HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCCXXXI.DEC LNIBE R, 1877.YoL. LVI. MILTONS HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. Ir was the winter wild, While the heavn-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies. Nature, in awe to him, Had doift her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize: It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woocs the gentle air To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw Confounded that her Makers eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities. But He, her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyd Peace. She, crownd with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere, His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; And waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. Nor war, or battles sound, Was heard the world around: The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstaind with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1577, l)y Harper and Brothers, in the Office of the Libra- rian of Congrese, at Washington. Voi.. LYINo. 331.i \ LI / \ / ~ \\ \ ,\ H \~ \\ wine vii nEAv 1snotLrJ CuILD All. MEANly WRAPT IN TIlE RUDE MANGER TIES. 2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovreign Lord was by. But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began: The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kist, Whispring new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. The stars with deep amaze Stand fixd in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence, And ~vill not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer, that often warnd them thence; Bnt in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until thcir Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. And though the shady gloom Had given day her rdom, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, Q I, V I WHbN Such MUSIC SWEET. MILTONS HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 3 And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new-enlighteud world ~o more should need: lie saw a greater sun appear Than his hright throne or burning axle-tree could hear. The shepherds on the lawn, Or eer the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row: Full little thought they then That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them helow; l~erhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so husy keep: When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet As never was hy mortal finger strook Divinely warbled voice ~ Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took The air, such pleasure loath to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heaven- ly close. Nature, that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthias seat, the airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling: She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heavn and earth in happier union. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shamefacd night arrayd; The helmed Cherubim, And sworded Seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayd, Harping in loud and solemn quire, With unexpressive notes, to Heavens new-born Heir. ANI) LEPROUS SIN WILL MELT FROM EARTHLY MOULD. 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Such music (as tis said) Wfore was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great his constellations set, And the well-balaned world on hinges hung, And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep. Ring out, ye crystal spheres, Oiice bless our human ears, If ~e have powr to touch our senses so; And let your silver chime Move in mclodious time, And let the base of heavns deep organ hilow; And with your ninefold harmony Mike up full consort to th angelic symphony. For if such holy song Inwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold; And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and (lie, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. Yea, Truth and Justice then Will down return to men, Orbd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Thrond in celestial sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steerin~ And heavn, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. But wisest Fate says, no, This must not yet be so, The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy, IN STRAITIiLi 1.IMIT5 IIOTJNO. MILTONS HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss, So both Himself and us to glorify; Yet first to those ychaind in sleep The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep, With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai ran While the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake: The aged earth aghast, With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the centre shake When, at the worlds last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His throne. And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is, But now begins; for from this happy day The old Dra_ on un(ler-ground In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway, And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, S~viuges the scaly horror of his folded tail. .7 A VOIOE OF WEEP[NO OEAaD AaI) LOUD LAMENT.