and Oriental objects such as are dear to the eye of an artist, and which often re-appear in his paintings. Loeftz is another of the rising artists of Munich, one of whose paintings at the re- cent national exhibition carried off a first medal. Seven years ago he was a paper- hanger. Now he has a school for drawing, considered one of the best ever opened in Germany, and in color and portraiture or composition holds a very high position. Vic-. tor Muller, who died two or~three years ago, while still young, was an artist whose paint- ings are full of admirable qualities of color, I while reminding one of no other artist in style, quiet in effect, yet suggesting na- ture, while such paintings as Hamlet or Ophelia, entirely free from any thing the- atrical, show also that he had a real percep- tion and power of expressing the hidden springs of action which make us what we are. Fritz Kaulbach, a distant relation of the late artist, is also well deserving of praise. In some of his lovely female faces one can trace a genuine feeling after the i(leal. Lindenschmidt, a professor in the Academy, is an artist worthy far niore ex- tended notice in the rendering of character, especially in historic compositions. His scenes in the career of Luther are marked by singular power, as well as other paint- ings of his we might name. Rudolph Seitz, known chiefly in frescoes and decorative work, has a remarkable perception of the beauty of physical forms. When we come to Gabriel Max we find a genius to the analysis of whose masterly conceptions we should much prefer devot- ing an article instead of a few meagre par- agraphs. In respect of mental grasp and imagination, combined with admirable tech- nical ability, we should give the first place in the contemporary Munich school to Max and Bicklin. Artists and public are alike agreed upon the surpassing character of Maxs works, although, of course, some pre- fer one painting to another, while the rather morbid tendency of his subjects makes these paintings better suite(i, perhaps, to exhibi- tion in a public gallery than in a private (Irawin g-room. In disposition lie is retir- ing, and difficult of access to all but a few select friends, and rarely can any one be adumitted to his studio; but at the same time he is of a genial nature and of a social turn / ~. - I...- 1/ FRAzZ LEuBACH. when in company with his chosen friends. We can notice but two of his works, add- ing, however, that these do not wholly con- vey an idea of the variety of subjects which he has treated. The first, it is said, alle- gorically represents an incident from his own life. In the semi-twilight of an au- tumn evening we see a company assembled. under a wood, dancers and others, in the picturesque costume of medizival times. Lanterns light up the scene in the distance. In the foreground, alone amidst the gay dan- cers circling around him, is a young man leaning pensively against a tree. This is supposed to represent the artist himself. To him, on his right, advances a beaut~iul maiden leaning on the arm of another youth. Her face is one of entrancing loveliness: she is his betrothed. But in her hand she holds out to him a wild crocusa flower whose ineamiing, when given by. a lady to her lover, is that he can never more hope for her love. In the mean time, on this side of the tree, unseen by him, a lady approaches, with a veil over her head, but her features visible in profile. She is older than the other lady, but in her mien is dignity com- bined with grace and beauty. She is the lady who is destined eventually to become his wife. This painting, while admirable in the rendering of each individual charac- ter, is also of l)re-emninent artistic worth for the regard paid to the values, the quality of the texture and color, and its unity and har- mommy as a composition. b 10 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZiNE. The other paint- An empty locliet ilig is take 11 troiti hangs on her breast. Faust, and is enti A soher silliernatliral tied Gretchen. It liht shines 011 the rehireselits Margaret upper part of this Oil the nn)nlitaillsi(le silent form, gradual on Walpurgisnight. lv fading into gray Notliiug can he sim shadow. lInt the as a coniposi face it is whieb, aft- tioii, hut it is (hifti - er one has gaze(l cult to see how the long at the paint artist could have hg, continues to l)etter shlccee(le(l in rivet the eye, an(l 115 011 0111 haunts one forever. uvilir (~fl1V~15 a liloic (0111 Iii the eyes, which plete el)itolne of the 5eein not of earth. tragic life of the there is an expres wire, greatly in sion of silent horror lIrell, alill afflicted 1111(1 agolly l)eyohld child of destiny lan gun ge, nun loin whom Goethe has gled with it a ye chosen to symbolize l)roachful, pleading such a vast multi eXiloSt uulat on that tiiile whose pathetic (lilt of the ihinocen and mysterious fate o~nawu~ MIx. cy and happiness can not be explained (If luai(lehlhlood she by any hnman logic. A solitary figure she sliohlill have beeii torn to meet such a fate, appears, robed in white, auI(l still 80 repre and spend eteriiity f~r from the abodes of sented as to sliest a certain ghostly inupal the blessed, while on flue closed ashen lips paldeiuess. She stalills on the grass, scarce is depicted the resignation (If despair. The ly pressell by her pale feet. Behind her, exquisite color ot this masterly conception faintly discernilde in the gloom, are the is 5(1 in harmuony with flue design that no rocks, and nearer, raveis pecking at a (ha engraving or ~(h1otograph1 can (1(1 it justice. muond rino A white hand around her neck It is siIi(t to lie a favorite work with Max, conceals the moIle of her bloody execution, null we know ot 110 other livin artist be hInt it is sluggestell with awful vividness h)y silles Gebhardt, (If Berlin, who could up a faint crimson circle saturating the linen. lIroacli it. There is iuone who so well rep- Till IONS hRII)E.[G. MAX.] CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. ii resents the lines an(l aspects of the dead. The painting of which aii eligravilig is giv cii here, The Lioiis Bride, is from one of tlilaii(lS poemiis. It is perhaps opeii to crit icisia for its color in one or two ilarts, but is a very powerfol conipositioii, and well exhihits the great skill Max also possesses iii the drawing and painting of aiiinials. An engraving of this sceiie perhaps gives a hotter idea of his varieil i~wers than of ilost ot his othicr pailitiligs. Many will iloiibtlcss reineiiiher the cxqnisitely touch- ing coinposi tioii whi cli has recently hecoitie known in America through a l)liotogra phi taken troin it. A yonm i~ in i Chiristiaii unartr, has just lucen left to the ti crs in the areiia of the Colisenni I lit XX 11(1 hcasts are fhwii in g I bout her before teilimi o her to Ilieces, while a tiger rnsl 1(5 foithi w ithm open jaws froni time dcii. At tIns xxx Pd nininent Sillie pityiiig soul aiiii(hst the thimono ahove drops a flower fnrtively at hex fu t, as a sign flint oat it hc ist is there to offer imp a player aiid (11(11) ft ir for her as she iiieets hex doom. ~hit iii ha i helplessness, leans araniSt the ~x ill ~mid hooks imp to see who it is, xvoiideniiir thit thi(Te is aiiy one left in a cmiiel \v(iuhil t(u l)itx the hoiiely victim. This paimitino us by Gubniel iI\lax, one of the greatest iloets (it the ire, for his paintimigs are tragic poems dealimig with hmnnman (les tiny. We pass, by a nmatuiral tramusition, to the ycuiie paimiters of thue Mamuich school, and hiere xve find a large mmumiiiluer of very excel- lemut artists. Defregger has juisthy earmied a foremuiost position in c(umiipositiomms taken fioni peasauit life. Truithm to uiatare, adnii rable color, textuire, null chiaracter, all seem to he his in equmal pr(uporti(umis. After him niny lie niemitioned Gysis, a Greek, whose art hife has heemi entirely in Miuijichi. His e(dor seemns scarcely inferior to Decamps iii time which each horse and each rider is given reii(lerimig of Oriental scenes, whuihe his an lead omme to frel flint Meissomiier and I)e five famuuihiarity xxithm them has given hiiui taihle stih h have soiiiethi i mig to learn. reimmarkalde skill lix catchuiiig flue traits of Of auiimnah paluiters there are, besides Eastermi character. Ahhuert Keller amid Alois Dietz amill Ilramidt, a numinber xvorth extemid GaIb are also yomumig amen (if (leci(lell protiuise eli uhf ice we can alhmude to buif omie or txxo. in this h)rauuchi. Dietz, in tIme reiideriiig of Magmier is well kmmoxvn iii Anierica by phio genie xvithu lmorses amill lalmdscahie, holds a 1)0 togra~dis (if has Rluluiami Chiarilit Race. lIe sition entirely alomme, hmaviuig a style crisp has doime mmothmiimg silice to elimmal flint. Braif Ii aid Pull of freshness aiid originality, auud is uxmiequual, but 5(iuuietiuimes (lraxvs null limimits resoixihihiuig thmat (if nO otluer artist. He is cattle with great force aui(l truth to na very Ilidicuxlt to hilease, soumietimnes entirely tuire. Zilgel is still a yommiig mnan, like mauix- hirlintimig l)mit a fiiiishmed wtirk. As aim illums of those already uimeuitiOmmell, null will give trat(ir line rauuks xvithu Memizel, (if Berhimi, aiid tIme wlirld yet bottom thiiimrs flu in hue has al humus pmohlmmcell thuoxisanlls of drawimugs. This really hlliuie lie is not yet the eljuiah of has ~irlibnh)ly qmmickenell a iiieiimory amill lil) Jncl1umes, the lrouichnnan ; buit iii a j list reuu servatiomi muxtiurally strllmig, aiilh thimms, like doling of the valmmes, with a trmme feehluig for Tmurner amull several tither artists sirImilarly umatuire, lie hmollis aim excehleimt ramik. Ilodemi cluimstitmufed, line does riot hlehieimd wholly on nuhiller is a risium r artist whi(i is strhung i mi color strudies f(ir his coniposi tililis, and yet paimuthuig hattIe ~ceiies, e8h)ecially (if flue late to xx excel him iii givimig a foehiiig of mmatmure. war. lImit Ennui Adam is umuidouubtedhy till, Ihis horses coald only hue lhrnxvim by a umiamm ablest battle paimufer l)f flue present Gerummaim of gemmimus. Brnimdf is auiotlier hf these nuns schuluol. Pus xvhmo hiverxxhiehimm mis with flue won I tIm lit Iii hrundscape there are lexxer gluod nrfisfs tIme artistic xvork umoxx tuuniied omit iii Mimimichi. He is a Pole by hdrthi, mx Geriumami im nut ed umeafillil. This smmbjects are alxvays chmoseii frlumnm thue stehipes (if the hikraiiie on tIme Cmi mumen, xvild, deslilate, hiicfmiresquuely smuggest ixe. Time Cossacks if the Dliii, the gnu mit, uienx-omis, xviry, iiiaii yc(ilore(l sf1 1~ihsthiey s~iuir to rapiimo aid xvan these ire xxhiaf lie gixes us, either iii gr0ii~)5 lit thuree or fomur, or xxhiole squinlhnomis unanchuiuig acr(iss thie russet ocean like wastes l)verarchie(h by leadeim skies. NI) artist (if tue muge is his smipenilin iii flue tech uiical rohhmmireiuiei ts lIf hi is mm-f, whi lie tIme sh)ul it, ililhividumahfy, character, amill flume xvf hi FRANZ i)iiFlEGOEu. 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZ1~E. in Munich in proportion to the number in the artists considered him a dreamer, and other departments, but some of them are his works absurd. Now he ranks with the nien of genius. Lier and Mezgoly are de- first three or four living painters of Ocr- serving of far more than a passing allusion. many. The fact is that to a wonderful eye Thoma also shows eccentric ability, but for fbrm and color he adds an imagination has evidently been largely influenced by of extraor(linnry creative po~~r, m.d the Bockhn, who niight also be nearly as well sympathy with the hidden suggestions of classed with some of those previously no- nature of a Wordsworth or a Bryant, blend- ticed, such is his versatility and the nearly ed with the wild weirdness of Poe and the e(lual excellence lie achieves in alniost ev- startling mysteriousness of Coleridge or La cry subject he undertakes. He has been Motte-Iouqu6. Now be shall Paint you an painting for ninny years but for lonr was innigiunry Roman villa on a rocky ledge by neither understood nor appreciated. He the sea, which in long, gray, moaning surgen was. as it were, born before his time. Even beats against the cliff, and sweeps for ever- CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 13 more into the hollow caves. Above, against picted an idyllic episode froni Theocritus a sad evening sky, stands the lonely l)alace, a young shepherd, the size of life, playing snrronnded by foliage, amidst which are on his syrinx, and a wood-nymph concealed seen marble statnes, and on the extreme in the shrubbery behind listening to his edge of the low cliff a solemn row of dark, love song. The iiext scene he will give you Druid-like cypresses sway in the gale. The will be, portraye(l with immense strength, anly sign of homnan life is a tall, slender an anchorite on a narrow ledge half- way C yonng girl dral)e(l in black standing on the down the side of a trenmendons precipice beach, leaning against time cliff, with arms scantily clad in a goat-skin, kneeling before crossed on her breast, seemingly gazing for- a ru(le cross made of two l)onglIs bound to- bra on the sea, and musing on the tramisi gether imy a vine, and scourging his bare toriness of human affairs, an(l the desolation back with knotted cor(1s. Another scene which has left her there the last of her line. may be a young shepherdess lying the live- Then you turn from this canvas and see de- long (lay amidst Italian poppies an(l daisies, 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. while her flock are quietly nibbling the desprit, a sea-serpent copied from the one herbage at her side. Then you turn once ahove was presented to Biicklin. Then yon more to aze amazed on a niermaid ajid a shall have a windy antuma evening, the merman reposing on the oozy rocks of a setting sun striking a golden path across reet their limbs covered with trailing sea- the centre of the scene, a farm-house be- weed. She, leaniuio over the led~e toy- yond a ~ ~ in the foreoround en- ingly grasps. the neck of a sea-serpent mag- deavoring to throw his ri(ler, aiid, above, nificently painted; he is looking seaward the trees swaying with the surging blast of and blowing on a conch shell. Beyond, the an October storm. Or it is Pan piping to surges of the ra~ing, storm-beaten sea roll himself among the reeds on a rivers bank in from the far off eternity of ocean with that we see before us, in the golden age of a stern, savage power and a truth to nature which the poets sing. such as I have never seeu surpassed. At an Bicklin has also painted with success in artistic sor6e in Mnnich, among other j ax distemper, and rivals the Rossetti school in CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 15 their peculiar field works are ileserved- of archaic, faiitastic, ly praised Pu their realistic iitrealistn. spirit aitd grace. But forttittately lie The architecture of (loes not waste his Mtitiich seems l~~s- talents on mitch of jag front the ~everc that sort of work, iii Italian introduced which his success hy King Ludwig to serves rather to dis- the ornate style of play the more forci- Vienna. In woo(l bly the extraordi- engraving a decide(l nary and versatile ittiproventetit is no character of his gen- ticeable, not only in itis. He painted a Mtituich, htit iii other portrait of liiniself Gerittan flit centres. with a skeleton The Itard, cold, re standing hehind him pellittg style so lottg and directing his characteristic of Ger hand. At the sante man wood - engrav time, althotigh at ing is becoming utore last well known in ~fi~ flowing, attd Germany, and ac- suggestive of color~ knowledged to he allowing the ettgrav-. entitled to a very HANS MAKART. er better to express high position, Buck- his own feelinh iiv ha can ~robably never he, in the ordiitary the work. Heclit aitd Wailer are two of sense of the term, a popular artist, for it re- the best engravers now. in Miniich. (Illires a certain derree of art cultnre and a When we conte to a consideration of tlte niind that revels in the contemplation of other schools of contemporary German art, the ideal, to fully perceive his merits. He it ~iould be noted that most of them are is like certain poets whose works, although ofishtoots of tite Mnuich schools, especially celebrated far and wide, are caviare to the in tIm present phase of this work~ At View mass of readersRobert Browning, for ex- na we reach a s~cja1 atmosphier~resembhin~ atuple. But his influence on German art is that of Paris, and consequently, accorditrg luerceptible in various quarters. to the inevituhA~ laws which regulate art Eduard Griitzner is another of the very developmeitt,the~-e is a certaiti resentblance clever artists of the genre school of Munich. in the subjects chosen to thqse which distin- Like Chevilhiard, of Paris, he makes a spe- gtiish contetuporary French art. The lead- cialty of hittiiig off the human nature ing men there were calldd by the emperor which churchmen retain even after they from Muttich, and, doubtless without aiiy have doiined the cowl and cassock and for- deliberate intention pn- his part, they are: sworn the lusts of the flesh. He is very just the artistein Munich who reutiitd us acute in seizing certaiti expressions of the most of the French school. There is a Roy- countenance, and his satire is not too severe al Academy itt Vicitna, with a reguilar corps to impair the exquiisite sense of huntor con- of instructors, and much goQd ~rt will iii veyed in his graphic compositions. Bat he time be the result. Fetierbach and Makart, is stronger in dra~ving thait itt color. both Mtinich men by education, amtd si ihl We might go on to speak at lemigth of Sin- comparatively ~oumg, .nre among the prom-. dig, a coast painter, who ut akes one actually inent iitstrn.ctors. Fenerbachi remimtds otte hear the roar of the breakers as they chase somewhat of Cabanel in his style. His col- each other in tumnultuomis masses, and lash or is eool and quiet, but exqitisitely jttodu- the rocks with a power that may be felt as hated, althouigh sometimes he does hthtiself omie gazes on the canvas; or of the numer- inju~fice itt this respect, ttnd there is thue Otis aitd somnetintes excehheitt jualtiters of in- same admirable modelhtg and delicate yet tenors, with still-life, like Hepler, Meyer von effective totielt of the Frettch artist. Tlteir Gratz, and Friederich Keller; or of Heit- choice of subje~ts is also sotutewhat similar, a brilhi attt and dashing colorist, ~vho alt~iongh thue former occasiottally Inuitches gives us rococo stibjects, ladies and geittle- out ott intmnense canvases ~xithm a mutultitude tuteut of the Louis Qtiatorze days. Btit the of nude figures, as itt his Battle of the Autia- reader must go to Mtirtich amid see these zomus, whicit does not, however, show him at thiluigs for himself. Before leavimig it for his best. His Iphuigeitia at Auhis is a supe- Vienna, it should be observed that the kimt- nor composition, sinij)le, how in tone, htarnio- ([red arts of scmilptnre and architecture show niotis in color, and witlt geulimine pathos in the us little of note doing there at preseitt. Max attitude of thteunfortunate Iteroitme of poesy, Wittdmmiaitn, professor of the art, is (lotlbtless who, mneditatimtg on her approachtimig doom, the best sculptor now there, and some of his gazes off on the blue ~Egean, ~ huich looks 113 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. too beautiful ever to be the scene of such a although soiuetinies (lefective, the luagniti tragic (irama. Makart, a voun~ man with cent dash of his brush, the Veroneselike coalblack eyes and beard, and an Oriental splendor of his coloring, entitle hini to a cast of features, reminds us in SOIflC of his position among the first artists of the age. subjects an(l treatment of Henri Regnault. But while granting lujimi possessnum of the The gorgeous East has furnished him many rare (~ulality called genius, we as yet see no ;uhjects. He is unlonbtedly a man of very trace in his works of any thing that appeals great technical ability. There is a breadth to mans deeper nature, anul even while en of handling, a boldness, a self-reliant power thusiastic in his praise, feel an important in his paintings which command attention element lacking in his paintings, tlnut would and respect at once. One feels at a glance not he muisseul in l)roductions making less that he is in the presence of a master. The demands on our admiration. massiveness of his drawing and composition, Canon is a 1)ortrait 1)ainter who merits a lELLAU WOMEN Al fill FOUNI AIN.IMAIiAItV.] CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 17 much more extended notice: and the same recently ma(le for the table service of the may be said of Pettenkofer, one of the old- Emperor iraneis .Joseph ranks in glass-ware est and best known of the Vienna artists, with the best china-ware of S~vres or time who excels in genre, while Brunner hol(ls a Mintons. We have seen nothing in the goo(l position in landscape. conteml)orary ceramic art of Germany to Probably the first place in Germany must equal that of either England or France; hut line given to Vienna in architecture and the the terra cotta works of Anton Grassi at udustrial arts. It can not be said that a Munich are deserving of considerable praise, mew order of architecture has been invented and the same may be said of the mna~olica- mere. In the present style of building we ware of Fleischmnan at Nuremnberg. We mn:my see rather an adaptation of old styles, chiefly add that the royal institution for making Remmaissance, displaying lmixmiriomis richness stained glass imm Mmmnich has been closed. and ami employment of the caryatid which Both in methods and results it was fbund is beautiful, but may he carried to excess, to compare mmmmfavorahly with the stained especially when the commstrnctive priminciples glass of the Minldle Ages. of true architectural decoration are disre- The school at I)iisseldorf is probably bet- gar(lc(l. Semnpfer, the 1ea(l~mmg arcimitect of ter known in Amnerica than any other in Vienna, ranks ~vith Viollet-le-Duc, of Paris, Germany. T~venty-five years ago it was al- nn(1 Spiers and Street, of London. Exqui- reamly in its prime, and a numliner of its art- site as is much of the household art of Vi- istsunen of ability they were, toohad set- enna, it rarely imupresses oime like the vigor- tIed in the Urmited States, and p:mimnted some 0u5 carvimings of which so many wonderful of our historic scenes. Its celebrated gal- specimens have come (lown to our day from lery of paintimings Imas always given it imupor- Flanders or Nnremnberg or France, ev cmi far tance, and such men as Achenbach Imave back to the oakemi stalls aud cammopies of the given it digminity to this day. But it has choirs ammd tombs of time Middle Ain~es What been with regret tiinat art lovers have pr- living artist of this (lescription is tlinere who ceived tlmat con vemintionalisnin w~s stealiming (an be mnentioned by time side of Peter Viseb- into thinat art hold, ainind imupairiug the valmme or, whose shrine over time tomb (mf St. Sebald of the work even of some of its best artists eclipses all modern work of the kind? Bmit to that degree that it has imecomue at last a in glass-ware the Vieniinese artists can justly I by-word to say of an artist that line painted claim to have emimialed nmmd perhaps sur- imi the DUsseldorf style. A minmethoml wlmicim passed the rest of time world both in design may have real merit while fresh ammd orig- and execution. Lohmeycr and Co. employ inal becomnes convemintional when scores and artists of remarkable skill in design. A set hundreds of artists gradminally settle down to Vom,. LV. No. i25.2 mN A TuousArinD ANXIETIES. [in.. KNAUS.J 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. copying that style, thus showing that they In Carlsruhe is a Royal Academy, presided look at nature through the eyes of others, over by such men as Ferdinand Keller, a instead of realizing in their practice that genre painter, and Gude, who excels in vig- there are innumerable truths in nature, and orous representations of coast and sea. At that each artist should interpret those truths Stuttgart is also an Academy under govern- in his own handwriting. But the influence ment patronage. In that city there is also of Paris on the one hand, and of Munich on an art society, established for the purpose the other, has at last become perceptible of encouraging historical painting in Ger- there. Men of perhaps no greater powers many. It is open to all subscribers, and the than those they supersede are, however, sovereigns of the different states of the em- working in a truer manner, and the results pire are aunon g the number. Circulars are are sometimes admirable. Andreas Achen- sent annually to the artists invitiuug them to bach, great alike in landscape and coast enter works for competition. Those intend- scenes, is now growing old, and at the same ing to contribute send a color sketch to the time is so well known at home that we do superintending committee. If it is approved, not need more than to allude to him. Schimn- the larger painting follows, and is submit- leber, who paints the picturesque groups, ted to examination. Once a year an exhi- fishing boats, atnd sea-ports of the North Sea, bition is held, and certain paintings are is a rising artist well meriting great praise in purchased from the general fund, and then his department. He also etches his works in disposed of by lottery to the snbscribers. a superior manner. Normann, a Norwegian, At Berlin we find the most interesting art gives us the magnificent coast scenery of his school in Germany, after that of Munich native land with much vigor and freshness; valuable not only for what its artists are ~vhile Thicker, who is also a painter of coast now doing, but for the rich promise it holds amid landscape, is an artist whose tone and forth. Without in the least derogating from touch and resemblance to nature in his the just claims and merits of the Munich canvases place him among the foremost Academy, it appears to us, from the nature painters of the age in that line. Wilroider of the case, that the Berlin school must ere and Fahrbach are also strong in landscape; long equal it in the average quality of its and Mnndt, in the delineation of quiet, rums- art, and surpass it an a representative na- set autumn and winter landscapes, with tional school. For at Munich, through a leafless trees and admirable groups of cattle, gradual process, they seem to have reached rightly holds a very high position. In genre, full fruition according to the general laws which govern human affairs; the next change there must he toward a new order of things. At Berlin, on the other hand, that art process is now going on toward its legitimate results, while the growing inupor- tance of Berlin, ten ding to make it the cen- tre of Germanic influences, will also as sure- ly attract the artists thither more and more until it becomes in turn the art capital of Germany, and, for a time at least, of the continent. Every attention is also be- stowed there to encourage art progress, and artists hold a social position there hardly yet granted to them in England, notwith- standing the traditional strictness with which rank distinctions are preserved 1mm Germany. This may be partly owing to the circumstance that several members of the royal family are practical artists, and that the Crown Princess herself conde- scends to exhibit works from her own hand in the art expositions. The Royal Acade- my has also been recently entirely reorgan mxuwme mArs. ized, and fnrnished with an able corps of professors, including also a chair of belleB among many, we can only allude to Vautier lettre8, and a system of biennial exhibi- as an artist well known in Germany for his tions has been established that will be of genius; and we might also speak of Knaus, great value as a stimulus to German art. hut he has just been called to the Royal The second one was opened 1876. These Academy at Berlin, which is some indica- exhibitions are opened in Augnst, and con- tion of the estimate placed on his powers by tinue until November, and gold medals are his countrymen. Oswald Achenbach also awarded to the most meritorious works shows strength in genre with landscape. offered in all the departments of art. 4 CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 19 Some artists of very great power are also 1 rather than with the niore subtle and per- now giving dignity to the Berlin school, and haps intellectual harmonies of quiet grays; the number is continually increasing. While each style has its merits, and to (leery one there is every where a distinct individuali- ty preserved among them in style and sub- ject, they are generally distinguished for a good perception of color, careful drawing, a study of nature, and an earnestness in a consideration of the true relations of art to society and the problems of human exist- ence which, on the one hand, enables theni to threaten French art with a powerful riv- alry in its strongest point, technical art, and, on the other hand, places them above the French school, and quite on a level with the best English art. Richter and Becker are both professors and fellows of the Royal Academy of Ber- lin, and are probably among the German artists best known in America, the former by chromos of his paintings, the latter by numerous works in private galleries. They are both men of very decided ability, sun- ilar in artistic traits, although generally handling different subjects. They deal chiefly with the dashing and more obvious effects of brilliant combinations of color, because it is not the other, is about as sensi- ble as to rail at Italian music because it is not German. It does not aim at the same effect; it appeals, perhaps, to a different au- dience, certainly to a different set of emo- tions; but it has its merits for all that. There is, however, sometimes perceptible what is termed a certain sweetness in the technique of both of these artists which is not quite so pleasing to the artistic eye of some as more vigorous treatment, and one soon cloys with their l)ictnres because of a certain sensuousness apparent in most of them. Of the two, Richter seems to us the abler artist; some of his portraits and stud- ies of Oriental character are very rich, aII(I of a nature to be more popular than are the works of some munch greater painters. Gussow, also a professor in the Academy, ranks high in portraiture, combined sonic- times with genre. His treatment and ren- dering of character are sometimes just, and in some respects admirable. But in almost all his faces there is a certain spot, a gloss, lb miEVERIL[QU5TAV RIOUTER.] ~2O HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. where the light strikes on the countenance, which he evidently considers a great beauty, for he contrives to bring it into every paint- ing of his we have seen. It is certainly pe- culiar to his works, and may perhaps be sometimes a beauty in nature; but as he represents it with a dab of crude white, it enables the observer to realize as never be- fore the questionable advantages of the pearl-powder so universally found on the toilet table of the ladies of the nineteenth century. Knaus, called from DUsseldorf to assume a chair in the Academy at Berlin, is natural- ly one of the ablest artists in Germany. In methods perhaps slightly behind some of the younger men of the German school, he is, notwithstanding, an artist of a very high order in genre. Older than Defregger, of Munich, it can not be said that the younger painter has surpassed the former in masterly representations of hu- man character. The humorous and the pa- thetic are alike treated by him. Take, for ex- ample, the every-day do- mestic scene, of which a cut is given on page 17, In a Thousand Anxie- ties, as one phase of his genius; another phase is well indicated by his wonderfully touching and poetic scene enti- tled, A Country Funer- al. But while Knaus may be said to have made a specialty of scenes taken from peas- ant life, he is also suc- cessful in other direc- tions. His Holy Family may be instanced as a very beautiful production. Menzel is another of the very able men who lend importance to the Berlin school. In black and white, aquarelle and oil-colors, he seems equally stron(r. His fancy and ima~ination are very vivid, and his facility in grouping masses of figures and seizing character is quite original and wonderful. He is also well known as aix illustrator. P4tssini is widely andj nstly celebrated as a consummate artist in water-color representations of Ital- ian life. Camphansen, A. von Werner, and Bleibtren are all artists of ability in gearc and figure painting. The latter, a professor in the Academy, has executed a very strik- ing representation of the meeting of Gener- als Von Moltke and Whimpfen discussing the terms of the surrender at Sedan. Span- genberg, also a professor in the Academy, is a man of serious aspirations, whose imagi- nation deals with the burden of life which oppresses so many, thoroughly Germanic in his mental character- istics, and also an admirable painter. His scene entitled Deaths Train is a work of singu- lar originality and power. On a deso- late moor, overhung by a gray sky, the procession is seen. In the foreground is the grim skeleton Death in a monks sombre garb. By his side walk chil- dren ofvarious ages, pathetic beauty in thefrinfantile faces. Behind follow the bride in her bridalveil,Kai- ser and peas- ant, maiden and matron, all classes and condi- tions, inys STATUE O~ FREDERIcK WILLIAM III.tWOLFF.] CONTEMPORARY ART IN GERMANY. 21 lically robed in the costume of the Middle man art to maintain for long the liOSition it Xires until t he long train gradually Jades is gaining in contemporary European art. iii the dius distance. Death rings a bell br We do not remember a representation of the lie next one to fall into the ranks, and a Last Supper which shows a more Th)\Ver- handsome youth in the foreground of the fuil realization of the vast anul conflicting secuic, hearing the inexorable suunmouus, tears emotions which shook the souls of those who himself away from his weeping bride; while I met together in that memorable hour in the on the other side of Death an aged woman, history of the human race. bereft of all that made earth dear, vainly In the sculpture department of the Berlin stretches out her withered arms, beseeching Acadeni y there is noticeable a mnimber of that she nmight he snummnoned instead. Von artists of ability, and in this (hirection 13cr- (iebhardt is another young painter of Ber- liii seemmis at present to lead the other Ocr- liii who has won extraordinary success in man schools. We can only allude to Begas, a similar direction, and if he continues as l)r~fessor in tIme Academy, lirunow, Hartzer, he has begun, will do much to enable Ger- Moser, Renseb, Siunmerimug, and WoIIL The F 0 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. latter, also a professor in the Academy, de- signed the magnificent bronze equestrian monument to Frederick William III., which has just been opened to public inspection. Architecture in Berlin offers nothing very striking; but the new Gymnasium, chiefly in red brick, indicates a step in the right (lireiction. If not after a new order, it is a very happy adaptation of old styles to mod- ern uses. It mnst be evident from this rapid survey of contemporary German art that it is enti- tled to very careful and respectful consider- ation, both on the pdrt of artists and ama- teurs. And in taking a retrospect of the whole question of contemporary art in Eu- rope, we are inclined to think that theFrench government, instead of offering a prize of five thousand francs for the best essay to show the causes which render contempora- ry French art pre-eminent beyond other schools of the day, might better have offered a prize to explain the causes which enable the art of Germany, five hundred years after she first produced an art school, to equal French art in technique, and to surpass it in the field of imagination and moral grandeur. A DREAM-LAND CITY. SOMETIMES the guarded gates Of the Unseen on outward hinges roll, Arid in deep dreams of night the troubled soul, In bright, brief vision, sees the glory of its goal. Some angel, watchful, kind, Stoops for the moment from his kindred band, Reaches, through veil of sleep, a pitying hand, And leads the Dreamer forth into a fairer land. Such boon to me was given. Thus to my sorrow came a sweet release; Sleeps magic touches gave to pain surcease; And forth my spirit passed into transcendent peace. A city beautiful Shone on my vision. Palaces of white And gleaming marble, in a noonday light, Glittered along wide streets with pearly pave- ments bright. Amaranth and asphodel Above each pillared door their blossoms hung; From every mansion mystic music rung, For Poesie was here the only voice and tongue. High in the citys midst Arose a Temple, as the sunset bright; Of flame-like splendor, dazzling to tile sight Arch, column, altar, glowed with an interior light. This is the shrine of Song, A voice beside me uttered. This her home, Her chosen dwelling. Hither none may comc But hdr beloved, her own. Fames worshipers are dumb. Forth from her temple flows Perpetual inspiration. Glorious themes Break on the vision in ecstatic gleams. Embodied here the bard beholds his rarest dreams. Hither the minstrels throng The masters wearing laurels centuries old, Bards who the harp-strings smote with fingers bold, And they whose softer lays with faltering lips were told. Nor they alone whose brows On earth the victors sparkling wreath have worn; These, too, whom Fate of eve~r bliss hatli shorn, Save of the matchless boonthat they were singers born. Even as he spoke there rolled From out that inner shrine a tide of song. Each outer voice the anthem bore along: The angel at my side responded full and strong. This is indeed my home ! I cried. Here every grief I may forget; Here even for me are peace and rapture met. My guide, in tender voice, replied, Not yet The dream was at an end; Yet in its light I walked through many days, Seeing no darkness in them, for my gaze, Illumined once, still burned with the celestial rays. Now, singing as I go, Little I heed, although the path is long. Light from above hath made my spirit strong. It is enough to be the humblest child of Song. And I will be content To love her for herself; with homage sweet To sing unheard, unanswered, at her feet, Till in some other life I make my song com plete. iS U

22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. latter, also a professor in the Academy, de- signed the magnificent bronze equestrian monument to Frederick William III., which has just been opened to public inspection. Architecture in Berlin offers nothing very striking; but the new Gymnasium, chiefly in red brick, indicates a step in the right (lireiction. If not after a new order, it is a very happy adaptation of old styles to mod- ern uses. It mnst be evident from this rapid survey of contemporary German art that it is enti- tled to very careful and respectful consider- ation, both on the pdrt of artists and ama- teurs. And in taking a retrospect of the whole question of contemporary art in Eu- rope, we are inclined to think that theFrench government, instead of offering a prize of five thousand francs for the best essay to show the causes which render contempora- ry French art pre-eminent beyond other schools of the day, might better have offered a prize to explain the causes which enable the art of Germany, five hundred years after she first produced an art school, to equal French art in technique, and to surpass it in the field of imagination and moral grandeur. A DREAM-LAND CITY. SOMETIMES the guarded gates Of the Unseen on outward hinges roll, Arid in deep dreams of night the troubled soul, In bright, brief vision, sees the glory of its goal. Some angel, watchful, kind, Stoops for the moment from his kindred band, Reaches, through veil of sleep, a pitying hand, And leads the Dreamer forth into a fairer land. Such boon to me was given. Thus to my sorrow came a sweet release; Sleeps magic touches gave to pain surcease; And forth my spirit passed into transcendent peace. A city beautiful Shone on my vision. Palaces of white And gleaming marble, in a noonday light, Glittered along wide streets with pearly pave- ments bright. Amaranth and asphodel Above each pillared door their blossoms hung; From every mansion mystic music rung, For Poesie was here the only voice and tongue. High in the citys midst Arose a Temple, as the sunset bright; Of flame-like splendor, dazzling to tile sight Arch, column, altar, glowed with an interior light. This is the shrine of Song, A voice beside me uttered. This her home, Her chosen dwelling. Hither none may comc But hdr beloved, her own. Fames worshipers are dumb. Forth from her temple flows Perpetual inspiration. Glorious themes Break on the vision in ecstatic gleams. Embodied here the bard beholds his rarest dreams. Hither the minstrels throng The masters wearing laurels centuries old, Bards who the harp-strings smote with fingers bold, And they whose softer lays with faltering lips were told. Nor they alone whose brows On earth the victors sparkling wreath have worn; These, too, whom Fate of eve~r bliss hatli shorn, Save of the matchless boonthat they were singers born. Even as he spoke there rolled From out that inner shrine a tide of song. Each outer voice the anthem bore along: The angel at my side responded full and strong. This is indeed my home ! I cried. Here every grief I may forget; Here even for me are peace and rapture met. My guide, in tender voice, replied, Not yet The dream was at an end; Yet in its light I walked through many days, Seeing no darkness in them, for my gaze, Illumined once, still burned with the celestial rays. Now, singing as I go, Little I heed, although the path is long. Light from above hath made my spirit strong. It is enough to be the humblest child of Song. And I will be content To love her for herself; with homage sweet To sing unheard, unanswered, at her feet, Till in some other life I make my song com plete. iS U THE ANDROSCOGGIN LAKES. 23 THE ANDROSCOGGIN LA KES. lIT E call Maine the Pine-tree State. Lake State wol1l(l l)e an equally appropriate and distinctive appellation. Her forests are gradually falling before the advancing stroke of the lumberman, l)ut her lakes can never be lost out of her mouiitain-gnarded territory, ior can their charms ever be lessened by the touch of settlement and civilization. There are more than fifteen hundred of them laid town upon the better maps in use; hundreds more are too small to be enumerated in a general survey; while many others lie hidden in regions that have not yet I)een explored. The author of Water-Power of Maine says, in that work: There are but three or fonr (listricts on the globe, not more extensive than Maine, and equally habitable in other respects, upon which an equal number of receptacles for impounding rain-fall, of miot inferior capacity and snrface, is to be found The Kennebec River has more lakes connected with it than the gigantic Orinoco, and the Penobseot than the Oregon, or than all the rivers in Africa, so far as is known. But the Kennebec and the Penobscot are only two of half a dozen important rivers in Maine, each of which is connected with an extensive lake system of its own. These two rivers drain the central portions of the State, the Keunebec being the outlet of the great Moosehead Lake, whose varied attractions have already received due notice in the pages of this Magazine. Far to the eastward, on tIme confines of New Brunswick, the St. Croix River and the Schoodic Lakes; to the north of these, the St. John and ~ the Eagle Lakes; to the ~vest again, following along the Canada border, the Alleguash and the lakes of upper Piscat

THE ANDROSCOGGIN LAKES. 23 THE ANDROSCOGGIN LA KES. lIT E call Maine the Pine-tree State. Lake State wol1l(l l)e an equally appropriate and distinctive appellation. Her forests are gradually falling before the advancing stroke of the lumberman, l)ut her lakes can never be lost out of her mouiitain-gnarded territory, ior can their charms ever be lessened by the touch of settlement and civilization. There are more than fifteen hundred of them laid town upon the better maps in use; hundreds more are too small to be enumerated in a general survey; while many others lie hidden in regions that have not yet I)een explored. The author of Water-Power of Maine says, in that work: There are but three or fonr (listricts on the globe, not more extensive than Maine, and equally habitable in other respects, upon which an equal number of receptacles for impounding rain-fall, of miot inferior capacity and snrface, is to be found The Kennebec River has more lakes connected with it than the gigantic Orinoco, and the Penobseot than the Oregon, or than all the rivers in Africa, so far as is known. But the Kennebec and the Penobscot are only two of half a dozen important rivers in Maine, each of which is connected with an extensive lake system of its own. These two rivers drain the central portions of the State, the Keunebec being the outlet of the great Moosehead Lake, whose varied attractions have already received due notice in the pages of this Magazine. Far to the eastward, on tIme confines of New Brunswick, the St. Croix River and the Schoodic Lakes; to the north of these, the St. John and ~ the Eagle Lakes; to the ~vest again, following along the Canada border, the Alleguash and the lakes of upper Piscat 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. aquis County; and finally, well around on the New Hampshire line, the Androscoggin and its lakes. These are only six ou~ of some fifteen systenis which are recognized by the geogra- pl)ers. To the last nanied of the series the attention of the reader is specially invited in this article. The Androscoggin Lakes, as commonly reckoned, are six in number, thongli the character of the connecting waters is such in two instances that the number is sometimes reduced to four. Thus Cupsuptic and Mooselucmaguntic are joined by so broad a strait as really to form one body of water, though {i, the configuration of the shores justifies the division which has been adopted in the nomenclature. The same is true of Mollychunkemunk and Welokennebacook, which are some- times spoken of together as the Richardson Lake, or Lakes. Rangeley Lake, at the upper (northeast) extremity of the chain, and IJmnbagog, at the lower (southwest) extremity have each a more distinct individuality, being separated from the others by very l)alpable streams. All, however, consti- tute one series, amid time waters of the Androscoggin River, a.s they leave Umbagog by its western shore, gather l)art of their volume from a small pond which lies away to the east of Rangeley. A dozen or more such smaller vonds are buried in the forests and among the mountains that surround these lakes, and contribute their quotas to the mighty current poured therefrom through the Androscoggin Valley to the ocean. The six lakes have an aggregate surface of sevemity-seven sqnare miles. They drain a tributary area of nine hundred square miles. By aid of dams erected at con necting points, their storage is increased to very nearly 24,000,000,000 cubic feet, and their outflow is but from thirty-six to forty-eight lionrs in reaching the city ~ of Lewiston, to whose many manufac RANGELEY TROPHIES. A1 0 t THE ANDROSCOGGIN LAKES. 25 tories they furnish an ample and exhaust- Umbagog 1256 less power. This function, taken in con- Richardson l4~6 aection with the extended timber lands Mooseliicinaguntic 1486 which envelop them 0 every side, gives Raugeley 1611 the chain great importance in a comnier- Rangeley Lake itself being thus the high- cial point of view, and the busy lumbering est of the series, as it is also the first, we life of which in winter they form the cen- tre might very properly engross our atten- tion to the exclusion of other aspects. But it is with these lakes as a resort of the sportsman an(l the tourist that we are now chiefly concerned. As such, they are com- ing into wide and deserved notice. This northwestern corner of Maine is a lesser Adirondacks. No part of the world, says the Second Animal Report upon the Natural History and Geology of the State, affords finer trout-fishing, or a greater variety of trouts, than Maine. And no part of Maine is richer in this particular endowment than this upper half of Franklin and Oxford coun- ties. The wilderness is practically limit- less and unbroken. The scenery is always picturesque, and often grand. The fisher- man and the hunter may find constant ex- ercise in season for rod and gun. Lovers of nature in her wilder umoods are already beginning to make their way into the re- gion in considerable numbers. And noth- ing is needed but time and a measurable degree of enterprise on the part of those who have the handling of this vast estate to ef- feet its developmemmt into one of the most delightful summer resorts which the coun- try contains. As one notable feature of this lake region, among many that commend it to seekers of health and l)leasure, let me mention its alti- hide, compared with other localities that are better known. Thus the romantic Lake Winuipiseogee, in New Hanipshire, is but 501 feet above the level of the sea, and the waters of Lake Superior itself are only 630. But the figures of the Androscoggin Lakes are as follows: may very j~roperly begin our survey with it, and float down stream. The wish may well be cherished that the ancient Indian name had been retained for this beautiful sheet of water. This was Oquossoc, or Arg-was-suc, as by tradition an old Indian named Matalluck, who once had his haunts upon its shores, gave the pronunciation. Ran~e1ey perpetuates the name of an eccen- tric but thrifty English squire who pene- trated the wilderness thus far many years ago, and laid the foundations of the pros- perous plantation which is his monument to-day. His story is a romantic and inter- esting one. Mr. Rangeley, for a time after coming to this country, was a merchant iii Philadel- phia, and later a laud speculator in Virginia, with all parts of which State lie was very familiar. He is described as having the substantial build and florid countenance of the traditional English squire, with a corre- sponding hearty manner, but an exceptional degree of politeness and polish for a maim of his kind; lie also dressed well, and was giv- en to hospitality. To his early life he seldom referred, and what led him to this remote corner of the wilderness of Maine can only be conjectured. Perhaps it was the seemit of mineral values, for he ~vas known to claim the existence of gold ore upon his township; and he was a man who knew what iron pyrites were. The township as he owned it comprised some- where from 65,000 to 70,000 acres, amid he had large plans for its development. The pres- ent extensive and growing system of navi- gation and lumber portage seems to have been a dreani of his own, for he fully fore- OQUOSSOG, Oil RANUNLEY LAKES LOOKING TOWARD GALl) MOUNTAIN. 26 hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. saw the re- BANDY RIVETI FAILS, NRAB sources and ca MADRID. pabilities of his domain. He built various mills, some of which remain to this day. These were superiutended by his sons, who had the look of huntsmen; and he lived with his wife and two daugh- ters in what was then the only good house of the region. This house is believed to be still in existence, but in a decayed and squalid condition. Mr. Rangeley and his wife were reputed to possess between them a considerable for- tune, but his plans were on so great a scale, and his ability to deal with the rude and the shrewd so limited, that he worked at no small disadvantage, at heavy cost, and final- ly with serious loss. This led him to sell his plantation for $50,000; but financial dis- turbances so crippled the purchaser, who had made but part payment, that the prop- erty fell back into Mr. Rangeleys hands. Subsequently, with the return of better times, he succeeded, however, in disposing of it, and removed to Portland. He was there established as early as 1842, and there he died not later than 1862. Members of his family are said to be still living in Virginia. Mr. Rangeley had been followed into his forest paradise by a score or two of families, one after the other, and for their accommoda- tion he built a small church or chapel, which, dis- tinguished by its sinil)le coat of red paiit, has proba- bly been preached in by some of the ruling elders of the present time. It is in the record that the worthy English squire di(l not hiniself attend the services in this secluded house of prayer, but caused worship therein to be held after the manner of the Epis- copal Church, for the sake of his wife, who is spoken of as a most kind- ly and benevolent person. Mr. Rangeleys greatest public work was a road constructed through a grand and savage pass of the Saddle- back range. Its cost was set down at $30,000, but the road itself is now wholly obliterated. The new road is spoken of as wholly uninteresting in compari- son. The present writer can say nothing as to the location of this ancient high- way, but repeats the tradition respecting it as received from a gentleman of Boston who personally knew Mr. Rangeley, and who visited him in his retreat several times prior to 1840who is, indeed, the authority for all these interesting particulars con- cerning this really notable and agreeable character. But we have yet to reach Rangehey. Farmnington is the point from which to do it. This pleasant village of two or three thousand imhabitants lies at the terminus of the Androscoggin branch of the Maine Central Railroad, a days ride from Boston half a days from Portland. There is little to interest the traveller on his way thither, after he leaves the latter city, the route ly- ing through a region that is uninviting, with scarcely an exception. But when he fairly strikes the Samidy River Valley, and crosses it by the curious curved trestle which brings him to the end of his railway ride, lie finds himself introduced to views which, for their kind, are nowhere surpassed, not even along the far-famed Conway Meadows. Farming- ton is the shire town of Franklin County, THE ANDROSCOGGIN LAKES. 