~ 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The oracles are dumb: No voice or hideous hum Runs thin the arched roof in words deceiving; Apollo from his shrine (Jan no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving; No nightly trance or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. The lonely mountains oer, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring, and dale Edgd with poplar pale, The partiug genius is with sighing sent; With flowr-inwoven tresses torn, The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dyiug sound Aifrights the Flamens at their service quaint; And the chill marble seems to sweat, While each peculiar Powr foregoes his wonted seat. Peor and Bahlim Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-batterd god of Palestine; And mooned Ashtaroth, Heavns queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine The Lyhic ilammon shrinks his horn In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. And sullen Moloch fled, Flath left in shadows dread Ills burning idol all of blackest line; In vain with cymbals ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue: The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Gins, and the dog Anubis, haste. \ V \ TUE FLOCKINe SIIAUOwB PAI.E. MILTONS HYMN ON THE NATIVITY. 7 Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, Trampling the unshowrd grass with lowings loud; Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest Naught but profoundest hell can be his shroud; In vain with timbreld anthems dark The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipd ark. lie feels from Judas land The dreaded Infants hand; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn. Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide; Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: Our Babe, to show His Godhead true, Can in His swaddling-bands control the damned crew. So, when the sun in bed, Curtaind with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to th infernal jail, Each fetterd ghost slips to his several grave; And the yellow-skirted Fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon- lovd maze. But see, the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest; Time is our tedious song should here have ending: Heavns youngest teemed star Hath flxd her polishd car, Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending; And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessd Angels sit in order serviceable. BUT SEE, THE VIRGIN BLEST BATH LAID HER BABE TO R ST. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MANY LEAVES AND FEW GRAPES. 1.THE RIVERS HARVEST OF LEAVES. MAN in the river! A Who had uttered these words Surely the whisper was one of those poison see(ls wafted by Rumor from night and (larkiless to chill the brightness of a glo- rious Christmas moruing. The hills had not yet freed their peaks from the early mists, although this haze had lesseued to a transparent gauze tissue, sil- very and delicate, with the distant outline of an occasional suow crest visible. The city of Florence, bathed in light, extended .dong the valley. The white marble facade of Santa Croce glisteued like a mask of fresh youth on crumbling age. Giottos Campa- nile, the towers of the Bargello, an(l the Palazzo Vecchio raised their slender shafts above amljacent walks, ~x bile the cathedral expanded its bulb of stately (blue behind the Uffizi aimd many an ancient building crowned with open loggia. On the height, Michael Angelos bronze David received the ,~oldeii baptism of sunrise, standing on his l)e(lestal in the centre of the piazza, with those stern sentinels Dawn and Twilight grouped about his feet. Time gilded fresco ot San Miniato gleamed above the solemn lirs and cypress-trees which guard its sep- ulchres. Bellosguardo and the Monte Oh- veto ha(l awakened to life before the warm tiole of light flowed oa to the wide reach of open country, where the windows of many a villa sl)arkled like jewels; and beyond the mountain barrier lay Pisa, the ancient, wral)ped ever in sleep. All hearts must needs respond to tIme charm of this unfold- immg morning, when the city rested in the embrace of her sheltering hills. Nature ac- quired the umost teu(ler hues: a pellucid clearness of sky almost crystalline in puri- ty; the amethyst and sapphire tints of tIme horizon toward Valloumbrosa merged to faint rose flush in the opposite direction; the soft gray slopes of olive orchi rds and the, vivid green of other luxuriant shrumbbery extend- ed below. To live aumidst such elements of matchless beauty was to be happy. Florence smimiled on all her living