27 and a brisk and energetic place. There is much in and about it which might detain the excursionist to his enjoyment before 1)Iisbing on up the valley to the lakes and the mountains. The mountains are in full sight before him, and we can not wonder that, yielding to their allurements, he turns his back upon the pleasant walks and de- lightful drives which the village and its environs afford iii every direction, and hast- ens on over the forty miles of staging which yet remain. The road closely follows the river, a trib- utary of the Kennebec, for twenty miles, along well-cleared uplands, throngh fertile intervales, under the bold sides of Days Mountain, past the picturesque suspen- sion-bridge at Strong or over it,if we like to make the detour of a mile to see another thriving village of Maineand so on to Phillips, the next most important town to Farmington in the MAP OF THE ANDEOBOOGGIN LAKE BECiON. connty, consisting of an npper and lower village, provided with excellent hotels, and supporting a bank and other belongings of an enterj)rising and prosperous l)usiness life. The telegraph wires accompany the travel- ler as far as here, and here, the stage sup- plementing the railway, Boston is kept within a days ride. The town takes its name from the honor- able Phillips family of Massachusetts, by sonic of whom it was fornierly owiied and oI)ened for settlement when Maine was only a district of the Old Bay State. The Phil- lipses and Benjamin Weld, of Bostoim, were extensive owners of wild lamls in this part of Maine, and the towns of. Weld, Salem, Avon, Strong, Madrid, and others weve all carved ont of their broad possessions. Mr. Rangeley had the same ambition of great prol)rietorship, only he pushed further into the forest; and the domain which he select- ed, by the variety of its surface and tIme ex- cellence of its soil, attests the sagacity of his ebdice. Leaving Phillips, the road to Rangeley first climbs a massive spur, from which snag- nificent views are obtained of Mount Blue, Mount Abraham, and other imposing ranges, and thence descends into the Madrid basin, in traversing which it recovers the Sandy River, from which it had parted at Phillips, to leave it no more uiitil it is lost in its source, the Sandy River Ponds, at the base of Mount Saddle- back, just before entering Rangeley. Passing the lit- tle village of Madrid, the road presently begins the ascent of Beech Hill, rough barrier to the engaging re- gion that stretches behimid it. The tourist now finds himself fairly face to face with the wilderness, though this first taste of it, Beech Hill, is not the most pleas- ant. He will be a good round hour and a half in reaching its summit; but the tedium of the effort SAnuLEImAcK MOUi~TAIN, LOOXINe EAST. hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZiNE. 28 will have aml)le compensation if it be his fortnne, as it was the writers in the sum- mer of 1875, to see therefrom a hear in all tile liberty of his natural estate. Bruin had come out of the woods into a clearing, across the deep ravine which the road skirts at this point, and was making himself husy with the strawberries which grew plenti- fully among the stumps and bushes. He rose on his haunches a moment to attend to onr excited saintations, and then uncon- cernedly resumed his berrying. His uncon- cern was destined not to last, however, for, a day or two later, a hunting party, aroused by the news, started in search of him, and hore back his skin in triumph. To look at the scraggy sides of Mount Saddleback, as it here looms up hefore the observer, one would think that hears in plenty might abound thereon, but the actual sight of one is uncommon enough now to he a real sen- sation even to the natives. The descent of Beech Hill brings one to the Sandy River Ponds, three or four in number, hut insignificant sheets of water. save for the interest which always attaches to a rivers sonrce. TIme locality has this claim upon notice, however, that here the head waters of tributaries of the Kennehee and of the Androscoggin spring side hy side. Long Pond, which the road strikes while yet in sight of tIme first of the Sandy River Ponds, is the first of the Rangeley series, and the divide between the two systems scarcely exceeds the measure of a biscuit toss. At such a point as this the moralist will of course pause to pluck an illustration. Passing Long Pond, which the inter- vening woods mostly conceal from view, a delightful ride of a few miles opens J the first glimpse of Oqnossoc, or Rangeley ~4 Lake, as it is now commonly calledat one time, not very long ago, quite pleas- antly known as The Englishmans Pond. It is a beantifnl sheet of water, of irregular shore, its greatest length being about ten miles, and its greatest width some three or four. The head -~ of the lake at the inlet is not - visible from the road, hut its proximity is marked by Kim balls, the first good square - house to he seen since leaving Madrid. The situation of the - house, which is kept for time accommo(lation of the pub- lic, and is the first hotel on entering the lake region from this direction, is low ____- - and hemmed in, giving no hint of the fine scenery an(l varying attractions to which it is the gateway. - Greenvale is the termina tion of the regular stage route, and Kimballs is the well-kept house which would he expected under the circumstances. From KENNEBAGO FALLS. I THE ANDROSCOGCTIN LAKES. 29 the stream a few rods below the house the tinnes along the eastern arm of the lake, stanch and jaunty little steamer Mollychunk- rising at once to a point on the broad slope eiaunlc makes her daily round trip to the, which forms the shore sufficiently high to foot of the lake and back, running in con- give a really magnificent view. You are nection with similar boats upon the other here fairly within the limits of Rangeley lakes of the chain. Kimballs thus be- settlement, and the road traverses for three comes a proper and convenient place of miles a tier of well-cleared and productive transit for those who are going in or coal- farms. Below, to the left, stretches the ing out, as the case may be, and as such lake, its surface broken by but one distin- it has already achieved a wide and deserved guishable island, hemuied in by bold ranges popularity among the hundreds of sports- of hills, and flanked at its western extrem- men and pleasure-seekers who are frequent- ity by the picturesque Bald Mountain, which ing the lakes every season in constantly in- there rises abruptly from the waters edge. creasing numbers. The settlement is confined almost exclusive- Leaving Kimballs, the main road con- ly to the northern and eastern elopes. The j~. .~ V A SIX-I~OUN1)EE. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. other shores are for the most part covered with dense forests, the outskirts of the wilderness that reaches away to the bound- aries of New Hampshire and Canada. The horizon line in every direction is varied and grand, being made up by distant mountains massed one against another. Three miles beyond Green vale, along this road, at the northeast arm of the lake, where the entering stream from the Haley and Gull ponds furnishes a valuable water-power, is Rangeley City, a sniall but sturdy little hamlet of a dozen or twenty buildings, the centre of the township!s trade. A right smart place it is, too, with post-office, public ball, an excellent hotel (Hinkleys Rangeley House), two country stores, two saw-mills (one run by water, and the other by steam), a boat-building shop, t~vo blacksmiths shops, a shoe-makers, andwill the reader believe it ?a bakery. It is but fair, how- ever, to explain that this backwoods bakery is the ingenious and accommodating device of Mr. Tibbetts, the boat-builder, who, of a Saturday night, cleans out the furnace of his steam-engine, and bids his neighbors bring thither their pots of brown-bread and beans for a night of it. Great was our as- tonishment, on sitting down to the tradi- tional Sunday morning breakfast at Hink- leys on the occasion of our last visit, to be told by our host that our brown-bread was baked in the bakery. Mr. Tibbettss bakery is not the only thing to his credit. His boats have carried his fame over all the lakes, and his shop is a place which every sportsman in the region makes a point of patronizing. He builds his craft something after the model of a birch,first framing his streaks on a mould, and then strengthening the shell by a light knee-work within. The boat emerges from his hands at a cost of about fifty dollars, easily carrying six men, and easily to be carried by two or three. They are models of lightness, swiftness, and beauty. A large portion of the little village of Rangeley, in- cluding Tibbettss bakery, was destroyed by fire in the fall of 1876, but when our artist visited the spot, two weeks afterward, tlw enterprising citizens had begun to rebuild on a larger scale. In anticipation of the growth which Rangeley City is destined to enjoy, the squire of the town, Mr. J. A. Burke, is erect- ing, the present season, a new hotel upon the hill-side. The plans have been drawn by a competent architect, and the house will be one of the largest and best in the State, outside of the cities and large towns. With the little steamer touching daily at the City, the delightful drives leading from it in various directions, the several fishing localities for which it is the point of easiest departure, and, above all, its entire freedom from the annoyance inflicted by that pest of the woods, the black-flywith all these things in its favor, it would seem certain that Rangeley City is destined to acquire a position of no small importance in its little world. Among the short excursions for sport or pleasure, of which Hinkleys, at Rangeley City, is, and Bmmrkes new hotel will be, the best starting-point, are to Quimbys, Dodge, Round, and Perk pondssmall sheets v~ ithmin a few miles ride all affording good fishing at proper seasons of the year; to Booby- town, by tIme Boobytown roada route bringing the excursionist face to face with some of the grandest views ia all the region, and into the neighborhood of a little knot of families whose condition and habits are a study in human nature; to the Dead Riv- er Pond and the Redington Streama direc- tion alluring to the angler; to the blueberry fields beyond Gull Pond, along the north shore, by a well-kept road of half a dozemi miles, which picturesquely climbs the hills, and carries one past some of the best farms in tIme township; over to the south shore which a road less travelled follows only 1- CAMP ON TIlE KENNEISAGO. THE ANDEOSCOGGIN LAKES. 31 for about three miles, to the jumping-off Rangeley, the reader can readily picture its place, where the outposts of civilization character and surroundings. are lost in the edge of the forest; and, tirial- This whole tract of wilderness, covered ly, to Kennebago Lake, which lies in the with heavy forests, and diversified with woods directly to the north of Rangeley, mountain, pond, and stream, abounds with distant some eight miles. scenes of the most romantic beauty. One The excursion to Kennebago makes a considerable demand upon him who at- tempts it, but is not to be overlooked by any who have really a first-class appetite for camp life. The lake is one of the most beautiful of all the feeders of the Rangeley system, walled in by mountains, and en- tirely cut off from the permanent haunts of men. One or two rough camps furnish the rudest of sleeping accommodations to the visitor, who m iist, however, take in with him his own stores, and do his own cooking. The road thither from Rangeley is not so very long, but it is circuitous and difficult, and, after the first two or three miles, not easily passable by wagons. Kennebago pil- grims must, therefore, make most of the dis- tance on foot, and carry their rations with them, which, if their stay is to be but a day or two, will not be so formidable a burden a.s to offset the pleasure of the trip. From four to five hours is needed for it: in one (lay and out another is a good schedule for those whose time is limited. The attrac- tion at Kennebago is trout, in plenty and of good size, none of the Raugeley waters furnishing better sport for rod and line. A party disposed to try the wilderness still further can push on to Seven Ponds, still to the northward, to which Kennebago is about half-way from Rangeleya local- ity reached only by the more adventurGu8 sportsmen, and concerning which I know too little to speak with any particularity. From its geographical position and its relation to such, a specimen of many, is the Kennebago Falls, omi the outlet of the Kennebago Lake. This outlet, on its way to the great lakes, joins the outlet of Rangeley Lake at Indian Rock, to which somewhat famous spot we have now to make our way. The Mollychmozkemunk, before referred to, whose daily round trips traverse the Range- ley Lake from end to end, is one of a fleet of four little steamers ~vhich, with the sea- son of 1876, have extended a line of commu- nication throughout the entire chain of lakes. Captain Howard, the projector and organizer of this useful enterprise, is a young man of grit and genius, and deserves well of travellers through this country for his efforts to promote their convenience and comfort. It was with some misgivings that lie launched his undertaking two summers ago, but the result has more than fulfilled his most sanguine hopes. Unless all signs fail, he has laid the foundations of what is to prove a very extensive summer travel through this lake country. The Molly- chunkemunk leaves Kimballs early in the afternoon, and makes the trip to the Mount- ain View House, at the foot of the lake, a distance of about ten miles, in an hour and a half exelusive of time consumed in a stop- page at Rangeley City on the way. The sail is one of extreme beauty. Unless the wind be very high, which is not commonly the case, the lake is comparatively smooth and often its surface is undisturbed by a single ripple. This supreme stillness is, MOUNTAiN vmzw HOUSE. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. however, oftener the feature of the morning, when the mists are yet slo~vly rolling up the mountain-sides, and the rising sun has not fully dissolved the deep shadows of the night. The boats course leaves the wild and craggy Ham Island to the south, and hugs closely the northern shore, headland after headland of which rises upon the view, until the protecting lee of Bald Mountain is reached, and the puffing little steamer makes a landing at the Mount- ain View House, or dis- embarks her passengers across the cove at the head of the carry that lea(ls to Indian Rock. The Mountain View House is a new hotel. of small dimensions and simple style, opened only the last season, but al- ready a popular resting- place with excursionists going in either direc- tion. Its twenty sleep- in g-rooms are all lathed and plaster- ed, and its general accom pleasure uses. A rude and stony path, which careful drivers can follow with strong wag- ois, connects the house with the north shore road, the latter ending at the nearest farm- house, about a mile away. While threading this path one (lay last summer one of our party saw an unmistakable young loup-cer- vier, or loo-cevee, as the natives pronounce the word, making his hasty passage along the upinost log of a log fence: thus closely do the tame and the wild approach each other here. On a little point just opposite the Mountain View House, enveloped in a grove, is a pretty cottage erected recent- ly by Mr. Theodore Page, a gentleman of Hallowell or its vicinityone of a nuin- her of lovers of the woods who are be- ginning to establish summer quarters for themselves and their families in these re- tired precincts. Lake Point Cottage, as it is called, with its broad ve- randa, its rusticpil mo(lations are sufficient for their purpose. lars, its reddened roof, its cool embowering, Immense brick fire-places in each of the and its picturesque approaches, presents an two sitting-rooms invite the visitor at once inviting appearance, and is passed at a dis- to feel at home. The forest comes close up tanee with regret. to the house on every side, affording a con- The carry to Indian Rock, which en- stant shade, and the lake stretches away at ters the wood here at the outlet of the lake, its front, with an abundance of boats for nearly opposite the Mountain View House, AROUND THE CAMP F~IRE. THE ANDROSCOGGIN LAKES. 33 is a rough wood road about two miles in length. There is no conveyance across it except for stores and baggage; but the walk is not fatigu- iiig. It is rather a ielief after the indo- lence of a long sail by steam, and the at- tractions of the for- est are new with ev- ery step. Now the path touches a lit- tle clearing, where remain the bean poles of a deserted camp of river-driv- ers, as the lumber- men are called; and uo~v it draws for a moment near the stream at a point where a massive dam stems its current, and creates a roar of water which breaks pleasantly upon the pre- vailing stillness. Again it buries itself in the forest, away from every sight and sound of the work of man, where the startled rabbit darts almost from under your feet to cover, and the aifrighted partridge whirs away into a more secure seclusion. The solitude is intense, and the half hour which the walk consumes too quickly passes. Indian Rock, perhaps the best known lo- cality in this lake country, is tile traditional spot where of old the aborigines of the region met in council. It lies at the confluence of the Rangeley and Kennebago streams, and with- in a half mile of the great Mooselucmaguii- tic and Cupsuptic lakes, and so was a cen- tral and easy place of meeting. The rock itself possesses no imposing-qualities, being simply a ledge level with the ground, and not so easily distinguishable from the soil with which it is incrusted. Geologists, however, have found not a little to interest them in its formation. When the writer first visit- ed the spot, now nearly twenty years ago, the only touch of civilization - that marked it was a narrow clearing and a homely cab- in, wherein a hermit by the name of Smith had made for himself a hunters and trappers home, and where the occasional visitor who strayed so far in quest of fish and game could find a little companionship and a few friendly and helpful professional ministra- tions. Now this same spot, directly across the stream from Indian Rock, presents to the view a well-finished clearing of ten or twenty acres, a productive farm, and a group of tasteful and tidy buildings, half a dozen or more in number. It is now Camp Kenne- VOL. Lv.No. 3253 cOTTAGE, cursu~~mc LAKE. bago, the thriving and popular head-quar- ters of the Oquossoc Angling Association. Some years ago a circle of New York and Philadelphia gentlemen, the central figure of which was Jay Cooke, becanme captivated with the charms of Rangeley and its out- lying lakes, and by lease from township proprietors and accompanying legislation from the State, secured valuable and exten- sive pleasure rights and privileges through- out the region. The Oquossoc Angling Association was incorporated in 1870, and though Jay Cooke has retired from active participation in its concerns, its administra- tion continues. The fine property at Carmip Kennebago is of its creation, and time simper- imintendent thereof, Mr. C. 1. Richardson, is an agent in its pay. The buildimfgs comprise two large lodging-houses, one for nien and time otimer for women, tile agemits house, a barn, and several smlbordinate structures, time boat-house, giving simelter to fifteen or twen- ty boats, also belonging to the association. Geor~e Sheppard Page, of Stanley, New Jer- sey, is now its president, and R. C. Allerton, of New York city, its treasurer. The meam- l)erslmip numbers between fifty and seventy- five, and meetings for the transaction of business are held at convenient intervals. 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The total value of investment at Camp Ken- nebago is not far from $20,000. Members, of course, have the first claim upon the priv- ileges afforded at the camp, but after satis- fying this demand, its accommodations are open to the public on reasonable terms; and during the months of July and August a great deal of miscellaneous company is en- tertained. During the fishing season the Oquossocs are apt to take up their claims in good numbers. The fare at Camp Kennebago is surpris- ingly good, when its distance from the base of supplies is considered. A cup of such j English breakfast tea as Mr. Richar~lson can set before his guests is a luxury not often met with in the woods, or, indeed, any where away from the large cities. The interior of the main camp presents a novel and inter- esting scene. The long and lofty apartment is dormitory, sitting-room, and office all in one. Two rows of beds along the sides give each sleeper an independent mattress and accompaniments, a spacious table in the cen- tre provides facilities for reading and writ- ing, appropriate pictures adorn the rough walls, a cabinet organ furnishes the means of musical diversion, and a monstrous open fire-place in one corner is suggestive of the good cheer which follows the laborious sports of the day in the cool evenings of the early summer and autumn. Indian Rock may be made the resting- place for many days of varied pleasure, or the starting-point for the continued trip on and through the great lake stretch to the southwestward. Of what is before the ex- cursionist in that direction there is no hint whatever on the sunny slope of Camp Ken- nebago. The forest and the mountains shut in apparently on every side, and only the slow deep waters of the Lackawanna, which quench in themselves the noise and sparkle of the Kennebago and the Rangeley cur- rents, point the way to the broad expanse a little way 1)eyond. The steamer Oquossoc, mate to Mollychunkernunk, lies waiting at the wharf and at an early morning hour takes her departure. In five minutes time she has glided down the few rods of river, and struck boldly out upon the great Mooselucmaguntic toward the Upper Dam. Fryes Cottage, the nest of Hon. William P. Frye, of Lewiston, confronts the eye from its perch npon a rug- ged islet in the narrows, opposite the mouth of the entering stream, the steamer leaving it on the left as it turns its prow to the south- ward. The view from this point is sublime and inspiring. To the right the narrows open into Cupsuptic Lake, which thrusts its arms close up under the monntains on the north, lapping their forest-fringed bases with its restless waves, and draining their slopes by one considerable stream, also call- ed the Cupsuptic, navigable by the Indi- an Rock boats for several miles beyond its mouth. To the south spreads before the eye a much wider and far grander view. As the steamer sweeps past Fryes Lodge and fairly enters Mooseluemaguntic, the magnif- icent proportions and surroundings of that water are all unfolded to the gaze. For something like a dozen miles the lake ex- tends in the southerly direction, the nearly equal eastern arm being yet concealed from view by an intervening headland. Abrupt- ly to the east rises Bald Mountain, the same which from Rangeley Lake was viewed upon its other side. Mountains there are to match upon the opposite (western) shore, while far to the south the ~vhole horizon is filled with the bold and massive outline of the Bemis rangea chain of noble hills, which, at a greater remove from the overtowering White Mountains, would command a distinguished reputation. As the steamer pushes down the lake, by the aid of a good glass one may discern Ahlerton Lodge, upon its rocky foun- dation, under the very edge of Bald Mount- ain, at a point known as Bugle Cove. This is the haunt of Mr. R. C. Allerton, of New York, the treasurer of the Oquossoc Associa cAMP IN TIlE WOODS. THE ANDROSCOGGIN LAKES. 35 tion, and is one of the finest and prettiest have been built at several points, by means lodges on any of these shores. At the ex- of which the water in all of the lakes can tremity of the eastern arm of the lake, oc- be raised to a mean head of eleven feet. cupying an eligible site at the foot of what This easily sets afloat the logs as they lie is kiiown as the Bemis Stream, is another camp, consisting of a number of cabins, con- trolled by Mr. George Sheppard Page, Mr. L. L. Crounse, and Mr. H. M. Hutchinson. These gentlemen are lessees of a large tract of surrounding territory, and have greatly interested themselves in the artificial prop- agation of fish. It is estimated that in 1875, 250,000 trout were spawned in the breeding ponds constrncted by them on the Bemis Stream. The L-shaped configuration of Mooselucmaguntic makes practically to the eye two lakes out of the one, and the view from Bemis is quite independent from that l)resented to the observer at the Cupsuptic narrows. The mountains have shifted po- sitions, and stand in new relations. Islands, before an apparent part of the main-land, are discovered therefrom and established in their independence, and the outlines of the horizon are broken up into forms of fresh beauty. We are now on the way, in imagination, to the Upper Darn, and it is time to seek a little preparatory information respecting the great commercial interests with which that immense structure and its fellows are connected. The forests which infold the Androscoggin Lakes abound with valuable timber, and the region which in sunimer is consecrated to the oar and rod and gun, re- sounds in winter with the strokes of the lumbermans axe. In the spring the timber ~vhich has been cut during the preceding mouths is rafted through the connecting streams into the Androscoggin, and so to the mills, the markets, and the world. To facilitate these operations, immense darns along the shores, and the drawing off at will aids the process of rafting, as well m fur- iiishes a driving power through the connect- ing streams and down the Androscoggin. Of these great structures for sabdniixg all this immense water-power, and making it subservient to the lumbermans will, that known as the Upper Dam is at the foot of Lake Mooselucmaguntic, on the stream that empties into Mollychunkernunk, or the up- per Richardson Lake. The Middle Darn is at the font of Welokennebacook, or the lower Richardson Lake, on the stream that flows thence into Umbagog. The. third is the Errol Dam, on the Androscoggirm itself; below Umbagog, and below the confluence of the Magalloway. The Upper and Middle dams very naturally furnish dividing points to the system, and mark off the stages of the excursionists route. From Indian Rock to the Upper Darn is a good two hours trip, the last few minutes of which are consumed in a short carry from the landing at the outlet where the steamer puts you ashore. The Upper Dam may be set down as the central point of the region, though as the boat sails, and the carry leads, it may be hardly half-way from the inlet of Rangeley to the outlet of Umbagog. Still he who has penetrated thus far may feel, with rea- son, that he has reached the heart of the wilderness. What town is he in? No town, but only a township, and unnamed at that. No. 4, Range 1, is the official designation of his whereabouts. There is no post-office easily accessible nearer than twenty-five or thirty miles; no telegraph, probably, withiim fifty; no railway station within sixty or sevemity. Save tIme two or thrcc cabins BOAT-LANDING, FOOT OF MOO5ELUcMAGuNTIOuppEu DAM. 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZiNE. which are grouped into the Upper Dam Camp, and the scattered lodges of sports- men and visitors upon the shores of the lakes around, there can be no human habi- tation within a dozen niiles in a straight line, or double that of the most direct and feasible route. The clearing about the camp, the excellence of the buildings, and the massive frame-work of the dam lessen the sense of solitude at first, but it soon re- turns, and settles down heavily upon the mind. The dam is one of the largest and costli- est structures of its kind in the State. It is fifteen hundred feet in length, its heavy timber - work being bolted with iron and ballasted with stone~ the width of the top being sufficient to be utilized as a roadway. The path to Lake Mollychunkernunk leads across this daiir, and finds the rock-edged waters of that lake half a mile away. The scene here in the spring, when the boys are going out, is exciting in the extreme, and at that time the camp is often thronged with interested visitors. The accommodations for the public, though limited, are good, and the spot is an excellent head-quarters for fisher- men in the months of June and September. The Upper Dam may be conveniently taken as the meeting-place of the three routes for entering the lake country, and having now traced one of them somewhat in detail, the reader may quickly be made acquainted with the other two. At the fur- ther extreme from the Rangeley route is that by way of Umbagog, which is reached by a stage ride of about twenty-five miles from Bethela station on the Grand Trunk Railroad near the New Hampshire line, and about seventy miles from Portland. Bethel has long been a popular summer resort noted for the beauty of its scenery. The stage lands the mornings passengers froni Boston at a comfortable hotel in Upton, on the Cambridge River, a tributary of Umuba- gog, at about eleven oclock the same even- ing. The next day the steamer Diamond furnishes conveyance across the lake and into time mouth of Rapid River, the five-mile stream entering from Welokennebacook, along which a carry has to be. made to the Middle Dam. This trip can be easily varied by a (letour for a little distance into the Androscoggin, as far down as Errol Darn, and thence up the Magalloway to the outlet of Sturtivants Pond, while the whole region lying along the New Hampshire line abounds with inviting localities. Across the Androscoggin runs the road to the fa- mous Dixville Notch, not more than fifteen or twenty miles away. Up the lonely Ma- galloway, winding among lofty mountains DEAD-WOOD FOKEST, ABOVE TIlE UPPER DAM. LAKE MooSELUcMAOUNTIc. THE ANDROSCOGGIN LAKES. 37 and through the densest forests, the more ad- venturous and experienced woodsman may l)usll in his canoe for seventy miles to Lake Parmachenee, the solitude of whicli is sel- (loin invaded. Lake Parmachenee is about the size of Kennebago, and only a little above its latitude, but is far less accessible, .Ln(1 therefore comparatively unknown. A ~vell-equipped party, with three weeks to de- vote to the trip, would doubtless be amply repaid in many ways for the toil it would occasion. The Middle Dam, to which we now re- turn by way of Umbagog and the Rapid !~iver, is the head-quarters of the Oxford Club, an organization of Portland gentle- men, similar in plan and intent to the Oquos- soc Association at Indian Rock. It controls land by lease, and keeps the fishifig under proper regulations. A camp furnishes good accommodations for the public. The connecting link of travel between Unmbago~ and Mooselncmagnntic over the Richardson Lakes is furnished by the steam- er H. B. Simmons, which runs daily over the triangular route between the Andover arm of Lake Welokennebacook and the Middle and the Upper dams. With this we touch the last of the three ways of entering the region from the outside world. Andover is a town of romantic and delightful situation, a few miles north of the Androscoggin Riv- er, which here runs eastward, and is reached by an easy stage-ride from Bryants Pond, also a station on the Grand Trunk road. It occupies a well-watered plateau, walled in by l)icturesque hills, through notches in which roads lead to the four points of the compass. The distance from Andover Centre to the arm of the lake is something like a dozen miles, and the road, being rough, is traversed coni- inonly on a buckboard, an ingenious and MerviceaL)le vehicle, the use of which is to iiiost persons a new and pleasurable experi- once. The sail over lakes Welokenneba cook and Mollychunkemunk to the Upper Dam presents entirely new types of scenery to view, the wildness and grandeur of the oth- er lakes being thrown into different corn- binations. The expression is, however, still the samethat of an imperious and untamed nature. The passage through the narrows which unite the two lakes is tortuous, and in certain seasons of the year, when the wa- ter is low, difficult by reason of abounding rocks. Once out of Welokennebacook, and the mountains which stamid sentinel-like at the head of Mollycluinkemunk, a amely, Observatory and Aziscohos, rise niajes- tically on the view. The shores are rugged with the wear and tear of storms; for there are often fearful winds on these inland lakes, and waves that toss your boat like a cockle- shell. XVhitneys Camp, at the foot of Mos- quito Brook, and Bettons Camp, near the outlet from Mooseluemaguntic, where the Simmons makes its landing, are two more of the private lodges which gentlemen have built for themselves in this vast wilderness. Bettons is one of the largest a.nd most pic- turesque and complete in all the region. A short walk from the landing here brings one to the Upper Dam. The foursteniners, Mollychnnkemunk, Oqaos- 8oc, H. B. Simmons, and Diamond, thus form an almost continuous and connecting line of steam communication between the head of Rangeley and the foot of Umbagog lakes a (listance, including the carries, of be- tween fifty and sixty miles. A more en- chanting jaunt it would be hard to buagine. The scenery, sometimes approaching the sublime, is always beautiful, and at many points extremely fine; whmihe the snecession of lm~ke and forest and mountain affords an endless variety of shapes amid colors and shades. The carries, save the longest, at Rapid River, afford an agreeable change after an hour or two upon the water; the puibhic-houses are comfortable, and occasion- ally excellent, and the prices are altogether reasonable. The fares on time stenijiboats average a dollar each trip, and the rates at the hotels do not exceed two dollars a day. Another season, it is intended to furnish round-trip tickets from Boston, traversing tIme entire route, and good either way, with liberty to stop over at any point. SOUTh ARM OF THE WELOKENNEJIAOOOK. 35 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Until within a short time hunting and fishing in Maine have been under little or no restriction, but the laws are now ample and strictly enforced. The shooting of moose, deer, and caribou is forbidden betweeu the 1st of January and 1st of October, and the best of the lawful months for taking trout in the Androscoggin waters are June and September. At these times the fishermen are on band in force, and the public-houses are crowded to their utmost capacity. The months of July, August, and October are the best for the purposes of a general excur- sion, without reference to piscatorial sport. October will be found exceedingly cool, and during July and the early days of August the black-fly reigns, so that the visitor has a choice to make between discomforts. The black - fly, however, disappears before ad- vancing civilization, and there are localities among the lakes where he has already ceased to make trouble, and the weary may find rest. As has before been said, no black-flies are found at Raugeley City, which consider- ation alone must give that spot pre-emi- nence with many persons for the purposes of a summer sojourn for at least a long time to come. THE NJEBELUNGEN LAY. ABOUT the middle of the last century an aged scholar, while rummaging in the library of an old monastery in South Ger- many, came across a manuscript of great age and unusual length. On examination, the scroll turned out to be a copy of an epic poem, which, after having enjoyed great pop- ularity among the Teutonic races of Europe for generations, had been lost and almost forgotten for nearly three centuries. The happy discoverer took possession of the treasure, and, a short time after, the concern of the world of letters was aroused by the announcement of a newly found production of the earliest period of German literature, which surpassed in literary excellence any. hitherto known. This announcement was soon followed and confirmed by the publi- cation of the original poem, and a transla- tion of parts of it in modern German. Then began the task which up to the l)resent day has not been wholly and satis- factorily completed, namely, the unraveling the history of the great poemfor the manu- script told nothing of its birth nor of its au- thor. Besides these points, there were many questions concernifig the contents of the poem to be solved, all of which were con- sidered so important that the most eminent scholars devoted considerable time and la- bor to the solution of them. Chief among these investigators and critics were the dis- coverer of the first manuscript, Professor Bodmer, the Brothers Grimm, and Professor Lachmann, and more recently Gervinus. In the course of the search they and others have prosecuted, at different times and places, for materials which might throw some light over the history of the poem, a dozen or more copies of the epopee itself were found. These later-discovered manu- scripts varied in length, in age, and in other particulars from tJme first and from one an- other, but agreed generally in being un- signed and undated. Indeed, in several there was not even a title prefixed to thc poem; two or three were styled the Book of Jirimhild. The so-called Lassburg man- uscript ended with the words der Nie- belungenliet. It is from this one that the ordinary appellation of the poem, the Nie- belungen Lay, is derived. AZISOOHOS AND OBSERVATORY MOUNTAINS, LAKE MOLLYdHUNKEMUNK.

35 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Until within a short time hunting and fishing in Maine have been under little or no restriction, but the laws are now ample and strictly enforced. The shooting of moose, deer, and caribou is forbidden betweeu the 1st of January and 1st of October, and the best of the lawful months for taking trout in the Androscoggin waters are June and September. At these times the fishermen are on band in force, and the public-houses are crowded to their utmost capacity. The months of July, August, and October are the best for the purposes of a general excur- sion, without reference to piscatorial sport. October will be found exceedingly cool, and during July and the early days of August the black-fly reigns, so that the visitor has a choice to make between discomforts. The black - fly, however, disappears before ad- vancing civilization, and there are localities among the lakes where he has already ceased to make trouble, and the weary may find rest. As has before been said, no black-flies are found at Raugeley City, which consider- ation alone must give that spot pre-emi- nence with many persons for the purposes of a summer sojourn for at least a long time to come. THE NJEBELUNGEN LAY. ABOUT the middle of the last century an aged scholar, while rummaging in the library of an old monastery in South Ger- many, came across a manuscript of great age and unusual length. On examination, the scroll turned out to be a copy of an epic poem, which, after having enjoyed great pop- ularity among the Teutonic races of Europe for generations, had been lost and almost forgotten for nearly three centuries. The happy discoverer took possession of the treasure, and, a short time after, the concern of the world of letters was aroused by the announcement of a newly found production of the earliest period of German literature, which surpassed in literary excellence any. hitherto known. This announcement was soon followed and confirmed by the publi- cation of the original poem, and a transla- tion of parts of it in modern German. Then began the task which up to the l)resent day has not been wholly and satis- factorily completed, namely, the unraveling the history of the great poemfor the manu- script told nothing of its birth nor of its au- thor. Besides these points, there were many questions concernifig the contents of the poem to be solved, all of which were con- sidered so important that the most eminent scholars devoted considerable time and la- bor to the solution of them. Chief among these investigators and critics were the dis- coverer of the first manuscript, Professor Bodmer, the Brothers Grimm, and Professor Lachmann, and more recently Gervinus. In the course of the search they and others have prosecuted, at different times and places, for materials which might throw some light over the history of the poem, a dozen or more copies of the epopee itself were found. These later-discovered manu- scripts varied in length, in age, and in other particulars from tJme first and from one an- other, but agreed generally in being un- signed and undated. Indeed, in several there was not even a title prefixed to thc poem; two or three were styled the Book of Jirimhild. The so-called Lassburg man- uscript ended with the words der Nie- belungenliet. It is from this one that the ordinary appellation of the poem, the Nie- belungen Lay, is derived. AZISOOHOS AND OBSERVATORY MOUNTAINS, LAKE MOLLYdHUNKEMUNK. THE NiEBELUNGEN LAY. 39 As to when it was written, critics are at last agreed in fixing the date near the begin- ning of the thirteenth century. But no data have been discovered that can settle the qnestion of authorship. It is generally sup- posed that the various incidents of the Lay formed the themes of as many songs for a long time before the period mentioned above, when some learned minstrel or monk united them to form one connected narrative, which he transferred to writing. Like the Iliad of Homer, the Niebelungen Lay is a monument of an epoch in a na- tions historya vivid picture of the so- cial customs, of the religions faith, and of the predominating passions of a race at one period of its existence. These passions were those of war and conquest: from be- ginning to end the Lay resonnds with the clash of arms. As regards the mild influ- ence exerted by the new religion of Christ, it is rather felt hovering as an invisible pres- ence over the entire drama than perceived as a strong feature of any one scene in it. Moral superiority, as we understand it, was never the chief characteristic of early heroes of fiction nor is moral force ever made to ontshine or even to compensate for the lack of physical power in the favorites of ancient song. The hero of the Niebelungen Lay, Sieg- fried, forms no exception to this general type. He is hero chiefly becanse of surpass- ing prowess in arms. As for the rest, he is possessed of wondrous beauty, and of the noblest of spontaneous virtuesgenerosity. Besides these personal endowments, and as the result of them, he is become the possess- or of a magic cloak, and (if we may so speak) of a horny skin, which add much to his might, but nothing to his virtue. Although it is not our intention to enter into or pass any opinion on the controversies which this foremost of the drarnati8 personw of the Lay has been the subject of, a fresh, and perhaps a just, interest in the present sketch may be awakened by stating that several learned scholars identify Siegfried with Baldur. In Scandinavian mythology Baldur is the god of light and life, the sun who quickens the seed (the sleeping beauty, Brunhild) and releases it from sleep. This theory is the result of comparisons made between the German epopee and the Edda, the most ancient Scandinavian poem. It is chiefly from the latter that Richard Wagners Da8 Niebelungen Ring trilogy is taken. Most of the other dramati.s personw of the Lay have also been identified either with mythological or historical personages. The principal events described in it can likewise be traced in history. Thus Attila is the original of Etzel, Dietrich of Bern is the ter- rible Theodoric of Verona, while Gunther is the German name for Gundicarus, King of Burgundy. It is remarkable that these men- archs cut much poorer figures in the Nie- belungen Lay than they do in history. In the year 436 Gundicarus, with all his follow- ers, was destroyed by the Runs under At- tila. It is this event which is supposed to be represented by the catastrophe of the Lay, the outlines of which follow. In Worms, the capital of Burgundy, reign Giinthei, Gernot, and Gishelher, the Child, the three sons of Dancrat, late puissant king of the land. The chief liegemen of their throne are Hagan, knight of Trony, Dank- wart, his hrother, and Folker of Alzeia, called the Minstrel, because of his skill in ~)laying the fiddle. The star of the Bur- gundian court is Krimhild, the only sister of the three kings. She is called the Peer- less, and great is the number of redoubted champions who have pledged their service to her beauty and grace. One night Krim- hild dreams that she had carefully trained a falcon, sharp-eyed and of glossy hue, when two fierce eagles pounced down on it and killed it. The dream weighs on the maid- ens spirit, and when day breaks she seeks her mother, Dame Uta, and tells her about it. The listener interprets the falcon to be the dreamers predestined husband, whom two enemies will slay. Then Krimhild bursts into tears, and vows she will never, never marry, since she is doomed to suffer woe through man. But alas for such a vow! Already there are forces working to destroy it. To distant Netherland has the fame of the beauty of the Burgundian princess spread, and Siegfried, the only son of thc rich king of the land, determines to win her for his bride. Disregarding the warnings of his parents, both of whom, on hearing of this new determination, hecome possessed of dark forebodings on his account, the warrior prince leaves Netherland with only eleven companions. They ride northward seven days before the gates of Worms are reached. Here they ask a Burgundian knight whom they meet, the way to Gun- thers palace, and then ride on through the city. Their foreign air and magnificent at- tire do not fail to awaken the curiosity an(l admiration of the splendor-loving inhabit- ants, and the ne~vs of the strangers arrival spreads among theta till it reaches the pal- ace. Here, in the great hall, the king and many of his retainers are assembled when the little band of foreign knights is seen ap- proaching. A question as to the national- ity of the strangers arising among them, which they can not answer, GUnther sends for his kinsman Hagan, who has seen all lands and all peoples, to settle the dispute. When the knight of Trony lays eyes on the strangers, he recognizes theni as from Neth- erland, and declares that the stately warrior at their front can be none other than the reno~vned Siegfried, the mightiest of war- 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. riors and the conqueror of the Niebelun~eu. finish dividing them. This provoked the They have never heard of this mighty chain- ire of the two kings, who suddenly sprang pion, and ask Hagan to tell them more about up to slay him. But, undaunted, the knight him, when he relates that once, whei Sieg- stood his ground, and so great was his quick fried was riding alone in the country of the power in handling the sword, that he slew North, he came to a dark ravine, in which a one after another all of his antagonists. company of giants were assembled around Then he overcame the keeper of the golden an enormous heap of gold. When they saw the stranger they asked him to come and (livide between their two kings, Shilbung and Niebelung, the treasure they had just brought out of the cavern near at hand. The hero good-naturedly dismounted and undertook the task. But so vast was the heap of golden treasures that he failed to hoard, Alberic the Dwarf, from whom he took the magic cloak of the Niebelungen. Afterward he was acknowledged king of the Niebelungen Land, which made him the richest and most powerful of all knights. Hagan further recounts another adven- ture of Siegfrieds with a fire-spitting drag- on, which all the country feared and he slew; and how he bathed himself in the monsters blood, which caused his skin to turn to horn, so that no weapon could ever after harm him. The knights tales are scarcely ended be- fore the strangers are announced. When presented to King Gunther, who is prepared to give his guests friendly welcome, Sieg- fried throws back his princely head, de 8IEGFRlEl) nIvIl)INe TJIS TREASURE BE- TWEEN SnILBLTNG AND NIEBELIrNG. THE NIEBELUNGEN LAY. 41 daring he is come to conquer Burgundys kings by his good sword, adding, that if he himself falls in the lists, the hoard and kingdom of Niebelungen Land shall become theirs. Rapid and clear is the champions speech; the monarchs on the throne and the warriors around it, as they listen to it, flush with various passions of anger, admi- ration, and suspense. Keen-eyed Hagan is the first to recover himself; he detects what is the real object of Siegfrieds desire for conquest. He whispers in the ear of the monarch, whose countenance becomes mild- er as he listens, and when he ceases, GUn- tlier makes pleasant answer to the irnpetu- ous youths address. He says the desired combat between them can be put off till the morrow; in the mean while his noble guests are welcome to Burgundy and to every thing the kings palace contains. Subdued by this unexpected response, the impulsive prince withdraws his challenge entirely, and pledges his friendship to his generous host. Following the Netherland warriorsarriv- al, numerous tournaments and other mar- tial games take place, in which Siegfried always comes off victorious. But his heart is not iii them: his eye has a searching look, alert for the appearance of the fair Krim- hild. And Krimhild? She is not permit- ted to appear at court, nor to be present at the games in which the strangers take part. But nevertheless she sees them often from her windows in the castle tower, and, alas for her vow! unconsciously her heart begins to feel keen interest in all the movements SIEGFRIED CAPTURING THE MACIC CLOAK OF TIlE NIEI3RLCNGFR. I SiEGFRIED AND THE DRAGON. 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the strange champion, and delight in all his conquests. A twelvemonth is thus spent, by the court in pleasure, by Siegfried in passionate sus- pense, when .one day messengers arrive from the kings of the Danes and of the Saxons with a declaration of war against the Bur- gundians. Siegfried is overjoyed at the news; lie longs for excitement, and peti- tions Gilnlher to let him march against their enemies. He declares that with the help of but ten thousand warriors he will vanquish the hosts of the allied kings. The monarch gratefully accepts his offers, and so great is the confidence the Burgundians feel in him that the desired number of warriors speedi- ly enlist their services. In a few days all necessary preparations have been made, and they march out of Worms toward the ene- mies country. On the way they encounter their foes. Dreadful are the combats that follow; mighty the wonders the Burgun- dians achieve; bloody the last hand-to-hand encounter between GUnthers kinsmen and their royal foes, which ends in the capture of the latter. Then fighting ceases, and a messenger is dispatched to the Burgundian court with tidings of victory. Worms is already astir with joyful excitement when, in the palace, Krimhild summons the herald to her presence. General news of victory does not satisfy her; she longs to hear par- ticular intelligence of the brave Netherland prince, for which end she sends for the mes- senger and overwhelms him with questions concerning her brothers! How has it fared with Gishelher? and Gernot, has he escaped b~iug wounded? Who had fought most bravely? Had any of their friends been slain? To these short-breathed questions the herald promptly replies that the Neth- erland prince had fought most bravely, and goes on to state Siegfrieds bravest deeds and particulars of his present welfare, to all of which the maiden listens with ab- sorbed attention. When the youth stops speaking, in a tremor of glad excitement she heaps on him presents of gold and vest- ure, and dismisses him. We smile, as the sly youth must have smiled, and as the poet did, who, after de- scribing this scene, sagely observes: No wonder to rich ladies glad news is gladly told A few days later the triumphant warriors arrive at Worms, bringing with them the kings of Danemark and of Saxony as cap- tives. In their honor a grand festival is announced to take place, to which the la- dies of the court are bidden. On this auspi- cious festive day Siegfried for the first time beholds the object of his passion. Among her maidens Krimhild looks like the moon among stars. Her dazzling beauty over- comes the warrior, who gazes at the prin- cess spell-bound, and Inwardly to himself thus thought: how could I ever deem To win thee as my own? sure tis an idle dream! Yet rather would I die, sweet maid, than leave thee now! And pale became his cheek, while passion gloomed his brow. The knight is still absorbed in this pas- sion4e contemplation, when a message is brought to him from GUnther, bidding him come to the royal circle to receive the salu- tations of the queen mother and Krimhild, which favor his recent good services had earned. With palpitating heart Siegfried approaches, and receives, according to the manners of the time, the kiss of salutation from the kings sister, which inflamed still more ardently the heros breast, and bound him more passionately than ever to the peerless maidens service. Meanwhile a rumor reaches Worms of the wondrous beauty and strength of Brunhild, the virgin queen of Issland, and of how every suitor for her handwas obliged to abide three combats with her, or else straightway per- ish. GUnther, who is unmarried, and fond of adventure, determines to try his fortune with the martial queen, and asks Siegfried to accompany him to Issland. The hero consents to go, and promises to win the maid for him if he will give him Krimhild. Gunther agrees to this proposition, and be- fore long, with a chosen band of warriors, the two princes set out on their journey. A voyage of twelve days brings them to the coast of Issland. Leaving their boat on the shore, they proceed directly to Brunhilds castle, which rises prominently before them, a short distance from the rocky beach. As they draw near, they espy the queen sitting with her maidens in an open lofty hall. GUnther at the sight of Brunhild becomes enamored of her beauty, and expresses his feelings to Siegfried. As if conscious of the strangers glance, the queen shields herself from view, and telling her maidens it ill befits them to stand as a show to the rude eyes of men, she dismisses them. The fair ones immediately repair to their chambers, where they deck themselves in their richest robes, and then hasten to the windows to watch the movements of the strange war- riors. The Burgundians are welcomed by the hiegemen of the queen, to whom they an- nounee the object of their visit. They are then presented to Brunhild, who accosts Siegfried by name, and welcomes him te Issland. In response the hero bows defer- entially, and, as they had previously ar- ranged, tells her he is only a vassal of GUn- tlier, whom she should first have deigned to greet: it is the Burgundian monarch, not himself, who is come to win her hand. This interview is unsatisfactory, and can be understood only by referring to sundry other legends of Siegfried. From them we THE NIEBELIJNGEN LAY. 43 learn that the hero in early youth had deliv- ered Brunhuld from the fiery circle which her father, the god Wotan (or Odin), in a fit of anger, had caused to kindle round her, and had claimed her as his bride. He afterward left her in search of adventures; here we find him assisting another to win her. On hearing the words of Siegfried, the queen, without further ceremony, orders the lists to be opened and her harness fetched. When fully equipped in armor, four cham- berlains approach, carrying a shield of ham- mered gold, of such immense size and weight that they stagger under it. At the sight the Burgundians are lost in astonishment, and, as Hagan expresses it, begin to be- lieve the queen is the devils wife. But Brunhild, unconcerned, lifts the massive weapon with one hand, and then gives the signal for the beginning of the first trial of skill, which is the hurling of the javelin. GUnther trembles as he moves to his place opposite the martial maid. He does not think of Siegfried or the assistance he had promised; but the hero stands at his side in his magic cloak, which rendered him in- visible and strong as twelve men. At this critical moment, after announcing his pres- enco to GUnther, and bidding him make the proper gestures, he snatches his buckler and receives the queens mighty blow; then, raising GUnthers javelin, he hurls it with such force that Brunhild staggers backward. Thea follow the two other featsthe throw- ing of a stone, which twelve men could scarcely lift, and the springing after it so as to reach the spot the same instant it touched the ground. In both the martial maid is vanquished. She scarcely grasps the fact; she stands silently gazing at her antagonist, now her lord. Suddenly raising her hand with a gesture of mingled despair and command, she bids her men and kins- men to follow her example, and bow low to her better. Then follows the reluctant departure of the queen from Issland. The party are wel- comed back to Burgundy with great niag- nificence and cordiality. At the banquet which is given in the palace on the evening of the arrival of the bridal party, Siegfried finds occasion to remind GUnther of his promise concerning Krimhild. The king asserts his willingness to fulfill it at once, and summons the princess to his presence. When she appears, he tells her of his prom- ise to the Netherland prince, and asks her to release him from it. Krimhild, in response, says that whatever her brother commands her to do she will willingly performa re- ply at once characteristic of a social custom of the time, and of womans delicate art, for in consenting to marry Siegfried she care- fully conceals her own feelings, and affects sisterly obedience as the sole motive of her conduct. But Siegfried is satisfied. He thus to her affianced, and to him the maid; Straight round the long-sought damsel in blushing grace arrayd; His arms with soft emotion th enamored warrior threw, And kissed the high - horn princess before the glittering crew. Brunhild was not present at this scene; and when, later in the evening, she sees Sieg * This stanza and those which subsequently appear are copied from Littsoms English translation of the Lay, as edited by Professor Lachinaun. I K~1 KI / K 7 7/ BRUNHILD 5 PUNISHMENT OP BEE LORD. 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fried seate(1 familiarly at the side of Krim- bud, she asks GUnther, in a haughty tone, why a lowly vassal is placed so near the sister of the king. At first the monarch evades a direct reply, but the queen threat- ens and insists, till he confesses that Krim- hild had just been wedded to Siegfried, add- ing that in his own country the knight is a mighty king. He dares not undeceive her on the point of Siegfrieds being no vassal of his but an independent prince, lest she should suspect him of being guilty of other deceptions, as he was. But Brunhild sus- pects something is withheld from her, and to punish her husband for his contumely, when they retire to rest that night, she binds him hand and foot with her girdle, and hangs him on a nail in the wall. In this nucomfortable .position the king dan- gles all night. In the morning Brunhild releases him; but whatever relief freedom may he to his hubs, it can not ease his heart or lighten his spirits. The kings de- jection is the subject of gossip during the day to the whole court. Siegfried alone divines the cause of it, and when an oppor- tunity presents, he speaks to GUnther about it; he tells the monarch that Brunhilds magic strength is derived from her girdle and the ring she wore on her right hand. If she could be disarmed of these she would be incapable of resisting him, and h epro- poses a plan for getting possession of these charmed objects. Gunther agrees to it, aft- er some hesitation; so that night, in his magic cloak, Siegfried enters Brunhilds chamber, where, after a long, desperate struggle, he is successful in overcoming her and snatching from her person the magic girdle and ring. Brunhild thought she was contending with GUnther, and again bows low to her better. Not long after, Siegfried, in a fit of ten- derness, gives his wife the trop~iies, confid ing to her, while at the same time he en- joins secrecy respecting it, the story of his struggle with the haughty Brunhild. The bridal pair do not tarry long in Bur- gundy; before the wedding festivities are over, they set out for Netherland. They are received by Siegfrieds parents and all the people of the land with great rejoicing~ which reached its acme when the hero, by the abdication of his father, becomes king. Then follow ten blissful years, when to the puissant monarch and his soft-eyed consort a child is born. They name the little heir GUnther, after his uncle, to whom a mes- senger is at once dispatched with the joyful tidings. Meanwhile, in Burgundy, Brunhild has been wondering why Siegfried never pre- sented himself at court, as befitted a vassal of the throne. When the messenger arrives at Worms with news of the birth of an heir to the proud knight, this subject is brought afresh to her mind. She determines, by what means soever, to lower the vassal kings pride. With this idea animating her passions, she seeks GUnther, and tries to awaken his sense of dignity to a point of exasperation at Siegfrieds wanton disre- gard of his duties as their vassal. But the king only smiles at her fretting, and laughs secretly at the notion of the puissant King of Netherland and Niebelungen Land being his vassal. His indifference and paltry excuses for Siegfrieds conduct irritate the queen to an intense degree, and strengthen her de- termination to carry her point. Concealing her rage nuder a mask of wonuded affec- tion, the artful queen, with hesitating step, draws near her lord. Suddenly, locking her arms about his neck, she bends her beauti- ful head, and while caressing him, with fond looks, entreats him humbly to grant her the boon she asksthe pleasure of greeting once more their lovely sister. She reminds // / DEATh OF sTECFIuED.[sEE PAeE 46.] THE NIEBELUNGEN LAY. 45 him that their marriages were consumma- ted on the same day, dwelling dotingly on the graces that had won the noble Siegfried, in a manner which re-awakened in the hiis- bands mind the vision of his own brides loveliness. Gradually he softens into com- pliance with his wifes views. Nether- land is really not so far distant from Bur- gundy as to prevent intercourse between the two courts. Siegfried might accept an invitation to visit Worms. As. Brunhild suggests, he dispatches messengers at once with an invitation to the King of Nether- land and his consort, to next midsummers festival in Worms. Siegfried accepts the invitation, and at the appointed time comes to Worms, accom- panied by King Sigmund, his aged father, and a long train of magnificently dressed retainers. For some days after their arriv- al the games and festivities occupy the time and mind of all. Brunhild alone is distrait and moody. She is constantly brooding over the lofty bearing of her guests, and caji not rest for reason of it. One day it happens that she and Krimhild are looking at some champions tilting in the court-yard of the castle, when the latter, growing ex- cited over the mighty feats accomplished by Siegfried, who is among the players, de- Qlares that he who is ever victorious and mightiest should rule Burgundy. In re- sponse, Brunhild sarcastically remarks that were none other living, the adorable Sieg- fried might doubtlessly rule, but, so long as GUnther lived, he was but a vassal of the Burgundian king. That the King of Neth- erland is her brothers liegeman, Krimhild stoutly denies; and the dispute growing warmer, she declares that she will assert her independence that very day by entering the minster before the Burgundian queen. She carries out her threat. When the hour of vespers comes round, she commands her maidens to put on their most gorgeous robes, and then rides to the cathedral, where Brun- biN is awaiting her arrival. Dismounting, Krimhild, without deigning to greet her hostess, is about passing into the minster, when the Burgundian queen commands her to halt! no vassaless precedeth the Indy of the land. Beside herself with rage, Krimnhild turns to give utterance to an ac- cusation the most opprobrious that can be applied to a wife, and then rushes into the minster, leaving Brunhild overcome with shame and anger. When she comes out again, the queen stops her, and demands proof of her foul charge. Krinmhild, who is come prepared to give it, draws from her finger the ring and from her robe the gir- dle which Siegfried had given her, and which, if found in the possession of any but the lawful husband, was considered irrefu- table proof of a wifes guilt. Brunhild is thunder-struck for a moument; then remem- bering the incident of her wedding night, she declares that Siegfried robbed her of the girdle. She sends for GUnther to com- pel the Niebelungen king to confess his crime. But Siegfried can not be made to confess; lie denies Krimhilds charge and before the assembled warriors takes an oath, with uplifted hand, to render his deni- al more emphatic. The Burgundians, who have learned to love and admire the mighty champion, believe in his innocence, and dis- miss the subject as a womans quarrel. But Hagan, the fierce knight of Trony,is not in- clined to be appeased by the fair words of a man whom lie has cause to hate, because possessed of greater prowess and of greater influence over GUnther than himself. When his companions move away, he approaches the weeping queen and swears to avenge her wrongs. Having conceived a plan of revenge, Ha- gnu confides it to GUnther. At first the king refuses to have any thing to do with KR[MLHLD LAMIiNTfl~e OVER SIEGFRIEDs BODY. [SEE PAGE 47.] ~jIIISI ~ ~ k ~---~ 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. it; but his liegeman, by artfully suggesting that, iu case Siegfried perishes, he ~vill come in possession of the heros kingdom, finally induces him to yield his assent to it. The scheme is speedily arranged and in working order. Messengers are hired to come from a distant part of the country with a pretend- ed declaration of hostility from their old en- onuies, the kings of Danemark and of Saxony. When Siegfried hears the news, he offers his aid to GUnther, who accepts it with many expressions of gratitude. Preparations of war immediately begin, and before long are completed. The day before that set for the departure of the warriors from Worms, Ha- gan presents himself before Krimhild under the pretext of bidding her adieu. He finds the queen overcome with grief at the pros- pect of being separated for a long period from her husband. The wily knight, by praising Siegfrieds well - known courage, which ever leads him into the bloodiest en- counters, intensifies this grief into fear for his safety, and by professions of good-will, touches the wifes susceptible heart. In an outburst of tenderness and terror, she en- treats him: My good friend, Sir Hagan, bear in remembrance still How much I love my kinsmen, nor ever wished them ill; For this requite my husband, nor let me vainly long: He should not pay the forfeit if I did Brunhild wrong. My fault, pursued she, sadly, good cause had I to rue; For it I have fared badlyhe beat me black and blue. Such mischief-making tattle his patience could not brook, And for it ample vengeance on my poor limbs he took. After thus bewailing the revelation of one secret confided to her by her husband, she proceeds to disclose a far more important one. In response to Hagans inquiry as to how he could serve her by protecting her husband, Krimhild refers to his adventure with the dragon, and continues: So now Ill tell the secret, dear friend, alone to thee (For thou, I doubt not, cousiu, will keep thy faith with me), Where sword may pierce my darling, and death sit on the thrust. See, in thy truth and honor, how full, how firm, my trust! As from the dragons death-wound gushed out the crimson gore, With the smoking torrent the warrior washed him oer. A leaf then twixt his shoulders fell from a linden bough: There only steel can harm him; for that I tremble now. She further promises, at Hagans suggestion, to embroider a little cross on Siegfrieds surcoat above the vulnerable spot, so that he may know exactly. where to protect him from flying javelins. The knight of Trony, elated at the success of his ruse, then hast ens to GUnther, whom he persuades to per- mit matters to go on as previously planned. The next day is the one appointed for the departure of the warriors. With the morn the feigned messengers again appear. But this time they bring friendly messages, which the king accepts by declaring further hos- tile movements on his part shall cease. The assembled warriors, whose enthusiasm had been aroused, received this intelligence with unconcealed disapprobation. To appease them, GUnther proposes a grand hunt in the royal forests, to which he particularly in- vites the Netherland prince. Siegfried is not inclined to go~ but disliking to refuse his host, he rides w.ith the rest to the royal hunting ground. Once engaged in the sport, however, he pursues it with passionate zeal, and when, as the sun is sinking in the west- ern heaven, the bugle call signals the hunt- ers to re-assemble, he brings to the meeting- place a greater number of beasts, and fiercer ones, than all the other warriors. When all are assembled, the hungry sportsmen sit down to the repast prepared by the kings domestics. Never before were hunters bet- ter served; but to the abundant cheer, wine is lacking. Siegfried is the first to speak of this want. In reply, Hagan states that it is his fault; he thought the repast would be spread in a distant part of the forest, and had sent the wine thither. He adds that a little way off there is a spring of cold water, and proposes they shall run a race to it. Siegfried, good-natured, accepts the apology and the challenge, and with Gliuther and Hagan he starts on a race to the rill. He is the first to arrive at the spot, hut waits for the king to come up and drink before satisfying his own thirst. When GUnther is done drinking, the hero lays aside his weapons and kneels down to dj~ink. A rapid sign passes between GUnther and Hagan; the former hastily shoves the warriors sword beyond his reach, while Hagan, seizing his spear, hurls it with all his power at the faint cross embroidered on Siegfrieds surcoat. The deadly weapon pierces the corselet, and remains sticking between the shoulders of the warrior. With a cry, he starts up and grasps for his sword. It has been removed; but his shield is within reach. In an in- stant that is in his grasp; another, and time weapon is whirling through the air after the flying assassin. Hagan is felled by the blows which resounds through the forest, and brings the rest of the warriors to the spot. The dying hero had expended his last strength in the tremendous blow; now, writhing with pain, he falls among the fiowerets. Once, starting up, he motions Gunther to approach, whom he entreats as a brother and a knight to protect the wife he leaves behind. Death freezes the heros lips while this tender entreaty still hovers on them. THE NIEBELUNGEN LAY. 47 Silently the warriors gather round the dead champion. Hagan boldly proclaims himself the avenger of Queen Brunhild; but they suspect the part GUnther has also had in the traitorous deed, so constrain thcir feelings of horror and sympathy. At night-fall they wend their way back to Worms. All the ladies of the court are retired for the night when they arrive at the castle; so the fierce Hagan, who is bent on making his revenge as terrible as possi- ble, orders his men to throw the dead king before the door of Queen Krimhilds cham- ber. Day is just breaking on the following morning when Krimhild, preceded by a chamberlain, steps across the threshold of her chamber on her way to early mass. Suddenly the chamberlain stumbles, and the light he holds in his hand flickers and goes out. But the queen by the last flick- ering flame had discerned the ontlines of the object at their feet. Like a lightning flash that last interview with traitorous Hagan darts through her mind, together with a revelation of its sequelthe assas- sinatio~i of the beloved husband whose se cret she had revealed. Uttering a cry of remorse and despair that pierces every wall in the castle and freezes the blood of every occupant, the unconscious wife drops down on the body of her slain husband. Black are the days of woe and mourning that follow. The stricken queen remains at the side of her dear lords bier, till they forcibly lead her away in order to bury the dear champion from sight. When at last all the ceremonies of mourning and burial are over, the heros kinsmen and followers depart for Netherland. They can not per- suade their queen to accompany them; she refuses to leave her lords grave for his child. She remains to weep his lossand to revenge his death. Here closes the first part of the Lay. The second part, which is of about the same length as the first (each contains more than two thousand stanzas), is styled the Niebe- lungea Noth, or Calamity. It extends over a period of twenty-one or twenty-two years, and transfers the scenes of the principal events from Burgundy to Hunlaud (Hun- gary). HAGAN AND THE swAN-MAIDzNS.(SEE PAGE 48.] 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Thirteen years have passed by since Sieg- riors of the land. Finding herself thus a frieds death, during which his murderer beloved wife and mother, an idolized mis- had forced from his widow the precious tress and queen, Krimhild, whose heart is in Niebelongen hoard, and so intensified her Siegfrieds grave and whole mind on re- hatred of him, when embassadors from the venge, at last attempts the accomplishment King of Hunland arrive at Worms. They of her vindictive plans. One day Etzel is have been sent by Etzel (Attila), who had caressing her in a fond mood, when she ten- recently lost his wife, to sue for the hand derly upbraids him for never showing her of the still beautiful Krimhild. Their suit Burgundian kinsmen how honored in Hun- is at first rejected with contempt by Sieg- land is Etz~ls wife. The king protests, frieds widowed queen; but at last the de- and declares he will send for them at once voted Margrave of Austria, by promising to visit his court, that they may see how that her past wrongs shall be amended, innumerable are the redoubted champions draws from her a reluctant consent to his who do service to their throne. masters proposals. After a short delay, In spite of the violent expostulations of spent in preparing suitable vesture, Krim- Hagan, who in Krhnhilds invitation to vis- it Hunland suspects some mis chief, Gunther returns word / // / by the Hunnish messengers that he and his kinsmen will accept the invitation to come to Etzels land. Brunhild de- clines the invitation. But K Hagan at least succeeds in inducing the fraternal kings to take with them a large number of warriors as body- guards. He himself although convinced that all are going to meet death,persists in join- ing the party as guide, for he alone knows the way to Etzels castle in Hunland. Twelve days they travel eastward, when their progress is stayed by the river Danube, which recent rain-falls have render- ed unfordable. In this emer- gency Hagan calls to mind that further up the stream dwells a ferry-man. Telling his companions to wait there while he rides to the boat- mans hut, he disappears in the forest. There the mossy sod is so soft that the warri- ors progress is scarcely audi- ble, and hence he hears the splash of three merry bathers, in a little stream which he comes to before he has pro -K: ceeded far on his way, ere they have any warning of his ~~ ~ approach. The knight has GUNTHERS HEAD BROUGHT TO PAGE even time to dismount, and uAGAN.(SEE 51.] steal noislessly to the spot where they had thrown off hild sets out with the Hunnish knights for their garments, before the mermaids* dis- Etzels land. On their arrival her marriage cover him. When they do become aware with the barbarian king is consummated. __________________________________ Seven years the royal couple live togeth- In the original they are called the wise ladies, er in harmony. Krimhild, by suiting her and are supposed to be identical with the swan- habits to those adopted by her Hunnish maidens of Teutonic legends. The latter term i~as kinsmen, hy prudent generosity and affabil- prohably taken from the garments of these ideal had become the idolized mistress of all creatures, which were of swans-down, or else had the ity, property of enabling their wearers to fly away like those the ladies of the conit and of all the war- l,irds when attacked. THE NIEBELUNGEN LAY. 49 of the strangers presence, and perceive their garments in his hands, they swim down to him; and while floating in the water before him, one of the wise maidens offers to reveal the future of the knight and his companions if he will render np their garments. Hagan agrees; whereupon she tells him that the Burgundians may ride without fear to Etzels landgreat honor awaits them there. The knight, as he had promised, hamls back their raiment, and is about riding away in lighter mood, when one of the other two maidens calls him back. She declares her annt has lied to him in order to get back the garments: the truth is, death awaits every man of the Burgundians, except the kings chaplain, in Hunland. Hagan is furious, but not mind- ing his reproaches, she good-naturedly goes on to inform him how to find and subdue the ferry-man he seeks. She tells him that he is a faithful servant of the surly lord who rules over the land on the opposite side of the river; he has been commanded not to ferry any stranger over the river, and can be made to do so only by stratagem. The knight would probably find him pad- dling on the river; from the shore he must call out loudly that he is Almerich (an ally of the lord of the land), and wishes to be ferried across the river. And, indeed, when Hagan arrives at the rivers edge, he does see the ferry-man pad- dling in the stream. So he calls out, as the wise maiden had directed, that he wishes to be ferried over the river; he is Almerich! At the mention of this name the ferry-man begins rowing toward the shore, but he no sooner reaches the bank than he discovers the trick practiced on him. With an oath, he begins to row away again, when Hagan, with a bound, leaps into the boat. The surly fellow raises his oar to strike down the in- truder; but the knight, perceiving his inten- tion, draws his sword, and with one blow lays him dead at his feet. The grim war- rior casts the dead body overboard; then takes the oar in hand and rows down the stream to his companions. To their excla- mations of surprise at his coming alone, he states that he found the boat in a low mead- ow land, and had taken possession of it to transport them and their effects across the river. To this work of transportation they set themselves at once, hut it is late after- noon before it is finished. When on the point of again mounting their steeds to pur- sue their journey, Hagans eyes accidental- ly fall on the kings chaplain, seated on a relique chest near the rivers edge. A quick thought rushes through the warriors mind: he will render false the wise maidens proph- ecy! With a bound he is at the chaplains side; an instant, and the priest is struggling in the water. The drowning man cries for help, but the stern knight forbids, and none Vox.. LV.No. 325.4 dares defy him. At last, by mighty exertion on his own part, and by Gods almighty hand, the holy man reaches the opposite shore. Woe pierces the bold warriors heart when he beholds the chaplains escape; it con- vinces him of the truth of the maidens and of his own hearts prophecy. Whirling on his heel,, he strides down to the river, and seizing the shallop which lay secured there, he breaks it in piecemeal; then, addressing his companions, he tells them of the wise maidens prophecy, and declares he destroy- ed the boat to destroy the hope of escape any coward among them might entertain. But no one cherishes a desire to escape their common doom. With one accord they ac- cept it, with the grim determination to die as they had livedlike brave warriors. So they wend on their way. At night-fall they are attacked by the lord of the laud, with an armed band of followers. He seeks vengeance for his murdered ferry-man. In the fight which ensues, the band is routed by the Burgundians, and their chief slain. On the following day the warriors arrive at Passan, where they tarry one day with its bishop; Pilgrim, the un~k of the Burgundian monarchs. On the boundary of Austria they are met by Margrave Rudiger, who invites them ti his castle, where their whole party is feasted four days. At one of the grand ban- quets the Margraves fair daughter appears. The knights are so enchanted. by4he grace- ful vision that they propose GisheUie~ shall marry the young Margravime. After sotas hesitation on the. Margmves part, who re- minds them that he: is an exile from his pwn country, and in Austria but a vassal of King Etzel, the betrothal of the youn~g pair is con- summated. The warriors depart, promis- ing to stop on the returuto take with them Gishelhers fair bride.. Soon after, they arrive at their ultiin~te destination, where they are received by the Hunnish king with great cordiality. But Krimhild deigns to greet none but Gisbel- her. The fierce knight of Trony marks the slight, and takes warning from it. An oc- casion offering itself, he shows his anger and contempt for the queen by remaining seated in .her presence, and persuading his companion, the terrible Folker, the Minstrel, to follow his example. The Huns who wit- ness this insult to their mistress are over- come with indignation, but their loyalty pales before the fear the two strange war- riors inspire. They put off revenge till night shall come on, when the strangers can be attacked and slain in their beds. But this traitorous design is suspected by Tronys bold knight, and frustrated by his keeping watch all night long, with Folker, before the doors of their companions apart- ments. The next morning the festivities held in honor of the strangers arrival begin with a 50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. grand tournament. So skilled in arms are the first sound of his voice Hagan starts to Gunthers men that all the Hunnish warriors his feet. Commanding his brother to guard who venture in the lists against them are the door, the fierce knight strides to a table vanquished. Hagan grows tired of the easy near by, where he snatches from Krimhilds sport at length, and begins to scoff at King arms the little Ortlieb, whose head he strikes Etzels men, when a knight of proud bear- off with his sword and throws into the moth- ing and great beauty enters the lists. Fol- ers lap. This act is the signal for the be- ker is seized with sudden fury at the sight, ginning of a terrible conflict between the and before the stranger can prepare for ac- Huns and Burgundians, which, after raging tion, he rushes upon him and savagely till the floor of the hall is covered every pierces him through with his lance. This where with heaps of sl~n warriors, is check- outrageous act inspires horror and indigna- ed by the command of Hagan at the sup- tion alike in Burgundians and Huns, and plication of Dietrich of Bern, who is permit- the latter are about rushing in a body on ted to lead from the ghastly scene the the perpetrator of it, when Etzel peremp- Hunnish king and his consort, and then re- torily commands them to lay down their commences with insatiable fury. At last, of swords; the deed, he declares, was a mis- all the Huns who sat at the royal board not adventure, and his guest innocent of any one remains alive, and the redoubted Bur- guilty intention. The pending conflict be- gundians begin to rest their swords; but tween the two irritated peoples is thus once Gishellierthe Child no longer, for the taste more delayed. of blood has transformed him into a fero- But how admirably do her enemies serve cions animal, arouses them to fling from the Hunnish queens purpose; indeed, they their presence the bodies of their traitorous themselves seem to invite destruction to foes. So they throw open the doors of the fall on their heads. hall, and cast down the stone steps the dead Still Krimhild can not trust to a general, and dying Huns. A wail burst from the unpremeditated uprising against the insult- warriors assembled without. Urged on by ing crew of Burgundian warriors; by every their chiefs and by their own passions, they means in her power she tries to irritate endeavor to ascend into the hall. But Fol- her Hunnish liegemen; and by recomting ker and Hagan guard the platform, and hew the wrongs she had suffered at the stran- down every man who ventures against them. gers hands, she endeavors to win to her After watching from a distance the vain service the chief of her husbands kins- efforts of her liegemen, Krimhild commands men. The lofty-minded Dietrich of Bern the hall to be set on fire. Soon the flames and Margrave Rudiger indignantly refuse begin to dart and crackle around the Bur- to take any part in, and threaten to re- gundian warriors, and to lick with scorch- veal, her traitorous designs; but Bloodel, ing tongues their armor and heat it into King Etzels brother, is brought to promise softness. Dreadful are the red-tongued fu- he will attack the strangers at the first op- ries, dreadful the internal burning, which at portunity, by the engagement on Krimhilds last drives the warriors to cut fresh gashes part to bestow on him a beauteous bride and in the bodies of the slain, and to drink the a much-coveted castle. wet blood which gushes from the wounds. Evening finds King Etzel and his court, To such pictures as this, of almost beast- with the most noble of his guests, in the ly ferocity, there is no end. The seven grand banquet hall of the castle; those final chapters of the Lay abound with them. whose rank does not entitle them to a seat But in the midst of these scenes of cruel at the royal board are entertained in a dis- bloodshed occurs an episode unsurpassed in taut hall. The king is in high good hu- literature for lofty pathos. It is that which mor, and, desirous of proving his friendly describes the coming of the Margrave Rudi- feelings for his guests, he has his young son ger, the noblest of all knights, whose heart Ortlieb brought to him. He then~ presents gives virtues birth, as meadows grass and the boy to Gunther, as~g the Burgundian flowerets in the sweet mouth of May ; his monarch to take the child and rear him at controversy with Krimhild, who demands his court. The little prince is being pre- now the fulfillment of the promise given sented from one table to another, when a her when, as embassador, he came to Worms dreadful tumult is heard without, and ar- to woo her, and when the knight replies rests the attention of all present. that he pledged his service and life, but not While at the royal board all have been his soul; his interviews with Etzel, whom engaged in feasting in the distant banquet he asks to take back every thing his royal hall, Bloodel and his men had fallen on liberality has bestowed, and release him the Burgundians under Dankwart, Hagans from the duty to obey his lords commands brother; from the terrible conflict which against his conscience; his despair when had ensued Dankwart had escaped, after the king persists in supplicating his help; slaying the chief of his perfidious foes, and his subsequent attack on the Burgundians, now rushes into the royal banquet hall to which he preludes with words of just and warn his companions of their danger. At noble sentiment, and by a last act of gener EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 51 osity (lie gives Hagan his own shield to re- place the warriors broken one); his brave deeds, and his death. The blow that lays low the noble knight is struck by Gernot, with the very same sword the Margravine had presented to him on leaving Austria. Universal is the wail that rises when Rudi- ger falls; within the charred walls of the hall the remaining Burgundians spread out the rigid limbs and cover them reverently, and when, without, their foes cry aloud for the body, they lift it up carefully and de- liver it to Etzels men. Then, once more, the contest rages. Dietrich of Bern now for the first time leads on his men to avenge brave Rudigers death. He no longer hes- itates for any sentiment of honor; rage gives to his arm a power as mighty as that possessed by the desperate strangers. One by one they fall, till at last only Hagan and GUnther remain. Them he leads as captives to Krimhild, from whom he exacts a solemn promise that these mightiest of warriors shall suffer no harm. But the queen has yearned too long and too fiercely for this moment to reflect an in- stant on keeping sacred this promise. She orders both warriors to be imprisoned in separate dungeons, whither she repairs soon after. Outrage inflicted on the one pas- sion of this womans affectionate nature has changed the once gentle maiden and wife into an almost fiend. How now does she gloat over her captives misery! When she demands of him to reveal where in the Rhine the Niebelungen hoard, which was Sieg- frieds morning gift to her, is sunk~en, and he refuses on the ground that he has pledged his royal masters not to do so while they live, how coldly she turns to a servant and commands him to fetch hither her royal brothers head! And when the bloody mem- ber is brought, and although now not one of his masters live, the knight still refuses to reveal the secret, how like a tiger does she spring on him, and wrenching from his grasp Siegfrieds sword, sever with it the mockers head from the shoulders! Sieg- frieds sword! how tightly the maddened woman, unconscious of the deed she has just wrought with it, clasps the hallowed weapoxi to her bosom, heedless of the wounds the sharp blade cuts in naked hands and bosom! Etzel shudders at the sight, so overcome with horror that he makes no at- tempt to stay the hand of Dietrich of Berns man, who, to avenge his master, who had pledged Hagan his prompt release, rushes forward and slays the traitorous queen. Here ends the Niebelwngea Lay. To sev- eral of the manuscript copies of it there is a third part attached, styled the Plage, or Lament. This addition, however, is sup- posed to be quite modern, and consequently is not included in our sketch of the original old German epic. EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. CHAPTER XXX. cocxs AND cOxcOMB5. MAJOR HOCKIN brought the only fly as yet to be found in Bruntsea, to meet me at Newport, where the railway ended at present, for want of further encouragement. Very soon you go, he cried out to the bulkheads, or buffers, or whatever are the things that close the career of a land-en- gine. Station-master, you are very wise in putting in your very best cabbage plants there. You understand your own company. Well done! If I were to offer you a shilling apiece for those young early Yorks, what would you say, now ? Weel, a think I should say nah, Sir, the Scotch station-master made answer, with a grin, while he pulled off his cap of office and put on a dissolute Glengary. They are a veery fine young kail, that always pays for planting. The villain ! said the Major, as I jump- ed into the fly. However, I suppose he does quite right. Set a thief to watch a thief. The company are big rogues, and he tries to be a bigger. We shall cut through his garden in about three months, just when his cabbages are getting firm, and their value will exceed that of pine-apples. The sur- veyor will come down and certity, and the damage to crops will be at least five pounds, when they have no right to sow even mus- tard and cress, and a saucepan would hold all the victuals on the land. From this I perceived that my host was as full of his speculative schemes as ever; and soon he made the driver of the one-horse fly turn aside from the unfenced road and take the turf. Coachman, he cried, just drive along the railway; you wont have the chance much longer. There was no sod turned yet and no rod set up; but the driver seemed to know what was meant, and took us over the springy turf where once had run the river. And the salt breath of the sea came over the pebble ridge, full of appetite and briskness, after so much London. It is one of the saddest things I ever heard of, Major Hockin began to say to me. Poor Shovelin! poor Shovelin! A man of large capitalthe very thing we want. It might have been the making of this place. I have very little doubt that I must have brought him to see our great natural ad- vantagesthe beauty of the situation, the salubrity of the air, the absence of all clay,

EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 51 osity (lie gives Hagan his own shield to re- place the warriors broken one); his brave deeds, and his death. The blow that lays low the noble knight is struck by Gernot, with the very same sword the Margravine had presented to him on leaving Austria. Universal is the wail that rises when Rudi- ger falls; within the charred walls of the hall the remaining Burgundians spread out the rigid limbs and cover them reverently, and when, without, their foes cry aloud for the body, they lift it up carefully and de- liver it to Etzels men. Then, once more, the contest rages. Dietrich of Bern now for the first time leads on his men to avenge brave Rudigers death. He no longer hes- itates for any sentiment of honor; rage gives to his arm a power as mighty as that possessed by the desperate strangers. One by one they fall, till at last only Hagan and GUnther remain. Them he leads as captives to Krimhild, from whom he exacts a solemn promise that these mightiest of warriors shall suffer no harm. But the queen has yearned too long and too fiercely for this moment to reflect an in- stant on keeping sacred this promise. She orders both warriors to be imprisoned in separate dungeons, whither she repairs soon after. Outrage inflicted on the one pas- sion of this womans affectionate nature has changed the once gentle maiden and wife into an almost fiend. How now does she gloat over her captives misery! When she demands of him to reveal where in the Rhine the Niebelungen hoard, which was Sieg- frieds morning gift to her, is sunk~en, and he refuses on the ground that he has pledged his royal masters not to do so while they live, how coldly she turns to a servant and commands him to fetch hither her royal brothers head! And when the bloody mem- ber is brought, and although now not one of his masters live, the knight still refuses to reveal the secret, how like a tiger does she spring on him, and wrenching from his grasp Siegfrieds sword, sever with it the mockers head from the shoulders! Sieg- frieds sword! how tightly the maddened woman, unconscious of the deed she has just wrought with it, clasps the hallowed weapoxi to her bosom, heedless of the wounds the sharp blade cuts in naked hands and bosom! Etzel shudders at the sight, so overcome with horror that he makes no at- tempt to stay the hand of Dietrich of Berns man, who, to avenge his master, who had pledged Hagan his prompt release, rushes forward and slays the traitorous queen. Here ends the Niebelwngea Lay. To sev- eral of the manuscript copies of it there is a third part attached, styled the Plage, or Lament. This addition, however, is sup- posed to be quite modern, and consequently is not included in our sketch of the original old German epic. EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. CHAPTER XXX. cocxs AND cOxcOMB5. MAJOR HOCKIN brought the only fly as yet to be found in Bruntsea, to meet me at Newport, where the railway ended at present, for want of further encouragement. Very soon you go, he cried out to the bulkheads, or buffers, or whatever are the things that close the career of a land-en- gine. Station-master, you are very wise in putting in your very best cabbage plants there. You understand your own company. Well done! If I were to offer you a shilling apiece for those young early Yorks, what would you say, now ? Weel, a think I should say nah, Sir, the Scotch station-master made answer, with a grin, while he pulled off his cap of office and put on a dissolute Glengary. They are a veery fine young kail, that always pays for planting. The villain ! said the Major, as I jump- ed into the fly. However, I suppose he does quite right. Set a thief to watch a thief. The company are big rogues, and he tries to be a bigger. We shall cut through his garden in about three months, just when his cabbages are getting firm, and their value will exceed that of pine-apples. The sur- veyor will come down and certity, and the damage to crops will be at least five pounds, when they have no right to sow even mus- tard and cress, and a saucepan would hold all the victuals on the land. From this I perceived that my host was as full of his speculative schemes as ever; and soon he made the driver of the one-horse fly turn aside from the unfenced road and take the turf. Coachman, he cried, just drive along the railway; you wont have the chance much longer. There was no sod turned yet and no rod set up; but the driver seemed to know what was meant, and took us over the springy turf where once had run the river. And the salt breath of the sea came over the pebble ridge, full of appetite and briskness, after so much London. It is one of the saddest things I ever heard of, Major Hockin began to say to me. Poor Shovelin! poor Shovelin! A man of large capitalthe very thing we want. It might have been the making of this place. I have very little doubt that I must have brought him to see our great natural ad- vantagesthe beauty of the situation, the salubrity of the air, the absence of all clay, 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. or marsh, or noxious deposit, the bright crisp turf, and the noble underlay of chalk, which (if you perceive my meaning) can not retain any damp, but transmits it into sweet natu- ral wells. Why, driver, where the devil are you driving us ? No fear, your honor. I know every trick of it. It wont come over the wheels,I do believe, and it does all the good in the world to his sand-cracks. Whoa-ho, my boy, then! And the young ladys feet might go up upon the cushion, if her boots is thin, Sir; and Mr. Rasper will excuse of it. What thesomething hot do you mean, Sir ? the Major roared over the wa- ter, which seemed to be deepening as we went on. Pull out this in~tant; pull out, I tell you, or you shall have three months hard labor. May I be dd nowm.y dear, I beg your pardon for speaking with such sincerityI simply mean, may I go straight- way to the devil, if I dont put this fellow on the tread-mill. Oh, you can pull out now, then, can you ? If your honor pleases, I never did pull in, the poor driver answered, being fright- ened at the excitement of the lord of the manor. My orders was, miss, to drive along the line coming on now just to Bruntsea, and keep in the middle of that same I did, and this here little wet is a haxidenta haxi- dent of the full moon, I do assure you, and the wind coming over the sea, as you might say. These pebbles is too round, miss, to stick to one another; you couldnt expect it of them; and sometimes the water here and there comes a-leaking like through the bot- tom. I have seed it so, ever since I can re- member I dont believe a word of it, the Major said, as we waited a little for the vehicle to drain, and I made a nosegay of the bright sea flowers. Tell me no lies, Sir; you be- long to the West Bruntseyans, and you have driven us into a vile bog to scare me. They have bribed you. I see the whole of it. Tell me the truth, and you shall have five shil- lings. The driver looked over the marshes as if he had never received such an offer before. Five shillings for a falsehood would have seemed the proper thing, and have called for a balance of considerations, and made a demand upon his energies. But to earn five shillings by the truth had never fallen to his luck before; and he turned tome, because I smiled, and he said, Will you taste the water, miss 7 Bless me ! cried the Major, now I nev- er thought of that. Common people have such ways about things they are used to! I might have stood here for a month,and never have thought of that way to settle it. Ridiculously simple. Give me a taste, Erema. Ah, that is the real beauty of our coast, my dear! The strongest proportion of the saline elementI should know the taste of it any where. No sea-weed, no fishy particles, no sludge, no beards of oysters. The pure, uncontaminated, perfect brine, that sets every male and female on his legs, varicose, orthopedicI forget their scien- tifics, but I know the smack of it. Certainly, I said, it is beautifully salt. It will give you an appetite for dinner, Ma- jor Hockin. I could drink a pint of it, after all that smoke. But dont you think it is a serious thing for the sea itself to come pour- ing through the bottom of this pebble bank in this way 7 Not at all. No, I rather like it. It opens up many strictly practical ideas. It adds very much to the value of the land. For instance, a salt-lick, as your sweet Yankees call itand set up an infirmary for foot and mouth disease. And better still, the baths, the baths, my dear. No expense for piping, or pumping, or anything. Only place your marble at the proper level, and twice a day you have the grand salubrious sparkling in- flux of oceans self, self-filtered, and by its own operation permeated with a fine sili- ceous element. What foreign mud could compete with such a bath 7 But supposing there should come too much of it, I said, and wash both the baths and the bathers away 7 Such an idea is ridiculous. It can be adjusted to a nicety. I am very glad I hap- pened to observe this thing, thisthis noble phenomenon. I shall speak to Montague about it at once, before I am half an hour older. My dear, you have made a conquest; I quite forgot to tell you; but never mind that for the present. Driver, hereishalfa crown for you. Your master will put down the fly to my account. He owes me a hen ot. I shall claim his best beast, the moment he gets one without a broken wind. As the Major spoke, he got out at his own door with all his wonted alacrity; but in- stead of offering me his hand, as he always had done in London, he skipped up his nine steps, on purpose (as I saw) that somebody else might come down for me. And this was Sir Montague Hockin, as I feared was only too likely from what had been said. If I had even suspected that this gentle- man was at Bruntlands, I would have done my utmost to stay where I was, in spite of all absence of money. Betsy would gladly have allowed me to remain, without paying even a farthing, until it should become con- venient. Pride had forbidden me to speak of this; but I would have got over that pride much rather than meet this Sir Mon- tague Hockin thus. Some instinct told me to avoid him altogether; and having so lit- tle now of any other guidance, I attached, perhaps, foolish importance to that. However, it was not the part of a lady to be rude to any one through instinct; and I EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 53 knew already that in England young wom- en are not quite such masters of their own behavior as in the far West they are allowed to be. And so I did my best that, even in my eyes, he should not see how vexed I was at meeting him. And soon it appeared that this behavior, however painful to me, was no less wise than good, because both with my host and hostess this new visitor was already at the summit of all good graces. He had conquered the Major by admiration of all his schemes and upshots, and even offering glimmers of the needful money in the distance; and Mrs. Hockin lay quite at his feet ever since he had opened a hamper and produced a pair of frizzled fowls, creat- ures of an extraordinary aspect, toothed all over like a dandelion plant, with every feather sticking inside out. When I saw them, I tried for my life not to laugh, and biting my lips very hard, quite succeeded, until the cock opened up a pair of sleepy eyes, covered with comb and very sad in- versions, and glancing with complacency at his wife (who stood beneath him, even more turned inside out), capered with his twiggy legs, and gave a long, sad crow. Mrs. Hock- in looked at him with intense delight. Erema, is it possible that you laugh? I thought that you never laughed, Erema. At any rate, if you ever do indulge, you might choose a fitter opportunity, I think. You have spoiled his demonstration altogether see, he does not understand such unkind- nessand it is the very first he has uttered since he came. Oh, poor Fluffsky! I am very, very sorry. But how was I to help it? I would not, on any account, have stopped him if I had known he was so sensitive. Fluffsky, do please to begin again. These beggars are nothing at all, I can assure you, said Sir Montague, coming to my aid, when Fluffsky spurned all our prayers for one more crow. Mrs. Hockin, if you really would like to have a fowl that even Lady Clara Crowcombe has not got, you shall have it in a week, or a fortnight, or, at any rate, a month, if I can manage it. They are not to be had except through cer- tain channels, and the fellows who write the poultry books have never even heard of them. Oh, how delighted I shall be! Lady Clara despises all her neighbors so. But do they lay eggs? Half .the use of keep- ing poultry, when you never kill them, is to get an egg for breakfast; and Major Hockin looks round and says, Now is this our own? and I can not say that it is; and I am vexed with the books, and he begins to laugh at me. People said it was for want of chalk, but they walk upon nothing but chalk, as you can see. And their food, Mrs. Hockin. They are walking upon that. Starve them for a week, and forty eggs at least will reward you for stern discipline. But all this little talk I only tell to show how good and soft Mrs. Hockin was; and her husband, in spite of all his self-opinion, and resolute talk about money and manorial dues, in his way, perhaps, was even less to be trusted to get his cash out of any poor and honest man. On the very day after my return from London I received a letter from Colonel Gundry (as we always called the Sawyer now, through his kinship to the Major), and, as it can not easily be put into less compass, I may as well give his very words: DEAR Miss REMA,Your last favor to hand, with thanks. Every thing is going on all right with us. The mill is built up, and goes better than ever; more orders on hand than we can get through. We have not cracked the big nugget yet. Expect the government to take him at a trifle below value, for Washington Museum. Must have your consent; but, for my part, would rath- er let him go there than break him. Am ready to lose a few dollars upon him, par- ticularly as he might crack up all quartzy in the middie. They offer to take him by weight at three dollars and a half per pound below standard. Please say if agreeable. I fear, my dear, that there are bad times coming for all of us here in this part. Not about money, but a long sight worse; bad will, and contention, and rebellion, perhaps. What we hear concerning it is not much here; but even here thoughts are very much divided. Ephraim takes a different view from mine; which is not a right thing for a grandson to do; and neighbor Sylvester goes with him. The Lord send agreement and concord among us; but, if He doeth so, He must change his mind first, for every man is borrowing his neighbors gun. If there is any thing that you can do to turn Ephraim back to his duty, my dear, I am sure that, for love of us, you will do it. If Firm was to run away from me now, and go fighting on behalf of slavery, I never should care more for naught upon this side of Jordan; and the new mill might go to Jer- icho; though it does look uncommon hand- some now, I can assure you, andtearsthrough its work like a tiger. Noting symptoms in your last of the price of things in England, and having car- ried over some to your account, inclosed please to find a bill for five hundred dol- lars, though not likely to be wanted yet. Have a care of your money, my dear; but pay your way handsome, as a~ Castlewood should do. Jowler goes his rounds twice a day looking for you; and somebody else never hangs his hat up without casting one eye at the corner you know. Sylvesters girl was over here last week, dashing about as 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. usual. If Firm goes South, he may have her, for aught I care, and never see saw-mill again. But I hope that the Lord will spare my old days such disgrace and tribulation. About you know what, my dear, be not overanxious. I have been young, and now am old, as the holy Psalmist says; and the morel see of the ways ofmen,theless I ver- ily think of them. Their good esteem, their cap in hand, their fair fame, as they call it, goes by accident, and fortune, the whim of the moment, and the way the clever ones have of tickling them. A great man laughs at the ffimsy of it, and a good one goes to his conscience. Your father saw these things at their value. I have often grieved that you can not see them so; but perhaps I have liked you none the worse, my dear. Dont forget about going South. A word from you may stop him. It is almost the only hope I have, and even that may be too late. Suan Isco and Martin send messages. The flowers are on your fathers grave. I have got a large order for pine cradles in great haste, but have time to be, Truly yours, SAMPSON Gu~nnv. That letter, while it relieved me in one way, from the want of money, cost me more than ten times five hundred dollars worth of anxiety. The Sawyer had written to me twice ere thiskind, simple letters, but of no importance, except for their goodness and affection. But now it was clear that when he wrote this letter he must have been sadly put out and upset. His advice to me was beyond all value; but he seemed to have kept none at home for himself. He was carried quite out of his large, staid ways when he wrote those bitter words about poor Firmthe very apple of his eye, as the holy Psalmist says. And, knowing the ob- stinacy of them both, I dreaded clash be- tween them. CHAPTER XXXI. ADRIFT. HAVING got money enough to last long with one brought up to simplicity, and re- solved to have nothing to do for a while with charity or furnished lodgings (what though kept by ones own nurse), I cast about now for good reason to be off from all the busy works at Bruntsea. So soon after such a tremendous blow,it was impossible for me to push my own little troubles and concerns upon good Mr. Shovelins family, much as I longed to know what was to become of my fathers will, if any thing. But my desire to be doing something, or, at least, to get away for a time from Bruntsea, was largely in- creased by Sir Montague Hockins strange behavior toward me. That young man, if still he could be called youngwhich, at my age, scarcely seemed to be his right, for he must have been ten years older than poor Firmbegan more and more every day to come after me, just when I wanted to be quite alone. There was noth- ing more soothing to my thoughts and mind (the latter getting quiet from the former, I suppose) than for the whole of me to rest a while in such a little scollop of the shingle as a new-moon tide, in little crescents, leaves just below high-water mark. And now it was new-moon tide again, a fortnight after the flooding of our fly by the activity of the full moon; and, feeling howl longed to un- derstand these thingswhich seem to be de- nied to all who are of the same sex as the moon herselfI sat in a very nice nick, where no wind could make me look worse than nature willed. But of my own looks I never did think twice, unless there was any one to speak of such a subject. Here I was sitting in the afternoon of a gentle July day, wondering by what energy of nature all these countless pebbles were produced, and not even a couple to be found among them fit to lie side by side and pure- ly tally with each other. Right and left, for miles and miles, millions multiplied into millions; yet I might hold any one in my palm and be sure that it never had been there before. And of the quiet wavelets even, taking their own time and manner, in default of will of wind, all to come and call attention to their doom by arching over, and endeavoring to make froth, were any two in sound and size, much more in shape and shade, alike? Every one had its own little business, of floating pop-weed or foam bubbles or of blistered light, to do; and every one, having done it, died and subsided into its successor. A trifle sentimental, are we ? cried a lively voice behind me, and the waves of my soft reflections fell, and instead of them stood Sir Montague Hockin, with a hideous parasol. I never received him with worse grace, often as I had repulsed him; but he was one of those people who think that women are all whims and ways. I grieve to intrude upon large ideas, he said, as I rose and looked at him, but I act under positive orders now. A lady knows what is best for a lady. Mrs. Hock- in has been looking from the window, and she thinks that you ought not to be sitting in the sun like this. There has been a case of sun-stroke at Southbournea young lady meditating un,der the cliffand she begs you to accept this palm leaf. I thought of the many miles I had wan- dered under the fierce Californian sun; but I would not speak to him of that. Thank you, I said; it was very kind of her to think of it, and of you to do it. But will it be safe for you to go back without it ? EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 55 Oh, why should I do so ? he answered, front of those here in intelligence, and to with a tone of mock pathos which pro- some extent, therefore, in dishonesty. But yoked me always, though I never could be- there must be many cases where the two lieve it to be meant in ridicule of me, for are not the same. that would have been too low a thing; and, No, I replied, while he was looking at besides, I never spoke so. Could you bear his buttons, which had every British animal to see me slain by the shafts of the sun~ upon them; I me an nothing more than Miss Castlewood, this parasol is amply large the simple thing I say. If you ought to for both of us. tell me any thing, tell it. I am accustomed I would not answer him in his own vein, to straightforward people. But they disap- because I never liked his vein at all; though point one bytheir never knowing anything. I was not so entirely possessed as to want But I know something, he answered, every body to be like myself. with a nod of grave, mysterious import; Thank you; I mean to stay here, I and perhaps I will tell you some day, when said; you may either leave the parasol or admitted,if ever I have such an honor~to take it, whichever will be less troublesome. some little degree of friendship. At any rate, I shall not use it. Oh, please not to think of yourseli~, I A gentleman, according to my ideas, exclaimed, in a manner which must have would have bowed and gone upon his way; amused him. In such a case, the last thing but Sir Montague Hockin would have no that you should do is that. Think only of rebuff. He seemed to look upon me as a what is right and honorable, and your duty child, such as average English girls, fresh toward a lady. Also your duty to the laws from little schools, would be. Nothing more of your country. I am not at all sure that annoyed me, after all my thoughts and you ought not to be arrested. But perhaps dream of some power in myself, than this. it is nothing at all, after all; only something Perhaps I might tell you a thing or invented to provoke ~ two, he said, while I kept gazing at some In that case, I can only drop the sub- fishing-boats, and sat down again, as a sign ject, he answered, with that stern gleam for him to go a little thing or two of of the eyes which I had observed before, and which you have no idea, even in your most detested. I was also to tell you that we lonely musings, which might have a very dine to-day an hour before the usual time, deep interest for you. Do you think that that my cousin may go out in the boat for I came to this hole to see the sea? Or that whiting. The sea will be as smooth as glass. fussy old muff of a Majors doings ? Perhaps you will come with us. Perhaps you would like me to tell him With these words, he lifted his hat and your opinion of his intellect and great went off, leaving me in a most uncomfort- plans, I answered. And after all his able state, as he must have known if he had kindness to you ! even tried to think. For I could not get You never will do that,~~ he said; be- the smallest idea what he meant; and, much eanse you are a lady, and will not repeat as I tried to believe that he must be only what is said in confidence. I could help pretending, for reasons of his own, to have you materially in your great object, if you something important to tell me, scarcely would only make a friend of me. was it possible to be contented so. A thou- And what would your own object be? sand absurd imaginations began to torment The pure anxiety to do right ? me as to what he meant. He lived in Lon- Partly, and I might say mainly, that; don so much, for instance, that he had much also an ambition for your good opinion, quicker chance of knowing whatever there which seems so inaccessible. But you will was to know; again, he was a man of the think me selfish if I even hint at any con- world, full of short, sharp sagacity, and able dition of any kind. Every body I have ever to penetrate what I could not; then, again, met with likes me, except Miss Castlewood. he kept a large account with Shovelin, As he spoke he glanced down his fine Wayte, and Shovelin, as Major Hockin amber-colored beard, shining in the sun, chanced to say; and I knew not that a and even in the sun showing no gray hair bankers reserve is much deeper than his (for a reason which Mrs. Hockin told me deposit; moreoverwhich, to my mind, was afterward), and he seemed to think it hard almost stronger proof than any thingSir that a man with such a beard should be Montague Hockin was of smuggling pedi valued lightly. gree, and likely to be skillful in illicit runs I do not see why we should talk,~~ I of knowledge. said, about either likes or dislikes. Only, However, in spite of all this uneasiness, if you have any thing to tell, I shall be very not another word would I say to him about much obliged to you. it, waiting rather for him to begin again This gentleman looked at me in a way upon it. But, though I waited and waited, which I have often observed in England. as, perhaps, with any other person I scarcely A general idea there prevails that the free could have done, he would not condescend and enlightened natives of the West are in to give me even another look about it. 