chil- mlremm, with her dead treasured carefully from sight in tomnb and chapel. On these also she hind smimihed years amid ceutmiries ago in her dawns, glowing noons, fiery crimson sunsets, and cahirm nights when the nmnon softly illunuilmate(1 the wide piazzas, coim- verting Baptistery, church, aimd gate to edi- fices of silver an(1 snow set in deep black slinolows. rhe river Arno caught this early bright- ness; its surface reflected the palest azure of the heavens, and still retained in more distant curves tIme gold and opal tints im- parte(l by sniurise. The streaum was swollen to its full limits by recent rains, although it had lost tIme first yellow tinge of the raging floods which swirl aloimg from the country, l)earing loose soil and trees on the tide. Twin destinies, thesecity and river. Both sumiled and sparkled in the Christmas snumbeams. The promise of the day was wafted on every breeze and foretold in the chime of every belfry. Christ was born! How the masters rejoiced to repeat the fa- mnilia.r story! Traced in the rich pageantry of the Riccardi Chapel by Benozzo Gozzoli; trace(l imm ninny a shadowy chiancel by Ghir- laudajo, time ni(hustrlous; traced by Fm Aim- gelico iii his cloister of St. Mark, his colors borrowed from amugehic choirs. Christ was horn! The Arno sparkling, the hills veiled him that fleeting silvery umist, time solemum heights of Sami Miniato amid Ohiveto, the growimmg rauliarice of a town awakening to time activity of num Jtnhinmm fdte-dayall found uitterammee in the church bells. A birds song trilled forth from an opeum casemnemmt on the bank; a childs laughter floated from somne hidden garulen. A man in time river! Who had said it to cimill the blood on suclm a joyous Christmas-day? Soummethimug hind fallen from the Poute nIle Grazie into the water, with a dull splash. A womami olienimig her casement had uttereul a shrill scream at sighit of it. At last time river had clutched its prey, and time cruel depths mmmdc sport of time wreck cast Oh its bosoam, while the surface still wore time pale blume refhe~ted fromim time sky. Time Timing was sucked down omit of sight for a ummomemit, then re-appemured, buffeted by time current, which bore it along with incredible swiftimess to- ward the second himuk in the chmaimi of bridges, thie Pomite Vecehilo, with time quaint shops of tIme goldsmnithms amud time royal gallery of tIme Pitti Palace extemidimig to time Uflizi, across stream, The tide whirled through time arch- es, bemurimig time Tlmiumg trimimimphmantly onward to Immirl it agaimust the piers of the Triumita Bridgegrnceful arch of masonry restored by Tnddeo Gaddi. ThmeLummgAmnoAcciajno ii was smicceeded by tIme Limmug Amno Corsimmi amid time Pomite nile Carraja; then time Timiuig emerged into time open space of streamum, mm- fettered by bridges, save for time mimoderum suspension struicture hum time distance, an(l time new quarter with its spacious houses extended to time Cascimme gate. Faces peered over parapets, helplessly if sympmmthmetically: time Thmimig hind pmmssed be- yomid time reach of hiummummmn help, amud becoumme time rivers prey. Across tIme width of Arumo a weir broke tIme force of time cuirreuit, where time wmmters, curbed, guishmed over the daumi iii a fonumimig wave. Jumevitable as doommi time Thmiuing floated toward timis gmulf, amud in pails imig omi time smnootim lip of brimik, revealed itself

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MANY LEAVES AND FEW GRAPES. 1.THE RIVERS HARVEST OF LEAVES. MAN in the river! A Who had uttered these words Surely the whisper was one of those poison see(ls wafted by Rumor from night and (larkiless to chill the brightness of a glo- rious Christmas moruing. The hills had not yet freed their peaks from the early mists, although this haze had lesseued to a transparent gauze tissue, sil- very and delicate, with the distant outline of an occasional suow crest visible. The city of Florence, bathed in light, extended .dong the valley. The white marble facade of Santa Croce glisteued like a mask of fresh youth on crumbling age. Giottos Campa- nile, the towers of the Bargello, an(l the Palazzo Vecchio raised their slender shafts above amljacent walks, ~x bile the cathedral expanded its bulb of stately (blue behind the Uffizi aimd many an ancient building crowned with open loggia. On the height, Michael Angelos bronze David received the ,~oldeii baptism of sunrise, standing on his l)e(lestal in the centre of the piazza, with those stern sentinels Dawn and Twilight grouped about his feet. Time gilded fresco ot San Miniato gleamed above the solemn lirs and cypress-trees which guard its sep- ulchres. Bellosguardo and the Monte Oh- veto ha(l awakened to life before the warm tiole of light flowed oa to the wide reach of open country, where the windows of many a villa sl)arkled like jewels; and beyond the mountain barrier lay Pisa, the ancient, wral)ped ever in sleep. All hearts must needs respond to tIme charm of this unfold- immg morning, when the city rested in the embrace of her sheltering hills. Nature ac- quired the umost teu(ler hues: a pellucid clearness of sky almost crystalline in puri- ty; the amethyst and sapphire tints of tIme horizon toward Valloumbrosa merged to faint rose flush in the opposite direction; the soft gray slopes of olive orchi rds and the, vivid green of other luxuriant shrumbbery extend- ed below. To live aumidst such elements of matchless beauty was to be happy. Florence smimiled on all her living chil- mlremm, with her dead treasured carefully from sight in tomnb and chapel. On these also she hind smimihed years amid ceutmiries ago in her dawns, glowing noons, fiery crimson sunsets, and cahirm nights when the nmnon softly illunuilmate(1 the wide piazzas, coim- verting Baptistery, church, aimd gate to edi- fices of silver an(1 snow set in deep black slinolows. rhe river Arno caught this early bright- ness; its surface reflected the palest azure of the heavens, and still retained in more distant curves tIme gold and opal tints im- parte(l by sniurise. The streaum was swollen to its full limits by recent rains, although it had lost tIme first yellow tinge of the raging floods which swirl aloimg from the country, l)earing loose soil and trees on the tide. Twin destinies, thesecity and river. Both sumiled and sparkled in the Christmas snumbeams. The promise of the day was wafted on every breeze and foretold in the chime of every belfry. Christ was born! How the masters rejoiced to repeat the fa- mnilia.r story! Traced in the rich pageantry of the Riccardi Chapel by Benozzo Gozzoli; trace(l imm ninny a shadowy chiancel by Ghir- laudajo, time ni(hustrlous; traced by Fm Aim- gelico iii his cloister of St. Mark, his colors borrowed from amugehic choirs. Christ was horn! The Arno sparkling, the hills veiled him that fleeting silvery umist, time solemum heights of Sami Miniato amid Ohiveto, the growimmg rauliarice of a town awakening to time activity of num Jtnhinmm fdte-dayall found uitterammee in the church bells. A birds song trilled forth from an opeum casemnemmt on the bank; a childs laughter floated from somne hidden garulen. A man in time river! Who had said it to cimill the blood on suclm a joyous Christmas-day? Soummethimug hind fallen from the Poute nIle Grazie into the water, with a dull splash. A womami olienimig her casement had uttereul a shrill scream at sighit of it. At last time river had clutched its prey, and time cruel depths mmmdc sport of time wreck cast Oh its bosoam, while the surface still wore time pale blume refhe~ted fromim time sky. Time Timing was sucked down omit of sight for a ummomemit, then re-appemured, buffeted by time current, which bore it along with incredible swiftimess to- ward the second himuk in the chmaimi of bridges, thie Pomite Vecehilo, with time quaint shops of tIme goldsmnithms amud time royal gallery of tIme Pitti Palace extemidimig to time Uflizi, across stream, The tide whirled through time arch- es, bemurimig time Tlmiumg trimimimphmantly onward to Immirl it agaimust the piers of the Triumita Bridgegrnceful arch of masonry restored by Tnddeo Gaddi. ThmeLummgAmnoAcciajno ii was smicceeded by tIme Limmug Amno Corsimmi amid time Pomite nile Carraja; then time Timiuig emerged into time open space of streamum, mm- fettered by bridges, save for time mimoderum suspension struicture hum time distance, an(l time new quarter with its spacious houses extended to time Cascimme gate. Faces peered over parapets, helplessly if sympmmthmetically: time Thmimig hind pmmssed be- yomid time reach of hiummummmn help, amud becoumme time rivers prey. Across tIme width of Arumo a weir broke tIme force of time cuirreuit, where time wmmters, curbed, guishmed over the daumi iii a fonumimig wave. Jumevitable as doommi time Thmiuing floated toward timis gmulf, amud in pails imig omi time smnootim lip of brimik, revealed itself MANY LEAVES AND FEW GRAPES. 9 fully for the first time. A dead man, with youth of noble family, whose equipage dash- tangled hair, was hehi poised l)y the spark- ed through the line of carriages yesterdd~y hug river for an instant, his f~ ce upturned in the opposite Casc~ne, an(l who to-day sees to the blue sky an(l the sunshine; the next fit to hurl himself out of the world. The moment he was dashed. into the hissing, cause? Au! gambling overnight at the club l)oilin(r waters out of siohut. Was this the a womans frown: who can tell? Since his TUB OIIILi~ ARTIST. end ? No ; the suicide re-appeared, and in birth the river had lain in wait for him, bin gentler mood the river bore Imium dowim be- ing its time in dwindling summer drought, neath the suspension-bridge, where men in angry tumult of spring flood, marking waited in a boat to drag the corpse ashore. the years imperceptibly, noiselessly, frons A poor mortal driven to despair by lack of the time the (limpled baby hands first work, by