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Disliking that gentleman more and more for his supercilious conduct and certainty of subduing me, I naturally turned again to my good host and hostess. But here there was very little help or support to be obtain- ed at present. Major Hockin was laying the foundations of The Bruntsea Assembly- Rooms, Literary Institute, Mutual Improve- ment Association, Lyceum, and Baths, from sixpence upward ; while Mrs. Hockin had a hatch of White Sultans, or, rather, a pro- longed sitting of eggs, fondly hoped to hatch atlast, fromhaving cost so much, like a chick- en-hearted Conference. Much as I sorrowed at her disappointmentfor the sitting cost twelve guineasI could not feel quite guilt- less of a petty and ignoble smile, when, aft- er hoping against hope, upon the thirtieth day she placed her beautifully sound eggs in a large bowl of warm water, in which they floated as calmly as if their price was a penny a dozen. The poor lady tried to be- lieve that they were spinning with vitality; but at last she allowed me to break one, and lo! it had been half boiled by the adver- tiser. This is very sad, cried Mrs. Hock- in; and the patient old hen, who was come in a basket of hay to see the end of it, ech- oed with a cluck that sentiment. These things being so, I was left once more to follow my own guidance, which had seemed, in the main, to be my fortune ever since my father died. For one day Mr. Shovelin had appeared, to my great joy and comfort,as a guide and guardian; but, alas! for one day only. And, except for his good advice and kind paternal conduct to me, it seemed at present an unlucky thing that I had ever discovered him. Not only through deep sense of loss and real sorrow for him, but also because Major Hockin, however good and great and generous, took it nuren- sonably into his head that I threw him over, and threw myself (as with want of fine taste he expressed it) into the arms of the banker. This hurt me very much, and I felt that Major Hockin could never have spoken so hastily unless his hair had been originally red; and so it might be detected,even now, where it survived itself, though blanched where he brushed it into that pretentious ridge. Sometimes I liked that man, when his thoughts were large and liberal; but-no sooner had he said a fine brave thing than he seemed to have an after-thought not to go too far with it; just as he had done about the poor robbed woman from the steerage and the young man who pulled out his guinea. I paid him for my board and lodg- ing, upon a scale settled by Uncle Sam him- self, at California prices; therefore I am under no obligation to conceal his foibles. But, take him altogether, he was good and brave and just, though unable, from absence of inner light, to be tc~ me what Uncle Sam had been. When I perceived that the Major con- demned my simple behavior in London, and (if I may speak it, as I said it to myself) blew hot and cold in half a minutehot when I thought of any good things to be done, and cold as soon as he became the man to do themalso, when I remembered what a chronic plague was now at Bruntsea, in the shape of Sir Montague, who went to and fro, but could never be trusted to be far off I resolved to do what I had long been think- ing of~ and believed that my guardian, if he had lived another day, would have recom- mended. I resolved to go and see Lord Cas- tlewood, my fathers first cousin and friend in need. When I asked my host and hostess what they thought of this, they both declared that it was the very thing they were at the point of advising, which, however, they had for- borne from doing because I never took ad- vice. At this, as being such a great exag- geration, I could not help smiling seriously; but I could not accept their sage opinion that, before I went to see my kinsman, I ought to write and ask his leave to do so. For that would have made it quite a rude thing to call, as I must still have done, if he should decline beforehand to receive me. Moreover, it would look as if I sought an invitation, while only wanting an interview. Therefore, being now full of money again, I hired the flyman who had made us taste the water, and taking train at Newport, and changing at two or three places as ordered, crossed many little streams, and came to a fair river, which proved to be the Thames itself, a few miles above Reading. In spite of all the larger lessons of travel, adventure, and tribulation, my heart was throbbing with some rather small feelings, as for the first time I drew near to the home of my forefathers. I should have been sor- ry to find it ugly or mean, or lying in a hole,or even modern or insignificant; and when none of these charges could be brought against it, I was filled with highly discred- itable pain that Providence had not seen fit to issue me into this world in the masculine form; in which case this fine property would, according to the rules of mankind, have been mine. However, I was very soon ashamed of such ideas, and sat down on a bank to dispel them with the free and fair view around me. The builder of that house knew well both where to place and how to shape it, so as not to spoil the site. It stood near the brow of a bosoming hill, which sheltered it, both with wood and device, from the rigor and fury of the north a~id east; while in front the sloping foreground widened its soft lap of green. In bays and waves of rolling grass, promontoried, here and there, by jut- ting copse or massive tree, and jotted now and then with cattle as calm as boats at EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 57 anchor, the range of sunny upland fell to the reedy fringe and clustered silence of deep river meadows. Here the Thames, in pleasant bends of gentleness and courtesy, yet with will of its own ways, being now a plenteous river, spreads low music, and holds mirror to the woods and hills and fields, casting afar a broad still gleam, and on the banks presenting tremulous infini- tude of flash. Now these things touched me all the more because none of them belonged to me; and, after thus trying to enlarge my views, I got up with much better heart, and hurried on to have it over, whatever it might be. A girl brought up in the real English way would have spent her last shilling to drive up to the door in the fly at the stationa most sad machinebut I thought it no dis- grace to go in a more becoming manner. One scarcely ever acts up to the force of situation; and I went as quietly into that house as if it were Betsy Bowens. If any body had been rude tome, or asked whol was, or a little thing of that sort, my spirit might have been up at once, and found, as usually happens then, good reason to go down afterward. But happily there was nothing of the kind. An elderly man, with- out any gaudy badges, opened the door very quietly, and begged my pardon, before I spoke, for asking me to speak softly. It was one of his lordships very worst days, and when he was so, every sound seemed to reach him. I took the hint, and did not speak at all, but followed him over deep matting into a little room to which he showed me. And then I gave him a little note, written before I left Bruntsea, and asked him whether he thought that his master was well enough to attend to it. He looked at me in a peculiar manner, for he had known my father well, having served from his youth in the family; but he only asked whether my message was important. I answered that it was, but that I would wait for another time rather than do any harm. But he said that, however ill his master was, nothing provoked him more than to find that any thing was neglected through it. And before I could speak again he was gone with my letter to Lord Castle- wood. CHAPTER XXXII. AT HOME. sailor lies, at the foot of perpendicular cliffs of most inhuman humanity, with all the world frowning down over the crest, and no one to throw a rope down. Often and often had I felt this want of any one to help me, but the only way out of it seemed to be to do my best to help myself. Even, now I had little hope, having been so often dashed, and knowing that my fa- thers cousin possessed no share of my fa- thers strength. He might, at the utmost, give good advice, and help me with kind feeling; but if he wanted to do more, sure- ly he might have tried ere now. But my thoughts about this were cut short by a message that he would be glad to see me, and I followed the servant to the library. Here I found Lord Castlewood sitting in a high-backed chair, uncushioned and un- comfortable. When he saw me near him he got up and took my hand, and looked at me, and I was pleased to find his face well~ meaning, brave, and generous. But even to rise from his chair was plainly no small ef- fort to him, and he leaned upon a staff or crutch as he offered me a small white hand. Miss Castlewood, he said, with avery weak yet clear and silvery voice, for many years I have longed in vain and sought in vain to hear of you. I have not escaped all self-reproach through my sense of want of energy; yet, such as I am, I have done my best, or I do my best to think so. I am sure you have, I replied, without thinking, knowing his kindness to my fa- ther, and feeling the shame of my own hot words to Mr. Shovelin about him. I owe you more gratitude than I can tell, for your goodness to my dear father. I am not come now to trouble you, but because it was my duty. While I was speaking he managed to lead me, feebly as himself could walk, to a deep chair for reading, or some such use, whereof I have had few chances. And in every step and word and gesture I recognized that for- eign grace whichtrue-born Britons are proud to despise on both sides of the Atlantic. And, being in the light, I watched him well, because I am not a foreigner. In the clear summer light of the wester- ing sun (which is better for accurate uses than the radiance of the morning) I saw a firm, calm face, which might in good health have been powerfula face which might be called the moonlight image of my fathers. I could not help turning away to cry, and sus- picion fled forever. My dear young cou5~n,~~ he said, as soon as I was fit to speak to, your father trust- ed me, and so must you. You may think that I have forgotten you, or done very lit- tle to find you out. It was no indifference, no forgetfulness: I have not been able to work myself, and I have had very deep trou Soi~ of the miserable, and I might say strange, things which had befallen me from time to time unseasonably, now began to force their remembrance upon me. Such dark figures always seem to make the most of a nervous moment, when solid reason yields to fluttering fear and small misgivings. There any body seems to lie, as a stranded ble of my own. 55 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. He leaned on his staff:, and looked down at me, for I had sat down when thus over- come, and I knew that the forehead and eyes were those of a learned and intellect- ual man. How I knew this it is impossible to say, for I never had met with such a char- acter as this, unless it were the Abb6 of Finchon, when I was only fourteen years old, and valued his great skill in spinning a top tenfold more than all his deep learning. Lord Castlewood had long, silky hair, fall- ing in curls of silver gray upon either side of his beautiful forehead, and the gaze of his soft dark eyes was sad, gentle, yet penetra- ting. Weak health and almost constant pain had chastened his delicate features to an expression almost feminine, thoughfi~ thin lips and rigid lines showed masculine will and fortitude. And when he spoke of his own trouble (which, perhaps, he would not have done except for consolations sake), I knew that he meant something even more grievous than bodily anguish. It is hard,~~ he said, that you, so young and healthy and full of high spirit as you are (unless your face belies you), should be- gin the best years of your life, as common opinion puts such things, in such a cloud of gloom and shame. There is no shame at all, I answered; and if there is gloom, I am used to that; and so was my father for years and years. What is my trouble compared with his ? Your trouble is nothing when compared with his, so far as regards the mere weight of it; but he was a strong man to carry his load; you are a young and a sensitive wom- an. The burden may even be worse for you; Now tell me all about yourself, and what has brought you to me. His voice was so quiet and soothing that I seemed to rest beneath it. He had not spoken once of religion or the will of God, nor plied me at all with those pious allu- sions, which even to the xeverent mind are like illusions when so urged. Lord Castle- wood had too deep a sense of the will of God to know what it is; and he looked at me wistfully as at one who might have worse experience of it. Falliug happily under his influence, as his clear, kind eyes met mine, I told him every thing I could think of about my father and myself, and all I wanted to do next, and how my heart and soul were set upon getting to the bottom of every thing. And while I spoke with spirit, or softness, or,Ifear, sometimes with hate, I could not help see- ing that he was surprised, but not wholly displeased, with my energy. And then, when all was exhausted, came the old question I had heard so often, and found so hard to an- swer And what do you propose to do next, Erema ? To go to the very place itself I said, speaking strongly under challenge, though quite unresolved about such a thing before; to live in the house where my father lived, and my mother and all of the family died; and from day to day to search every corner and fish up every bit of evidence, until I get hold of the true man at last, of the villain who did itwho did it, and left my father and all the rest of us to be condemned and die for it. Erema, replied my cousin; as he had told me now to call him, you are too im- petuous for such work, and it is wholly unfit for you. For such a task, persons of trained sagacity and keen observation are needed. And after all these eighteen years, or nearly nineteen now it must be, there can not be any thing to discover there. But if I like, may I go there, cousin, if only to satisfy my own mind? I am miser- able now at Bruntsea, and Sir Montague Hockin wears me out. Sir Montague Hockin ! Lord Castlewood exclaimed; why, you did not tell me that he was there. Wherever he is, you should not be. I forgot to speak of him. He does not live there, but is continually to and fro for bathing, or fishing, or rabbit-shooting, or any other pretext. And he makes the place very unpleasant to me, kind as the Major and Mrs. Hockin are, because I can never make him out at all. Do not try to do so, my cousin answered, looking at me earnestly; be content to know nothing of him, my dear. If you can put up with a very dull house, and a host who is even duller, come here and live with me, as your father would have wished, and as I, your nearest relative, now ask and beg of you. This was wonderfully kind, and for a mo- ment I felt tempted. Lord Castlewood be- ing an elderly man, and, as the head of our family, my natural protector, there could be nothing wrong, and there might be much that was good, in such an easy arrangement. But, on the other hand, it seemed to me that after this my work would languish. Liv- ing in comfort and prosperity under the roof of my forefathers, beyond any doubt I should begin to fall into habits of luxury, to taketotheloveofliterature,whichl knew to be latent within me, to lose the clear, strong, practical sense of the duty for which I, the last of seven, was spared, and in some measure, perhaps, by wanderings and by hardships, fitted. And then I thought of my hosts weak health, continual pain (the signs of which were hardly repressed even while he was speaking), and probably also his se- cluded life. Was it fair to force him, by vir- tue of his inborn kindness and courtesy, to come out of his privileges and deal with me, who could not altogether be in any place a mere nobody? And so I refused his offer. EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 59 I am very much obliged to you indeed, I said, but I think you might be sorry for it. I will come and stop with you every now and then, when your health is better, and you ask me. But to live here altogeth- er would not do; I should like it too well~ and do nothing else. Perhaps you are right, he replied, with the air of one who cares little for any thing, which is to me the most melancholy thing, and worse than any distress almost; you are very young, my dear, and years should be allowed to pass before you know what full-grown sorrow is. You have had enough, for your age, of it. You had better not live in this house; it is not a house for cheerful- ness. Then if I must neither Live here nor at Bruntsea, I asked, with sudden remon- strance, feeling as if every body desired to be quit of me or to worry me, to what place in all the world am I to go, unless it is back to America? I will go at once to Shoxford, and take lodgings of my own. Perhaps you had better wait a little while, Lord Castlewood answered, gently, although I would much rather have you at Shoxford than where you are at present. But please to remember, my good Erema, that you can not go to Shoxford all alone. I have a most faithful and trusty manthe one who opened the door to you. He has been here before his remembrance. He dis- dains me still as compared with your father. Will you have him to superintend you? I scarcely see how you can do any good, but if you do go, you must go openly, and as your fathers daughter. I have no intention whatever of going in any other way, Lord Castlewood; but perhaps, I continued, it would be as well to make as little stir as possible. Of an En- glish village I know nothing but the little I have seen at Bruntsea, but there they make a very great fuss about any one who comes down with a man-servant. To be sure, replied my cousin, with a smile; they would not be true Britons oth- erwise. Perhaps you would do better with- out Stixon; but of course you must not go alone. Could you by any means persuade your old nurse Betsy to go with you ? How good of you to think of it !how wise you are ! I really could not help say- ing, as I gazed at his delicate and noble face. I am sure that if Betsy can come, she will; though of course she must be compensated well for the waste all her lodgers will make of it. They are very wicked, and eat most dreadfully if she even takes one days holi- day. What do you think they even do? She has told me with tears in her eyes of it. They are all allowed a pat of butter, a pen- ny roll, aud-two sardines for breakfast. No sooner do they know that her back is turn- ed Erema ! cried my cousin, with some sur- prise; and being so recalled, I was ashamed. But I never could help taking interest in very little things indeed, until my own com- mon-sense, or somebody else, came to tell me what a child I was. However, I do believe that Uncle Sam liked me all the better for this fault. My dear, I did not mean to blame you, Lord Castlewood said, most kindly; it must be a great relief for you to look on at other people. But tell meor rather, since you have told me almost every thing you know let me, if only in one way I can help you, help you at least in that way. Knowing that he must mean money, I de- clined, from no false pride, but a set resolve to work out my work, if possible, through my own resources. But I promised to ap- ply to him at once if scarcity should again befall me, as had happened lately. And then I longed to ask him why he seemed to have so low an opinion of Sir Montague Hockin. That question, however, I feared to put, be- cause it might not be a proper one, and also because my cousin had spoken in a very strange tone, as if of some private dislike or reserve on that subject. Moreover, it was too evident that I had tried his courtesy long enough. From time to time pale shades of bodily pain, and then hot flushes, had flit- ted across his face, like clouds on a windy summer evening. And more than once he had glanced at the time-piece, not to hurry me, but as if he dreaded its announcements. It was a beautiful clock, and struck with a silvery sound every quarter of an hour. And now, as I rose to say good-by, to catch my evening train, it struck a quarter to five, and my cousin stood up, with his weight upon his staff and looked at me with an inexpress- ible depth of weary misery. I have only a few minutes left, he said, during which I can say any thing. My time is divided into two sad parts: the time when I am capable of very little, and the time when I am capable of nothing; and the latter part is twice the length of.the other. For sixteen hours of every day, far better had I be dead than living, so far as our own little insolence may judge. But I speak of it only to excuse bad manners, and perhaps I show worse by doing so. I shall not be able to see you again until to-morrow morn- ing. Do not go; they will arrange all that. Send a note to Major Hockin by Stixons boy. Stixon and Mrs. Price will see to your comfort,if those who are free from pain re- quire any other comfort. Forgive me; I did not mean to be rude. Sometimes I can not help giving way. Less enviable than the poorest slave, Lord Castlewood sank upon his hard stiff chair, and straightened his long narrow hands upon his knees, and set his thin lips in straight blue lines. Each hand was as rigid 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. as the ivory handle of an umbrella or walk- bodily pain (except hunger, or thirst, or ing-stick, and his lips were like clamped weariness, and once in my life a headache), wire. This was his regular way of prepar- I stood before Lord Castlewood with a def- ing for the onset of the night, so that no erence and humility such as I had never grimace, no cry, no moan, or other token of felt before toward any human being. Not fierce agony should be wrung from him, only because he bore perpetual pain in the My lord will catch it stiff to-night, said two degrees of night and daythe day be- Mr. Stixon, who came as I rang, and then ing dark and the night jet-blackwithout led me away to the drawing-room; he al- a murmur or an evil word; not only because ways have it ten times worse after any talk- through the whole .of this he had kept his ing or any thing to upset him like. And so, mind clear and his love of knowledge bright; then, missexcuse a humble servantdid not even because he had managed, like Job, I understand from him that you was the to love God through the whole of it. All Captains own daughter ? these were good reasons for very great and Yes; but surely your master wants you very high respect of any man; and when he is in such dreadful pain. Do please there was no claim whatever on his part to to go to him, and do something. any such feeling, it needs must come. But There is nothing to be done, miss, Stix- when I learned another thing, high respect on answered, with calm resignation; he is at once became what might be called deep bound to stay so for sixteen hours, and then reverence. And this came to pass in a sim- he eases off again. But bless my heart, miss ple and, as any one must confess, quite in excuse me in your presencehis lordship evitable way. is thoroughiy used to it. It is my certain It was not to be supposed that I could sit knowledge that for seven years now he has the whole of my first evening in that house never had seven minutes free from pain without a soul to speak to. So far as my seven minutes all of a heap, I mean. Some dignity and sense of right permitted, I wore do say, miss, as the Lord doeth every thing out Mr. Stixon, so far as he would go, not according to His righteousness, that the rea- asking him any thing that the very worst- son is not very far to seek. minded person could call ~~inquisitive,~~ but I asked him what he meant, though I allowing him to talk, as he seemed to like ought, perhaps, to have put a stop to his to do, while he waited upon me, and alter- loquacity; and he pretended not to hear, nately lamented my hapless history and my which made me ask him all the more. hopeless want of taste. A better man never lived than my lord, Ab, your father, the Captain, now, he he answered, with a little shock at my mis- would have knowed what this is! Youve prision; but it has been said among cen- no right to his eyes, Miss Erma, without his soorous persons that nobody ever had no tongue and palate. No more of this, miss! luck as came in suddenly to a property and and done for you a-purpose! Well, cook a high state of life on the top of the heads will be put out, and no mistake! I better of a family of seven. not let her see it go down, anyhow. And What a poor superstition ! I cried, the worthy man tearfully put some dainty though I was not qulte sure of its being a by, perhaps without any view to his own wicked one. But what is your masters supper. malady, Stixon? Surely there might be Lord Castlewood spoke to me about a something done to relieve his violent pain, Mrs. Pricethe housekeeper, is she not ? I even if there is no real cure for it 7 asked at last, being so accustomed to like No, miss, nothing can be done. The doe- what I could get, that the number of dishes tors have exorced themselves. They tried wearied me. this, that, and the other, but nature only Oh yes, miss, said Stixon, very shortly, flew worse against them. Tis a thing as as if that description exhausted Mrs. Price. was never heard of till the Constitooshon If she is not too busy, I should like to was knocked on the head and to pieces by see her as soon as these things are all taken the Reform Bill. And though they couldnt away. I mean if she is not a stranger, and cure it, they done what they could do, miss. if she would like to see me. They discovered a very good name for it No new-comers here, Mr. Stixon replied; they christened it the New-rager! we all works our way up regular, the same as my lad is beginning for to do. New-fan- gled ways is not accepted here. We puts the reforming spirits scrubbing of the steps CHAPTER XXXIII. till their knuckles is cracked and their knees like a bean. The old lord was the man for LORD CASTLEWOOD. disciplineyour grandfather, if you please, IN the morning, when I was called again miss. He catched me when I were about to see my afflicted cousinStixon junior that high having gladiy gone to explain things for Excuse me, Mr. Stixon; but would he me at Bruntsealittle as I knew of any have encouraged you to talk as you so very EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 61 kindly talk to me, instead of answering a question ? I thought that poor Stixon would have been upset by this, and was angry with my- self for saying it; but instead of being hurt, he only smiled and touched his forehead. Well, now, you did remind me uncom- mon of him then, miss. I could have heard the old lord speak almost, though he were always harsh and distant. And as I was going for to say, he catched me fifty years agone next Lammas-tide; a pear-tree of an early sort it was; you may see the very tree if you please to stand here, miss, though the pears is quite altered now, and scarcely fit to eat. Well,I was running off with my cap chock-full, miss Please to keep that story for another time, I said; I shall be most happy to hear it then. But I have a particular wish, if you please, to see Mrs. Price before dark, unless there is any good reason why I should not. Oh no, Miss Erma, no reason at all. Only please to bear in mind, miss, that she is a coorous woman. She is that jealous, and I might say forward Then she is capable of speaking for her- self. You are right, miss, there, and no mis- take. She can speak for herself and for fif- ty otherswords enough, I mean, for all of them. But I would not have her know for all the world that I said it. Then if you do not send her to me at once, the first thing I shall do will be to tell her. Oh no, miss, none of your family would do that; that never has been done anony- mous. I assured him that my threat was not in earnest, but of pure impatience. And hav- ing no motive but downright jealousy for keeping Mrs. Price from me, he made up his mind at last to let her come. But he told me to be careful what I said; I must not expect it to be at all like talking to himself, for instance. The housekeeper came up at last, by dint of my persistence, and she stopped in the doorway and made me a courtesy, which put me out of countenance, for nobody ever does that in America, and scarcely any one in En- gland now, except in country-dancing. In- stead of being as described by Stixon, Mrs. Price was of a very quiet, sensible, and re- spectful kind. She was rather short, but looked rather tall, from her even walk and way of carrying her head. Her figure was neat, and her face clear-spoken, with straight pretty eyebrows, and calm bright eyes. I felt that I could tell her almost any thing, and she would think before she talked of it. And in my strong want of some woman to advise withBetsy Bowen being very good but very narrow, and Mrs. Hockin a mere echo of the Major until he contradicted her, and Suan Isco, with her fine, large views, five thousand miles out of sight just now this was a state of things to enhance the value of any good countenance feminine. At any rate, I was so glad to see her that, being still ungraduated in the steps of rank (though beginning to like a good footing there), I ran up and took her by both hands, and fetched her out of her grand courtesy and into a low chair. At this she was sur- prised, as one qulck glance showed; and she thought me, perhaps, what is called in En- gland an impulsive creature. This put me again upon my dignity, for I never have been in any way like that, and I clearly per- ceived that she ought to understand a little more distinctly my character. It is easy to begin with this intention, but very hard indeed to keep it up when any body of nice ways and looks is sitting with a proper deferential power of listening, and liking ones young ideas, which multiply and magnify themselves at each demand. So after some general talk about the weather, the country, the house, and so on, we came to the people of the house, or at any rate the chief person. And I asked her a few quiet questions about Lord Castlewoods health and habits, and any thing else she might like to tell me. For many things had seemed to me a little strange and out of the usual course, and on that account wor- thy to be spoken of without common curios- ity. Mrs. Price told me that there were many things generally divulged and credit- ed, which therefore lay in her power to com- municate without any derogation from her office. Being pleasedwith these larger words (which I always have trouble in pronoun- cing), I asked her whether there was any thing else. And she answered yes, but un- happily of a nature to which it was scarcely desirable to allude in my presence. I told her that this was not satisfactory, and I might say quite the opposite; that having alluded to whatever it might be, she was bound to tell me all about it. That I had lived in very many countries, in all of which wrong things continually went on, of which I continually hsard just in that sort of way and no more. Enough to make one uncom- fortable, but not enough to keep one in- structed and vigilant as to things that ought to be avoided. Upon this she yielded either to my arguments or to her own dislike of unreasonable silence, and gave me the fol- lowing account of the misfortunes of Lord Castlewood: Herbert William Castlewood was the third son of Dean Castlewood, a younger brother of my grandfather, and was born in the year 1806. He was older, therefore, than my father, but still (even before my fathers birth, which provided a direct heir) there were many lives betwixt him and the fam- ily estates. And his father, having as yet no 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. promotion in the Church, found it bard to bring up his children. The eldest son got a commission in the army, and the second en- tered the navy, while Herbert was placed in a bank at Bristolnot at all the sort of life which he would have chosen. But being of a gentle, unselfish nature, as well as a weak constitution, he put up with his state in life, and did his best to give satisfaction. This calm courage generally has its re- ward, and in the year 1842, not very long before the death of my grandfather at Shox- ford, Mr. Herbert Castlewood, being well- connected, well-behaved, diligent, and pleas- ing, obtained a partnership in the firm, which was, perhaps, the foremost in the west of England. His two elder brothers happened then to be at home, Major and Commander Castlewood, each of whorn had seen very bard service, and found it still harder slav- ery to make both ends meet, although bach- elors. But, returning full of glory, they found one thing harder still, and that was to extract any cash from their father, the highly venerated Dean, who in that respect, if in no other, very closely resembled the head of the family. Therefore these brave men resolved to go and see their Bristol brother, to whom they were tenderly attach- ed, and who now must have money enough and to spare. So they wrote to their brother to meet them on the platform, scarcely be- ileving that they could be there in so short a time from London; for they never had travelled by rail before; and they set forth in wonderful spirits, and laughed at the strange, giddy rush of the travelling, and made bets with each other about punctual time (for trains kept much better time while new), and, as long as they could time it, they kept time to a second. But, sad to relate, they wanted no chronometers when they ar- rived at Bristol, both being killed at a blow, with their watches still going, and a smile on their faces. For the train had run into a wall of Bath stone, and several of the pas- sengers were killed. The sight of his two brothers carried out ilke this, after so many years of not seeing them, was too much for Mr. Herbert Castle- woods nerves, which always had been del- icate. And he shivered all the more from reproach of conscience, having made up his mind not to lend them any money, as a prac- tical banker was compelled to do. And from that very moment he began to feel great pain. Mrs. Price assured me that the doctors all agreed that nothing but change of climate could restore Mr. Castlewoods tone and sys- tem, and being full of art (though so simple, as she said, which she could not entirely reconcile), he set off for Italy, and there he stopped, with the good leave of his partners, being now valued highly as heir to the Dean, who was known to have put a good trifle to- gether. And in Italy my father must have found him, as related by Mr. Shovelin, and there received kindness and comfort in his trouble, if trouble so deep could be com- forted. Now I wondered and eagerly yearned to know whether my father, at such a time, and in such a state of loneliness, might not have been led to impart to his cousin and host and protector the dark mystery which lay at the bottom of his own conduct. Knowing how resolute and stern he was, and doubt- less then imbittered by the wreck of love and ilfe, I thought it more probable that he had kept silence even toward so near a rel- ative, especially as he had seen very little of his cousin Herbert till he had found him thus. Moreover, my grandfather and the Dean had spent little brotberly love on each other, having had a ilfe-long feud about a copy-hold furze brake of nearly three-quar- ters of an acre, as Betsy remembered to have heard her master say. To go on, however, with what Mrs. Price was saying. She knew scarcely any thing about my father, because she was too young at that time to be called into the counsels of the servants hall, for she scarcely was thirty-five yet, as she declared, and she cer- tainly did not look forty. But all about the present Lord Castlewood she knew better than any body else, perhaps, because she had been in the service of his wife, and, indeed7 her chief attendant. Then, having spoken of her masters wife, Mrs. Price caught her- self up, and thenceforth called her only his lady. Mr. Herbert Castlewood, who had minded his business for so many years, and kept himself aloof from ladies, spending all his leisure in good ilterature, at this time of life and in this state of health (for the shock he had received struck inward), fell into an ac- cident tenfold worsethe fatal accident of love. And this malady raged the more pow- erfully with him on account of breaking out so late in ilfe. In one of the picture-gal- leries at Florence, or some such place, Mrs. Price declared, he met with a lady who made all the pictures look cold and dull and dead to him. A lovely young creature she must have been (as even Mrs. Price, who detested her, acknowledged), and to the eyes of a learned but not keen man as good as lovely. My father was gone to look after me, and fetch me out of England, but even if he had been there, perhaps he scarcely could have stopped it; for this Mr. Castlewood, although so quiet, had the family fault of tenacity. Mrs. Price, being a very steady person, with a limited income, and enough to do, was inclined to look down upon the state of mind in which Mr. Castlewood became in- volved. She was not there at the moment, of course, but suddenly sent for when all was settled; nevertheless, she found out aft- EREMA; OR, MY FATHERS SIN. 63 erward how it began from her masters man, through what he had for dinner. And in the kitchen-garden at Castlewood no ram- pion would she allow while she lived. I asked her whether she had no pity, no sym- pathy, no fine feeling, and how she could have become Mrs. Price if she never had known such sentiments. But she said that they only called her Midiress on account of her authority, and she never had been drawn to the opposite sex, though many times asked in marriage. And what she had seen of matrimony led her far away from it. I was sorry to hear her say this, and felt damped, till I thought that the world was not all alike. Then she told me, just as if it were no more than a bargain for a pound of tallow candles, how Mr. Herbert Castlewood, pa- tient and persistent, *as kept off and on for at least two years by the mother of his sweet idol. How the old lady held a balance in her mind as to the likelihood of his succes- sion, trying, through English friends, to find the value and the course of property. Of what nation she was, Mrs. Price could not say, and only knew that it must be a bad one. She called herself the Countess of Ix- orism, as truly pronounced in English; and she really was of good family too, so far as any foreigner can be. And her daughters name was Flittamore, not according to the right spelling, perhaps, but pronounced with the proper accent. Flittamore herself did not seem to care, according to what Mrs. Price had been told, but left herself wholly in her mothers hands, being sure of her beauty still growing upon her, and desiring to have it admired and praised. And the number of foreigners she always had about her sometimes made her real lover nearly give her up. But, alas! he was not quite wise enough for this, with all that he had read and learned and seen. Therefore, when it was reported from Spain that my father had been killed by bandits the truth being that he was then in Greece the Countess at last consented to the mar- riage of her daughter with Herbert Castle- wood, and even seemed to press it forward for some reasons of her own. And the hap- py couple set forth upon their travels, and Mrs. Price was sent abroad to wait upon the lady. For a few months they seemed to get on very well, Flittamore showing much af- fection for her husband, whose age was a trifle more than her own doubled, while he was entirely wrapped up in her, and labor- ed that the graces of her mind might be worthy to compare with those more visible. But her spiritual face and most sweet po- etic eyes were vivid with bodily brilliance alone. She had neither mind enough to learn, nor heart enough to pretend to learn. It is out of my power to describe such things, even if it were my duty to do so, which, happily, it has never been; more- over, Mrs. Price, in what she told me, exer- cised a just and strict reserve. Enough that Mr. Castlewoods wedded life was done with in six months and three days. Lady Castlewood, as she would be called, though my father still was living and his cousin disclaimed the title away she ran from some dull German place, after a very stiff lesson in poetry, and with her ran off a young Englishman, the present Sir Mon- tague Hockin. He was Mr. Hockin then, and had not a half-penny of his own; but Flittamore met that difficulty by robbing her husband to his last farthing. This had happened about twelve years back,soon afterlwas placed at the school in Languedoc, to which I was taken so ear- ly in life that I almost forget all about it. But it might have been better for poor Flit- tamore if she had been brought up at a steady place like that, with sisters and la- dies of retreat, to teach her the proper de- scription of her duties to mankind. I seem- ed now in my own mind to condemn her quite enough, feeling how superior her hus- band must have been; but Mrs. Price went even further, and became quite indignant that any one should pity her. A hussy! a hussy! a poppet of a hussy ! she exclaimed, with greater power than her quiet face could indicate; never would I look at her. Speak never so, Miss Castle- wood. My lord is the very best of all men, and she has made him what he is. The pity she deserves is to be trodden under foot, as I saw them do in Naples. After all the passion I had seen among rough people, I scarcely could help trem- bling at the depth of wrath dissembled and firmly controlled in calm clear eyes under very steadfast eyebrows. It was plain that Lord Castlewood had, at any rate, the gift of being loved by his de- pendents. I hope that he took it aright ! I cried, catching some of her indignation; I hope that he cast her to the winds, without even a sigh for such a cruel creature ! He was not strong enough, she an- swered, sadly; his bodily health was not equal to it. From childhood he had been partly crippled and spoiled in his nerves by an accident. And the shock of that sight at Bristol flew to his weakness, and was too much for him. And now this third and worst disaster, coming upon him where his best hope lay, and at such a time of life, took him altogether off his legs. And off his head too, I might almost say, miss; for, instead of blaming her, he put the fault en- tirely upon himself. At his time of life, and in such poor health, he should not have mar- ried a bright young girl how could he ever 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. hope to make her happy? That was how he looked at it, when he should have sent constables after her. And what became of herthe mindless animal, to forsake so good and great a man? I do hope she was punished, and that vile man too. She was, Miss Castlewood; but he was not ; at least he has not received justice yet. But he will, he will he will, miss. The treacherous thief! And my lord re- ceived him as a young fellow-countryman under a cloud, and lent him money, and saved him from starving; for he had broken with his father and was running from his creditors. Tell me no more, I said; not another word. It is my fate to meet thatwell, that gentlemanalmost every day. And he, and heoh, how thankful I am to have found out all this about him! The above will show why, when I met my fathers cousin on the following morning with his grand, calm face, as benevolent as if he had passed a night of luxurious rest instead of sleepless agonyI knew myself to be of a lower order in mind and soul and heart than his; a small, narrow, passionate girl, in the presence of a large, broad-sight- ed~ and comipassionate man. I threw myself altogether on his win; for, when I trust, I trust wholly. And, un- der his advice, I did not return with any rash haste to Bruntsea, but wrote in dis- charge of all duty there; while Mrs. Price, a clear and steadfast woman, was sent to Lon- don to see Wilhelmina Strouss. These two must have had very great talks together, and, both being zealous and faithful, they came to many misunderstandings. How- ever, on the whole, they became very honest friends, and sworn allies at last, discover- ing more, the more they talked, people against whom they felt a common and just enmity. LA FESTA DELLO STATUTO. Tux sunset heavens are all aglow, Trumpets are blown and roses blow, And gales of fragrance and melody flow Round aloes and palms of the Pincian, Where a brilliant Corso seems to grow In endless procession, rolling slow Through the populous garden, to and fro, Over against the Vatican, Whose vast white silence thunders No, And smites, a self-imprisoned woe, In the face of the Romans holiday show. Beyond, on the ridge Janiculan, Umbrella pines in funereal row Frown darkly, and infinite shadows throw On the level light. Like a halo of snow, In tinge the mid-ribbon of a rainbow, Above yon dome metropolitan A cloud-ring floats; in the nave below A worshiper, licking the floor, doth go On his knees to kiss bronze Peters toe Religion groveling in dust, as though An Ariel sunk to a Caliban! Ere evening glides into the gloam, Through the Villa Medicis sombre bloom To the crest of the Mountain of Gardens clomb, Lo! the whole circuit Aurelian! How martyrs dust from the catacomb Blossoms in many a sweliing dome, More richly gilt by the sunsets chrome High altar, perchance, an Apostles tomb, The outside steps a beggars home Far as the desolate Cmlian, And the statues tossed in air like foam From the roof of the lordly Lateran I The gods are dethroned in the Pantheon; But ruinous walls, like the crumbling loom Of a once world-shaking thunder-boom, Crop, here and there, out of C~sars Rome, And the grandeur that was Republican. From Flaminian gate to the Aventine, From the Borgo to the Quirinal, In Campus Martius, on Esquiline, And the Trasteverebell and shrine Towers the Rome Pontifical; With the Bambino, a doll benign, Miraculous cure in its jewel shine, On the seat of Jove Capitoline. But Rome still rules Imperial In the region of the Palatine. But a boulevard lords it, lofty and fine In insolence of youth, on the Viminal. Musing, I watch the sun decline, Revealing a golden thread of brine Beyond the Campagnas sea-like line, Till in that Hesperian burial The day with its thoughts has gone to join The ages dead and the ghosts divine Of the men of the Forum and Capitol. But, land of brotherly palm and pine! Land of the olive and the vine! Land of Latin and Sabine! A future of glowing hope is thine; For a Star in the East ethereal, The Star of Liberty, thine and mine, Pours light in a joyous flood, like wine, To the weary watchers for a sign New-risen oer snowy Apennine On the Rome of Victor EmanueL Tis night, but the city is noisy and gay With crowds on crowds that mingle and flow An under-sweep of majestic sway From the past, heard near and far away, The voices of yore and of yesterday To the Tiber; and, lo! the girondola, In fiery fantasies of display, On the Castle of Saint Angelo!