need of bread? Not at all. A stretched toward the waves froni a moth- 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ers arms, until the mans grasp held the bridge coping before self-destruction. The bells still chimed gayly; the morn- ing wore away. On the pebbly beach lay the dead, guarded by police, awaiting the formulas of the lawawaiting the Miseri- cordia, that merciful brotherhood, already weIl(liIIg toward the spot in their sable robes with their bier. A crowd had gathered on the shore. Women pressed forward to gaze at the inanimate form, children stared with an impish curiosity. An officer in uniform of silver and blue, with jingling sword, came down the bank, pansed, aiid then resumed his way, humming an opera aria. A little man, dwarf and humpback, had inserted himself into the throng to search the cold dead face with eager and intense interest. To him alone that face was beau- tifal, with a glory inconceivable. In its marble repose a soft obliterating touch seemed to have passed over it, smoothing a~vay the pain; the 1)inion of Death bad brnsbed these lineameuts. The sight daz- zled the dwarf, and made him giddy. He crept away to seat himself on a door-step in a dark, narrow street. What bad tbe 1)ottore often said ~? Many leaves and few grapes. That was the proverb. The river was gathering its harvest of leaves. 11.FRIENDLESS. The dwarf still sat on the stone steps, his bands on his kimees, and gazing into space with a dnll expression. Nobody noticed him. The spot was dark, and he was very small. The face of the dead fascinated him with a terrible power. The Arno lured him with its swirling eddies to also seek obliv- ion. Perhaps the most fearfnl influence ex- ercised by one mortal on the whole human family is snicide. It is a craze, a madness, but it is also time key which solves cruel enPrmas. It spreads like a taint of conta- gion, an epidemic, through time ranks of a town or a nation from a single example. If a man springs from Giottos Campanile, officials are obliged to force back those who would immediately follow. The lightning flash of intelligence from mind to mind amid soul to soul is, Let us all jump from Giottos Campanile! But the river! Ah, as surely as it lills to the brim with opaque, turbid waters, victims hasten to its embrace. Pinching want, sorrow, care, illness, are enou(rh and with one leader, the tempta- ti()n to cast aside the burden called life becomes irresistible. Time dwarf, or gobbo, sat on the stone step. His name was Alessandro Lungini; he did not possess a soldo in the world, was without friends, and although it was Christ- amas-day, had tasted no breakfast. He was old, and even decrepit, and had never work- ed. What labor is there in a strong and noisy world for a gobbo ~ Since the death of his mother, years ago, he had subsisted on charity, only with the disadvantage that he had outlived his benefactors. First cer- tain convemits had fed him at noon on cab- bage soup, the dole to the poor of monks and nuns, until these institutions had been suppressed by the Sardinian government; timen an eccentric German, known as Ii Dot- tore, who lived alone, collecting books and manuscripts, had given the gobbo a daily portion. A month since the Dottore had died. How had his pensioner existed after- ward h By selling matches on the bridge, and begging. Poverty was nothing. The Florentine poor suffer the sharpest need with resignatiomi. Alessandro Lungini, hum- ble and alomme, had been a sinner besides. The strangest thimug had befallen him. On the previous Thursday night he had crept into time hole where he slept, as usual, and been suddenly transported to dream- land. He seemued to be still lyimig on his bed whemm a hand appeared, holding a chalk, and wrote numbers on the opposite wall. These numbers glowed with a pale tire, and just as he, with starting eyeballs, strove to read the magic figures, an angelic shape, with long fair hair, swept between, obhiter- atimig the work. Was the angel Conscience, and time stealtlmy hamud behind timat of tIme Evil One h Time dwarf cried aloud in dis- appointment and wrath, when the mmmysteri- oums hand, tonelmed within ~)hosphoric fire, again appeared ammd wrote. Tunis timne he read tIme three numubers; thmey were bnrmmed into his brain. 1mm awful, startling vivid- ness these cabalistic figures stood out on time black wahl69, 79, 42. Whmat was their meaning ~ Per Bacco! a chance in the lot- tery, and nothing else. They were dream numubers sent to a lucky umortal. The gobbo sat up, rubbed his eyes, and repeated the nmmmnbers. It was still mid- night; but he ~vemnt ommt, searched for a bit of pal)er, wrote the figures on it, stamuding under a gas-light, and wamudered about the streets until mmmormmimmg in a fever of excite- mnent. His paimufumlly craunpech little body knew no fidigume. His mimud was clear, elat- ed, wild. He clutched the paper amud wait- ed. For what I lie had no muoney. Still, such a elnance could not have been given hum withuomit hope. He was not a habit- ual gambler, but be was an Italian. In It- aly the wounds on the body of a murdered mmiamm are eagerly counted, to make lucky comabinatiomus for the next (irawing. Alessandro Lungimui, straw of destiny thims hilo~vn about luy a gumst of umadumess, entered the Chuireb of Ognissanti in the afternoon. He thought vagmuehy of praying before an altar, where his umother used to take him as a chuild, for the good fortune to be able to try his dream numbers inn thue weekly drawing of the goverumnument lottery. While be knelt, sonmebody j)assed Imiun slo~vly, and MANY LEAVES AND FEW GRAPES. 11 a small object fell on the floor, striking his life had become insupportable. The week knee. Alessandro glanced down like one had dragged on, and hnnger had finally dazed. The small object was a purse. He driven him out to wearily vend his wares. clutched it, an(l looked furtively over his Thea a second electric flash had burst on shoulder. A female form was disappear- his hewildered faculties, schooled again to imig through the door, restoring the baud- endurance. The previous day he had sold kerchief to a pocket from which the porte- muothing out of his poor little basket. Even mmmonnaie Imad been withdrawn. Alessaudro those persons who make a nice distinctiomi rose to his feet amid slowly followed. A between pernicious alms-giving an(l buying blind beggar aloi~e occumpie d the damp yes- a trifle had hastened past the gobbo. A tibule whemi he reached it. He paused and penny selected from the abummudance of the peeped iiito the purse. It contained fifteen rich man sometimes weighs in time balance frammes. The dwarf gasped for breath, and of a life equally l)recious in the sight of God. leaned agaimust time wall, muttering, umechan- The crowd hurried on, and doom spoke to ically, Sixty-i mine, seventy-mime, forty-two. time dwarf in the suicide of the young noble Fasting and fatigue had placed himmi imi the wlmo on this Christmas mormuimug flung him- memital condition necessary to see visions or self imuto time Arno. If a noble sickeued at fall into tramices. existemmee, might not a beggar? He went out immto tIme street. The owner Alessandro Lungimmi sat on the step, of time purse was walkimig toward time Arno, wrapped in his own misery. A large black across the Piazza Mami in. She was young, cat cammie daintily across a gutter, and brusim and liner was ed ~ tim time assurance of a face averted, yet it troubled against his le~ ~vi time gobbo strangely that her long flowimug household pet. He stroked her fur absent- hair was like the amugels of his dreaum. She ly. A little cobblers assistant, in his ~)ro- vammisimeul around a corumer, and lie ran in ami fessiommal apron, and draggimug a slirunkeum oluhuosite direction. For the first time in linmb, camume hoppimig along gayly within the hi~ life Alessandro Lun~ini was a. thief, aid of a crutch. Time boy s~vumug a new boot The ilauco del Lotto was a narrow, dingy mm one hmmmmd, and played within a ball, which shun, with several clerks at a comumiter emit- lie propelled with time cruitchin end as lie pass timing strips lulume a . e ball lodged miear time gobbo. He of coarse paper from lcd ed Tb er, whmiclm becammue tickets when filled out stooped and rolled it onward, amid time little with req iii site miunubers. . cobbler hobbled away, whistlimig. It was Friday, amid on Saturday time lot- Later time dwarf rose slowly. He spent tery was to be drawmm in Tuirin, Rome, amid the linouurs of noomin watching the river with Florence. A crowd had gathered about time an absorbed fasciuiation, as time linoliday place, cimietly of time very poor amid imo time throng wemut and caumme. Wimen time imighint was to be lost. How mmmdi of the Floren- fell, a bell soummided on his ear, amid hue recog- timme imusammity i5 (lime to tImis somirce? Time imized it. Time bell was swimugin g un time d~varf pushed his way in, amid staked tIme camumpammile of the Church of Ogmuissamuti; some fifteen framucs oum time inminiraculous mimmmumbers dull imustiuct of childish mumenmories minmade him of his dreammi. He bomvrbt a terno com- follow the summons. Yes, line would go to ~ these three nmmmubers. church and pray before darkness cameand 0mm Saturday time placards annommncing the time river. prizes drawmi were humugrily watched. A lit- tle unaum, haggard restless, amid couusnumed by IILTHE CHILD ARTIST. a fire of umervoums anticipatiomi amid amixiety, Time liabitatiomi of Edward Ruimmyon was a crept up to omme of these placards, scarcely sufficiently mumodest omme. Any persomi desir- dariumg to hook at time record. Lo! the arri- ouis of seeking mis hmommue imin the city of Flor- so was a blamikumot omme prize had turmued euuce ummust quit tIme Via Tornabuoni and ump iii time wheels of Tuirin, Romue, or Fioremice. bright Lumug Arno, amid, followimug time crook- Marveloums coimicidemmee, by which govern- ed Borgo SS. Apostoli, trace a amost obscure memit is euiriched! crmmck of a street, whicim separates time high Time gobbo retuirned to Imis bole, amud lay gloonmy houses like a muere fissure in the on his bed for tweuity-four hours withiout ummusomiry. slicecli or urmotioum. 