64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. hope to make her happy? That was how he looked at it, when he should have sent constables after her. And what became of herthe mindless animal, to forsake so good and great a man? I do hope she was punished, and that vile man too. She was, Miss Castlewood; but he was not ; at least he has not received justice yet. But he will, he will he will, miss. The treacherous thief! And my lord re- ceived him as a young fellow-countryman under a cloud, and lent him money, and saved him from starving; for he had broken with his father and was running from his creditors. Tell me no more, I said; not another word. It is my fate to meet thatwell, that gentlemanalmost every day. And he, and heoh, how thankful I am to have found out all this about him! The above will show why, when I met my fathers cousin on the following morning with his grand, calm face, as benevolent as if he had passed a night of luxurious rest instead of sleepless agonyI knew myself to be of a lower order in mind and soul and heart than his; a small, narrow, passionate girl, in the presence of a large, broad-sight- ed~ and comipassionate man. I threw myself altogether on his win; for, when I trust, I trust wholly. And, un- der his advice, I did not return with any rash haste to Bruntsea, but wrote in dis- charge of all duty there; while Mrs. Price, a clear and steadfast woman, was sent to Lon- don to see Wilhelmina Strouss. These two must have had very great talks together, and, both being zealous and faithful, they came to many misunderstandings. How- ever, on the whole, they became very honest friends, and sworn allies at last, discover- ing more, the more they talked, people against whom they felt a common and just enmity. LA FESTA DELLO STATUTO. Tux sunset heavens are all aglow, Trumpets are blown and roses blow, And gales of fragrance and melody flow Round aloes and palms of the Pincian, Where a brilliant Corso seems to grow In endless procession, rolling slow Through the populous garden, to and fro, Over against the Vatican, Whose vast white silence thunders No, And smites, a self-imprisoned woe, In the face of the Romans holiday show. Beyond, on the ridge Janiculan, Umbrella pines in funereal row Frown darkly, and infinite shadows throw On the level light. Like a halo of snow, In tinge the mid-ribbon of a rainbow, Above yon dome metropolitan A cloud-ring floats; in the nave below A worshiper, licking the floor, doth go On his knees to kiss bronze Peters toe Religion groveling in dust, as though An Ariel sunk to a Caliban! Ere evening glides into the gloam, Through the Villa Medicis sombre bloom To the crest of the Mountain of Gardens clomb, Lo! the whole circuit Aurelian! How martyrs dust from the catacomb Blossoms in many a sweliing dome, More richly gilt by the sunsets chrome High altar, perchance, an Apostles tomb, The outside steps a beggars home Far as the desolate Cmlian, And the statues tossed in air like foam From the roof of the lordly Lateran I The gods are dethroned in the Pantheon; But ruinous walls, like the crumbling loom Of a once world-shaking thunder-boom, Crop, here and there, out of C~sars Rome, And the grandeur that was Republican. From Flaminian gate to the Aventine, From the Borgo to the Quirinal, In Campus Martius, on Esquiline, And the Trasteverebell and shrine Towers the Rome Pontifical; With the Bambino, a doll benign, Miraculous cure in its jewel shine, On the seat of Jove Capitoline. But Rome still rules Imperial In the region of the Palatine. But a boulevard lords it, lofty and fine In insolence of youth, on the Viminal. Musing, I watch the sun decline, Revealing a golden thread of brine Beyond the Campagnas sea-like line, Till in that Hesperian burial The day with its thoughts has gone to join The ages dead and the ghosts divine Of the men of the Forum and Capitol. But, land of brotherly palm and pine! Land of the olive and the vine! Land of Latin and Sabine! A future of glowing hope is thine; For a Star in the East ethereal, The Star of Liberty, thine and mine, Pours light in a joyous flood, like wine, To the weary watchers for a sign New-risen oer snowy Apennine On the Rome of Victor EmanueL Tis night, but the city is noisy and gay With crowds on crowds that mingle and flow An under-sweep of majestic sway From the past, heard near and far away, The voices of yore and of yesterday To the Tiber; and, lo! the girondola, In fiery fantasies of display, On the Castle of Saint Angelo! THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. 65 Voi~. Lv.No. 325.5 propelling a car-load of ore along the trestle-work, are in full operation. The mountains in the TUE OASOADE NEAR EMERALD rear, behind which BAY. the sun is taking himself in splendid flashes, are sharply ser- rated, and, what is most characteristic, no silvery reach of river, nor mirror of lake, nor oasis of verdure, is to be seen. There are rivers a~d lakes in the State, to be sure, but they seem to be tentative on natures part, and not one of them finds an outlet to sea, nor contributes a drop to any other stream hurrying to that great reservoir. The soil puts desolation in a stronger light. It dries up all the water it receives; two large rivers disappear in it, and still it is fallow, irresponsive, and discouraging. THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. THE seal of Nevada is a fair epitome of the geographical resources of that State. The plow and the scythe by the sheaf of wheat in the foreground are aban- doned apparently, but the reduction mills in the right of the picture, the mine in the left, and the little man in sillionette, who is

THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. 65 Voi~. Lv.No. 325.5 propelling a car-load of ore along the trestle-work, are in full operation. The mountains in the TUE OASOADE NEAR EMERALD rear, behind which BAY. the sun is taking himself in splendid flashes, are sharply ser- rated, and, what is most characteristic, no silvery reach of river, nor mirror of lake, nor oasis of verdure, is to be seen. There are rivers a~d lakes in the State, to be sure, but they seem to be tentative on natures part, and not one of them finds an outlet to sea, nor contributes a drop to any other stream hurrying to that great reservoir. The soil puts desolation in a stronger light. It dries up all the water it receives; two large rivers disappear in it, and still it is fallow, irresponsive, and discouraging. THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. THE seal of Nevada is a fair epitome of the geographical resources of that State. The plow and the scythe by the sheaf of wheat in the foreground are aban- doned apparently, but the reduction mills in the right of the picture, the mine in the left, and the little man in sillionette, who is 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The overland train from the East leaves Ogden at sunset, when the cordon of mount- ains is flushed with the waning palpita- tions of fiery light, when all the farms of the Salt Lake Valley are looking their hest, and when the orchards, corn fields, and pas- tures are sweet with content. The Mor- iuious may have a very gloomy side to their history, but their severest critic must allow that their industrial progress has been won- derful, that they have done more with less at their command than most other colonists in the West, and that their Territory super- ficially is nothing hut a credit to them. On the next morning we have crossed the boundary of Utah, and are in Nevada, and leaves, grass, and the pungent scent of alluvial earth are unsubstantial memories to us. There is space and no atmosphere, soil and no verdure, mountains and no inspira- tion; the sky has no fleck in its glassy blue; the crusted land crumbles to dust under the lific and heueficent mother, and this is fruit- less, oppressive, and wholly unattractive. But it is of just such a soil, environed by just such mountains, that the greater part of Nevada is formed; and the inhabitants, with a frankness of nomenclature that is none too common among far Western peo- ple, recognize the sterility of their country, and call it the Desert State. The most wearisome day of the seven which the overland journey takes is spent in traversing the breadth of the State; and except at Humboldt, a little station midway in the desert, where irrigation has forced a patch of green, the pines of the Sierras are the first signs of fertility met with. Even the eastern slopes of the Sierras, of which the pines are as much a part in the popular idea as the spray is a part of the sea, are wofully barren, and for thirty miles south of the Central Pacific Railway the salient features of the country are maroon-colored feet, and nourishes no heartier growth than mountains, with weird abutments of detri- the sickly artemisia; the mountains are hot tus, yellow plains, and occasional erosions and hare. What blight, or drought, or unfin- of rock, which divert us by the mad fanci- ished process of nature has left such a blot fulness of their design. as this on the earth? It hardly seems to Carson, the capital of the State, is called be the earth at all, for the earth is a pro- after the celebrated path-finder, who first A STREET CORNER IN CARSON. THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. 67 crossed the Sierras in 1833, and again in 1846 with the pertinacious General J. C. Freniont. It is a busy little city of about four thou- sand inhabitants, with several large brick and stone buildings, including the Capitol and the United States Mint; the streets are bordered with willows and aspens, and the houses are pretty and home-like. In fact, Carson individualizes itself among the small- er cities of the Pacific coast in the impres- sions of a stranger by its many home-like qualities. It bends now and then into a suspicions corner, but the evil-appearing saloon is an almost unavoidable adj unct of all ne~v Western settlements. A frequent trade-mark of the merchants is the big griz- zly of the Pioneer Society, and the claims of various advertisers are emphasized by the fact that they are pioneers. No insignia of star, cross, or garter that royalty can confer upon its favorites is more potent abroad, by-the-way, than the badge and patent of the Pioneer Society are in Nevada and in California. To have shared the vicissitudes of the early adventurers, who, by wagon train across the plains and emigrant ship around Cape Horn, caine to the country at the beck of the first gold ex- citement, to be able to pin upon ones breast the little silver grizzly with which the society distinguishes its members, is a priv- ilege that elevates its possessors to a peer- age, an(l secures exemption for them from the tests that measure the conduct of oth- er men. An appalling number of thriftless neer-do-wells, chronically threadbare and blandly impudent, claim consideration on no ground but that self-interest brought them to Nevada fifteen or twenty years be- fore the mass of the population had arrived; and though the people are guarded enough against imposition in most instances, to say of any plausible old humbug, He is a pio- neer, is a plea for charity, if charity is need- ed, and sufficient condonement for a mul- titude of sins in the opinion of later and altogether worthier settlers. Do not misun- (lerstand us as belittling the Pioneer Socie- ty. Mr. Sam Baker,.of Carson, has a book containing the names of members and their adventures, from which many incidents of courage, perseverance, iiiuscle, and brain might be extracted. It is undeniable that the Pacific coast owes much to some of its Argonauts, but the loudest claimants for the honor are an undeserving lot, whose coining must have been a misfortune at any time. The outfitting camp of the geographical surveys xvest of the one-hundredth meridian, in charge of Lieutenant George M. Wheeler, was located in Carson last year, and thence four parties entered the field, one to measure and develop a base-line near Sutro, another to triangulate the desert as far eastward as Austin, and the others to occupy important peaks in the Sierra Nevada. The writer was detailed for service with one of the lat- ter, and proposes to embody his experiences in this article. The methods of Lieutenant Wheelers work are in themselves worthy of attention, auid of course they are very different froni those of the ordinary land surveyor; while the latter has an inch to delineate, the former, *ho is not local but geographical, has a hundred square yards. The level, chain, and tally pins are left at home, and the basis of the work is the transit, or the- odolite, with a compass attachment; instead of the level, the cistern barometer is used in ascertaining elevations, and instead of the chain or stadia, the odometer wheel is the means of mensuration. The odometer proper is a dial attached to the wheel, the revolutions of which it re- cords, and as a certain number of revolu- tions make a mileexactly how many is found by running the wheel over a chain- measured milea little sum in division is all that is necessary to show the distance travelled from day to day. A picture of an odometer accompanies this article, but the drawing gives no idea of the strange feats of which the machine is capable. To see the odometer on a steel) mountain trail is better fun than a circus; as it wobbles along a good road, it excites the curiosity and conjectures of the natives, to whom the one wheel without a body is the acme of ludicrous uselessness; but on a pre- cipitous path, strewn with enormous bowl- ders and netted with chaparral, it shows the infinite possibilities of its motions. At one moment it bounds from the ground and saws the air; then it swings over the riders head, and assumes the appearance of a patent hair-brushing machine of unusual propor- tions; and in extreme instances it reverses its normal motions entirely, and is propelled by the mule instead of dragging at that capricious creatures pendulatory taiL The theodohite, the odometer, and the ba- rometer are the three instruments indis- l)ensable to the work of a field party, and to carry and operate them three men are employeda topographer, an odometer re- corder, and a meteorologist. Observations in geology, mineralogy, zoology, and eth- nology are secondary to these, but they are necessary to complete the diagnosis of the country to be delineated, and a specialist in at least one of the branches is attached to each field party. The organization of the party with which the writer travelled last season is representative. It consisted of Lieutenant M. M. Macomb, executive officer and astronomer; Frank Carpenter, topog- rapher, to whom I am indebted for the ma- terial of some of these notes; H. W. Henshaw, zoologist; Alfred Du Bois, meteorologist; a geological assistant, an odometer recorder, two l)ackers, and a cook. When the tern- HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tory to be traversed is occupied by hostile Indians, an escort of soldiers may be added; and in a country where the settlements are few, and the points at which the supl)lies can he renewed are far between, the customary allowance of a pack mule and a riding mule to each member may be increased. In New Mexico, for example, it was often necessary to carry thirty days rations, while in Cali- fornia fresh supplies might have been ob- tained daily; and differences of this kind materially alter the equipment. The com- plete outfitrations, bedding, clothing, and instrumentsis packed upon mules, and the camp may thus be taken much nearer to the peak which is to be ascended or to the cation which is to be meandered than a wagon could possibly go. The number of parties depends upon the amount of money granted by Congress. In 1876 six parties were put into the field by Lieutenant Wheeler on an appropriation of thirty thousand dollars, a considerable part of which sum was devoted to office expenses, which include the salaries of draughtsmen and clerks, and the cost of I)ul)Lications. The survey has a trigonometrical basis, and its initial point in the area to be sur- veyed is in the centre of a broad valley, or an intermontane plateau, whose level expanse offers fair ground for the measurement and development of the base-line, which becomes a metrical standard for finding the length of all the triangles extended. With the base-line as a starting-point, four classes of stations are occupied, of which in impor- tance the astronomical is first, the primary triangulation station second, the topograph- ical station third, and the route or meander station fourth. Usually the outfitting camp is near a town connected by telegraph with a national observatory, and a series of ex- changes with that observatory, in addition to an independent series for latitude, ex- tending through two weeks, is enough to determine the geographical co-ordinates of the point of departure. The observations for latitude are continued at nearly every camp, and when the other members of the party are chatting around the camp fire, the astronomer retires to a dark, quiet spot with his instrument, and lying on his back, or resting his elbow on the rough ground, oc- cupies himself with the stars, which never seem so cold, so far, nor so brilliant else- where as they do from a peak in the Rocky Mountains or in the Sierra Nevada. He is assisted by an observer for time, who, with an open watch and a lantern before him, records the hour, minutes, and seconds in re- sponse to the word tick, which the astron- omer utters at each observation. These two men, isolated and scarcely revealed by the flash of the fire and the yellow gleam of their own lanterns, make a picture, and when the night is frosty, the picture is one of misery. The triangulation station is established on a mountain, which may be in the belt of perpetual snow, and its occupation lasts during one or two days, according to the condition of the weather. One night is spent on the crest to determine the azimuth of a radiating line, and the topographer makes a contour sketch of the area at his feet. These things completed, the direction of the projecting spurs is discovered, and single readings are taken with the theod- olite to subordinate geographical features. In the office a contour sketch is accepted as evidence of the country as it really is, and the profile drawing, which is also made by the topographer, is taken as a representa- tion of what the country appears to be. The angles which lie between the visible points of the triangulation scheme are read and repeated singly and in combinations, the TIlE ODOMETER OARRIAGE. THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. 69 time chosen usually being in the evening, some instancesas in productive mining or in the early morning when the sun is be- districtsone mile of ground is allotted hind the hills, and the run of the earth is two inches of space on the map. seen in silhouette against the rosy back- Similar surveys exist in nearly all Euro- ground of the sky. penn countries. In Great Britain the coun- The topographical station is occupied to terpart is the Ordnance Survey, which em- secure local topography, and from it angles ploys nineteen officers and three hundred are read to three or more known points, and sixty-four men of the Royal Engineers, Then by lines of sight, which are intersect- ed by other lines of sight from other topo- graphical stations, the most prominent feat- ures within a radius of twenty or thirty miles are located. The meander stations are used in tracing the roads, trails, water- courses, and cafions, determining the dis- tances between springs, villages, and pas- tures, and obtaining such other information as may help future travellers. This is a mere outline of the methods used by Lieutenant Wheeler in constrncting a map; a fuller and more technical treatise would show how the triangles interlock and form a mesh which grasps all the topo- graphical features of the country, allowing neither river, trail, nor spring to pass un- noticed. An arbitrary scale of one inch to the mile was at first suggested for the resultant maps. But experience has shown that while one inch of space is enough to repre- sent level and vacant plains, in other re- gions four inches are not too many; and in one thousand civil assistants, and four hun- dred and forty-eight laborers. The scale of the maps is six inches to the mile, and over twenty million dollars in gold have been expended on the work. Austria ex- pends annually about four hundred and ninety thousand dollars for surveys, which employ one thousand two hundred and fifty-eight persons, including two hundred and eighty-three army officers. In Russia a military topographical corps have charge of the surveys, employing six generals, thirty-three majors, lieuteuaiit-colonels, and colonels; one hundred and fifty comets, lieutenants, and captains; four hundred to- pographers, and forty-two apprentices. In Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Sweden, and Pins- sia, also, the surveys are directed by mili- tary officers; and in the Franco-Prussian war, General Von Moltke made a point of arming each of his field-officers with a copy of the most accurate map obtainable of the country to be occupied, thus, doubtless, avoiding many mistakes and disasters. WHEELER S EXPLORING PARTY IN THE MOUNTAINS OF NEVADA. 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. While the eastern incline of the Sierras and the vast plains sweeping from it are destitute of nearly every interesting geo- graphical feature, the western slope, reach- ing down from above the Nevada boundary line into the lap of California, is among the most beautiful places in all the West. The route of our first days march lay through one of the ravines in the mountains behind Carson, and over a zigzag road to the sum- mit of the divide. The edge of the road was the edge of a precipice, which descend- ed into the valley and swept upward into shelving cliffs. The sturdy pines shot out of the slope as straight and inflexible as rods of iron, and sickened the air with the pungency of their balsam; springs without number burst ont of the rocks and clattered (lown in veins of white and silver; thick- ets of oaks and willows contrasted their paler emerald with the dark shade of the evergreens, and in greater contrast still was a bright golden-green moss, which grew in belts and streaks on the ruddy brown bark of the pines. At noon we reached the summit of the di- vide; and there before us, shining as though it had drained the snowy mountains and the dusky foot - hills encircling it of all the silver their veins contained, was the broad surface of Lake Tahoe, the triangu- lation of which was to occupy us for the next two months. The maroon-colored des- ert was now behind us, and before us was a region surpassing in many elements the famous Rocky Mountains. A rapid descent through a verdurous cafion, whose walls were speared with a close array of stalwart 1)illes, led us to the banks of the lake, and our first camp was made at Gleubrook, an orderly little settlement, where most of the saw-milling is done. A small steamboat circumnavigates the lake from Gleabrook, and the tourist who makes the trip deludes himself with the pleasant fancy that he has seen Tahoe. But we, who were encamped upon the shore during the mellow closing of a summer, the hazy, subtle days of an autumn, and the beginning of a white winter, know that not in one day, nor in a week, nor in a season, can all the beauties of this crystalline ex- pans~ be explored. Snow brings one aspect with it when it spreads a veil of lace over the massive peaks; snow and mist together spiritualize the highest and heaviest ridges, and make them seem as mere shadows in the clouds; the ardent warmth of an even- ing works its own transformations; and even a wet day has a charm, and lends an expressiveness of its own to the landscape. But when it has been seen under all these conditions, Tahoe has endless other attrac- tions to reveal. It is fickle in its moods, but constant in its loveliness, and the near- er it is approached, the lovelier it is. It was from one of the surrounding mount- ains that the lake was discovered; and ac- cording to a popular legend, the Washoe In- dians, who were the discoverers, exclaimed on seeing it, Tahoe ! which is their word for ocean or big water. For some time it was called Lake Bigler, after a Califoriiia politician, and when he had disgraced him- self, the name was changed to the sweeter Indian word by which it is now known. It is about twenty-two miles long and ten miles wide, and it has been sounded to a depth of 1600 feet. The water is marvel- ously clear and cold, and, where the slant of the shore is acute, the great yellow bowl- ders lying at the bottom are plainly visible in a depth of forty or fifty feet. Its color is not the living ultramarine of the sea, but an absolute turquois, a pale opaque blue, changing in the shallows to a bright olive. It is a paradise for trout, which attain an uncommon size without losing any of their supreme delicacy of flavor. Our naturalist. was eager for a twenty-eight pound speci LAKE TAHWL THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. 71 men, such as we had heard of, but an eight- pounder was the best he ever canght. At Lake Valley, the southern end of Tahoe, the country is marshy, and we obtained from it teal, mallard, and canvas-back duck, wild turkeys, geese, and bittern, the latter being by no means bad eating. The hills afforded us grouse and quail, and we were told that (leer had been abundant earlierin the season. Tahoe is the largest of a dozen or more lakes which cluster within a radius of twen- ty miles, at a height of from five to seven thousand feet above the level of the Pacific7 those nearest to it being Echo, Marlette, Fallen Leaf, and Cascade. Marlette, or Sil- ver Lake, is the source of the water supply of Virginia City, and is about a mile iu cir- cumference. A strip of marsh reaches across the northwestern eiid, and the ripples break in on a fringe of spongy turf. Fallen Leaf is the most beautiful of all the smaller lakes, and is separated from Tahoe by a belt of land not more than three miles wide. It is at the foot of Tallac Peak, which emphasizes itself among others in the chain by a cross of perpetual snow and by the boldness of its profile. The peak is basaltic, and its predominant color is a rich sage green; but besides the sage green and the various greens of the foliage, the lichens have given it purples, yellows, and crimsons in profusion. The mountain descends abruptly from its cap of perpetual snow to the lake, whichis about seven miles in circumference, and 120 feet higher than Tahoe. The intervening land is half swamp and half chaparral, ex- cept near the borders of the lakes, where it is densely wooded. The little steamboat that makes the round of Lake Tahoe calls daily at Tallac Lauding in the summer, and a carriage road leads thence to Gilimores Soda Springs, which are at the foot of the peak. About eight miles from Tallac Landing, in the western or Califoruia shore of the lake, a deep indenture, called Emerald Bay, occurs, which rivals Fallen Leaf Lake in its many beauties. The mountains descend sharply into its deep water; the vegetation is abundant; and from an immense cliff nearly a thousand feet above the level a cascade pours itself in white wrath. The source of the cascade is in another lake be- hind the mountains and in a basin fed by the melting of eternal snows and wooded by the stoic pines. We remained in the neighborhood of Ta- hoe until winter drove us out, and then we returned to the silver-bearing region of the eastern slope, which is more characteristic of Nevada than the valleys of the Sierras. The discovery of gold in Nevada, then Western Utah, and subsequently Waslioc, was made by some Mormon immigrants in 1850. They were on their way to Califor- nia, and on reaching the Carson River found the crossing of the Sierras impracticable, owing to snows. During the winter that. followed they obtained small quantities of gold from the gravel of neighboring streams, but not enough to induce theni to remain, THE PEBBLY BEACH AND ROCKS AT zEPHYR covE, LAKE TAHOE. 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and when spring set in they completed their journey. There are always plenty of men in California who are willing to rush hither and thither at the beck of any new mining excitement, and as soon as tbe Mormon dis- covery became known, a parcel of adven- tnrers crossed the Sierras, and set up their sluice-boxes in the calions around what is now Virginia. It was gold that they were after, and they neither suspected the exist- ence of silver nor knew it when they saw it. The bluish stuff which was so abundant, and which was silver ore, interfered with their operations, and they cursed it from morning till night. As they worked nearer and near- er to the lode, a lighter metal took the place of gold, and mystifled.them more than ever. Among them, however, were two brothers, named Grosch, who were exceptions to the general obfuscation. They were young men of intelligence and education, who, in addi- tion to their mining tools, possessed some books on mineralogy and metallurgy and some apparatus for assaying. It was un- derstood that they had made a big strike, and it is probable that they were the real discoverers of the Comstock lode; but one of them died from a pickaxe wound in the foot, and the other was frozen to death in the mountains. Their secret, if they had one, died with them. A Mexican also had some knowledge of a deep argentiferous deposit, and endeavored to impart the information to others, exclaim- ing, as he pointed toward Mount Davidson, Mucho plata! mucho plata ! which the Americans very freely translated as mean- ing, Lots of money; gold somewhere in the mountains. When at last, in the early part of 1859, the surface croppings of the lode were found, it was by a stupid accident; they were worked for the gold that they contained, and the silver was thrown out as being worthless. The first locators were Peter ORiley and Patrick MLaughlin, who staked a claim on the present site of the Ophir Mine; but before they could secure it, Henry Comstock, a character familiar in the neigh- borhood as Old Pancake, made his ap- pearance, and demanded a share for the reason that he owned the water privileges. This was the bit of brass that won an inter- est in the silver for Comstock, and by other effrontery of a similar kind he succeeded in attaching his name to the lode, which, as it became known, attracted thousands of min- ers to it, and has, since 1860, yielded more than one-tenth of all the silver produced throughout the world. The genesis of the lode has been the sub- ject of extensive geological disquisitions. Mount Davidson, the peak of the Sierra Ne- vada through which the vein runs, is an up- lift of syenite 7827 feet above the level of the Pacific. Millions of years ago it proba bly stood out as an isolated cone in a pre- historic sea; then, as the waters subsided, it stood alone on the vast plains which had formed the bottom of the sea. Thousands of years later a volcanic eruption surround- ed it with the multitude of other peaks formed of greenstone or propylite, which bristle about it like the spines of a cactns, and among which it looms pre-eminent; a second convulsion split the propylite coun- try, and brought up a range of trachytic mountains. The trachyte was in a semi- fluid state, and so great was the pressure from beneath that the whole of the green- stone was uplifted, causing the formation of a fissure along the line of its contact with the syenite. This fissure, which was held open by the wedges of propyhite that fell into it, was filled in the course of years, pos- sibly by volatilization, with the gold and sil- ver which now yield such magnificent profits on the investments of the Bonanza mines. The mountains that hedge Mount David- son in are packed together as I have seldom seen mountains packed elsewhere, and give evidence of volcanic action of an extent and of an intensity almost unparalleled. The basins are sterile and matted with the sick- ly - looking artemisia or sage - brush, and wherever a pine or a fir has once existed, a stump is all that remains to commemorate the fact. Four miles eastward the Carson River makes a trail of arborescent verdure through one of these desolate valleys, and that faint line of green is like a glimpse of paradise to us as we emerge from one of the rugged cailons which lie between the cha- otic-looking peaks and streak them with blue furrows. Following the discovery of ORiley and MLaughlin, a town named after Old Vir- ginia, one of the pioneers, appeared on the eastern slope of the mountain, a little above the surface ontcroppings of the lode. The settlement began with a few tents and log- cabins. In 1860 it had developed an Inter- national Hotel and a newspaper office. The hotel contained a bar-room, a dining-room, and about a dozen sleeping-rooms, and the charges were at the rate of seven or eight dollars a day. The newspaper establish- ment consisted of a shed and one room; the shed was occupied as a cooking, dining, and sleeping place by editors, reporters, and compositors, and the room answered the purposes of an editorial, typographical, and advertising department combined. Laws were necessary to control the many lawless adventurers who flocked into the city, and a code was adopted: it was brief, practi- cal, and unincumbered with legal verbiage. Any municipality which finds its own volu- minous statutes inadequate might try it to advantage. There was no prison, and the two punishments prescribed for all offenses were hanging and banishment. THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. 73 Virginia City now has a population of and within six months the whole city had about twenty-five thousand, including one- been rebuilt. half the whole number of voters in the State To guard against a recurrence of the dis- of Nevada. Few pictures of it give a cor- aster, a system of reservoirs and hydrants rect idea of its position. In photographs was established, and it would be easier now it appears to be at the foot of the mountain, to flood the city than to burn it. The Vir- while it is in fact built across the mount- ginians are proud of the quality and abun- ams face, and the peak that rises two thou- dance of their water supply. The works sand feet above it also extends two thousand feet below it. It is so environed and con- fined by mountains that the railway which connects it with the Central Pacific at Reno has curves enough to describe a circle of three hundred and sixty degrees seventeen times; the distance to Reno in a bee-line is sixteen miles, and the distance by the rail- way, which cost t~vo million dollars, is fifty- two miles. The pitch of the ground is such that what is the first story of a house in front becomes the second or third story in the rear, and looking eastward, northward, or southward the eye meets an unvaried prospect of chain after chain of interlocked peaks. The people are ultra-Californian in their nature and J~abits, excessively fond of dis- play, lavishly hospitable, impetuous in busi- ness, and irrepressible in speculativeness. On October 26, 1875, a fire swept the city from end to end, and ten million dollars worth of property, including all the mining works on the surface, went up in the flames. Within sixty days the most important mines had renewed their buildings and machinery, cost over two million dollars, and the water is brought a distance of thirty-one and a half miles from Marlettes Lake, in the Si- erras. What is most surprising to the stranger is the proportions of the constant rushing crowd on C Street, the principal thorough- fare, and the cosmopolitan character of its elements. Piute and Washoe Indians in pic- turesque rags, Chinamen in blue and black blouses, brawny Cornishmen, vehement Mex- icans, and many other people from far-apart countries mingle and surge along in the stream. There is nothing provincial or shab- by. The stores are well stocked, and the show-windows glitter with the attractive- ness of their wares. The men around you are men of the world, who have travelled, and in many instances made money. The restaurants are not the least among the marvels of Virginia City. While every thing else is frightfully dear, and the store- keepers seem to consider all purchasers the happy possessors of a Fortunatus purse, food is uncommonly cheap, and an excellent din- ner of four courses can be had for fifty cents, CAVE ROCK, LAKE TAHOE. 7 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. or a more elaborate dinner, with game, poultry, and half a bottle of fair wine, for a dollar. Every delicacy in season finds its way from San Francisco and New York, and two oceans contribute their produce to the marbled and mir- rored lunch countcrs. Another development of the mx- urious character of the citizens is a club after the metropolitan pattern, with richly furnished billiard-rooms and reading-rooms, where the bache- lor may smoke the pipe of celibacy in peace. They are nearly all bachelors in Vir- ginia; the nt.rnosl)here of the place is by no means favorable to wives and children; the feminine element is very d6colletee in manners as well as in dress, and yet there are good and affection- ate women in the town, especially ~ among the miners wives, and we see them to advantage in times of tron ~ ble, when some wonnded creature is ~ brought to the surface from below. ~ There are few boarding-houses; the ,. upper parts of the stores and other ~ buildings are let out as lodgings, and the meals are supplied by the many z excellent restaurants. ~ While night has fallen on the visible ~ town, the invisible town nnder-ground ~ is glimmering with a thousand lights, just as it has been glimmering through ~ all the summer days that have shone ~ and all the winter nights that have ~ lowered ever since the Comstock lode was first penetrated by a shaft. There ~ is no repose in that mysterious region; none of the endless changes and renew ~ als of season that sweeten existence on ~ the earth; no relapse of day into night, ~ or night into day; no summer, no win ~ ter,and no Sunday. The farthest jour- o ney possible on the surface conid not take the traveller to a country half so miraculous as that which lies less than a mile below the parallels of familiar stores on C Street; it is as with a phiysiognomist, who, travelling in the interior of Africa, and scanning the strangest human faces among the na- tives, would not see any thing half so strange as the heart of his nearest neighbor, had he the power to probe the little depth of flesh that seals it and its innermost secrets. Nearly one-fonrth of the whole popnlation is hidden in the mines, and when we see how overcrowded the superficial area is, and realize how many more streets and people are oat of sight, how the crest of the mountain is the roof of a seventeen-story building which is con- stantly sinking deeper into the earth. we are prepared to agree with the THE WHEELER SURVEY IN NEVADA. 75 proud citizen who assures us that Virginia is a pretty considerable place. It is estimated that two hundred and twenty million dollars in bullion have been extracted from the Comstock mines during the past sixteen years; in 1874 the yield was nearly twenty-two millions; in 1875 it was over twenty-two millions; and in 1876 the total yield of the State was over forty mill- ions, a large proportion of which came from Virginia City. In the winter of 187475 the great discov- eries were made that added the Spaiiish word bonanza to the vernacular. The tech- nical meaning of the word, which has long been in use among American miners, to whom it was introduced by Mexicans, is a large, rich body of ore; but it has found wider ac- ceptance in the sense of an unexpected and brilliant stroke of good lack. Its antithesis is borra8ca, ~vhich means barren rock, bad luck, or adversity. About four miles over the hills east of Mount Davidson is a wide valley watered by the Carson River. It is much more conven- ieiit of access than Virginia, and is in other ways a more favorable site for the location of a city. A party of the Wheeler expedi- tion, in charge of Lieutenant T. W. Symons, was encamped here during last September, measuring and developing a base-line, from which a system of triangles is to be extend- ed; and earlier in the season another de- tachment of Lieutenant Wheelers topogra- phers made a survey which demonstrated the practicability of a railroad from this point northward to a junction with the Cen- tral Pacific. Few buildiiigs have appeared, so far, although the ground has been laid out for a handsome town, and divided into spa- cious squares by broad streets, with irri ga- ting ditches and lines of shade trees. From any of the neighboring elevations it looks like an immense checker-board without any men; but if the hopes of its projector are realized, it will eventually supersede Virgin- ia, and become the great mining centre of the world. The name of the embryo town is Sutro, and in the range of hills on the western boundary of the plain is the month of the Sutro Tunnel. As the mines are now arranged, every ton of ore extracted and ev- ery gallon of water that springs from the rock has to be hoisted from five hundred to two thousand feet, according to the level on which they accumulate. The water, of course, can not be pumped more than one hundred feet at a time; hence that which flows into the twentieth level has to be raised successively through twenty cisterns. The expense entailed by this system is enor- mous. Six hundred cords of wood, costing thirteen dollars a cord, are consumed every day by the hoisting works; and except in the case of the Consolidated Virginia, the ore having been raised to the surface, has to be retransported to the reduction mills, from ten to seventeen miles distant. The mines of the Hartz Mountains in Ger- many are tapped to some extent by vertical shafts, but their principal outlets are hori- zontal tunnels, over twelve of which have been bored, including one that is fourteen miles long. Among the prospecters who came to Vir- ginia in 1859 was Mr. Adolph Sutro, a gen- tleman of scieutific knowledge, whQ, as much for his own information as for any thing else, made several examinations of the lode. I had expected to witness an extraordinary deposit, he has written, but I may say that I was truly astonished at the magnitude and importance of the discoveries which had been made. In March, 1860, only forty tons of ore had been taken from the mines, and their reduction yielded $160,000, or an av- erage of $4000 to the ton. As new claims were located and new mines opened, Mr. Sutro was impressed with the lack of sys- tem displayed. It appeared to him that instead of entering the lode from above, making heavy timbering necessary, and en- tailing many difficulties in working the mines, the better way would be to run a tunnel from a point low down on the hill- side, and build a shaft to meet it; and he TROPYLITiC ~TRACHYTE f~3ANDESITE ~ CONOLOMPRATE BILVKRLODLS PROFILE OF SUTRO TUNNEL. 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. also thought of a tunnel, such as he had seen in Germany, which might drain all the mines on the lode both of their ore and water. The thought was father to the deed. Against powerful opposition from some quarters, and with no less powerful assist- ance from others, Mr. Sutro has nearly con- summated his design, which, although it is little known in the East, stands pre-emi- nent among similar works of the kind in America. The first stone was broken Octo- ber 19, 1869, and on November 8, 1876, when the writer was at Sutro, the tunnel had been driven 14,915 feet through the mount- ains, the average progress being over eleven feet a day. A geological profile is published among the ii- lustrations. The mouth of the tunnel is at A, about one mile and a quarter from the Carson River. At B, 19,790 feet, or about three and three- quarter miles, from the mouth, it will touch the Comstock lode. From this point a cross-tunnel will be extended north and south along the lode for a distance of 12,000 feet, at a depth of 2000 feet below the surface of Virginia City, that being the depth of the main tunnel. The tun- nel, as far as it is com- plete, is twelve fcet high, fourteen feet wide at the bottom, and thir- teen feet wide at the top. It is massively timbered in places, and is laid with a double-track railway, at each side of which is a drain for water. The advantages to ac- crue fromthetunnel are these: The iniproved ventilation of the mines, resulting from the current of air, which, entering the tunnel at its outer extremity, and, after sweeping the mines, passing out at the shafts, will so cool and purify the atmosphere of the drifts that the health, and therefore the working capaci- ty, of the men will be augmented; the drain- age of the mines above the level of the tunnel, obviating the expensive hoisting-works, and a largely increased economy in working the mines by taking the ore through the tunnel to reduction-works at its mouth, instead of raising it, to the surface and transporting it to the mills now established. The cost of the tunnel will be about $4,500,000. GIBRALTAR. In the dimmest northeast distance dawned Gibraltar, grand and gray.BuowNmNe. NO spot on earth is invested with a deep- er or more various interest than the classic Calpe, the Pillar of Hercules, the Shining Rock, which we call Gibraltar. The most ancient as well as modern litera- ture celebrates its fame; it has been the subject of fables and legends innumerable; it has played a dramatic part in the fortunes of men and nations, certainly from the ear- liest historic tinmes, and probably was the bone of bitter contemition among prehistoric races. In splendid, sombre, solitary beauty no Titanic peak of nature surpasses it; it is more than majestic, it is awful, while it rises above and is the look-out upon a land- scape more varied, and endowed with more striking and sudden contrasts, than any famed eyrie of Alp, or Himalaya. Alike in its history, in its natural features, and in its modern political and military significance, Gibraltar has an interest peculiar to itself. Rising as it does, rugged and in abrupt iso- lation, on a peninsula jutting into the Med- iterranean, amidst level surroundings, and at a point where Europe very nearly approach- es Africa, the rock stands on guard over the narrow strait, and is its unconquerable sen- tinel. It is the key of the Mediterranean, and I 1 iiNTmiANt)E TO BUTRO TUNNEL.