1mm time crushmimig reactiomi Fe~v strangers ever did seek Edward Run- frommi hope and fear, hue no lomuger kinmew if lie yomm, on ammy pretext whatever; lie hinad were still alive. He was a thieflund stol- dropped out of the world, amid was as nearly em in time chimmrch where his minmother first forgottemi by it as a miniami can well be who taught ilium to pray. The rest of darkness still possesses time mnemintal amid physical qumal- minmud stilhumess bromiglut only a swift rush of ities wimiclin are requisite to life. Timat crack despair, after dull apathy. He had mmo hemurt, betweemin hugh walls, aboumidimig mm muoumbly umo comurage, to again vend mnatclmes omi time odors, amid where the sumi mmever pemmetrated, thioroumghfares. He was tromibled amid afrahul. woumld imave also proved distasteful to most Perhaps the dreammm was a smuare of the devil, travellers fresh froni modermi cities. A nar- amid the good angel iia(l flown away. He row door, usumaily open, admmmitted to a vesti- feared death and to hose his owum soul. Still, bule, within a porters orated wiuidow on one 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. si(le, long since (leserteil by that official. A stone stairway woun(l up into darkness, the landings marked by two grim portals facing each other, and half landings, with tiny windows giving on other dark walls further obscured by the (1(1St of years. Arrived at the very to1) of all those stone steps, a yellow door detached itself lioni the universal gloom, bearing a tiny white card with the name of Mr. Ed~vard Runyon print- e(l on it in Enolish. Even the car(l had a shy and reluctant aspect, substitute though it was for the usual brass plate, and was fhrther defaced with niarks of red chalk. Still it hore the name of Edward Runyon, al- ways with that appearance of not being able to find an excuse for doing otherwise, and the yellow door lla(1 about it a sullen acqui- escence to your pulling a bell attached, since you ha(l l)nrslle(1 it to the upper story, when it hail hoped to escape observation alto- getlier. It the car(l bore the imnie of a man weary of the worl(l, the door, as the barrier lie had erecteil l)etweeli hiuiself and outer life, had a flhshion of swinging noiselessly, then closin with a reverberating shock, as if it resented being left so much to itself. Verily men are but children of a larger growth. We are often piqued and disap- luhiliteil when we have wrought ourselves into a fine teniper over sonie real or fauicied wrong, and are left to pursue our owui course by a planet entirely indifferent to our grave displeasure. Once beyond the threshold of the yellow (loor the interest of the resi(lents existence became apparent at a glance. A large room, paved wit Ii brick and lighted from above, was the central point from which hrauched such small nooks for Ii viii g and sleeping as a household required. This apartment, vast, cheerless, and cold, was a studio, and Ed- ~vard Ruuiyon an unsuccessful artist. Oui Christmasday a girl entered the l)lace, suiiiled to find it unteliauite(1 uiod(le(l her head significantly, and began to search anu(lst the debris of a dark coriier for a hiox. The cloud (if dust incident to the iiecessary ihislodguieuit of sheets of pasteboard, yellow illustrated papers, a cotton unibrella, aiiil a screen nia(he the girl siieeze, without the disoriler other~vise (listurbi ug her. She (Irew forth a canvas, crosse(l the room rap- idly, placed it agailist a table iii a favorable light, and turuicil an easel holding another huietuire so that the two could be seen to- (retlier. Now remember your promise to warn me if papa comes, Marietta mum she said in high, clear tones. Si, Si, returned a womans voice in a neighboring kitchen, where the clatter of copper utensils betrayed the occullatiomi of the invisible owner. Thins re-assured, the young girl stepped back, folded her arms in a truly profession- al attitude, aul(l scrutinized the t~vo studies ~vith a grave ami(l somewhat puzzled ex- pression. She even began to whistle in a subdued tonea trick caught from her fa- timer. The light of the large wiui(low fell full on herself, as well as illuminarmug the huietlire. She was small and (lehicately feat- mired, with that sharp and meagre outline so characteristic of thie sparsely fed Floren- tine, an(l iii age ~uossibly twelve or fifteen, but, in couitrast with the race among which she lived aLi(l had been bormi, she was fair as a Goth, with fmimll, seriohms blue eyes, and hair of pale gold hanging (lown her back. This veil of abundant silky tresses consti- tuited her chief beauty, and shrouded her pinched little forumi, her shabby raiment, in