76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. also thought of a tunnel, such as he had seen in Germany, which might drain all the mines on the lode both of their ore and water. The thought was father to the deed. Against powerful opposition from some quarters, and with no less powerful assist- ance from others, Mr. Sutro has nearly con- summated his design, which, although it is little known in the East, stands pre-emi- nent among similar works of the kind in America. The first stone was broken Octo- ber 19, 1869, and on November 8, 1876, when the writer was at Sutro, the tunnel had been driven 14,915 feet through the mount- ains, the average progress being over eleven feet a day. A geological profile is published among the ii- lustrations. The mouth of the tunnel is at A, about one mile and a quarter from the Carson River. At B, 19,790 feet, or about three and three- quarter miles, from the mouth, it will touch the Comstock lode. From this point a cross-tunnel will be extended north and south along the lode for a distance of 12,000 feet, at a depth of 2000 feet below the surface of Virginia City, that being the depth of the main tunnel. The tun- nel, as far as it is com- plete, is twelve fcet high, fourteen feet wide at the bottom, and thir- teen feet wide at the top. It is massively timbered in places, and is laid with a double-track railway, at each side of which is a drain for water. The advantages to ac- crue fromthetunnel are these: The iniproved ventilation of the mines, resulting from the current of air, which, entering the tunnel at its outer extremity, and, after sweeping the mines, passing out at the shafts, will so cool and purify the atmosphere of the drifts that the health, and therefore the working capaci- ty, of the men will be augmented; the drain- age of the mines above the level of the tunnel, obviating the expensive hoisting-works, and a largely increased economy in working the mines by taking the ore through the tunnel to reduction-works at its mouth, instead of raising it, to the surface and transporting it to the mills now established. The cost of the tunnel will be about $4,500,000. GIBRALTAR. In the dimmest northeast distance dawned Gibraltar, grand and gray.BuowNmNe. NO spot on earth is invested with a deep- er or more various interest than the classic Calpe, the Pillar of Hercules, the Shining Rock, which we call Gibraltar. The most ancient as well as modern litera- ture celebrates its fame; it has been the subject of fables and legends innumerable; it has played a dramatic part in the fortunes of men and nations, certainly from the ear- liest historic tinmes, and probably was the bone of bitter contemition among prehistoric races. In splendid, sombre, solitary beauty no Titanic peak of nature surpasses it; it is more than majestic, it is awful, while it rises above and is the look-out upon a land- scape more varied, and endowed with more striking and sudden contrasts, than any famed eyrie of Alp, or Himalaya. Alike in its history, in its natural features, and in its modern political and military significance, Gibraltar has an interest peculiar to itself. Rising as it does, rugged and in abrupt iso- lation, on a peninsula jutting into the Med- iterranean, amidst level surroundings, and at a point where Europe very nearly approach- es Africa, the rock stands on guard over the narrow strait, and is its unconquerable sen- tinel. It is the key of the Mediterranean, and I 1 iiNTmiANt)E TO BUTRO TUNNEL. GIBRALTAR. 77 no vessel, of whatever flag, may pass orrepass from sea to sea without leave from this stern- est and most impregnable of all the fortresses of nature. It is a singular fact, and one which has had momentous results upon the career and fate of nations, that the Mediterranean has been thus pent np, or corked up, by na- ture at either end. In the ~vest, Gibraltar may at any moment ordain that it shall be practically an inland sea; in the east, Con- stantinople, guarding the yet more narrow Bosphorus, divorces it from its sister sea, the Euxine. The approach to Gibraltar by water, while it scarcely prepares one for the sudden and majestic looming of the Shining Rock, which bursts upon the vision as Tarifa, with its pictnresque old walls and towers, is left behind, is full of both historical and natural attractions. On the green and smiling Span- ish coast are to be (liscovered the famous capes St. Vincent and Trafalgar, where the the Moorish mountains. The contrast here, where Europe and Afric on each other gaze, is striking in the extreme. On the one side is a shore whose little capes are dotted with watch-towers, and whose sloping hills are green with orchards and orange groves, the country gradually rising to verdant mount- ains in the northern distance, to which the white villages and hamlets present a sharp- ly defined variety of color; on the other are bleak and barren plains, a cold gray tint every where dominant, jagged and riven eminences, an unfruitful, (Ireary, and almost forsaken land. Nothing could be more im- pressive than these utterly different aspects of the Lands of the dark-eyed maid and dusky Moor and the contrast is immeasurably heightened by the azure and glittering waters of the naval contests were won which crowned Mediterranean, which roll between and dash Jervis and Nelson with well-earned laurels. over the beaches and amidst the fissures on On the opposite, or African coast, you espy either shore. Tangier and Cape Spartel; while, as you The first view of Gibraltar, approaching proceed, the other Pillar of Hercules, Ceuta, it from the northwest, discovers a lofty, sin- looms in the distance, and in the back- gle - rock mountain, apparently separated ground rise the bald and ragged chains of from the land, rising above the strait some eIBaALTAU.[naAwN BY SAMUEL OOLMAN.] 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fifteen hundred feet. Its sides are rugged cers scouted it as an impossibility. The and broken, here and there exceedingly pre- general persisted, and caused the watch- cipkous. Around its base appears a cordon tower, the ruins of which are still to be of batteries, while its summits are crested seen, to be built for the purpose. It then with walls and battlements. It forms one appeared that Cadiz could not be seen from side of a bright and symmetrical bay, and it, because of the height of the intervening just below its western cliff~ the quaint old mountains. Not long after, the tower was town clings to its base, while on the east struck by lightning and one of the sentinels long lines of barracks stretch beside the was killed, and that was the end of OHa- glistening beach. Between the town and rasFolly. Imaginative Englishmen profess the galleries by which the rock is ascended to see in the rock of Gibraltar the semblance are the Alameda, or public purk, and the of the figure of a crouching lion, which they fruitful and flowery gardens which are so are fain to call the lion of England ; amid often mentioned as tiourisiming at Gibraltar. indeed there is some warrant for the notion The Alameda, in particular, is one of the in the peculiar formation of time huge but by most agreeable pleasure-parks in Europe. no means unsymmetrical amass. A portion of it is used as a parade-ground Time scenes in the lovely bay and iii the for the troops who garrison the giant for- narrow zigzag streets of the little town are tress; the rest comprises rich green lawns, bustling and full of life. The. bay is dotted serpentine walks, with white marble seats with ships and boats of many kinds, anch- disposed conveniently here and there, ex- ored in the shadow of the rock. On the quisite shrubbery, geraniums in profuse qnays 6f the town you recognize the reason abundance, and groves of orange, lemon, of tIme saying that Gibraltar is an epitome and fig trees. On the upper terraces cool of the three continents. Here, besides En- pavilions covered with vines invite the glish and Scottish soldiers, who are met on saunterer to grateful repose, while here and every hand in the vicinity of the rock, are there you observe a bust of Wellington, and to be seen swarthy and handsome Moors statues of General Elliott and other martial from opposite Barbary, with their snow- worthies. Time Alameda and other gardens white turbans, flowing robes, bare leather- lend brightness and beauty to the slopes be- colored legs, and loose slippers down at the tweemm the beetling and overhanging masses heel; Jews from over the strait, in gaudy of sombre rock. embroidered costumes, with broad varicol- As to the Rock of Taric itself-for ored sashes ~vound about their waists, and Gibraltar is so called, from Gibel, a rock, and baggy white trowsers; Spanish smugglers, faric, the name of the Moorish chief who in tight-fitting coats and breeches, fastened first effected a landing here in the eighth down the sides with silver buttons; pretty century, the pioneer of the splendid Moorish dark-eyed women of Genoa, arrayed in scar- realm in Spainit soon appears that it is let cloaks and hoods, the latter trimmued connected with the main-land by a low with broad black velvet; Spanish beauties, sandy strip, which is called thue neutral with long lashes and languishing eyes, wear- (~roummd because separates from ~ their ~~~ black veils it Spain ~ lace and the English possession. The whole extent graceful niantillas; Highland soldiers, in of the rock, from north to south, w hicli is plaid and tartan; and a race of acclimated the directiomm in which its greater axis rmmns, English, bronzed amid semi-Spanish in feat- is about two miles; the width, from east to ure, the natives of Gibraltar, upon whom west, one mile. On the north and east the the Spanish have bestowed the rather un- rock is an almost perpendicular precipice complimentary epithet of Rock Scorpions. froum summit to base, this awful precipice Out into the sea stretch the various moles, being in sommue places mmmore than a thousand the most conspicuous being the old and new feet in height. On the south side, however mohes, while at the northern end of the town (that toward the strait and toward Africa), rise the towers, battlemuents, and crumbling and on the west (that by which it is ap- wahls of the old Moorish castlean imposing proached from the Atlantic) it descends by relic of the days of Mosleum ascendency. In comparatively gentle gradations to thme wa- the distance, anmong the hills and groves, ter. The most northerly of the three sum- peeps out the ancient little town of San mits is called the North Pinnacle, thme Roqnea curious place, and well worthy a middle sumummit is called the Signal Sta- visit. Every where about as well as on the tion, and the more southerly OHaras rock you are reminded of the fact that Gi- Folly, or The Watch-Tower. This sumum- braltar is, first of all, a fortress. Soldiers and mit bears the name of OHaras Folly gimards, dephoying, lounging, or on post, pre- from the following circumstance: A certain sent themselves at every turn; high up on General OHara, who was Lieutenant-Gov- tIme cliffs the diminished figures of sentinels ernor of the garrison, conceived the idea are seen pacing to and fro; in the pleasure- that from this eminence he might be able gardens the most noticeable persons are the to make signals to Cadiz. In this opinion, officers, strolling and takimig their ease; the however, he was alone. All the other offi- tattoo of drums, the roar of cannon at stated GIBRALTAR. 79 hours, the opening and closing of the great gates that separate the fortress from the town, all impress one with the military im- portance of the place. Still more marked appears the military character of the rock, as you glance up toward the beetling cliffs, and see, yawning from innumerable port- holes, aud above long ranges of battlements, and from many an embrasure and turret, the cannon which guard the entrance to the Mediterranean; and as, curious to behold the marvels of the fortress in their details, you cross the draw-bridge, go under the low arclle(l gateways, pass the parade and Alameda, ascend the irregular streets which creep in steps up the sides of the crags, leave behind the quaint old Moorish castle, and at last find yourself literally entering the rock through an iron gateway. The first glance reveals the immense labors which have been undertaken to perfect by art the defenses with which nature has endowed Gibral- tar. One sees before him a series of gal- leries, tunnels, and excavations, conduct- ing apparently into a blank of Cimmerian darkness. Here, far above the beach, are dug out long tunnels at the very edge of the headlong cliff; and as you pass along them, guided by the light of torches, you observe port-holes at intervals of fifteen or twenty feet, with brass ordnance peeping out menacingly from every one. Ascend- ing constantly, you find that there is tier after tier of these tunnels. There, if neces- sity should arise, the gunners might stand and pour their deadly fire upon fleet or co- hort, perfectly shielded by the massive and solid rock, which no missile, however de- structive, could more than feebly indent. The Windsor Galleries, which are excava- tions wholly within the rock, form a contin- tious subterranean passage of two thousand feet in length, twelve feet high, and twelve wide, and this passage ascends by the same zigzag course which is seen in the great roads that wind over the Alps, till it gives an outlet near the summit. A spiral stair- way from the tunnels brings one into a sin- gular rotunda-like chamber, excavated from the solid rock, and named by the English masters of Gibraltar St. Georges Hall. This is a nearly circular apartment forty-five feet by forty, and twenty feet high; it is cut out in an immense jutting cliff, and is turret- shaped; from the embrasures in its walls cannon look out upon and keep watch over the sea; its floor is smooth, almost polished; a~d just by are well-stored magazines, ready for any sudden emergency. From the top of St. Georges Hall the view makes one dizzy. The precipices, frowning above and descend- ing below, a thousand feet in an almost ab- solute perpendicular, at every point bris- tling with cannon, and the rock seeming to have been torn and riven by mighty convul- sions, present an actually startling specta cle. From this point you ascend to the Sig- nal Station, the middle and highest sumanmit of the rock; and here you find yourself on the loftiest of the Pillars of Hercules. The view is now exceedingly grand, and in cer- tam directions beautiful. You can almost see Cadiz on one side, and many fancy at least that you can espy the snow-capped mountains of Granada in the curtaining haze on the other. Opposite rises the other Pil- lar, the modern Ceuta, the ancient Abyla; westward of this looms the noble and bar- ren peak of Gibel Musa, the loftiest of the Moorish mountains, higher even than Gi- braltar itself; while as far to the east as the eye can reach stretch the purple-blue waters of the Mediterranean, finding no lim- it till they wash the shores of Italy. Near- er at hand, you observe that the ridge of rock above which you stand is exceedingly sharp, and that on the east side it descends in a headlong precipice to the white sea- beach, hundreds of feet below. Among the wonders of Gibraltar is the somewhat famous and not a little mysteri- ous Cave of St. Michael. This is approached by an hours rather painful clambering from the Alameda. The cave is reached from a platform about three hundred feet below the summit. You pass within a high irreg~ ular fissure in the face of the rock, and en- ter, by a small gate, a vast circular chaum- ber but dimly lit from without. This cave you find hung with immense stalactites, while columns of strange, weird forms sup- port the lofty arches of the roof. These, lit up by the torches, give a very grotesque and unearthly aspect to the place. From this chamber chasms and galleries lead here and there into the bowels of the rock; and one must grope carefully along them, hold- ing the torches high to shed the light well upon the path ahead. After passing along the principal passage some four hundred feet, you reach the brink of a black, fearful gulf, the bottom of which no man has ever seen. You can only note the dark, slimy, jagged sides as they disappear into utter darkness; and by throwing down a torch, see by its brief glimmering, as it plunges into the abyss, what an awful chasm lies below. It is related that many years ago some English officers ventured to penetrate here before the exact position of the chasm was known; that the foremost fell head- long juto it, to be soon followed by a sec- ond, who was groping about in search of his companion. This chasm is the passageway by which, according to the legends of Gi- braltar, the apes that once thickly swarmed about the rock were wont to cross, nuder the sea, to their more secure retreat, the Apes Hill, on the opposite Barbary coast. Perhaps the most striking view of the rock is that from the beach, where it is to be seen stretched lengthwise along the pemi 80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. insula. Here the portion immediately in double and treble ontworks, as well as front of you is the highest, and the preci- moats, draw-bridges, porteullises, palisades, pice ascends perpendicularly for more than trenches, sally-ports, ramparts, bastions, and a quarter of a mile to the summit. The port- every other appliance that can add security to the defense of the wonderful fortress. It may be added that for many years the rock has been kept provisioned for six months ahead. A longer time would not be necessary, for the English could safely rely upon their un- equaled war fleet to relieve Gi- braltar from any danger of be- ing starved out. The Governor lives in a cottage on the south- ern slope, below Windmill Hill~ and at the very extremity of the peninsula rises a light-house, at Great Europa Point, one hun- dred and fifty feet high. At the rear of the rock, between it and the marshy space called the neutral ground, are gardens, the garrison burial-ground, a small beach used for bathing called the Watering - Place, and.~ a good race-course, which provides the English with the favorite home pastime when far out of reach of Ascot, Epsom, Doncaster, and Chester. We have glanced at the most conspicuons features of Gibral- tar as it appears to-day, and have seen, to some extent, why it is that Burke spoke of the for- tress as a post of power, a post of superiority, of connections, of commerce; one which makes us invaluable to our friends and dreadful to our enemies. Let us now briefly revert to some of the incidents in its historya history which, if it could be told holes along the galleries, far up on the sides, at length, would be found full of romance look like pigeon-holes, while the staff at the the most exciting, and of military exploits Signal Station seems no larger than a pin, as thrilling as any in the annals of warring The base is here girt about with ditches, mankind. stockades, and batteries, pointing in every At various remote periods, which space direction toward the laud approaches to the will not permit us to particularize, Gibral- rck. Most of the excavations have been tar was successively in the possession of the made during the century and a half that Phmnicians, the Carthaginians, the Romans, the English have been in possession of Gi- the Goths and Vandals, and the Spaniards. braltar. Every where among theni you see But it was the Moors of Barbary who, com- piles of huge cannon-balls ready for use on ing thither to conquer Spain and to set lip occasion; and it is said that it was a good in Granada and Cordova one of the most days work for a man to get one of these splendid and flourishing kingdoms Europe balls from the town up to its proper place has ever seen, that first fortified and built in the galleries. upon the great rock. It was here that Taric The garrison, which is below the rock, is landed in 711, and from that year until 1309 also walled and mounted with heavy ord- nearly six centuries, Gibraltar remained in miance, while the fortifications nearest the Moorish hands. In 1309, as a result of the ~v ater are immensely strong. Here are first of the fourteen sieges to which Gibral- walls within walls, where the cannon are so tar has been subjected, it was taken by Fer- ranged as to cut down an assailant at what- dinand IV. But the Spaniards only kept ever point he might approach. There are possession of it for twenty-two years, when THE SUMMTT.[DRAWN BY SAMUEL cOLMAN.] GIBRALTAR. 81 it was retaken by the Moors, and held by them until 1462. In that year the Duke of Medina-Sidonia laid successful siege to it, and for t~vo centuries and a half the Span- ish held peaceful possession. Then came one of the most momentous and brilliant of Gibraltar struggles, for in 1704 it was taken by the English nnder Sir George Rooke. Taric fortified Gibraltar to some extent oa taking possession in the eighth century, but it was not until the latter half of the twelfth century that fortifications were un- dertaken on an elaborate scale. In the year 1161 a great Moorish architect, Haji Yaix, was commissioned to perform this task; he heart. The succession to the crown passed to Mohammed, the son of Ben Feraz, who, as Mohanuned IV., laid siege to the fortress of Gibraltar. The Moors attacked it by a coup de main and blockaded the garrison, who were so poorly supplied with provis- ions that they would have been speedily starved out had not a grain ship been cast ashore -within their reach at a most oppor- tune moment. This, however, only post- poned their fate; for after holding out five months, during which the Governor, an ava- ricious fellow, fed the Moorish prisoners well in the hope of gaining high ransoms, while he forced his own men to munch leather, the rock was surrendered, and the Moors once more ensconced themselves upon it. Gibraltar underwent seven sieges between the time of the Moorish recapture of it in 1333 and their final abandonment of it in 1462. In the latter year Henry IV. was King of Castile; Mohammed IX., King of Granada. constructed a fortress on the summit, with several towers, and at various points raised redoubts and battlenients. Of course the Spaniards were far from contented that the fairest (lomains of their country and its most formidable stronghold should remain in the hands of the barbaric and infidel Moslem, and many were the attempts to hurl them back to Africa. The first siege of Gibraltar, already referred to, was as brief as it was triuajphant. The Castilians under Guzihan at- tacked the rock simultaneously on all sides. Battering engines were used, which soon battered down the houses of the town and the walls of the redoubts; but the Moors intrenched themselves among the crags, and defended their eyrie for a month, when, being only eleven hundred, they were forced at last to give way from exhaustion, and surrendered on condition that they should be safely landed in Africa. The fortress was unsuccessful- ly besieged by Ismail, a Moorish prince, in 1315; the third siege, however, in 1333, resulted in the restoration of Gibraltar to the Moorish dominion. A romance is connected with the story of this siege. As with many historical events of importaiice, the beauty of woman had something to do with it. It appears that at the l)attle of Martos, gained by the Moors, a damsel of striking beau- ty had been taken prisoner. At the peril of his life, Ben Ismail, a young Moorish prince, rescued the girl froni the violence of the soldiery. Ben Feraz, tIm a king, tell in love with her, and took her away from Ben Ismail. The latter, overcome with rage and jealousy, assembled next day some of his One day a converted Moor went to Alouzo of friends on the road by which the king was Arcos, Governor of Tarifa, and told him the to pass, and pretending to salute him, rush- opportunity to capture Gibraltar was now ed upon Ben Feraz and stabbed him to the ripe. Dissension was rife within the for- VOL. LV No. 325.6 STREET SCENE, GIIJEAT.TAR.[DRAWN BY SAMUEL OOI.MAN.] 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tress; it was carelessly guarded; its de- ed assaults and lingering famine did their fenses were neglected; its provisions were work, and Gibraltar was surrendered to the not ample. Alonzo at once resolved upon ducal rebelthe same man who had, years the attempt, and at daybreak the next morn- before, delivered it out of the hands of the ing he had landed at the base of the rock Moors into those of the king whom he now with a body of troops. He found that it opposed. was useless to assail Gibraltar without a Gibraltar remained in possession of the larger force. This arrived promptly, and honse of Gnzman, under royal grants, until lie made an assault. He was repulsed, and the accession of Isabella to the throne of would have retreated altogether had he not Castile. Henry was too niuch harassed to learned from a deserting traitor that the keep the Duke of Medina-Sidonia in enmity, garrison was violently divided, and that the and the grant of Gibraltar was enough to distress within was great. While Alouzo make the duke a friend. But Isabella in- was hesitating, a message was sent to him sisted that Gibraltar should be ceded to the from the garrison, asking permission to leave crown of Spain. This the Duke Juan op- the fortress with their property. He evaded posed for a time, but at last was compelled a reply until young Rodrigo, Count of Arcos, to yield; and now Ferdinand of Aragon arrived; hut this higher authority was equal- used the rock as a point from which to in- ly vacillating, and postponed his answer till vade the African Moors in turn. Isabella the Duke of Medina-Sidonia, the head of the certainly one of the greatest sovereigns who great house of Guzman, should conie. But ever sat on the Castilian thronesaw the Rodrigo at least sent a force to take and hold full importance of Gibraltar to the united the city gates, and the garrison retreated to kingdom of Spain, and left it as a solemn the keep. When the (luke arrived he was injunction upon her successors to hold aud very angry with Rodrigo for going so far as retain Gibraltar for themselves and in their lie had done, and proudly claimed precedence own possession, and that no alienation of ia making the capture. As the dukes es- it, or any part of it, shall ever be made from tates lay near, he was very anxious not only the crown of Spain. to get the Moors out of Gibraltar, but to hold As soon as she was dead, the Duke Henry, it, himself. The dispute waxed so high that whose father, Juan, had ceded the fortress the duke and young Rodrigo could scarcely under duress, and who had taken the loss be kept from coming to blows. At last it keenly to heart, resolved to attempt its re- was settled that they should enter the for- capture; all(l his unsuccessful siege of it, tress side by side, and that their banners which lasted for four months, and which, should he mounted on the keep at the same from its entailing no loss of life, was called moment. The King of Spain proclaimed the bloodless siege, was the teiith to which himself Lord of Gibraltar, and gave it in Gibraltar had been subjected since the days charge to the Duke of Medina-Sidonia. of Taric. The Moorish power was now rapidly wan- The rock underwent other vicissitudes ing in Spain. The Moors fought each other from time to time in the following years, instead of time conmnmon enemy, and frequent being threatened by the corsairs of the Med- rebellions sapped the order and prosperity iterranean, ammd beholding the exodus of the of the state. The decadence of Mohammed- last remaining Moors in 160910, who, com- anism in Spain was coincident with its rise prisiug about six thousand, were transporte(l at Byzantimim. The capture of Gibraltar by across the strait at this very place, where the Spaniards was the first great blow at the victorious legions of Musa and Taric had their authority, and was followed, some years landed nine centuries before; while it also later, by the fall of Granada itselt~ A certain witnessed the desperate naval fight betweemi Beltran de la Cueva was appointed Govern- j the Dutch, under Heemskerk, aimd the Span- or of Gibraltar. A civil war now arose in ish, under DAvila, which took place almost Spain between the reigning king, Henry IV., under its shadow in 1607 the most furiouis and the party of his brother Alfonso, who battle, declares Sully, which was ever had pretended to the throne, buit had died. fought in the nuemory of nuan. Beltran sided with Henry, amid the Duke of The capture of Gibraltar by time English Medina - Sidonia with the Alfommaists; and was an incidemut of the famous War of tlme the ninth siege of Gibraltar was undertaken Succession. The Spammish king, Charles II., by the latter, to get it away froun Beltran died amud left his crown to Philip of Amujoum, and the kings party. The duke did not try grandson of Louis XIV. of Framuce. But a to attain his emmd by stratagem or surprise, but German lirince, the Archuduike Charles, laid marched his army up in full daylight, to the a counter-claini to tIme successi(uim. Emugland sound of drunis and trumpets. He took the and Holland, determined that a Fremuch town, the garrison retreated within the for- prince should not become King of Spain, amid tress, and the siege was vigorously begun. It thus unite the interests and fortunes of his hasted no less than sixteen months, and was native amid his adopted country, espoused time conduicted with the greatest valor and self- cause of tIme Arebduike Cluarles, amud declared sa~riflce on both sides. At last the repeat- war in his behalf. It was resolved luy the GIBRALTAR. 83 allies to attempt the capture of Gibraltar and the combined fleets sailed for that des- tination in the midsummer of 1704. The British squadron anchored in the bay, and five thousand men were landed north of the rock to cut off land communication with the rest of Spaimi. The investing fleets coIn- prised forty-five ships, six frigates, seven fire- ships, and two hospital ships. Meanwhile the garrison on the rock was certainly less than three hundred men, and some state that it was barely one hundred and fifty. The fortress was summoned to surrender to the rightful sovereign, the Archduke Charles. A proInl)t and resolute refusal was returned, and allegiance to Philip proclaimed. The next day the fleet began its assault; the new mole, and then the old, fell into the hands of the besiegers, and the marines landed at those points. The garrison had nothing to do now but to offer to surrender, and the offer was accepted on the conditions asked for, ~vlmich were, permission to retain their property, six (lays rations, three brass can- non, and twelve rounds of ammunition. They were also accorded the honors of war. In less than three days from the appearance of the allied fleets in the waters of the strait, the great fortress ha.d thus fallen into the hands of the besiegers. The larger portion of the inhabitants removed to San Roque. Now occurred one of those many instances, in the history of English warfare and con- duct, of English fidelity to the principle that might makes right. Gibraltar was taken possession of in the name of the so-called Charles III. of Spain, nanmely, the arch- ducal claimant, by the Prince of Hesse- Darmstadt. But this did not by any means suit the projects of Sir George Rooke, tIme commander of the English fleet. He delib- erately l)ulled down the standard of Charles, and the Germans and Dutch were somewhat amazed to see the British flag run up in its place. In a word, Gibraltar was seized in behalf of Queen Anne, and so passed into English possession. Seven years later, this was finally confirmed by tIme Treaty of Utrecht, which brought to an end the War of the Succession. Sir George Rooke was not made a peer, nor did he get a pension. Gibraltar has undergone three sieges dur- ing the century and a half that it has been in the hands of the English. The very year of Rookes great victory had not passed be- fore the French and Spanish tried to regain it. This siege was sharp and fierce, and several times it seemed as if tIme assailants must succeed; but the arrival of re-enforce- ments and provisions emiabled the English to continue a vigorous defense, and after a siege of six months the allies were forced to throw up the, game. It was not till 1727 that the next attempt was made to wrest the fortress from its British conquerors. Once more the Spaniards were the assail- ants. It was a most obstinate and deter- mined fight, but an attack lasting through five months only resulted in the utter dis- comfiture of tIme attacking power. The most menmorable, in some respects, of all the fourteen sieges to which Gibraltar has been subjected ~vas the last, called the great siege, one of the mighty struggles of history, which began in the year 1779. The famous General Elliott was command- er of the fortress. Spain, in alliance with France and Morocco, endeavored to surprise Gibraltar; but a Swedish ship gave Elliott the alarm. The garrison comprised but five coml)anies of artillery, ~mnd the whole force was less than five thousand five hundred men. The enemys force was fourteen thou- sand. The siege began by the blockading of the port, and a camp was formed at Sau Roque with the design of starving out the garrison. When the English Governor re- solved to open fire upon his besiegers, a lady in the garrison fired the first shot. Never did a siege war rage more furiously than did this for nearly three years. The garrison was often reduced to sore straits for food; a goose was worth a guinea,~~ and Elliott tried upon himself the experinment of living upon four ounces of rice a day for a week. Exciting stories are told of the privateers that ran in, amidst terrible dangers, with pro- visions, and of the storms which threw wel- come wood and cork within reach of the besieged. The rock at one tinme would sure- ly have been taken had it not been for Ad- miral Rodney, who, sailing off the strait, captured a small fleet of Spanish war ships and merchantmen, amid clearing the strait of besiegers, brought his prizes into l)ort. But all danger was not yet averted; Gibral- tar was again blockaded; scurvy broke out in the garrison, and Morocco refused her harbors to English ships. The enemy crept closer and closer to the fortress, but relief coming every now and then enabled the En- glish still to hold out. The bombardments were fearful to endunxm. TIme city was al- most destroyed; scarcely a house habitable, and those left standing pierced by shot and shell. At one time the desperate garrison fell to plundering the to~vn; Elliott shot the leaders in this outrage. The long agony, full of terrific combats and frightful priva- tions, ended by the final abandonment of the siege early in 1783. If in that year the English had to make up their minds that they must let go their American colonies, they had at least the consolation that Gi- braltar was still theirs. Except a brief but sharp navm~l conflict near by, in 1805, Gibraltar has since the great siege remained in the undisturbed possession of the English; and thus the great fortress bids fair to renmaimi, as long as the naval prowess of England commtiumnes to be unrivaled omi the waters of the earth. 84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MOSES CLYMERS I3USTNESS. XUHENEVER I pass that dingy four- ~~story building on Nassau Street in which Barry and I first established ourselves as attorneys and counselors at law, I mu led to wonder ~vhat has become of Moses Cly- mer. Eighteen years ago, when Barry and I occupieil the back-room on the third floor of this building, Moses did a thriving busi- ness in the apartment directly opposite. I say thriving, because many persons passed in and out of that apartment, so that the bell, which was fastened over the top of the door, kept up an almost continuous ringing. Every body who asceLi(le(l the stairs to the third story appeared to enter Clyiners room. I recall now, with a sad smile, the numerous disappoiiitments we suffered because of this singular partiality ~vhich was displayed for Mosess office. A score of times, at least, during the first day or two following our re- uio~-al to the building, Barry raised his eyes from the pages of Pendennis, listened a mo- ment to the souu(1 of footsteps on the stairs, and then dropping Pendennis and seizing a pen, fell to covering a sheet of legal cap with his o~vn signature. A brief moment of delightful expectancy, while the footsteps paused on the landing without ; a spasm of hope that at last a client had come; and then the tinkling ofthe bell over Mosess door, and a sudden sinking of spirits iii the umaimly breasts of Barry and Bushnell. Fol- lo~ving these dashed hopes, a dashed excla- mation from the senior member of the tirmn, a resumption of Peimdennis, and unbroken silence. Yet it was not of vital iniportauce that clients should come to Barry and Bushnell. They were still young men whose parents regar(le(1 them as boys, and whose good for- tune iIiade it unnecessary for themii to take any thought of the morrow. They knew that their bread, buttered with tolerable lib- erality, would be forth-coming whether cli- ents canie or not. Yet it was somewhat embarrassing, at the expiration of three weeks, to be forced to acknowledge that neither man, ~vomnn.n, nor child had made ap- plication for their professional services. To this embarrassment was added a touch of exasl)eratioii at the thought of Moses Cly- mers steady streani of callers. Wonder if lies a lawyer ? said I, one day, breaking the silence ~vhich~ad follow- ed tIme sound of the bell. I thmimik not, answered Barry. He would have a sign if he were. Perhaps lie is a note-shaver, suggested I. Possibly. He does a rmishimig busiminess, whatever its clinracter. I pirpose to keep my eyes open and find out what it is. Barry attenipted first to get his eyes open by interrogating the other occupants of the buildimig. Not one of them could tell how Moses Clymer earned his livelihood. Opin- lou was divided. Firman and Co., the sta- tioners on the first floor, did iiot kno~v that there was such a nian as Clymner in the buildiimgso close the intimacy which life in a metropolis breeds! Dickerson amid Smith, emi gin vers, secomid floor front, believed Mr. Clymimer to be a la~vyer. Jemuiiison Brothers, lawyers, secomid floor back, supposed Clymner wus a phiysiciami. (In support of this con- elusion, they cited the fact of havimig seemi a ii mlml)er of cousmimupti yelooking men pmi55 iminto his room.) Doyle, stemmographer, fourth floor, was inclined to thin opinion that Cly- mer was an insurance agent, with some iu- terest imm real estate. By the time Barry hind made an emmd of his inquiries, he fomimid that his eyes were miot opemmed with respect to Moses Clymers occupation. His curiosity, however, was whetted to a keener edge. The testiniony of the Jenimisomis, whom Barry ammd I hinted cordially, first, because they were lawyers, ammd second, because they were lawyers with clientsthe testimony of the Jenumisons, I repeat, corresponded pre- cisely ~vith ~~hiat we ourselves hind observed. Not omuly did consumptive-looking imien pass into Moses Clyrners office, but memi, also, whiose gemmeral appearamice hmimmted of indi- gestion, amid possibly biliousness. Without the aid of a very vivid immiagination omie foumid it easy to associate all mnanmuer of dis- eases with Mosess callers. Moreover, there was a certain dilmupidmuted air about them a shabbiness of dress amid a umuiformim unclean- liminess of personwhich suggested at once the mineed of tommics and soap. Obviously Mr. Clymers business, whinatever it might be, gave him acquaimutaumce with a very pecuml- mr class of Imeople. There was a certain negative resemblance traceable in thiemmi all, and somne poimits evemi of positive hikemmess. Apart from their usually shabby clothes ami(l thue decayed appearamice already meuutioned, it was mioticeable thmut they frequmemutly car- ricul rolls of paper iii their hamids, which thmey left behind them upon emerging from Mosess room. Barry was pleased to devote much time to specmmlatiomi regardimug our imeighibor across the hall. When his i inquiries hind served omily to shiarpemi his curiosity, lie (letermiuied to pay Moses a visit. This lie (lid bmmt ~vith- out satisf~vimig hmimmuself u.s to time miature of the business carried on hiny Mr. Clymer. There ismmt ammy thmimig in the roommi, said he, to imm(licate what the miian does. A (lesk or counter stamuds in the middle of the door. This is shie4dcd by a grommndghmmss top, like the tellers (hesk in a hamik. At one emud of time room is a partition six or seven feet high, with three doors, all of which were closed. I noticed a big safe and nuninnyons packages of papers, evi(lently manuscripts, arranged on shelves behinimid time counter. Did you see Moses r I inquired.

84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MOSES CLYMERS I3USTNESS. XUHENEVER I pass that dingy four- ~~story building on Nassau Street in which Barry and I first established ourselves as attorneys and counselors at law, I mu led to wonder ~vhat has become of Moses Cly- mer. Eighteen years ago, when Barry and I occupieil the back-room on the third floor of this building, Moses did a thriving busi- ness in the apartment directly opposite. I say thriving, because many persons passed in and out of that apartment, so that the bell, which was fastened over the top of the door, kept up an almost continuous ringing. Every body who asceLi(le(l the stairs to the third story appeared to enter Clyiners room. I recall now, with a sad smile, the numerous disappoiiitments we suffered because of this singular partiality ~vhich was displayed for Mosess office. A score of times, at least, during the first day or two following our re- uio~-al to the building, Barry raised his eyes from the pages of Pendennis, listened a mo- ment to the souu(1 of footsteps on the stairs, and then dropping Pendennis and seizing a pen, fell to covering a sheet of legal cap with his o~vn signature. A brief moment of delightful expectancy, while the footsteps paused on the landing without ; a spasm of hope that at last a client had come; and then the tinkling ofthe bell over Mosess door, and a sudden sinking of spirits iii the umaimly breasts of Barry and Bushnell. Fol- lo~ving these dashed hopes, a dashed excla- mation from the senior member of the tirmn, a resumption of Peimdennis, and unbroken silence. Yet it was not of vital iniportauce that clients should come to Barry and Bushnell. They were still young men whose parents regar(le(1 them as boys, and whose good for- tune iIiade it unnecessary for themii to take any thought of the morrow. They knew that their bread, buttered with tolerable lib- erality, would be forth-coming whether cli- ents canie or not. Yet it was somewhat embarrassing, at the expiration of three weeks, to be forced to acknowledge that neither man, ~vomnn.n, nor child had made ap- plication for their professional services. To this embarrassment was added a touch of exasl)eratioii at the thought of Moses Cly- mers steady streani of callers. Wonder if lies a lawyer ? said I, one day, breaking the silence ~vhich~ad follow- ed tIme sound of the bell. I thmimik not, answered Barry. He would have a sign if he were. Perhaps lie is a note-shaver, suggested I. Possibly. He does a rmishimig busiminess, whatever its clinracter. I pirpose to keep my eyes open and find out what it is. Barry attenipted first to get his eyes open by interrogating the other occupants of the buildimig. Not one of them could tell how Moses Clymer earned his livelihood. Opin- lou was divided. Firman and Co., the sta- tioners on the first floor, did iiot kno~v that there was such a nian as Clymner in the buildiimgso close the intimacy which life in a metropolis breeds! Dickerson amid Smith, emi gin vers, secomid floor front, believed Mr. Clymimer to be a la~vyer. Jemuiiison Brothers, lawyers, secomid floor back, supposed Clymner wus a phiysiciami. (In support of this con- elusion, they cited the fact of havimig seemi a ii mlml)er of cousmimupti yelooking men pmi55 iminto his room.) Doyle, stemmographer, fourth floor, was inclined to thin opinion that Cly- mer was an insurance agent, with some iu- terest imm real estate. By the time Barry hind made an emmd of his inquiries, he fomimid that his eyes were miot opemmed with respect to Moses Clymers occupation. His curiosity, however, was whetted to a keener edge. The testiniony of the Jenimisomis, whom Barry ammd I hinted cordially, first, because they were lawyers, ammd second, because they were lawyers with clientsthe testimony of the Jenumisons, I repeat, corresponded pre- cisely ~vith ~~hiat we ourselves hind observed. Not omuly did consumptive-looking imien pass into Moses Clyrners office, but memi, also, whiose gemmeral appearamice hmimmted of indi- gestion, amid possibly biliousness. Without the aid of a very vivid immiagination omie foumid it easy to associate all mnanmuer of dis- eases with Mosess callers. Moreover, there was a certain dilmupidmuted air about them a shabbiness of dress amid a umuiformim unclean- liminess of personwhich suggested at once the mineed of tommics and soap. Obviously Mr. Clymers business, whinatever it might be, gave him acquaimutaumce with a very pecuml- mr class of Imeople. There was a certain negative resemblance traceable in thiemmi all, and somne poimits evemi of positive hikemmess. Apart from their usually shabby clothes ami(l thue decayed appearamice already meuutioned, it was mioticeable thmut they frequmemutly car- ricul rolls of paper iii their hamids, which thmey left behind them upon emerging from Mosess room. Barry was pleased to devote much time to specmmlatiomi regardimug our imeighibor across the hall. When his i inquiries hind served omily to shiarpemi his curiosity, lie (letermiuied to pay Moses a visit. This lie (lid bmmt ~vith- out satisf~vimig hmimmuself u.s to time miature of the business carried on hiny Mr. Clymer. There ismmt ammy thmimig in the roommi, said he, to imm(licate what the miian does. A (lesk or counter stamuds in the middle of the door. This is shie4dcd by a grommndghmmss top, like the tellers (hesk in a hamik. At one emud of time room is a partition six or seven feet high, with three doors, all of which were closed. I noticed a big safe and nuninnyons packages of papers, evi(lently manuscripts, arranged on shelves behinimid time counter. Did you see Moses r I inquired. MOSES CLYMERS BUSiNESS. 85 Yes, and talked with bunasked him to lend me a tack hammer. He said he hadnt one. Then one of his mysterions-looking callers came in and seated himself without speaking a word. Evidently he was wait- ing for rae to clear out, so I cleared. This visit left us more in the dark than ever. Barry, who delighted in mystery, be- gan straightway to weave a romance about the bald head of Moses Clymer. That he was neither a lawyer, doctor, merchant, nor priest, was no longer a disputed question; that his buttons would count do~~nn to a thief, seemed strongly probable. Unlimited leisure, which professional duties did not interrupt, gave Barry the opportunity to prosecute his investigations with untiring vigor. And the more he investigated, the more knotty appeared the problem. The consumptive - looking callers continned to pass in and out; the bell rang at irregular intervals throughout the day. Now and then we met Moses iii the hall or npou the stairs, but his bnsiness remained a matter of mystery. At the end of a month, Barry, who had made a number of visits to the room across the hall, but with no better re- sults than those attending the first, gave up the riddle in despair. And thereupon, as it happens sometimes with the more com- plex riddles of life, came an answer to this one from a source least expected. Moses Clymer entered our office one morn- ing, and announced that he wanted legal advice. Barry thrust the hook he was reading Poes Talesunder a pile of papers, arid, as the senior member of the firm, turned to his first client. As the junior member of the firma, I picked up a copy of the Sessioa Laws, and looked becomingly grave. Vat is te charge for advice ? inquired Moses. That will he determined after you have stated your case, replied Barry. Yell, ten, te case vas like dis. Suppose a man vas come to you and sells you a piece of werse A piece of what ? interrupted Barry. A piece of ~versepoetry, you know. Poetry! Was this, then, the mysterious merchandise in which Moses dealt? I kept the Session Laws before my eyes, but did not discover that I held the volume upside down. Barrys composure was simply astonishing. Verse, ~ said he. Exactly. Well ? VeIl, you pays dis man for te piece of werse, arid den you finds out dat he stole it all from a book. Now vas dere no laws vich viii get back te momiey vat you pays to dat man ? Let me understand you fully, said Bar- ry, with the air of a veteran counselor. You purchase a literary article, believii~g it to be an original i)ro(lmlction. After you have paid for it, you discover it to be a plagia- rism. A vich ? interrogated Moses, doubtfully. A plagiarisura stolen production. Yes, (lat vas it. Stole out of a book. And I advanced t~vo tollars and feefty cents on dat piece of werse ! ii I)) I vILLIAM. 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. You bought the verses for two dollars and a half? No, no. I buys notings. I loans te money, and takes te werses for security. And dey vas stole out of a book ! This remarkable revelation, this sudden flood of light upon the mystery which had hitherto enveloped Moses Clymers busi- ness, produced no visible effect on Barry. One might have supposed that he had known what that business was for years, and that from his childhood up he had been familiar with pawnbrokers shops where the fancies of the brain, instead of overcoats and watches, were accepted as security for loans. For myself, I found it linpossible to longer feign an interest in the inverted vol- ume of Session Laws, and closing the book, made no further attempt to conceal my amazement. Barry proceeded to probe his first client with polite but searching interrogatories. Your business, then, as I understand it, is that of a pawnbroker, and you make loans upon literary articles ? Yes, dat vas it, replied Moses. Are you not frequently imposed upon ? inquired I, wondering how in the name of reason a man could detect a plagiarism who did not know the meaning of the word. Ituposhed upon 7 repeated Moses, rais- ing his eyebrows. Yell, I never vas mm- poshed upon before. Villiam he knows vat is good and vat is bad. He can tell vat is stole, as I can tell gold from brass. Vill- iam he knows all vat is in te booksbut he vas mistaken about dat piece of werse. I take it that William is your critic 7 said Barry. Yes, Yilliamn lie decides vat an article is vorth. I knows notings about any of them. You might bring me Byron or Shaks- peareit vas all te same to me. But it vas not all te same to Villiam. What do you do with the articles that are not redeemed 7 I asked. Ye sells emvery sheap, very sheap in- deed. Dere vas leetle profit in our business. Amid I advanced two tollars and feefty cents on dat piece of werse Barry checked further curiosity, that he might regard the case from a professional point of view. This opens up a very intricate question of law, Mr. Clymer. I shall need some time to consider it. Of course, if a suit were be- gun, the expenses would be greater than the amount of your claim. Yell, it is not te money so much u.s te ex- ample vat I vants. If te law could punish dis fellow, I vill not care if it takes all of te two tollars and feefty cents. Moses here rose from his seat, and Barry informed him that he would be prepared to express an opinion when he had given the case proper attention. Doesnt this beat any thing you ever heard of? he exclaimed, as the ringing of the bell announced Mosess entrance into his o~vn room. I thought it did, unquestionably. Barry, I fear, did not devote munch time to a consideration of the legality of his first clients claini; but his interest in the case was certainly profound. He caine into the office on the day following Mosess visit, and exclaimed, triniriphantly, I have been in to see Clymer, and to- morrow we shall have an opportunity of learning as much as we please about his business. On the morrow, accordingly, Barry and I called upon our neighbor across the ball. Yalk right into Yilliams office, said Moses, as we entered the room. Barry, who seemed to have made himself thoroughly familiar with the place, led the way to one of the small compartments of which he had spoken, and I followed. There we found Yilliamn, otherwise Mr. William Crampton, with his feet, imicased in shabby gaiters, resting upon the ink-stained top of a pine table. He was a man of fifty or there- abouts, who might have been any thing to accord with the particular surroundings in which he was seen. With a white cravat and clothes of ecclesiastic cut, you would have set him down as a clergyman. In a checkered shirt, with a diamond sufficiently large and lustreless, you might have mnistak- en him for a bar-tender. In Moses Clymers inner office he could be nothing but a critic. Ten nminutes conversation revealed time fact that Mr. Crampton was a man of wide reading, undoubted culture, and superior critical taste. The same length of time served also to reveal time execrable quality of the tobacco which he used, and the aston- ishing quamitity of beer. Aim earthen pitch- er of tlmis latter beverage was applied to his lips at intervals of four or five uminmutes, and time diuminmition of time contents dmmrimmg one of these draughts was something truly sur- prising. We stood the smoke manfully, how- ever, and forgave the periodic interruptions occasioned by the beer. Mr. Cramptons con- versation was worth these umminor drawbacks. This bumsiness surprises you, no doimhit, said lie, laying down tIme pitcher tenderly. Well, yes, it does, rejoined Barry. Moses, here, has been engaged in it six or seven years. The old fellow must have made a snug little fortune during that time. He gets hold of his wares for almost noth- ing, and sells them always for a fair price. His profits last year amounted to more thamm three thousand dollars. You say that he sells his wares always for a fair price. Where does he find a mar- ket 7 iuiquired I. Within some of the magazi mines and news- papers. He makes arrangements with the MOSES CLYMERS BUSINESS. 87 editors, who pay him so much a year, and get in return a given number of articles in prose and verse. He runs no risk. The periodicals themselves take the chances as to the availability of the pieces they re- ceive. Of course there must be proper dis- crimination used in deciding what articles ~ve shall accept here; but when that is done, Moses is sure of his profits. Then, said Barry, the success or fail- ure of Clymner rests altogether with you ? Well, Moses is certainly itot a judge of literary work, and he leaves that to me. But I am not entitled to all the creditnot by any means. I occupy simply the posi- tion of a reader on a periodical publication which, I may explain, was my calling be- fore I became associated with Moses. Aft- er I have decided favorably upon an arti- cle, and the thirty days during which it is held subject to redemption have elapsed, then it is passed into the hands of Mr. Peters. Here Crampton refreshed himself with another draught of the beer. He then con- tinned: Mr. Peters is our polisher. By that I mean that lie prepares the unredeemed pieces for the press. His duties are very much more laborious than are mine, and he is justly entitled to a goodly share of the credit. He takes a piece of verse, for ex- ample, rubs it down, so to speak, throws out or adds to it a stanza, props up a limp- ing line, smooths out the rhythm, and cor- rects the faulty rhymes. That is what we call polishing. A prose article is put through a similar process, and sometimes even en- tirely rewritten. The ideas, you see, are worth saving. At this point Moses opened the door and laid a manuscript upon the critics table. The critic thereupon drew inspiration from the pitcher, and then proceeded to pass judgment on the verses. Barry and I watched him with undisguised interest. Our rhymsters nowadays, said he, are little better than echoes. They give us mu- sical lines, but their thoughts are all bor- rowed. Here, for instance, are some neatly constructed stanzas, but we find the ideas to be wonderfully familiar. Our author says: Now hope is dead and joy is fled, Earth is barren, life is vain; For with anger toward my love Worse than madness racks my brain. That would be better if we could forget the lines of Coleridge, And to be wroth with one we love Both work like madness in the brain. The author may have been unconscious of the plagiarism, suggested Barry. Very true, answered Crampton; but that unconsciousness proves his want of originality. His ideas are the outgrowth of his reading simply. He falls into the ruts which the wheels of other chariots have matle. He finds it infinitely easier to pluck the fruit which has ripened iii anoth- er s mind than to sow the seed of fresh thought, and nourish it to fructification. He drinks of twenty streams, and then gives us a flavor of them all. That flavor is some- times excellent, but rarely new? With this illustration, Mr. Crampton took another drink of the beer. Then, still scan- ning the pages of the manuscript, he con- tinued Here is another striking example of what I mean. The writer of these verses sings, When golden thoughts bring in their train Sad thoughts which still are sweet. That is Wordsworth, and 1 can not say that it is an improvement. The dead laureate puts it, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Brimig sad thoughts to the mind. Have you pashed on dat piece of werse ? inquired Moses, thrusting his head through the door. It will do, answered Crampton. Vat shall 1 say about it dat is bad P Too much of Coleridge and Words- worth. With this, Moses took the manuscript amid withdrew. What numoumit will be advanced on that piece P inqmmired Barry. I really couldnt tell, answered Cramp- ton. Moses takes charge of that, you see. You might step aroumid behind tIme desk, and watch him while he makes time loan? Barry and I were glad enough to act upon this suggestion. We found one of the con- sumptive-looking gentlemen, whose appear- ance had once led to thme belief that Mr. Clymer was a physician, engaged in earnest conversation with the pawnbroker. Really, Moses, you ought to make tlmat an even two dollars. Eight stanzas, you see. Rhythm smooth, and rhymes all per- fect. One tollar and seeventy-feeve cents is all vat I can allows, rejoined Moses, deci- sively. But you advanced two dollars on those sonnets last ~veek. These verses are much better than those. Dere vas too mmieh of Cooleridge and Vadsvorth in em, rejoined Moses, dispar- agimmghy. Dat is vat ails emtoo mmichm of Cooleridge and Vadsvorth. I vill gives you one tollar and seeventy-feeve cents. This offer was finally accepted, anti Moses made out the ticket and paid over the mon- ey. Tlmen he tmirned to us, sayimig, Ve can not affords to pay too much omm articles like dat. Dere is imot demnaud enomigh, 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. you see, and dere vas too much Cooleridge The articles which are brought to Moses, and Vadsvorth in em. he resumed, without first having been sub Are any of these manuscripts ever re- mitted to an editor constitute only a small deemed ? asked Barry, when we had return- ed to Cramptons room. Yes, occasionally, replied the critic. The writer can redeem them at any time within thirty days, and occasionally he avails himself of this privilege. Crampton here availed himself of the priv- ilege of moistening his lips at the mouth of the pitcher. part of what we receive. By far the larger proportion of the~ manuscripts are those that have been returned to the authors as un- available. We take them, polish them, and sell them to less exacting publications. Mr. Clymer must feel his absolute de- pendence oii you and Peters, suggested Barry. But he also makes us feel our depend- I k $ _ __ DERE VAS TOO MUCh OF COOLERIDGE AND VADSVORTH IN EM. MOSES CLYMERS BUSINESS. 89 ence upon our own exertions, was the re- joinder. We receive no salary for our work, but a given percentage on the arti- cles which are published. If I decide fa- vorably on a poem, and that poem is thrown out by the editor to whom Moses carries it, then the sum which was originally advanced to the author is deducted from my percent- age. In other words, said I, Clymer is will- ing to share the profits but not the losses of his business. It amounts to about that, and yet Pe- ters and I are well paid for our work. You see, we are able to select from a varied as- sortment, and to get the kind of matter which is suited to a particular publication. It rarely happens that we make a mistake. Or that you advance money on verses taken from a book observed Barry, with a smile. The case which Moses has laid before you is the only one of that nature which ever occurred. Sometimes we have had stol- en articles brought to usall pa~vnbrokers shops must exiect thatbut we have in- varial)ly detected tIme theft. The plagia- risms are usually glaringly apparent. Some months ago, I remember, a chap presented Byrosms Maid of Athens, and wanted two dollars on it. Cramupton was interrupted at this point by a thmnping on the partition wall, while a voice from the adjoining compartment said, I want a two-syllabled word that is syn- onymous with endeavor. Attenipt, rejoined Cramnpton, after a moments reflection. Then, addressing us, he added, That is Peters. Suppose we step iu and see him. We found Mr. Peters hard at work polish- ing a poem. He was a younger man than his associate, with a prominent nose, which his biographer would probably call Roman, and with the hair and shirt front of a gen- ius. By way of illustrating the nature of his work, he read us some verses, first as they had been received by Moses, and aft- er~vard as they came out of the polishing process. Before we left the rooni, I oh- tamed permission to make a copy of these staimzas in both forms, which I have pre- served up to time present time~ While the lines possess little of poetic merit, I may nevertheless be pardoned for presenting them here as illustrative of Mr. Peterss manner of work. In the original form they read as fol- lows: SHERRY WINE. I will drink this amber-hued, Ripe, and rare 01(1 sherry To the maiden whom I loved Fair was she and merry Loved and wooed so long ago: When it was I scarce may know. I will drink to those old times Wimemi to breathe was pleasure; When my heart, like sweetest rhyme, Beat to Loves own measure; When the dreams of youtlm were mine, Amber-hued, like this wine. From time goblet I will drain Times forgotten flavor, Taste Ihose happy days again, Sweetened by Loves own favor Days when through Loves magic hands Life ran all in golden sands. What if love be at an end, Life no longer merry, Still ill drink and drimik again, In this rare old sherry, To the girl I loved amid wooed When the world was amber-hued! Polished by Peters, the verses read thus: A SONG. I will drink this amber-hued, Aromatic sherry To the girl I loved and wooed Modest maiden merry Loved and ~vooed so long ago: When it was I scarce may know. I will drink to those old times When to breathe was pleasure; When my pulse, in rhythmic rhymes, Beat to Loves own measure; When the dreams of youth were mine, Amber-hued like sherry ~vine. From the goblet I will drain Times forgotten flavor; Taste those golden days again, Sweelened by Loves favor, Wimile I feel the draught divine Warming all my blood like wine. What if love be at an end, Life no longer merry, Heres a true and trusty friend, Aromatic sherry; Truer than my love, I know, Many, many years ago! You will observe, said Peters, when he had finished reading the verses, that there is substantially little change in time second copy of the poem. One or two inmper- fect rhymes are correctedas, for example, times and rhynme in tIme second stanza aamd some redumidant syllables are dispeumsed with to preserve the mnetre. In the amain, however, the verses are alike. That couplet, Days when through Loves magic hands Life rami all in golden sands, smacks a little too strongly of Tennyson to pass nmuster. I have therefore thrown it out, although I can not say the substitu- tion is an improvemeimt. Your work must be very laborious, Mr. Peters, suggested Barry. It is wlmat I may term headachey, was the rejoinder. Still, I get along tol- erably well, and do not feel justified in swearing except when a parody on Poes Raven turns up, or a new version of The Bridge of Sighs. Before Barry and I umade an end of our visit, we passed around belmimmd the counter, where Moses was engaged ima assorting the numerous packages of manuscripts. 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. On te top shelf, dere, said he, vas stories, nice stories, vich ye sells very sheap. You vas never seen nicer stories any vheres. On te next shelf vas werseslove werses. Dey vns really beautiful, and sheapvery sheap. On dis shelf here vas werses on Springand dey vas sheap too. Dose pe- low vas all on (leatlis. You could not read one of dem vidout veeping, dey vas so beau- tiful and so sheap! Ven somebody in your family dies, dis is te place vhere you can find nice poetry vat viii comfort you. And it viii cost you only a leetle. Dat large package vas all pieces on te Old Year. Dat one next to it vas on vine and other drinks. Dis package here vas made up of sonnets ye gives em away, almost. Every thing vat you sees vas nice and simeap ! And not too much of Coleridge and Wordsworth in them V said Barry, with a smile. Oh my, no ! returned Moses, warmly. Dere vas no Cooleridge, no Vadsvorth, in any of em. Peters he vas take all dat out. When at last we took leave of the pawn- broker, Barry announced that he would be prepared to express an opinion on the mer- its of Mosess case in the course of a week; and Clymer again assured us that he would cheerfully pay the whole of the two dollars and fifty cents, if by so doing he could make an example of the impostor who had ob- tained a loan on verses taken from a book. I regret to say that Barry did not keep his word. Mr. Clymer was left in doubt as to whether he possessed the right to insti- tute legal proceedings against the plagia- rist. Aiid not many weeks afterward we discovered that he had moved from the room across the hail to parts unknown. The firm of Barry and Bushnell may now be found in a more aristocratic neighborhood than of old. Yet I never pass that dingy building on Nassau Street without wonder- ing what has become of Moses Clymer. And I never turn to the poetry in a i~riodical without reflecting that perhaps these self- same stanzas have secured a loan of two dollars from Moses, have been favorably passed upon by Crampton, and have had the Coleridge and Wordsworth taken out of them hy Peters. AN ORDER FOR A CAMEO. IT shall be Eves face, carver, gleaming white Upon the Eden-green of clirysoprase: Child-foreheads in the morning are less hright, And Gahriels less serene. You know her gaze, Unfolding from pore lids, saw Adam first, And then a glorious, cursed Earth uncursed; So Memory ~vill not darken that still smile (Laughter was horn of tears), nor Loves grand pain, Nor thorns, nor dying lilies, nor cold rain Betray her to a glimpse of afterwhile. Miriam and Sappho show the sorrow-stain, And Marys loving hath its selfish guile. Eve knows not Hopes unrest, nor Fears alloy, And blesses ~vith the sweet lost dream of Joy. BIRDS NESTS. TO those of my readers who have never studied birds, let me say a few intro- ductory words. In birds, as a class, are combined colors which vary from the plain- est browns or grays to the richest metallic splendors; grace, strength, and often sub- limity of action; and musical powers that other animals lack altogether. To the nat- uralist, or to him who loves an out-door life, their abundance and peculiar relations with man offer great advantages; to the scientist they present in a marked way the lillenom- ena of variation and adaptation. In a lim- ited space, such as New England, where not many more than three hundred species have been known to occur, a tolerably thorough knowledge of them may be gained. Have the plants or insects been numbered? Main- mals and reptiles, on the other hand, are comparatively rare and shy, and by many of them most persons are too easily fright- ened. To embryologists, birds eggs have a pecul- iar interest, and in no other form are the first outward stages of animal life so attract- ive to the ignorant. Among their nests are tIme highest types of natural architecture, though many birds lay their eggs on the ground, on rocks, or in natural hollows without special lireparation. Their nests may be divided into several classesthose supported from beneath, those supported frommi ai)ove (or pensile), those attached on one side, and those which are excavations (in earth or wood). There are many other methods of classification, but tlint just used is most convenient for my purposes. Let us take up the first class, and consider the ground-nesting birds. A striking fact is their generally plain coloring, and the prevalence of browns and quiet greens among the tints of their upper partsthe l)ack, etc. As a general rule, their eggs also are plainly colored (though rarely white), especially when found in fields, but not so strikingly as those laid in no nest, or scarce- ly any, by sandpipers and plover, whose eggs are so assimilated to their surroundings that it often requires a very long search to de- tect them iii a given space ten feet square. I have flushed the conimnon teeter within a yard of me, and on hands and knees have imuted fifteen minutes before finding her treasures; they were among my earliest prizes, and, thankful not to have trodden on them, I unkindly took theta all. But to the amateur there is no necessity of cruelty. You can become imitimate with birds with- out shooting them, you can examnimme their nests without pulling them to pieces, and can contemplate their eggs without disturb- in thena, or, ity actingjudiciously, can grati- fy your love of possession without destroying a mothers happiness. Birds vary in their

90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. On te top shelf, dere, said he, vas stories, nice stories, vich ye sells very sheap. You vas never seen nicer stories any vheres. On te next shelf vas werseslove werses. Dey vns really beautiful, and sheapvery sheap. On dis shelf here vas werses on Springand dey vas sheap too. Dose pe- low vas all on (leatlis. You could not read one of dem vidout veeping, dey vas so beau- tiful and so sheap! Ven somebody in your family dies, dis is te place vhere you can find nice poetry vat viii comfort you. And it viii cost you only a leetle. Dat large package vas all pieces on te Old Year. Dat one next to it vas on vine and other drinks. Dis package here vas made up of sonnets ye gives em away, almost. Every thing vat you sees vas nice and simeap ! And not too much of Coleridge and Wordsworth in them V said Barry, with a smile. Oh my, no ! returned Moses, warmly. Dere vas no Cooleridge, no Vadsvorth, in any of em. Peters he vas take all dat out. When at last we took leave of the pawn- broker, Barry announced that he would be prepared to express an opinion on the mer- its of Mosess case in the course of a week; and Clymer again assured us that he would cheerfully pay the whole of the two dollars and fifty cents, if by so doing he could make an example of the impostor who had ob- tained a loan on verses taken from a book. I regret to say that Barry did not keep his word. Mr. Clymer was left in doubt as to whether he possessed the right to insti- tute legal proceedings against the plagia- rist. Aiid not many weeks afterward we discovered that he had moved from the room across the hail to parts unknown. The firm of Barry and Bushnell may now be found in a more aristocratic neighborhood than of old. Yet I never pass that dingy building on Nassau Street without wonder- ing what has become of Moses Clymer. And I never turn to the poetry in a i~riodical without reflecting that perhaps these self- same stanzas have secured a loan of two dollars from Moses, have been favorably passed upon by Crampton, and have had the Coleridge and Wordsworth taken out of them hy Peters. AN ORDER FOR A CAMEO. IT shall be Eves face, carver, gleaming white Upon the Eden-green of clirysoprase: Child-foreheads in the morning are less hright, And Gahriels less serene. You know her gaze, Unfolding from pore lids, saw Adam first, And then a glorious, cursed Earth uncursed; So Memory ~vill not darken that still smile (Laughter was horn of tears), nor Loves grand pain, Nor thorns, nor dying lilies, nor cold rain Betray her to a glimpse of afterwhile. Miriam and Sappho show the sorrow-stain, And Marys loving hath its selfish guile. Eve knows not Hopes unrest, nor Fears alloy, And blesses ~vith the sweet lost dream of Joy. BIRDS NESTS. TO those of my readers who have never studied birds, let me say a few intro- ductory words. In birds, as a class, are combined colors which vary from the plain- est browns or grays to the richest metallic splendors; grace, strength, and often sub- limity of action; and musical powers that other animals lack altogether. To the nat- uralist, or to him who loves an out-door life, their abundance and peculiar relations with man offer great advantages; to the scientist they present in a marked way the lillenom- ena of variation and adaptation. In a lim- ited space, such as New England, where not many more than three hundred species have been known to occur, a tolerably thorough knowledge of them may be gained. Have the plants or insects been numbered? Main- mals and reptiles, on the other hand, are comparatively rare and shy, and by many of them most persons are too easily fright- ened. To embryologists, birds eggs have a pecul- iar interest, and in no other form are the first outward stages of animal life so attract- ive to the ignorant. Among their nests are tIme highest types of natural architecture, though many birds lay their eggs on the ground, on rocks, or in natural hollows without special lireparation. Their nests may be divided into several classesthose supported from beneath, those supported frommi ai)ove (or pensile), those attached on one side, and those which are excavations (in earth or wood). There are many other methods of classification, but tlint just used is most convenient for my purposes. Let us take up the first class, and consider the ground-nesting birds. A striking fact is their generally plain coloring, and the prevalence of browns and quiet greens among the tints of their upper partsthe l)ack, etc. As a general rule, their eggs also are plainly colored (though rarely white), especially when found in fields, but not so strikingly as those laid in no nest, or scarce- ly any, by sandpipers and plover, whose eggs are so assimilated to their surroundings that it often requires a very long search to de- tect them iii a given space ten feet square. I have flushed the conimnon teeter within a yard of me, and on hands and knees have imuted fifteen minutes before finding her treasures; they were among my earliest prizes, and, thankful not to have trodden on them, I unkindly took theta all. But to the amateur there is no necessity of cruelty. You can become imitimate with birds with- out shooting them, you can examnimme their nests without pulling them to pieces, and can contemplate their eggs without disturb- in thena, or, ity actingjudiciously, can grati- fy your love of possession without destroying a mothers happiness. Birds vary in their

90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. On te top shelf, dere, said he, vas stories, nice stories, vich ye sells very sheap. You vas never seen nicer stories any vheres. On te next shelf vas werseslove werses. Dey vns really beautiful, and sheapvery sheap. On dis shelf here vas werses on Springand dey vas sheap too. Dose pe- low vas all on (leatlis. You could not read one of dem vidout veeping, dey vas so beau- tiful and so sheap! Ven somebody in your family dies, dis is te place vhere you can find nice poetry vat viii comfort you. And it viii cost you only a leetle. Dat large package vas all pieces on te Old Year. Dat one next to it vas on vine and other drinks. Dis package here vas made up of sonnets ye gives em away, almost. Every thing vat you sees vas nice and simeap ! And not too much of Coleridge and Wordsworth in them V said Barry, with a smile. Oh my, no ! returned Moses, warmly. Dere vas no Cooleridge, no Vadsvorth, in any of em. Peters he vas take all dat out. When at last we took leave of the pawn- broker, Barry announced that he would be prepared to express an opinion on the mer- its of Mosess case in the course of a week; and Clymer again assured us that he would cheerfully pay the whole of the two dollars and fifty cents, if by so doing he could make an example of the impostor who had ob- tained a loan on verses taken from a book. I regret to say that Barry did not keep his word. Mr. Clymer was left in doubt as to whether he possessed the right to insti- tute legal proceedings against the plagia- rist. Aiid not many weeks afterward we discovered that he had moved from the room across the hail to parts unknown. The firm of Barry and Bushnell may now be found in a more aristocratic neighborhood than of old. Yet I never pass that dingy building on Nassau Street without wonder- ing what has become of Moses Clymer. And I never turn to the poetry in a i~riodical without reflecting that perhaps these self- same stanzas have secured a loan of two dollars from Moses, have been favorably passed upon by Crampton, and have had the Coleridge and Wordsworth taken out of them hy Peters. AN ORDER FOR A CAMEO. IT shall be Eves face, carver, gleaming white Upon the Eden-green of clirysoprase: Child-foreheads in the morning are less hright, And Gahriels less serene. You know her gaze, Unfolding from pore lids, saw Adam first, And then a glorious, cursed Earth uncursed; So Memory ~vill not darken that still smile (Laughter was horn of tears), nor Loves grand pain, Nor thorns, nor dying lilies, nor cold rain Betray her to a glimpse of afterwhile. Miriam and Sappho show the sorrow-stain, And Marys loving hath its selfish guile. Eve knows not Hopes unrest, nor Fears alloy, And blesses ~vith the sweet lost dream of Joy. BIRDS NESTS. TO those of my readers who have never studied birds, let me say a few intro- ductory words. In birds, as a class, are combined colors which vary from the plain- est browns or grays to the richest metallic splendors; grace, strength, and often sub- limity of action; and musical powers that other animals lack altogether. To the nat- uralist, or to him who loves an out-door life, their abundance and peculiar relations with man offer great advantages; to the scientist they present in a marked way the lillenom- ena of variation and adaptation. In a lim- ited space, such as New England, where not many more than three hundred species have been known to occur, a tolerably thorough knowledge of them may be gained. Have the plants or insects been numbered? Main- mals and reptiles, on the other hand, are comparatively rare and shy, and by many of them most persons are too easily fright- ened. To embryologists, birds eggs have a pecul- iar interest, and in no other form are the first outward stages of animal life so attract- ive to the ignorant. Among their nests are tIme highest types of natural architecture, though many birds lay their eggs on the ground, on rocks, or in natural hollows without special lireparation. Their nests may be divided into several classesthose supported from beneath, those supported frommi ai)ove (or pensile), those attached on one side, and those which are excavations (in earth or wood). There are many other methods of classification, but tlint just used is most convenient for my purposes. Let us take up the first class, and consider the ground-nesting birds. A striking fact is their generally plain coloring, and the prevalence of browns and quiet greens among the tints of their upper partsthe l)ack, etc. As a general rule, their eggs also are plainly colored (though rarely white), especially when found in fields, but not so strikingly as those laid in no nest, or scarce- ly any, by sandpipers and plover, whose eggs are so assimilated to their surroundings that it often requires a very long search to de- tect them iii a given space ten feet square. I have flushed the conimnon teeter within a yard of me, and on hands and knees have imuted fifteen minutes before finding her treasures; they were among my earliest prizes, and, thankful not to have trodden on them, I unkindly took theta all. But to the amateur there is no necessity of cruelty. You can become imitimate with birds with- out shooting them, you can examnimme their nests without pulling them to pieces, and can contemplate their eggs without disturb- in thena, or, ity actingjudiciously, can grati- fy your love of possession without destroying a mothers happiness. Birds vary in their BIRDS NESTS. 91 ten(lencies to desert their young if meddled with; but often, after taking one or even two eggs from a nest, I have watche(I the quiet return of the parent, and the success- fiil hatching of those left. The further that the stage of motherhood progresses, the more persevering feathered mothers become; but at all times persistent visiting or intrusion annoys them. The appeal of a brave, affectionate bird, when brooding over her young, is very touch- ing, but it is too often disregarded. Few persons know the trials of bird life. Many hundred times have I watched the smaller birds in spring during the course of their domestic life; and I remember hut very few instances in which the parents seemingly had uninterrupted success from the begin- ning, when the foundations of their nurser- ies were laid, until all their young were reared. I distinctly recall only half a dozen cases. The parents chief enemies are the weather, snakes (especially the black-snake), various other birds, such as crows, blue jays, crow blackbirds, and cuckoos, the tree-squir- rels (but not the little striped ground-squir- rel or chipmunk), and cats. The cat, while it is always a graceful and some- times a useful animal, is, just in the pro- portion that it is a good mouser, also a skillful bird-catcher, and does much mis- chief on a country place. The nests which one finds in fields and pastures on the ground are generally those of the sparrows. They are all much alike slight hollows, protected or partly conceal- ed by a bush, hummock, or clump of grass, and in most cases lined very neatly with hairs, though dry grass, etc., almost invari- ably enter into their composition. If tak- en up for preservation, they must be dug up with a little of the earth about them, as other~vise they fall to pieces. All nests are naturally in better condition for a collection when just finished, but fine specimens may often be obtained when vacated by the young, while a few are capable of with- standing exposure to weather for a consider- able time. They should be taken with their inimediate surroundings, whether branches, twigs, or earth, and handled very carefully. In the house, they should be repaired, if damaged, by stitching or gluing; should be kept free from dust, for if once dirty, they can not be cleaned without injury; and if partly composed of feathers or woolly matter, should be occasionally wetted with benzine. Among the ground-nesting birds there are in Massachusetts no less than nine species of sparrows, some of which commonly make their homes in fields or pastures; I shall therefore enter into no details. But a curi- ous fact, which illustrates the frequent de- parture from types or rules in nature, is that the common chipping sparrows, or haw- birds, have been known to build on the ground, though they usually build several feet above it, in a bush, he(lge, tree, or vine. There is little of interest to keep us in the hot fields on a warm day in the last week of May, and I pass on to the meadows. On their borders, in the fields where the longest grass grows, is a nest which you must hunt long for before finding-that of the bobo- link. In the elm-tree is the jolly male, in his sumuier livery of black, bnft and white, and singing as if he could not contain him- self. Still caroling, he spreads his wings and drops into the grass. We can not see from here what he is doing; he may be whis- pering to his plainly colored mate, or lie may be feeding. bong before we are near enough to surprise him, could we do so under any circumstances, he springs up, and sings as if he asked us to stand and listen. Looking for his nest in this wide field is like search- ing for a needle in a haymow. Should the female suddenly rise within ten feet of us, she may have wandered from her eggs for a moment, finding her mate inattentive in pro- viding her with food, or she may have tried to deceive us by stealing from them through the grass, and dying up at a distance; but no, she has staid at the post of danger until the last minute, twixt hope and fear, and springs up at our feet. There, in a little hollow, which has been warmly bedded, and over which the long grass waves, lie four grayish or greenish eggs, mottled with dark brown. Look at them quickly, and then let us go to the meadows. As we splash through the wet places, and jump the ditches, a general chatter arises, and half a dozen blackbirds with brilliant red patches on their wings present them- selves. These are the males; but there is a female, who leaves her nest every minute, returning immediately, and who betrays its position by her anxiety. She is plainly col- ored, streaked, and much smaller than the male. Her nest, in this hummock, happens to be cup-shaped, and carefully finished with fresh-looking bits of dry stalks and grasses. The eggs in it are pale blue, with dark spots and scrawls. I have said, in the last sen- tence, happens to be so and so, because, of other swanup blackbirds nests in the same umeadow, some are probably lined with root- lets, some with hairs, and others are built in bushes. If we extended our examination to other meadows in different localities, we should find great variety in positions, struc- ture, and material. Some specimens from bushes are composed partly of sticks; oth- ers, from the sea-shore, are made chiiedy from sea-wrack or eel-grass. Mr. Maynard de- scribes one built in a tree, fifteen feet above the ground, and pensile like that of the gold- en robin or hang-bird. Not only do sur- rounding circumstances produce an effect every where, hut individual birds vary in their architectural skill orcare. Moreover, 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. work is often begun late, and, being hurried through, is done badly; on the other hand, leisure often causes nicety, and even unnec- essary labor. That refrain of plaintive whistles which we now hear comes from the meadow-lark in that tree; he has a bright yellow breast with a black crescent on it, and some white feathers in his tail. No~v he leaves the tree, and flying across the meadow with quivering wings, (Irops into the grass; but his nest is probably in that dry patch where the land begins to slope back toward the farms. I can not undertake to say that we shall find it by going there, for the meadow- larks nest is usually hidden beneath an archway of the long, dry, and tangled miiead- ow-grass. So completely is it often conceal- ed, that you can find it only by frightening the sitting female suddenly, and making her fly up from the archway. Then, by exl)lor- ing carefully, you may catch sight of the eggs, which are white, with brown and lilac spots. Were not the birds so common, I should not in all probability have been able to present you with a description of their retreats, or, if I could, should feel very proud of doing so at first-hand; and any beginner may justly take pride in discovering one of theni. The best way to find nests is to watch a bird while building; in that way, moreover, you are sure to see tlieni in their best condition, and to know when the eggs are fresh. It requires patience; but you see the workers return again and again to the same spot, and a little closer inspection usually completes your kno~vhedge, though you may sometimes be deceived or non- plnsed by the caution and cunning of the architects. You will facilitate your work by scattering cotton - wool, horse-hairs, straws, string, worsted, and cloth where they will attract the attention of the birds about you. Put them on your lawn or on the piazza vines, and watch them. A robin conies to carry off the string, and having used lip what you have provided, and lik- ing the material, attacks a long piece wound round a stake, and supporting a gladiolus. By persistent efibrt lie frees a part of it, but the harder that he l)iills at the rest, the tight- er he ties the knot around the stake, and the string is beconiing entangled with his legs; he fights twenty minutes, and then gives it up. Sparrows pick up hairs an(l straws from the lawn, and warblers comae to the vines for cotton - wool, passing fearlessly within three feet of your chnir; then they come back to break off little twigs and to peel off shreds of (Iry hark from the hoiiey- suckle. A pair of golden robiiisthie male with black and orange, the female with yellow and duller blackcome for string, worsted, amid thread; but beware of thieni, for they are thieves. Leave your kmiitting under the tree there for five mimiutes, and it is gone; you will find it a week hater, a part irrevocably woven into the hanging iiest, and a part dangling with the iieedle in it. The weaving is so cleverly done that you ~vonder whether the orioles havent used your needles. Not at all, niadaum; I defy you to produce with your iniplements such a piece of ~vork as these birds have produced with their bills. Successful ex- perimeuts have been made by supplying eOLnEN-cROWNED WRENS NEST. BIRDS NESTS. 93 the orioles, in the tree where they are occu- pie(1, with bright silks and worsteds, which they employ altogether, if liberally provided, so that a very gay and party-colored nest may swing in your orchai~d where you can see it from the house. Wilson says that an old lady, to whom he showed an orioles nest in winch a Iliece of dry grass, thirteen inches long, was passed through thirty-four tinnes, asked him, half in earnest, if the birds couldnt be taught to darn stockings. Let us go back to the meadows, and, leav- ing these, enter into the adjoining swamp, where I shall show you several objects worth seeing. We might find in this swamp nests of several species, but the ground is so wet and the brambles so thick that I will only show you two that I found just corn- pleted two or three days ago. We shall come to one by following this path along the brook- side. Of the warbiers there are many who build on the ground in or near wet l)laces, but only one of these is common, at least in a large part of the United Statesthe little Maryland yellow- throat. Thc male, who is eying us saucily from that thicket, is olive-green above, with more or less bright yellow beneath, and has a black patch which covers his forehead and the sides of his head, inclosing his eyes. You will often see him on road-sides. The female is duller above, paler he- neath, and has no black. Her nest, a few steps further on, owes its attractions to tIne surroundings. Beside it is tIne brook, on which the sunlight plays, as it breaks through the bushes on the other side. Around it are grasses to conceal it, and be- hind it is a cluster of tall, graceful ferns. Behind the ferns is a young tree that spreads its brandies over the whole. How much mysterious life is in the group, especially in those four little eggs lying together, all white, one unmarked, one spotted with brown, one speckled with lilac, and one marked with both! Such is the variety which we often find in one nest. In the nest of a hawk I have found two eggs, one almost pure white, and another buft~, with dark brown blotches. But the mother be- fore us asks us to pass on, and to discuss these phenomena where she shall not be disturbed. In that open spot, bathed in sunlight, on that knoll by the bushes, sits another bird on her eggs, her soft reddish-brown back in contrast to the surrounding green. It is the Wilson thrush. The little yellow- throat, when we intruded, hopped about us, expressing her anxiety openly; but the thrush disappears quietly into the bushes, disclosing behind her a very pretty picture. her nest, made of dead leaves, strips of grape-vine bark, and dry grasses, and lined with a few hairs, is set in a bank of rich dark green moss; in it are four light blue eggs; above it is a little plant with bright red berries. All the colors in the picture are so strong arid yet delicate, all the forms YELLOW WARBLERS NEST. BLACK-THROATED GREEN WARBLER S NEST. ~z ~ -i/I 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. so graceful, that I am tempted to stand here gazing much longer than I ought. Birds homes vary in attractiveness like those of men~ and before leaving the swamp I will show you another Wilson thrushs nest. Here it is, set among the dead leaves, near the foot of a tree. I need hardly point out to you its comparison with the other; the situation is quite cheerless, and the nest is coarse. You may attribute this, as you please, to laziness, indiifi~rence, want of taste, inexperience, or to necessity and dif- ficulties. The contrast is striking, and is one of the innumerable illustrations of the infinite variety in nature. I shall no~v direct your steps toward a dry, hilly tract of low oaks, birches, and bushes, which is called the scrnba place where but few years ago stood a forest of pines. There we are likely to find nests of only two kinds on the ground (unless we find one of the ruffed grouse), aiid of these the eggs are often very closely alike. The birds belonging to theni are both about the size of the robin. The brown thrushes have long tails, and are bright reddish- brown above, and beneath white, with dark streaks on the breast. There is nothing re- inarkable in their nests, but the conduct of the females is often surprising, particularly when their nests are in bushes (being almost al~vays on or near the ground), for these l)irds are peculiarly at home in shrubbery. Though habitually rather shy, yet they are sometimes very bold when sitting. More than one young collector must have had the experience of being a little frightened ~vhen, literally hissing, they have refused to leave their nest, and much startled when, on being attacked, they have flown at him with vehemence. Such conduct, however, is rare, and of course causes no danger. Mr. Allen mentions the nest of a brown thrush found in the West at an unusual height from the ground, because built be- side a river which was often flooded sud- denly and heavily. The bird or its ances- tors profited by experience. This perhaps illustrates how types may be lost. If birds, for instance, of any species are driven by unfavorable changes into a tract of country with very uniform characteristics, they soon adapt their habits to their surronudings, perhaps losing marked traits. This ques- tion will be considered again, in reference to the swallows. The towhee buntings, also called che- winks and ground-robins, do not behave like the brown thrushes, but usually con- ceal their nests. Sometimes a place is chos- en where dead leaves and switches have accumulated, and either partly under the leaves, or actually in a pile of brush, the nest is built so as to escape all notice of the passer-by. At other thnes the nest may be found at the foot of some bush more openly situated. Near it stays the black and white male, with patches of chestnut red on his sides, turning over the decayed vegetation about him, and littering his characteristic towhee, or perching in some bush to sing his simple song. If we disturb his mate, he will make his appearance immediately, and utter his saucy cries of distress. We will leave him and go to the woods. In the i~iiie grove we may find several pretty nests on time groundamong others, that of the little black and white creeper, with its delicately colored eggs. The one by far of most interest is that of the oven- bird, or wagtail. You at once ask, Why call- ed oven-bird ? You will better under- stand whemi I show you the nest which I have found, an exceptionally fine specimen. Here it is, among the dry pine needles at the foot of a little knoll. It is built on a slope, and is roofed. This sounds strangely; but overhanging it is a net-work of pine needles and dry grasses built out from the slope, and this roof gives it the appearance of an old-fashioned oven, at the same time con- cealing it on three sides. It is a wrong be- lief that the opefi side (when there is any roof) is always toward the south ; it is as often toward the east; an(l convenience of situation apparently influences the builders as much as considerations of heat and light. Without me, I fear that you would not have seen this nest, even though you had stepped within six inches of it. As you came by, you would have seen a small bird, with greenish back and tail, and an orange crown bordered by dark str~pes, fluttering along the ground. Half in eagerness and half in pity, you would have followed, as she led the way, always just out of reach. Sudden- ly she would have disappeared or flown off and you would have thought her conduct strange until you realized that you had been fooled by a bird. Experience will soon teach you, when you suddenly see a bird be- fore you in seeming pain and distress, not to pay her any attention, but to look about you, without wamudering three feet from the spot where you first saw her. You will then find her nest, probably, unless she has stolen from it some distance before sho~ving her- self; then the case is quite hopeless. The partridge, or ruffed grouse, is another de- ceiver. To be sure, she leaves her nest mm- der the log there, with its nine brown eggs, with an honest and startling whir; but when the proud mother is with her chicks, she is cunning enough to outwit many a man who thinks himself clever. The varie- ty of her ruses makes themim doubly success- fuil. Sometimes when surprised she feigns laummeness, amid tries to decoy tIme intruder away; sometimes she bristles up, and at- tacks him by peckimmg at his toes, then sud- deimly flies off. In either case the young have the good sense or imustinet to hide in BIRDS NESTS. 95 the grass or dead leaves about them until they hear the whining call of their mother, when they gather about her once more. The partridge is so earnest in her efforts to dis- tract ones attention, and her chicks so nim- ble in hiding, that both are likely to escape, even from a person who takes no pity on their distress. Among those nests which are supported beneath are to be included those built on cliffs by certain birds of prey, such as the cyries of the eagles, and several kinds con- nected with buildiiig~, as that of the robin sometimes is. In the bird-boxes we may find those of the martins and white-breasted swallo~vs, with white eggs, and sometimes those of the bluebirds, with light blue eggs. Far more pleasing than all these is the pewees (or Phmebe-birds) nest, which is usually placed on top of a pillar on the pi- azza, on a beam of a shed or bridge, or on the outside of a barn. The last which I examined was a semicircle in its outward shape, and was attached to the wall of a carriage-house, on the beam over the door. Its walls were composed of grasses, straws, etc., cemented together with mud. Inside was horse-hair, oue of the commonest mate- rials in bird architecture. The outside was the most artistic part, being thickly coated with green mosses. Another nest on a neighboring pillar was circular, and, like the first, contained white eggs. Of the first class, the remaining nests are built in trees or bushes; and here the range is so wide that I can only present a few typical specimens. Some are saddled to a bough, others are placed in a fork, and oth- ers in a crotch.5 The nmnterials are either simply upheld, are plastered to their sup- l)orts, or are wound round them. The least artistic are the nests of sticks. Many hawks and owls build these more or less clumsily, and often rudely, in evergreens, where two or three branches leave the trunk together. Crows and blue jays build very similar structures, though nmuch neat- er and more carefully lined, that of the blue jay being very munch smaller, and placed nearer the ground. Both the fish-hawk and bald eagle usually build enormous nests chiefly of sticks, in the top of a tree near water. They repair these year after year by adding to them, and often get together a large cart-load of stuff. In contrast to these, tIme cuckoos put together a fe~v twigs in a bush, vine, or low tree, and often lay their eggs on a platform which seenis al- most too frail to support them. You can easily see the bluish eggs through the bot- tom. So indifferent are the cuckoos to architecture that I have known one to lay * By saddled I mean fastened to the back or up- per part of a 1mb. A fork, as the term is here used is a horizontal division; a crotch, the point where upward branches separate. her eggs on a cotton rag which was caught in the thorns of a barberry bush. Occa- sionally one builds a substantial and hollow structure for her young, but such cases are very rare. The thrushes nests have already been spoken of in earlier numbers of this Maga- zine; the robins nest is the coarsest of them, though in substance a fair type of the others, built in trees, except that the oth- ers have a greater variety of material, and most often no mud. If you are not familiar with the robins work, I can safely leave you to study it by yourself. You calm easily find a specimen in some apple-tree which will show you what plaster-saddling is. The other method of saddling is exhibited very perfectly in the nest of the wood-pewee and that of the humming-bird. The latter is exquisite. Inside, its diameter or width is only about three-quarters of an inch, but it now holds two white eggs, and by-and-by must be the nursery for two young. Of its shape and immediate position you may judge by the accompanying picture. I have usually found it in an onk or orchard tree within fifteen feet of time ground. The walls are composed of the finest materials which time vegetable kingdom offersdown, silk from seed wrappers, and hair-like fibres; the coarsest anmomig them are bits of sweet- fermi. Outside, it is tlmickly coated with lich- ens, which time male sometimes amuses hini- self by putting on after the female has laid her eggs. It is very substantial. I have had photographed for the engraver a speci- men which I found in March; it has suffer- ed surprisingly little froma nine months exposure to weather. TIme protective re- semblance to surroundings seen in tlme humu- ming-birds nest is better exemplified mm that of the wood-pewee. This nest is much larger, though slmallower in proportion to its diameter (of two or three incIses). It is built in a grove on a moss-covered limb, and is so coated with lichens as to resemble exactly a knot or protuberance of the limb itself. I have seen some so immgeniously made that they could not be detected as nests from tIme groummd wimen the birds were mmot on them. The eggs in these artistic structures are very pretty, beimmg creamy or buff, with a few large spots of brown and lilac. Nearly all our smaller birds, excluding the swallows, build a fresh nest every year. In doing so they spend from one day to a month, a week being the average time. In mammy ways it is unsatisfactory to watch theta at work, it beimig alumost immmpo~sible to obtain a l)osition where you do not disturb the birds, but can see exactly how they use their materials. The feniales are generally tlme chief, amid sometimmmes thme sole ~vorkers. The begimmuing of their labors is time most puzzling part to us, and perhaps to theum. 96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. It is sometimes accomplished by laying sticks, twigs, or straws across from branch to branch; sometimes by placing a chimp of material in the bottom of a crotch or in a fork all(l at other times by winding strips of bark, fibres, etc., around the neighboring twigs. What is then added is pressed or twisted into position with the bill. The in~vard shape is preserved, and toward the end perfected by the breast as the female tnrns round and ronnd. Materials are some- times brought a mile, but ordinarily are gathered near their destination. It is very pretty to see warblers taking fresh cater- pillars silk from the new nests; but some- tinies a rather ghastly effect is produced by the caterpillars theniselves being carried off with their silk, and by their corpses be- ing left to dangle about the nest for which they have been sacrificed. A majority of our smaller birds have four or five eggs in one set, sometimes having two or three dif- ferent sets in one season, and lay them from day to day. The males usually undertake a part of the incubation, feed their sitting mates, and cheer them by singing, some- times singing at night. Even males with such dangerously bright colors as the scar- let tanagers occasionally relieve their mates (luring the daytime. The common period of incubation is from ten days to a fort- night. The homes of the tree-nesting finches and fly-catchers, those of the tanagers and wax- wings, I must pass over. Those warblers who build in bnslies and trees excel as archi- tects, the last artistic production of theirs which I remember to have seen being very waITE-Es ED VIREO 8 NEST. neatly made of pine needles, and lined with the black fibres of a moss. I have had two photographed for the engraver, one of the common yellow warbler (Dendrwca wstiva), built in the crotch of a barberry bush, and one of the black-throated green warbler (D. vireas), placed in a fork near the end of a pine bough. Both were built near Boston and were finished about the 1st of June. They are composed as follows: that of the summer yellow bird of slender shreds of grass and fibres mixed with silky and wool- lymaterials, besides a few bits of fine string, the whole being lined with a rich dun-color- ed plant down; the black-throated greens, of strips of thin bark, small twigs and stalks, pine needles, a few feathers, and bits of pa- 1)er, being lined with black and white hairs, and with hair-like fibres, which are glisten- lug yellow. Of the pensile nests, the commonest are those of the Baltimore orioles ,or golden rob- ins (also called fire - birds and hang- nests), whose long pouches, four to eight inches deep, you must have seen in an orchard-tree yr in an elm, for to an observant person they are often conspien- oiis objects in a village street, or even in a city park. They are often placed near the end of long drooping boughs, and are not easily got at from beneath, while above they are commonly protected by a canopy of leaves. They are so common, and have been so frequently figured and described, that I shall not dwell upon them. They are variously made up of grasses, fibres, thread, wool, worsted, yarn, string, and even cloth. Tile nests of the vireos are much less well known. They are pensile, rather cup- shaped, froni one to two inches deep, and two or three wi(le in- side, and are usually suspended from a fork. The linings are never very soft, but are often coarse. Tile eggs are white gen- erally, with a few brown spots 1IUifMINe-BIln) s NEST. THE PROFESSORS VICTIM. or speckles about the larger end. The com- monest, that of the red-eyed vireo, is built from five to twenty feet above the ground. It is sometimes ornamented outwardly, but two or three typical specimens before me consist mcrely of strips of bark, such as that from grape-vines, somewhat coated with in- sects silk, and are lined with pine needles. A very pretty one is made of white birch 1)ark, and another ofgreenish-graytree-moss. In contrast to the typical formsjust mention- ed is the larger and substantial nest of the vellow-throated vireo, often found in the orchard, and profusely covered outside with mosses and lichens held together by silk. It is one of the finest specimens of bird architecture that we have. The ~vhite-eyed virco (Vireo noveboracensis) builds near the ground, usually in a bush or sapling, and often in a very open spot. Sometimes its ~~est, like that of the red-eyed vireo, is large- ly made up of paper from wasps nests, or of newspaper, whence both species have been called politician-birds. A very fine specimen, found in a birch about two feet from the ground, is shown on page 96. It is composed of fine vegetable shreds, caterpil- lars silk, cocoons, and bits of dead wood, ferns, and leaves. Some vireos allow you to pass under their nests, or stand near them, without exhibiting alarm, and if robbed, re- main near the spot, coming within a foot or two of your person. One has been known to remain on her nest when it was carried off from the tree. I have sometimes put my hand on sitting birds. I regret that I have not enough space left to describe at length the pensile nests which are globular; those built by the marsh wrens~of rushes (or the like, and usually mud), among marsh reeds or meadow-grasses; and those built of hang- ing moss in evergreens by the little blue yellow-backed warblers. There is on page 92 an illustration of a nest very rarely found, that of the golden-crowned wren (Reguiuo satrapa). It is composed chiefly of hanging moss, but is warmly lined with feathers. THE PROFESSORS VICTIM. inHERE is a mystery in that womans life said the professor a mystery that when I do think upon, I get what you Americans call a crick in the brain. Yes, professor, I said, meekly, although I had never in my life heard an American use the expression. But the professor went into altogether different society from that in which I was allowed to mingle, and I dare say they had a language of their own. I was merely a dress-maker. To be sure, I had good customers, and as many as I could well get along with, so that I had no occa- sion to put out a sign. Miss Winthrop was so glad of this. She said she didnt know how she could board with me if I kept a Vot.. LV.No. 3257 sign at the door. It was bad enough for her to know how hard I worked, and what a wretched life I led; it was enough for her to pity me; it would be unendurable if the whole neighborhood should be called upon to extend me their sympathy. I think Miss Winthrop was mistaken. I am confi- dent there were many people in our vicinity who would have been glad to have fared no worse than I. But Miss Winthrop had pe- culiar views about labor. I never contra- dicted her. The professor and she were wrangling always and forever. They nev- er agreed upon any subject. He was there almost every day of his life. Miss Winthrop was studying at the Institute; but she was not a very ardent student, and used to be at home the most of the time, so that when the professor got through at the college and conservatory, he came generally direct to the house. It would have seemed strange and sad not to have seen him at least once in the twenty-four hours. I remember that day so well. I had been more than usually perplexed in cutting and fitting. The left side of Miss Van Coot had to be padded all the way up to the shoul- der, and in some unaccountable way I had mistaken the left for the right, so that when she put on the basque, I should have laugh- ed if I had not cried; I was nervous and worked out, I suppose; and as she stood there, poor creature! not knowing what a spectacle she was, it was all I could do to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I shall have to take it all apart, Miss Van Coot, I said. It will take me at least an hour. You might as well get through your shopping, and come back again. She went off in her carriage, and I began to rip out the stitches. The morning was cloudy and overcast; and as I got near to the window to see, I equld not help think- ing what a miserable world it was, when all at once a big shadow loomed up beside me, and a familiar voice cried out: Who is it has made thee to weep? Give me their bones that I may crack them. And then I fell to laughing. Suddenly the morning seemed to be bright and beau- tiful, the form of Miss Van Coot shapely enough, if only I would not be stupid, and mistake the right side for the left. As for the professor, he was like a demigod made out of flesh and blooda great deal of fine wholesome flesh and gallons of splendid blood. I could not help thinking, in my sordid way, that the professors tailor, who- ever he might be, was a wondrous lucky man; for nobody but those whose trade it is to puzzle and design for the human anat- omy can have the least idea of how fearful- ly and wonderfully we are made. The pro- fessor was resplendent in a new raiment of some soft gray material that suited well his fine complexion and ruddy hair. In his but-

THE PROFESSORS VICTIM. or speckles about the larger end. The com- monest, that of the red-eyed vireo, is built from five to twenty feet above the ground. It is sometimes ornamented outwardly, but two or three typical specimens before me consist mcrely of strips of bark, such as that from grape-vines, somewhat coated with in- sects silk, and are lined with pine needles. A very pretty one is made of white birch 1)ark, and another ofgreenish-graytree-moss. In contrast to the typical formsjust mention- ed is the larger and substantial nest of the vellow-throated vireo, often found in the orchard, and profusely covered outside with mosses and lichens held together by silk. It is one of the finest specimens of bird architecture that we have. The ~vhite-eyed virco (Vireo noveboracensis) builds near the ground, usually in a bush or sapling, and often in a very open spot. Sometimes its ~~est, like that of the red-eyed vireo, is large- ly made up of paper from wasps nests, or of newspaper, whence both species have been called politician-birds. A very fine specimen, found in a birch about two feet from the ground, is shown on page 96. It is composed of fine vegetable shreds, caterpil- lars silk, cocoons, and bits of dead wood, ferns, and leaves. Some vireos allow you to pass under their nests, or stand near them, without exhibiting alarm, and if robbed, re- main near the spot, coming within a foot or two of your person. One has been known to remain on her nest when it was carried off from the tree. I have sometimes put my hand on sitting birds. I regret that I have not enough space left to describe at length the pensile nests which are globular; those built by the marsh wrens~of rushes (or the like, and usually mud), among marsh reeds or meadow-grasses; and those built of hang- ing moss in evergreens by the little blue yellow-backed warblers. There is on page 92 an illustration of a nest very rarely found, that of the golden-crowned wren (Reguiuo satrapa). It is composed chiefly of hanging moss, but is warmly lined with feathers. THE PROFESSORS VICTIM. inHERE is a mystery in that womans life said the professor a mystery that when I do think upon, I get what you Americans call a crick in the brain. Yes, professor, I said, meekly, although I had never in my life heard an American use the expression. But the professor went into altogether different society from that in which I was allowed to mingle, and I dare say they had a language of their own. I was merely a dress-maker. To be sure, I had good customers, and as many as I could well get along with, so that I had no occa- sion to put out a sign. Miss Winthrop was so glad of this. She said she didnt know how she could board with me if I kept a Vot.. LV.No. 3257 sign at the door. It was bad enough for her to know how hard I worked, and what a wretched life I led; it was enough for her to pity me; it would be unendurable if the whole neighborhood should be called upon to extend me their sympathy. I think Miss Winthrop was mistaken. I am confi- dent there were many people in our vicinity who would have been glad to have fared no worse than I. But Miss Winthrop had pe- culiar views about labor. I never contra- dicted her. The professor and she were wrangling always and forever. They nev- er agreed upon any subject. He was there almost every day of his life. Miss Winthrop was studying at the Institute; but she was not a very ardent student, and used to be at home the most of the time, so that when the professor got through at the college and conservatory, he came generally direct to the house. It would have seemed strange and sad not to have seen him at least once in the twenty-four hours. I remember that day so well. I had been more than usually perplexed in cutting and fitting. The left side of Miss Van Coot had to be padded all the way up to the shoul- der, and in some unaccountable way I had mistaken the left for the right, so that when she put on the basque, I should have laugh- ed if I had not cried; I was nervous and worked out, I suppose; and as she stood there, poor creature! not knowing what a spectacle she was, it was all I could do to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I shall have to take it all apart, Miss Van Coot, I said. It will take me at least an hour. You might as well get through your shopping, and come back again. She went off in her carriage, and I began to rip out the stitches. The morning was cloudy and overcast; and as I got near to the window to see, I equld not help think- ing what a miserable world it was, when all at once a big shadow loomed up beside me, and a familiar voice cried out: Who is it has made thee to weep? Give me their bones that I may crack them. And then I fell to laughing. Suddenly the morning seemed to be bright and beau- tiful, the form of Miss Van Coot shapely enough, if only I would not be stupid, and mistake the right side for the left. As for the professor, he was like a demigod made out of flesh and blooda great deal of fine wholesome flesh and gallons of splendid blood. I could not help thinking, in my sordid way, that the professors tailor, who- ever he might be, was a wondrous lucky man; for nobody but those whose trade it is to puzzle and design for the human anat- omy can have the least idea of how fearful- ly and wonderfully we are made. The pro- fessor was resplendent in a new raiment of some soft gray material that suited well his fine complexion and ruddy hair. In his but- 95 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ton-hole were some fresh violets, for it was already early spring. He pulled the gloves from his plump white hands, and went in to the piano. It was open, just as Miss Win- throp had left it. Will she return to luncheon ? he said, running his fingers over the keys; and I thought as he spoke how nice it was to be the one she in that big generous heart. Yes, professor, I replied. Then I will stay, he said, and immedi- ately I went to prepare his favorite pud- ding; and while I stirred the materials to- gether he came out into the kitchen to talk about Miss Winthrop. Never by any chance when we were alone together did he talk of any thing else. I saw your tears, he cried, in his tragic way. Were they because of Miss Win- throp? I should not at all wonder. Of all women, she is the most aggravating, the most unreasonable It was not Miss Winthrop, I said; and you do not think all these disagreeable things that you say of her. I doI do, he cried. You think, now, that I am what you Americans call spoon- ey about her; but it is not that at all. I have only the puerility to be curious ; and then the professor went on to tell me that the mystery in Miss Winthrops life gave him a crick in the brain. At times, said the professor, she is moody. She is what the French call di8- traitshe is plunged into a melancholy pro- found and touching. I tell you, my gra- cious Frijulein, there is a burden upon that womans soul. Now what can it be ? I did not reply. How could I? I had also noticed these periods of sadness and abstraction upon Helens part, but how could I speak my heart out to the professor? How could I tell him that he was uncon- sciously trifling with Helen, making her happy at one time, only to render her the more miserable at another; that this capri- cious conduct of his was the cause of Miss Winthrops melancholy? I did not dare be thus frank with the professor, for fear that he would go straight to Helen and tell her. He was like a child in impulse, and many a time,when I had unwittingly trusted him, lie had unblushingly betrayed me. Fortunately, Miss Van Coot came in. The lirofessor went into the parlor and began to bang upon the piano with the fervor of an enthusiast. While I was trying on Miss Van Coots basque, he poured out his whole soul upon the keys, so that Miss Van Coot fidget- e(l from one foot to the other, and at last tore herself away from me and sank upon a chair near the door. Let the dress go, she said. I must listen. Oh, how beautiful it is! Who is to have an instrument like that? The high notes are perfect ; and she peeped through the crack of the door~ Pardon me, I said, respectfully, for she was the best customer I had, but in ten minutes I shall be done. The basque fits you to perfection. He is Professor Wagner, of the Grand Conservatory. He does indeed play wonderfully well. The instrument is not mine; it belongs to the professor, and he has hired it to a young Southern lady who is boarding with me. She is a pupil of the professors. A pupil ! said Miss Van Coot, who had given herself into my hands again, a warm color creeping into her murky skin her dull eyes kindling. Then he will teach ? Yes, ifif He will teach you, if that is what you mean; of course he will. I only meant that the professors terms are very high. So much the better, said Miss Van Coot. It was really wonderful how well the basque fitted her. One would certainly have thought that her left side was the same as her right; and Miss Van Coot was so pleasant a lady, it would have been a thousand pities if she had not been able to afford to have a skillful dress-maker, one who made her work a continual study. I was really all of this. It is no egotism to mention it. I was quite famous in my line of business, and was particularly successful in hiding any little awkwardness or defect in shape or carriage. I began by feeling sorry for those who were afflicted in this way, and determined, as far as in me lay, to ameliorate these little disadvantages. And the professor never would have known of this inequality of Miss Van Coots if he had not, so to speak, tortured it out of me that unlucky moraing. When I had quite finished, and had gone to the door with Miss Van Coot, it so hap- pened that the professor also came into the corridor by the parlor way. I shall walk out a little, he said to me, until she re- turns. And at that moment he reached the top of the landing where stood my wealthy customer. Of course he lifted his lint from off his splendid ruddy hair, and bowed his handsome head, and waved his plump white hand for her to pass on before him. A lady was always honored with all this gesticula- tory distinction by the professor, whosoever she might be. Miss Van Coot, with one ea- ger, devouring look upon him, went on to her carriage, from which she looked again; but as for the professor, he went on his way unmindful, humming a little roundelay un- der his breath, and holding his head high iii the air. But when he came back again, luncheon was not quite ready, Miss Win- throp had not come, and nothing would do he? Where did he come from? How mag- but lie must know why lie had found those nificently he plays! How do you manage foolish tears in my eyes that morning. THE PROFESSORS VICTIM. 99 It was Miss Winthrop, he said. You need not try to shield her. I know her, to niy cost. She is arrogant; she is without heart; she has said that which has cut thee to the soul. Nonsense, professor, I said, quite off my guard. It was only that I made a stupid mistake iii Miss Van Coots basque. She has to be padded all the way up the left shoul- der. Gott ia Himmel ! cried the professor; and then I saw my imprudence. It is nothing, I said, when one can af- ford to have a skillful dress-maker. But the professor leaned back in his chair and raised his hands to heaven. It was only natural that he should consider it a terrible misfortunehe whose physique was like that of the Apollo Belvedere. She has lots of money, I said. A silver mine will not buy her a new spine, said the professor. It will serve to make her own very pre- sentable, I rejoined; and, besides, she is so good and kind. Ah, he said, heaving asigh from the bottom of his lungs, that is better than all. She is honest, perhaps, and truthful. At least she will not, perhaps, lie, as you Amer- icans say, as fast as the horse will trot. She will not promise to sit at your table at a certain hour, and then go away and give no further thought to the matter. There are some people whose spines may be all that is desirable, but their hearts, my gracious Friiulein, they are black to the core. It was too had that Helen did not come as she had promised. The professor did not fully get over his disappointment till he came to the pudding, which was fortunately as near perfection as a pudding can be. His eyes grew less ferocious as he dallied with the flaky puffs, the fierce lines about his mouth gave way, a generous, benignant expression gradually beamed upon his face. And then, at last he said to me, thou hast not only the spine without blemish, but the heart and the soul. Whatever thou Un- (lertakest to do,is done wisely and well. Gesegnete Mahizeit, may the meal be bless- ed to thee! If thou wouldst be a saint in heaven, continue to be a good Hausfrau upon the earth. Thanks to the pudding, he went upon his way rejoicing. When Helen came, it was soggy and, ruined; but Helen was not very hard to please. A bit of toast, a poached egg, a morsel of any sort, particularly in the Lenten season, was all she would ask. When I told her of the professors dis- pleasure, she laughed in that mocking, mu- sical way of hers; but I thought there was a latent tenderness in its ring, and there was a melting look in her great black eyes, a tremulous sweetness about her mouth, that made me look at her again. She could wear a Dolman with more grace than any one I ever saw; and just the little ruffle of cash- mere lace about her neck, and the two creamy roses well down upon her hat, made her like some beautiful picture. It was fully a fortnight before the profess- or came again to stay any time. He was very busy. Miss Van Coot had not only prevailed upon him to take her as a pupil, hut he had consented to manage a mu8icale for her at her house on the Avenue. Miss Van Coot and the professor seemed to get on very well together. One morning that I went there to fit some trimmings upon the white corded silk I was making for hey musicale, I found the professor reading to her his translation of a tragedy from the Ger- man. Once in a while lie would appeal to her judgment in the formation of a sentence, and although she would pause to criticise, she invariably agreed with his version in the end. So that he began to talk to me of Miss Van Coot as he had formerly of Helen. And the night of the musicale, to which I did not goMiss Van Coot, in her kind way, invited me, but it was not expected that I would accept the invitationthat night Miss Van Coot looked very well in- deed. I went to arrange her dress before the entertainment, and really Miss Van Coot looked almost handsome. The excitement had lighted up her heavy face, and although it was a risk, I never had better luck with any thing than I had with that corded silk polonaise. Miss Van Coot was so pleased with it that she was kind enough to send me home in her carriage, and the professor whispered, as he bade me good-by, Thou hast done marvelously well; nobody would know but that her two sides were cast in the same mould. So that the professor seemed very well pleased with Miss Van Coot, and I feared more and more for my poor Helens happiness. As the days went by, there seemed almost a spell upon her, and I would only have heen too glad to have her make fun in her old way of some of the people about us, or hear her laugh, no matter how mockingly. The professor began vaguely to feel that she was changed, and watched her at times with a fretful cu- riosity, and again with touching tenderness. She began to be to him like a well-behaved child; she bore his sneers and revilings so meekly; she played to his order and sang for him without complaint the classical mu- sic which she professed to abominate; nor did she finish by galloping off into & ome extravaganza of her own. The professor became more and more uneasy and perplex- ed. He ceased to talk of Miss Van Coot. He tramped to and fro the length of the rooms, muttering to himself, sometimes turn- ing impatiently upon his heel and walking out of the house. One night they sat together, lichen and 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the professor, in my pleasant parlor. The flat which I rented was next door to a big asylum up town, so that the grounds by which it was surrounded gave us the ad- vantage of side windows, from which we could look over across the river. The full moon was climbing up into the sky; a few timid stars were faintly glowing there; the atr had already the delicious languor of early summer; and Helen was beautiful. 11cr simple white robe of India muslin, with only some narrow Valenciennes on the flounces, had a better effect somehow than Miss Van Coots new corded silk. I was putting away the china in the mid- dle closet, when the professors fierce whis- per reached me. His voice would only mod- ify to a sort of muffled thunder or a piercing hiss. There is a mystery in yonr.life, he said; there is something weighing upon your heart. Tell me, then, what it is. I must I will know. To my surprise and alarm, I heard a sti- fled sob, a soft footstep, and in a moment Helen ran out to me. Tell him to go away, she said, putting her arms about me, and hiding her head upon my shoulder. I can not stand it any longer. Tell him to go away. She sobbed aloud, but held her head steadily down upon my shoulder, while her hands repulsed the professor, who endeavor- ed to approach her. Scolding and soothing by turns, the poor professor was beside him- self. Leave her for to-night, I said at last to him. She will be better in the morning. He endeavored oncemoreto take her hand, was again repulsed, and picking up his hat, flinging his coat over his arm, he rushed down the stairs two at a time, and out of the house like a madman. I got Helen to bed, and when I was about to leave her, she pulled me down to her and kissed me. You are a true lady, Susie, she said; the truest I ever saw. You have no cruel curiosity. You mind your own business, dear, which is the very sublimest quality a human creature can possess. What was my surprise in the morning to find Helen come out to breakfast with her bonnet on, wearing a neat travelling dress, and having the air of one who was about starting upon a journey! Dont be startled, Susie, she said; I am going to the South. I am very unhap- py, and I can stay here no longer; my trunk is already packed. You will find upon the card which I will give you my address in New Orleans. You have earned the right to my confidence,dear,audyoushallhaveit. I will write to you. How could I help being startled? I couldnt eat a morsel, but sat devouring with my eyes that sweet, sad face which was to vanish so soon from me, perhaps forever. True to the last, Susie, she said, getting up from the table and straining me to her heart. Not a word do you say, not a ques- tion do you ask. What a treasure of a woni- an you are! I verily believe there is not such another on the face of the earth. Then she kissed me once more, put the card into my hand, and the carriage being at the door, her trunk was bumped down the stairs, and she and it whirled away in the twinkling of an eye. I sat there stunned and stupefied I dont know how long, till I heard the professors footsteps in the corridor. Even then I did not move, but called out to him to come when he rapped upon the door. I could not sleep, he began; ~CJ have tossed and tumbled all the night through. I came early that I might find her. Where is she I She is gone, I said. Gone ! he thundered. To the Insti- tute I To the Southto New Orleans. It is all your fault, I cried. You have broken her heart. She said she was so unhappy she could stay here no longer. She has gone; you will see her no more. You have lost her as well as I. Du lieber Gott ! cried the professor, and sank panting into a chair. Yes, I said, it is your cruelty that has driven her away. She loved you. Did she say so I said the professor, ex- tending his hands to me piteously. Of course she didnt. How could she? You never gave her a chance. You were amusing yourself with Miss Van Coot. You did not care- Allmiichtiger ! roared the professor, who was only profane in his own language; do not dare to say that! I did care. But there was a mystery that perplexed and troubled me. Why did she never speak of her family and friends? Why did she never tell of her early life? of the days which were past ? Because there was no necessity. It was nobodys business but her own. Bah ! cried the professor; it was. It was your business and mine. I tell you there was something to be feared, to be dreaded. Saw you her hair, how it did curl and curl? And her skin was of that rich warm tint, like the pulp of a pomegranate. And her cycsdost remember her eyes ? The most beautiful eyes ! I exclaimed. Yes, yes, said the professor; but opaque. I tell yen, my gracious Friiulein, there was a taint in her blood, a mingling of the African there. Professor Wagner ! I cried, indignantly. And I, he shouted I loved her! Gott in Himmel, of course I loved her! But my blood has come down to me through the cen THE PROFESSORS VICTIM. 101 tunes pure and undefiled. It is all that I have to boast of. Miss Van Coot has even more, I broke in. She has condescended to tell me of her magnificent origin. Go to Miss Van Coot, Professor Wagner. Her blood is,if thin, of stupendous antiquity. She has al- ready in your country a cousin who owns a principality. Make haste to get her, before he comes to her or she goes to him, for they have a fashion of marrying cousins Which is bad for their spines, groaned the professor. Then he turned to me, and the tears were actually ia his poor eyes. Come, he said, you are vexed with me, and it hurts me to the heart. I can not af- ford to lose your friendship, which has been dear to me for so long. I will do what you wish. You say that she loves me. The good God knows that I am tired of this sus- pense. Well, I will marry her, then. There, now, art thou appeased? I will go after her to New Orleans, and bring her back to you. I will bring her back as my wife, and the conflict will be over. Oh, will you, professor I I said, holding out my hands to him in delight, for I thought it was generous of him, considering every thing, and I fairly yearned for my poor Hel- en~s happiness and his own. Yes, the sacrifice is made, he said, and heaved a heavy sigh. Now let us think of the arrangements. It will be better for the first year that we shall board with you. She will be happier, and so will I. Can you hire the suit of rooms above? They are vacant, I believe. Yes, and they are beautiful,I said, clasp- ing my hands with joy. Very well, then; I will see that they are properly furnished. You must have a good servant; you must not have too much care. Care! I echoed. It will be a delight, a pleasure. And the professor flung off his coat. I poured out some coffee for him, and we began to eat breakfast, for I had not tasted a morsel, and was comforted enough now to feel hungry. A fortnight after, the rooms were com- plete, and the professor was to leave for New Orleans the next day. He was com- ing to take supper with me and bid me good-by that night, as the steamer start- ed very early in the morning. I had made every thing I could think of to please him, and put a few pansies in my hair. The ta- ble looked wonderfully inviting. It was about dusk, andl expected him every mo- ment, when the janitors little boy came running in to me with a letter. I saw it was in a strange, fine ha~ndwriting, and thought it was some new customer; but as I read it, my blood rushed to my heart, for it was from Helen, and ran thus: Mv uzia Susxz,I have only time to tell you I am the happiest creature in the world. All those months I was with you I had left my heart with a young per- son down here, who is the son of an abolitionist and a Quaker. My father is a fire-eater, if you know what that means, my dear; hut he could not swallow the big bonfire of love that blazed between that young Quaker and me, so he sent me to the North, that my share of it should be cooled by your climate. But, if you remember, I did not see much of the climate. I was almost always in your cozy parlor, where the birds sang and the flowers bloomed, and the dear professor was so much like my own Edward that I could almost fancy they were one and the samethe ruddy hair, the same eyes of flashing blue, and his thee and thou brought back to me the sweet Quaker dialect. He had but the one faultof which thou must cure him, my deara womanish curiosity that thou altogether art happily free from. It at last drove me away. I came home, like the prodigal, and my father gave me my Edward, the more readily that he was the best match in the county, aud my father, though a fire-eater, is poor. My best love to thee and the professor, and I am always thine own 11mm. As I finished the last line the professors footstep was on the stair; and as the night was warm and the door open, in he came, and found me, cold and petrified, with this dreadful letter in my hand. What is it ? he said, snatching the let- ter. It is from New Orleans. Is she dead? No, I said; she is married. And the professor read every word of that cruel letter of Helens. Then he wiped his streaming brow, and I bent my head sub- missively, expecting a volley of impreca- tions and laments; but he said not a word, and presently sank into a chair, and looked out upon the western sky. A fresh breeze blew aside the curtains and lifted the hair from his beautiful white forehead. My tears fell fast and heavily. I was so sorryforhimlthought myheartwouldbreak. Weep not, little one, at last he said. I think I have been a fool: is it not so ? No, no, no ! I cried, going over to him, and kneeling down by his side. Oh, can you ever forgive me? Indeed, indeed, I thought it was so. I thought she neust love, she could not help but love, you. He looked down upon me and smiled, and patted my little red hand with his white and tapering fingers. What is to be done now ? he said. The altar is ready, but where is the vic- tim? How can the sacrifice go on ? There is Miss Van Coot, I said, timidly, if you could bring yourself to be satisfied with her. She has houses and lands, and thousands and thousands of dollars in her own right; and she is very wise and learned, and a wonderful musician. Hold! cried the professor; why should this great and mighty lady condescend to become the wife of a poor professor? Hast thou not sufficiently fostered my foolish vanity? And what would become of the rooms above, upon which I have expended my time, my money, and my brain? You will own that they will not suit the fancy of Miss Van Coot ?. Oh, they are so beautiful ! I cried, my 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tears falling faster than ever. The paper is so bright, the carpets are so pretty, the pictures so charming! There is a little rocking-chair there that is the dearest and most comfortable little chair in the world. Then keep it thyself, mein Herzchen, he said, in that low tender growl of his; and I began to tremble without knowing why, for he had bent his handsome head to mine, and gathered my hands in his. Be thy- self the victim! Thou hast long been my sympathizer and comforter. When I look back andthink,imbecile that I have been, of all that thou hast done for me, and the little I have done for thee, it is, as you Americans would say, like the handle of a jug, all on one side. It is as you put the padding upon poor Miss Van Coots shoulder that morning. Listen, little one, to my com- mands. Thou shalt make no more gowns except thine own; thou shalt keep no board- er but thy husband. Come to my heart, mein Liebehen ! And as I nestled there, a flood of glory beamed in from the western sky. I did not speak; my heart was fall; and I thought there could be no happiness more beyond hope, or joy, or thought, in Gods paradise. POPULAR EXPOSITION OF SOME SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS. PART IV.THINGS THAT ARE INVISIBLE. TIlE METHODS OF BRINGING PHANTOM IMPRESSIONS INTO vIEw. THE PHOSPHORESCENCE OF DIA MONDS AND SOME OTHER BODIES. THERE are some surfaces on which if a shadow falls, it can be brought into view a long time subsequently. A belief in the existence ofthe carbuncle, a stone supposed to have the property of shining in the dark, appears to have been current from the very infancy of chemistry. It gave rise to many legends among the al- chemists, and early travellers relate marvel- ous stories respecting self-shining mountains and gems. Thus it was said that the Kino of Pegu wore a carbuncle so brilliant that if any of his subjects looked upon him in the dark, his countenance seemed as though it was irradiated by the sun; and that in a certain part of North America there was a mountain which illuminated the country for many miles, and served by its rays to guide the Indians at night. The story seems to indicate that the locality of this wonder was somewhere in the western part of Pennsyl- vania. Mr. Boyle relates that a Governor of one of the American colonies imparted this fact to him at a time when he was charged with the superintendence of those important settlements, and that an expedi- tion had been dispatched to ascertain the facts correctly. It saw the shining wonder from afar, hut the light diminished as the place was approached, and becoming at length invisible, the locality could not he determined with certainty. These legend~ had for some time been passing into discredit, when Vincenzio Cas- cariola, a cobbler of Bologna in Italy, who had abandoned the mending of shoes for the purpose of finding the philosophers stone, discoveredhis celebratedphosphorns, the Bo- lognian stone, or, as it was then designated, sun-stone (lajpis solari8). He had seduced himself into the expectation that a heavy mineral he had met withbarium sulphate contained silver, and in an attempt to melt out that precious metal was astonished to see that the burned substance shone like an ignited coal in the dark. This was in the year 1602. Some time afterward a Saxon of the name of Baldwin conceived the idea of obtaining the soul of the world by distilling in a re- tort chalk which had been dissolved in aqua fortis. In this extraordinary pursuit acci- dent led him to observe that the substance he was working with possessed the quality of shining in the dark after it had been ex- posed to the light of the sun. The alche- mist Kunekel, who relates the incident, tells us with gravity how he stole a piece of this substance on the occasion of a visit he made to Baldwin one night when that adept was trying to make his phosphorus shine by the light absorbed from a candle, and also from its image reflected by a concave mirror. Iii consequence of this theft, Knuckel succeeded in discovering what the substance was, and made known the method of its preparation. The special condition under which these preparations shine in the dark was very quickly detected. Isidore, of Seville, speak- ing of the lightning-stone, says, Si sub divo positus fuerit fulgorem rapit sidereum. That condition is previous exposure to light. The discovery of the elementary sub- stance now known as phosphorus drew the attention of the cultivators of natural sci- ence to this singular property, and nuder the names of sun-stones, light-magnets, noc- tilucas, etc., various shining bodies were in- troduced. But the first truly scientific ex- amination of the subject was made by Boyle, on the occasion of observing that a certain diamond belonging to Mr. Clayton, and subsequently purchased by Charles II., emitted light in the dark. Though he does not seem to have been aware of it, the fact itself was not new, for the alchemist Al- hertus Magaus says, in the thirteenth cen- tury, that he had seen a diamond which glowed when it was put into warmn water. A diamond rubbed upon gold becomes beau- tifully luminous; as Beruonilli remarks, it

102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tears falling faster than ever. The paper is so bright, the carpets are so pretty, the pictures so charming! There is a little rocking-chair there that is the dearest and most comfortable little chair in the world. Then keep it thyself, mein Herzchen, he said, in that low tender growl of his; and I began to tremble without knowing why, for he had bent his handsome head to mine, and gathered my hands in his. Be thy- self the victim! Thou hast long been my sympathizer and comforter. When I look back andthink,imbecile that I have been, of all that thou hast done for me, and the little I have done for thee, it is, as you Americans would say, like the handle of a jug, all on one side. It is as you put the padding upon poor Miss Van Coots shoulder that morning. Listen, little one, to my com- mands. Thou shalt make no more gowns except thine own; thou shalt keep no board- er but thy husband. Come to my heart, mein Liebehen ! And as I nestled there, a flood of glory beamed in from the western sky. I did not speak; my heart was fall; and I thought there could be no happiness more beyond hope, or joy, or thought, in Gods paradise. POPULAR EXPOSITION OF SOME SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS. PART IV.THINGS THAT ARE INVISIBLE. TIlE METHODS OF BRINGING PHANTOM IMPRESSIONS INTO vIEw. THE PHOSPHORESCENCE OF DIA MONDS AND SOME OTHER BODIES. THERE are some surfaces on which if a shadow falls, it can be brought into view a long time subsequently. A belief in the existence ofthe carbuncle, a stone supposed to have the property of shining in the dark, appears to have been current from the very infancy of chemistry. It gave rise to many legends among the al- chemists, and early travellers relate marvel- ous stories respecting self-shining mountains and gems. Thus it was said that the Kino of Pegu wore a carbuncle so brilliant that if any of his subjects looked upon him in the dark, his countenance seemed as though it was irradiated by the sun; and that in a certain part of North America there was a mountain which illuminated the country for many miles, and served by its rays to guide the Indians at night. The story seems to indicate that the locality of this wonder was somewhere in the western part of Pennsyl- vania. Mr. Boyle relates that a Governor of one of the American colonies imparted this fact to him at a time when he was charged with the superintendence of those important settlements, and that an expedi- tion had been dispatched to ascertain the facts correctly. It saw the shining wonder from afar, hut the light diminished as the place was approached, and becoming at length invisible, the locality could not he determined with certainty. These legend~ had for some time been passing into discredit, when Vincenzio Cas- cariola, a cobbler of Bologna in Italy, who had abandoned the mending of shoes for the purpose of finding the philosophers stone, discoveredhis celebratedphosphorns, the Bo- lognian stone, or, as it was then designated, sun-stone (lajpis solari8). He had seduced himself into the expectation that a heavy mineral he had met withbarium sulphate contained silver, and in an attempt to melt out that precious metal was astonished to see that the burned substance shone like an ignited coal in the dark. This was in the year 1602. Some time afterward a Saxon of the name of Baldwin conceived the idea of obtaining the soul of the world by distilling in a re- tort chalk which had been dissolved in aqua fortis. In this extraordinary pursuit acci- dent led him to observe that the substance he was working with possessed the quality of shining in the dark after it had been ex- posed to the light of the sun. The alche- mist Kunekel, who relates the incident, tells us with gravity how he stole a piece of this substance on the occasion of a visit he made to Baldwin one night when that adept was trying to make his phosphorus shine by the light absorbed from a candle, and also from its image reflected by a concave mirror. Iii consequence of this theft, Knuckel succeeded in discovering what the substance was, and made known the method of its preparation. The special condition under which these preparations shine in the dark was very quickly detected. Isidore, of Seville, speak- ing of the lightning-stone, says, Si sub divo positus fuerit fulgorem rapit sidereum. That condition is previous exposure to light. The discovery of the elementary sub- stance now known as phosphorus drew the attention of the cultivators of natural sci- ence to this singular property, and nuder the names of sun-stones, light-magnets, noc- tilucas, etc., various shining bodies were in- troduced. But the first truly scientific ex- amination of the subject was made by Boyle, on the occasion of observing that a certain diamond belonging to Mr. Clayton, and subsequently purchased by Charles II., emitted light in the dark. Though he does not seem to have been aware of it, the fact itself was not new, for the alchemist Al- hertus Magaus says, in the thirteenth cen- tury, that he had seen a diamond which glowed when it was put into warmn water. A diamond rubbed upon gold becomes beau- tifully luminous; as Beruonilli remarks, it POPULAR EXPOSITION OF SOME SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS. 103 shines like a burning coal excited by the bellows. The chief points ascertained by Boyle respecting the diamond were that it shone by friction with various bodies, and at the same time displayed electrical develop- inent; that it also glowed when warmed by a candle, the fire, a hot iron, or even when Placed on the skin. Under the latter cir- cumstances it exhibited no electricity, being unable to attract a hair held near to it. He also found that it would shine under water, various acid or alkaline liquids, or when e9vered with saliva, and that the glow was increased when the gem was put into hot water. These results led to the conclusion that though under certain circumstances the light was accompanied by electrical devel- opment, as when friction had been used, there was no necessary connection between the two properties. The gem would shine without the least trace of attractive power. Among substances endowed with this property, one of the best was discovered about a century ago by Canton. Still known as Cantons phosphorus, it is easily made by burning oyster shells in an open fire until they have become white; then, having pul- verized them with about a quarter of their weight of flowers of sulphur, they are once more brought to a dull red heat in a cru- cible. This completes the preparation. A convenient mode of using the substance is to provide a piece of tin plate two or three inches square, brush over one side of it with gum or glue water, then dust upon it from a line sieve some of the powdered phosphorus. In this manner a uniform white surface is procured, well adapted for experiments. If on such a surface a key or other opaque object be laid, and it then be exposed for a moment to daylight, on carrying it into a dark room and removing the key, a spectral shadow will be seen, depicted in black, and its contour marked out by the brilliantly glowing phosphorus surrounding it. After continuing to shine for some minutes, the light gradually fades, and finally becomes extinct. If, this having been accomplished, the phosphorized plate be put away in a box or drawer where not a ray of light can reach it, and kept therein for days or even weeks, on exposing it in a dark room, on a plate of warm metal, the phantom shadow will emerge, perhaps even more strongly than at first. A wonderful experiment, truly. Shad- ows, then, are not such fleeting, such fugi- tive things as poets say. They may bury themselves in stony substances, and be made to come forth at our pleasure. The persistence of such surface phantoms may be strikingly illustrated by a simple experiment in which light is not concerned. If on a cold polished metal, as a new razor, an object such as a small coin be laid, and the metal be then breathed upon, and when the moisture has had time to disappear, the coin be thrown off, though now the most critical inspection of the polished surface can discover no trace of any form, if we breathe once more upon it a spectral image of the voin comes plainly into view. And this may be done again and again. Nay, more, if the razor be put carefully aside where nothing can deteriorate its surface, and be so kept for many months, on breath- ing again upon it the shadowy form emerges. Early in the last century two hypotheses were introduced for the explanation of the various cases of phosphorescence: 1. That phosphorescent bodies act like sponges to light, absorbing it, and retain- ingitby so feeble a power that very trivial causes suffice for its extrication. This was the view of L6mery, and was published in 1709. 2. That phosphorescence arises from an actual combustion taking place in the sal- phureous parts of the glowing body. It is to be remembered that sulphur figured large- ly in the chemistry of those days. This was the hypothesis of Da Fay. To this celebrated electrician we owe a very able investigation of the phosphores- cence of various bodies, and especially of the diamond. He recognized the fact, over- looked by Boyle, that the gem must first be exposed to the light; and then, when taken into a dark place, it shines for a time, the light gradually fading away. Bnt the glow can be re-established by raising the temper- ature, and an exposure of a single second to the sun is quite enough to commence the process. To recognize feeble degrees of luminosity, it is necessary for the observer to remain in the dark until the pupil of the eye is quite dilated, and the impression of light to which the retina has been exposed is worn off. Dii Fay gives a singular but very serviceable practical process. He recommends the ex- perimenter to keep one eye bound up or closed for the purpose of observing in the dark, and to use the other in conducting his processes in the light. He remarks the cu- rious fact that the eye which has been shut will not have the delicacy of its indications affected by that which has been exposed to the light. In this manner Du Fay found that of four hundred yellow diamonds all were phos- phorescent; but some that were white, or rose-colored, or blue, or green, were not. Nor was there any external indication by which it could be told whether any given one of these kinds would shine. He discovered, too, that the glow took place under various colored media, as stained glass, water, milk, but not under ink. He also made attempts 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to compel the gem to preserve its light by enveloping it in opaque media, such as ink, black wax, etc., under the idea that the light could not get out, and concluded that he had partially succeeded, because in some in- stances the diamonds would shine after be- ing so shut up for six or twelve hours. He verified Boyles fact on the effects of hot water and heating generally, and carried his temperatures to far higher degrees, even above a white heat, finding that the stone had lost none of its qualities, for it would take light again when it was cold on a mo- mentary exposure to the sun. He also in- vestigated how far the glow was connected with electrical relations, and showed its per- fect independence. He also greatlyincreased the list of phosphori, asserting that, so far from the quality being a peculiarity of the Bolognian stone, Baldwins compound, the diamond, all solid substances except the metals, are phosphorescent when properly treated. There is one point upon which Du Pay dwells that deserves more than a passing remarkthe connection between phosphor- escence and temperature. He proved that phosphori can not absorb light so well when they are warm as when they are cold, and that a rise of temperature always makes them disengage their light. It is not my intention to relate in this paper the discoveries made by other experi- menters in phosphorescence in the last cen- tury, or by Heinrich, the Becquerels, Biot, Poggendorif, Pearsall, and Ozaun in this. I shall restrict myself to a narrative of my own contributions to the subj ect. Respecting the phosphorescence of dia- monds, I have recently had an opportunity of making a curious observation. A lady, a relative of mine, has a pair of ear-rings in which are set two large and beautiful gems, both of which phosphoresce after exposure to an electrical spark; she has also another pair in which both the diamonds in like manner phosphoresce. Judging from these four instances, one might regard this prop- erty as very common. Curiously enough, the necklace belonging to this set, contain- ing thirty-eight stones of very fine water, has only one that will phosphoresce. This neck- lace would, therefore, lead us to reverse the conclusion to which the ear-rings had led us, and to infer that phosphorescing dia- monds are comparatively rare. We may, by making a judicious selection of the bodies which are to serve as our means of experiment, disembarrass the inquiry of many of its complications. If we employ the Bolognian stone (barium sulphide) or Cantons phosphorus (calcium sulphide), or, indeed, any other substance liable to under- go chemical changes in the air, we intro- duce unnecessary phenomena, and can not distinctly prove whether the shining is duo to a direct combustion of the parts or to other causes. Among selections that might be made, diamond and fluor-spar possess qualities ren- dering them very eligible for these purposes unchangeability in the air and under wa- ter. Even between these there is a choice, for fluor-spar possesses all the good qualities of diamond. It might be said, considering the chemical relationships of diamond, that when it glows it undergoes a kind of sur- face combustion; but though direct experi- ments prove that this is not the case, it is much better to resort to fluor-spar, which is free from such an objection. It is absolutely incombustible. Besides, it can be obtained perfectly transparent or nearly opaque; it oc- curs of many tints of color; can be easily cut and polished. Its phosphorescent powers are very high; indeed, it yields, when prop- erly treated, to no other substance, not even to Cantons phosphorus. The specimens of finor-spar employed by me were derived from many different sources, American and European. The color of the light they emitted was in some cases blue, in some green, in some yellow. Among them was an American variety of chlorophane of a pale flesh-colored aspect, translucent on the edges, and excelling all the others iii the splendor of its light. It equaled the best Cantons phosphorus in power, yielding a superb emerald-green light when it re- ceived the rays of the sun or of an electric spark. To what cause are we to attribute phos- phorescence? What are the changes taking place in the glowing body? We have already seen that more than a century ago two different answers had been given to these questions. L~mery supposed that bodies act toward light as they do to- ward. heat, absorbing it, and then giving it out; Dii Fay, that all phosphoresceuces are cases of combustion. Before we can reach a decision there arc evidently many preliminary points to beset- thed. If chemical changes between the glow- ing body and the air are disposed of, and the action is recognized to be of a purely phys- ical or molecular kind, it is necessary to de- termine (1) whether there is any expansion or contraction of the shining body during its glow; (2) whether there is any structural change; (3) whether there is any evolution of heat along with the light; or (4) any de- velopment of electricity. 1. Is there any change of volume in a phos- phore8cent body during its glow? A glass tube about two inches long and three-quarters of an inch in diameter was closed at its upper end by means of a plate of polished quartz, cemented air-tight. Imme- diately beneath the quartz the phosphor- POPULAR EXPOSITION OF SOME SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS. 105 escent body was supported. Through a cork which closed the other end of the tube there passed a piece of thermometer tube bent on one side, and to it was affixed a scale. The arrangement was supported on a suitable stand, so that the quartz was uppermost, and at a little distance above it the spark from a Leyden-jar could be passed between a pair of stout iron wires maintained at an invariable distance, and thus produce phos- phorescence in the body. It may be remark- ed that these effects of an electric spark do not take place well through glass, and hence a plate of quartz, which readily transmits them, must be used. laFig. 1, aais the glass tube; b b, the plate ofpolishedquartz; c,the g g phosphorescent body; ~ d d, the cork closing the I lower end of the tube; c e, the bent tube ; f, its scale; g g, the iron wires connected with a Lev- den-jar, and giving a spark. The index drop at h refers not to this, but to a subsequent ex- periinent. The large tube con- taining the phosphor d h escent body must be filled quite fall of wa f ter, free from Fm. 1. , as also must be the ther- mometer tube to a given mark on its scale. If an electric spark be now passed between the wites to make the phosphorus shine, it is clear that if there be any expansion or contraction of its volume, there will be a cor- responding movement in the water of the thermometer tube. On making the trial, and using in succes- sion a crystal of violet-colored fluor-spar, a piece of flesh-colored chiorophane, and a mass of Cantons phosphorus, the result in all cases was negative; for, though these different substances glowed very brilliantly as soon as the spark passed, there was not the smallest movement perceptible in the index liquid of the thermometer tube. With a view of estimating the delicacy of the means thus used for determining any change in the volume of the spar, the solid content of a piece of chlorophane was de- termined by weighing in water; also the value of each division of the scale was as- certained. The value of each such division was equal to x~r of the volume of the spar, and a movement equal to one-tenth of that value could have been detected. It may therefore be concluded that aphos- phorescent body, when at it8 maximum of glow, has not changed its volume perceptibly. The conclusion thus arrived at is strength- ened by another mode of experiment. If change of volume be connected with this evolution of light, it might reasonably be expected that a sudden, severe, but equable compression, exerted on a piece of spar, the light of which is just fading out, would compel it to regain a portion of its brillian- cy. A piece of chlorophane in that condi- tion was placed in water contained in the apparatus known as Oersteds instrument for proving the compressibility of water, and which is described in most of the trea- tises on physics; but though, by suitably turning the screw, pressures varying from one to four atmospheres were suddenly put on the spar and as suddenly removed, no change whatever was seen in the glowing mass, the light of which continued steadily to die away. In Fig. 2, Oersteds instrument for proving the compressibility of water, a a is the glass cylinderfilled with water; b, the pressure screw; c, the phosphor- lb escent spar or substance. These experiments have a bearing on L6merys theory. A mass of iron suddenly com- pressed grows hot; so, too, does a. atmospheric air. It would, there- fore, not be unreasonable to ex- pect that if a phosphorus acted like a sponge to light, and were thus pressedupon, it would yield up its light. But conceptions derived from the old theories of specific heat are perhaps scarcely applicable here. Fie. 2. When unequal pressure is ap- plied, the result is different. Apiece of ebb- rophane pressed by a forceps glows brightly; if crushed, the fragments sparkle like little fire-works as they fly through the air. If the spar be previously powdered, a shining is still produced, and when the pulverization is conducted in an agate mortar in the dark, bright eddies of light follow the track of the pestle. In these cases, however, the separation of the lamium of the crystal and the heat produced by friction probably de- termine the result. Cantons phosphorus did not shine when compressed or submit- ted to friction. 2. Does any structural change accompany the phosphorescence of bodies? A flat piece of finer-spar, polished on both sides, was placed in a polariscope, and a pair of blunt iron wires connected with a Ley- den-jar were adjusted near the front of it, so that when the spark passed, a brilliant glow arose in the spar, which was at once viewed through the analyzer of the instru- ment. But though the experiments were made both by daylight and lamp-light, no kind of effect could be detected. Had any molecular change occurred, it could not have escaped notice. 106 hARPERS ~EW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. (7 In Fig. 3, a b is the polariscope; c, the fiat piece of fiuor-spai~ b, the analyzer; d d, the lion wires conveying the electric spark. These experiments were first made by using as the analyzer a doubly refracting achromatic prisni; they were, however, re- peate(l with a Nicol, in which the eye is not disturbed by a bright image as in the other case. Having fixed the plate of polished fluor in the polariscope, it was readily per- ceived that it possessed naturally a struc- tural arrangement, for there were cloudy spaces or lines in it which contrasted with the faint white light passing in the adjacent parts. It was also seen that this structural arrangement could be deranged in a tran- sient manner, either by pressure or an un- equal warming, as is well known of other bodies; but when a powerful electric dis- charge was passed near the spar, and a brilliant phosphorescence took place, no im- pression could be detected. Even when the iron wires rested on the spar, and the explosion passed over its surface, nothing was perceptible except along the line be- tween the ends of the wires, where the sur- face was roughened or abraded by the force of the discharge. But though these experiments with polar- ized light give a negative result, or, at all events, prove that a l)hospliorus when shin- ing has its molecular condition so little dis- turbed that the change can not be detected in this way, there can be no doubt that if the means of testing were more delicate, such a change would be discovered, for many years ago Mr. Pearsall found that specimens of fluor, not possessing phosphor- escence naturally, might have that quality communicated to them by repeated expos- ure to many powerful electric discharges, which also gave rise to a change in their natural color. Now there can be no doubt that such an alteration of tint implies an alteration of structure. Besides the test by polarized light, there is another which may be resorted to for the detection of structural changes when they are merely superficial; it is the mode in which various vapors will condense. I de- scribed several such cases in the J?hilosoph ical Magazine for September, 1840, some time previously to the publications on the sub- ject that were made by M. Moser. They were brought forward at that time as an il~ lustration of the manner in which mercurial vapors condense on a daguerreotype plate and develop images which it has received. Proceeding on this principle, a large plate of fluor-spar, the surface of which was finely polished, was made to phosphoresce brightly along a given line determined by the ends of t~vo iron wires, which served as a dis- charger for a Leyden spark, and were placed near to the polished surface. The spar was forthwith suspended in the mercurial box of a daguerreotype apparatus and kept there an hour. The mercury condensed upon it faintly in the manner it would have done on a daguerreotype plate, especially on and in the vicinity of those parts that were more immediately exposed to the spark. This, therefore, seems to prove that there is in these cases a molecular modification of the shining surface. 3. JVhen a phosphorescent body glows, does it likewise emit heat? A very thin bulb, half an inch in diame- ter, was blown on a piece of thermometer tube, and after being washed over with gum- water, finely powdered chlorophane was dusted on until it was neatly coated all over. A drop of water was then introduced into the tube to serve as an index. Although the instrument was very sensitive to heat, when the chiorophane was made to shine and emit a gorgeous emerald-green light by the passage of a powerful electric spark near it, no movement whatever of the index en- sued. From this it would appear that the quantity of heat developed by phosphores- cence must be very small. ci 1~ Fie. 4. In Fig. 4, a a is the glass bulb covered with a coating of powdered chiorophane; b, a drop of water serving as an index. A modification of this experiment, which, appeared to offer several advantages, was tried. The instrument represented in Fig. 1 was emptied of its water, and a single drop, h, put into the index tube. It was supposed that when the rays of the electric spark passed through the quartz and made the phosphorus shine, the air contained in the tube, warmed thereby, would expand, and a movement in the index liquid of the ther- mometer tube take place. But in several trials, in which different bodies ebloro- phane, Cantons phosphorus, etc.were em- ployed, the results were uniformly negative; FIG. 5. POPULAR EXPOSITION OF SOME SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS. 107 for though these different substances glow- ed splendidly as soon as the spark passed, there was not the slightest rise of tempera- ture perceptible. A further attempt was made as follows: The disk of quartz being removed and re- placed by a cork, through which a pair of iron wires to serve as a discharger passed air-tight, and descended to within a short distance of the phosphorus, sufficient time was allowed in various repetitions for the index liquid to come to rest. It was hoped that this form of experiment would have advantages over the preceding, because the discharging wires could be brought nearer to the phosphorus, and the effect take place without the intervention of the quartz. When the spark was made to pass, there was a great movement in the index tube, as in the instrument known as Kennersleys electrom- eter, but the liquid immediately returned to withia a short distance of its first place; then a slow dilatation occurred, as tl~ough the air was gradually warming. Thus in one experiment the liquid stood at 240, after the explosion it returned to 260, and then there was a gradual dilatation to 32~. To eliminate the various disturbing causes in this experiment, it was repeated many times, the spar being alternately introduced into the glass tube, and alternately removed. It was found that whenever the spar was present the gradual dilatation alluded to took place; but when the spar was not in the tube, instead of a dilatation, there was a gradual contraction until the index liquid recovered its original position. From this it appears that with the erolu- tion of light there is a feeble extrication of heat. The quantities of heat thus liberated are so small, and the causes of error are so nii- merous, that I endeavored by othermethods to obtain more trustworthy results. Thus I attempted to determine the surface tem- perature of a flat piece of chlorophane while phosphorescing, by means of the thermo-elec- tric multiplier. The thermo-pile was placed in a vertical Position, and the spar having been attached to a piece of wood, which served as a handle, intense phosphorescence was communicated by a Leyden spark, and the flat and shining surThce instantly put on the upper face of the pile. But there was no movement of the astatic needles. Then, taking the stone by its handle, it was touched with the tip of the finger for one second, and quickly placed on the pile. A prompt movement of the needles, amount- ing to four degrees, ensued. These experi- ments were repeatedly tried, and the results were uniformly the same. It is to be inferred, therefore, that the quantity of heat set free during phosphor- escence is very small, and that the surface of the chlorophane does not change its tem- perature by one-fourth of a degree; for had it done so, the multiplier would have in- stantly detected it. f In Fio~ 5 a a is the thermo-electric pile; b b, the plate of chlorophane; c, the handle. 4. 18 phosphorescence accompanied with a dc- relopmeut of electricity? It has been stated already that the exper- imenters of the last century paid a good deal of attention to this point. Dii Fay estab- lished the fact that though in many cases of phosphorescence there is a development of electricity, there are many others in which the light seems to be wholly unattended by any disturbance of that kind. I have repeated some of these experi- ments, and with the same result, proper care being taken to avoid friction and oth- er obvious causes of electrical excitement. Thus a flat piece of chiorophane, phosphor- escing powerfully, was put on the cap of a very delicate gold-leaf electroscope, but no disturbance whatever was perceptible. A large crystal of fluor-spar was made to phosphoresce brilliantly along a line about half an inch in length by passing the spark of a Leyden-jar between two blunt iron wires, the ends of which were that distance apart, and resting on the face of the crystal. Over this line of blue light, which was pret- ty sharply marked, and which lasted for sev- eral minutes, a fine hair was held. This would have been readily attracted and re- pelled by the feeblest excitation on sealing- ~vax, but in this case it wholly failed to yield any indication whatsoever. In connection with the foregoing experi- ments, I may mention some miscellaneous facts. Some attempts were made to deter- mine whether phosphorescent bodies in the field of a powerful electro-magnet would exhibit any change of property. Six Groves Fia. 5. 108 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. pairs were caused to magnetize a good dcc- tro-magnet; the power they could give to it would enable the keeper to support about half a ton. Between its polar pieces chlo- rophane, Cantons phosphorus, etc., which were made to glow by exposure to a Leyden spark, were placed. But it made no differ- ence in the light whether the magnetism was on or not. Phosphorescence is not communicable from one body to another. Having pro- vided two polished plates of fluor-spar, one of them was made to glow by an electric spark, and the other was immediately put upon it. No communication of phosphor- escence took place; the second piece re- mained perfectly dark. Some authors state that fluor-spar does not become phosphor- escent by exposure to the sun; but this re- mark does not apply to all varieties of it. Thus some chlorophane, which had been ignited in a glass tube till it had ceased to shine, was pul- verized and again ignit- ed in a platinum cruci- ble. It emitted an em- erald light. A slip of wood was now put on it to screen a part of its surface, and it was exposed to the sun for a few minutes. Ga ignition, it shone again finely, with a green light, the shadow of the wood being beautifully depicted. The same having be en repeated a great many times, it appeared that the phosphorescence at last began to decrease, perhaps by frequent igni- tion causing a change. A screen of yellow glass intervening be- tween the sun and some powdered chloro- phane prevented phosphorescence, but it took place through a plate of polished fluor- spar. When the light of an electric spark was nsed instead of the sunshine in this experiment, the fluor-spar prevented phos- phorescence. Determination of the absolute Quantity of Light emitted by Phosphori.T he first attempts I made for this purpose were conducted on the principle of comparing the stains formed on a daguerreotype plate by the phosphorus under trial, and by an oil lamp, receiving the rays from each on a concave metallic mirror eight inches in diameter and fifteen in focus. There were set, side by side, a small oil lamp, a piece of white paper illu- minated by the lamp, and a fragment of chlorophane, arranging things in such a man- ner that the chlorophane might be illumina- ted by rays coming from a contact breaker worked by two Groves pairs. The contact breaker was kept in action fifteen minutes and then, to prove the sensitiveness of the plate, the lamp was moved for one minute to a new position, and the experiment closed. On developing, it was found that the im- pressions of the lamp had solarized, both that of fifteen minutes and that of one, prov- ing that such a light in one minute is amply sufficient to change the plate to its maxi- mum. Also the electric spark of the con- tact breaker was solarized, and the image of the piece of white paper beautifully giv- en of a clear white; but the phosphorescing spar had made no impression, except from one portion where it had reflected the rays of the spark. This experiment was repeated, using, in- stead of the contact breaker, a Leyden-jar; the result was the same. In Fig. 6, a is the oil lamp; b, the white paper; a, the chlorophane, cut and polished; d, the contact breaker with its wires; ff, the concave mirror. Its concavity faces the above-named objects, and reflects their im- ages inverted and reversed on a sensitive plate, e. The mirror and sensitive plate are inclosed in a darkened box not shown in the figure. Estimated, therefore, by the chemical ef- fects they can produce, the light from chlo- rophane is incomparably less intense than that from a common lamp. As the foregoing attempt to obtain pho- tographic effects had failed, I varied the experiment as follows: In a Bohemian glass tube a quantity of chlorophane in coarse fragments was placed, sufficient to occupy about three inches in length of the tube. The reflecting camera with its sensitive sil- ver plate was set in a proper position. When every thing was arranged, a spirit-lamp was applied to the chlorophane, which soon emit- ted a superb emerald light, and continued to do so for about two minutes. An oil lamp was then placed in front of the camera for five seconds. On developing, the image of the lamp flame came out, but no trace what- ever of the chlorophane could be detected. Thus it appears that the splendid green light emitted when the spar is heated is at least twenty-four times less intense than the light emitted by a small oil flame. FIG. 6. POPULAR EXPOSITION OF SOME SCIENTIFIC EXPERIMENTS. 109 But as it is known that green light is not very efficient in changing a photographic silver surface, I made trial of the optical method of Bougner, described in the first of these papers. The particulars of this ex- licriment may be found in the original mem- oir in the Philosophical Magazine, February, 1851. Its result was that the intrinsic brill- iancy of phosphari is very small; afine 8pecirnen of chiorophane, at it8 maximum of brightness, yields a light three thousand times less intense than the flame of a very 8mall oil lamp. How could we, then, expect to measure the heat of phosphorescence? The radiant heat of the little oil lamp here employed at such distances would require a very delicate thermometer to detect it. Is it likely, then, that we could detect that of a source three thousand times less intense? The Effects of Heat on Phosphorescence. It has been already observed that the effect of heat in promoting the disengagement of light is an old discovery. Albertus Magnus remarked it in the case of a diamond plunged into hot water. I found that if a yellow diamond placed upon ice be submitted to the sun, and then brought into a dark room the temperature of which is 600, for a time there is a glow, but presently the light dies out. If the diamond be now put into water at 1000, it shines again, and again its light dies away. If next it be removed from that water and suffered to cool, and then be re-immersed, it will not shine again; but if the water be heated to 2000, and the diamond be dropped into it, again it glows, and again its light dies away. The connection between phosphorescence and temperature may be instructively illus- trated as follows: Suppose that three yellow diamonds, a, b, c, have been simultaneously exposed to the sun, a being kept at 320, b at 600, c at 1000, and that they are then simultaneously re- moved to a bath of water at 1000 in a dark room; it will be found that a emits a bright light, b shines more feebly, and c scarcely at all. From this it appears that the quantity of light a substance can retain is inversely as its temperature. This principle furnishes the explanation of a multitude of facts. Thus Dii Fay dis- covered that the Bolognian stone shines brighter when exposed to the sky than to the sun. In the latter case the tempera- ture rises, and the quantity of light retain- ed is less. Under violet and other glasses, stained with such colors