a glittering umamitle which caughut the ra(hi- ance of every sunbeam, and iniprisoned it iii the ripplimig meshes. The child was in h)erfect harmony with her surroundings. Her boots were worn, her skirt of some cu- rious plaided woolen stuff, and her jacket of frayed black velveteeui embroidered xvit Ii tarnished gilt. Behind her was a table coy- ere(l with hinruislmes, bottles of oil and var- mush, aim(l a palette still (labbed with patch- es of vivid paimuts. On a shelf above her head plaster busts were ranged. Trajami and Augustus gazed down upoii her sol- emnly. Other shelves lucId bits of mineral, aim occasiomial bromize or brass stauu(lar(i, amal piles ot~ woodcuts. A hay figure, seated amlil draped in a faded cloak, occupied aim amigle of wall. Beyommd omi a bracket was a shingle vase of old Vemuetian glass, compared with which modermi fabrications are clunisy. This vase, so fragile in steni, of such ex- treme temumity that a rude breath might shatter it to atonus, exquisitely clouded with blue, opal, amid gold, perched at a safe dis- tammce above smirromimid iii g coumfuision, was also curiously sum~estive of tIme owuier. It was out of place, yet had not brokemi. The girl stood motiomuless before the l)ic- tures, absorbed in that profound contemnluha thomi which betrays the artistic reverie. Both stuihies delineated time sanme subject. That on tIme easel was a faitimfuil reprodmictiomi of time seated lay figure in the faded cloak, amid with sommietluiuug more, for time artist was clearly imudebted to Ghuirlandajos St. Jerommue for time pose of time subject. The saimit had beemi removed frommi his umiche to serve as aim alchemist, amid was cahumly suirveyiuug time vial c(ummtaiumilig the bug sought elixir of life, which lie held to the light. It was a carefully designed amid executed canvas emmomvdm safe to fraumie iii bmumded gilt amid huamug omi any xvahl. 1mm the secomid, time al chmemimist had recei veil emutirehy differemi t treatumuemut. A bold amid powerfuml sketeim re- vealed a turret chuaumuber, such as that of Galileos star tower, time walls hmummer with faded charts arid maim museri Ints, time sumuall win- dow openimig on a stretch of country and MANY LEAVES AND FEW GRAPES. 13 evening sky, chair and table merely careless- ly touched accessories: all the energy an(l skill of the artist had centred in the effort to infuse vitality into the occupant of this lone- ly and remote apartmeut. Seen in the light of a fnrnace lire, the experimeutalist was an old man with bald head, a shaven cheek and chin, eyes bent also on the tiny flask hel(l, but with snch mingled wonder, rapt- nrc, anti incredulity in his gaze that ei- ther powerfnl emotion bronght a wave of nnwonted color to his cheek, or the flicker of the fire caused the reflection. The daylight came throngh the large win- (low, and rested on the ~irPs fair hair and childish featnres, lingered over the two l)ictllres, sl)arkled on the Venetian glass, where the delicate tints min5led like a dis- solving rainbo~v. With a sudden impulse ot dissatisfaction she pushed the canvas on the floor, with her foot, so that it fell over on its face. Had she succeeded, after all 0? Elation, and ardent if secret labor, often have reactions of doubt an(l disappoint- ment. A confidante was needed, and 01(1 Marietta in the kitchen was sole confidante of Edward Runyons danghter Elena. Ac- cordiugly Marietta appeared, wiping her hands a stout, middle-aged woman, with black hair rolled back from a shrewd ,good- 1 mmmnore(1 face, a yellow handkerchief knot- ted about the throat, and a brown petticoat of such brevity as admitted of more than a glinipse of stocking above low shoes. Che! cue! What did the signorina wish, with tIme soup not ready, and the macaroni to prepare? Now, Marietta, close your eyessoand themi tell me what you see when you again opemi them, crie(i Elena. Thus entreated, Marietta thrust her hands beneath her apron, shnt her eyes zealously, 111(1 opened them on the sketch recen~hy overthrown on the floor. Mio Dio! she exclaimed, with the quick- ness of her race; it is the Padre Cecehi himself! Elena ran to this ready critic and em- braced her. Of course it is, she replied, with sud- (lemi laurhter. I have watched him at the window so often, you know. Che! That is my secret. DC) not tell papa. I was saving money from the market fund for a frame. I had fifteen francs, and 1lost theum. Too much money for a child, signorina, admonished Marietta, gravely. I lost it in church. Ahi, the devil also goes to church some- times, sai(l Marietta, (iryly. The click ofakey in the outer door caused Elena to fly with her picture to the box in the corner, raise tIme lid, and slip it into this hiding-place before her father entered. The aspect of the card amid tIme yellow portal was like that of tIme master. Ed~varJ Runyon was a small, dry mail, with hollow, weary eyes, a somewhat querulous suhile, aud grizzled hair. Shrewd and kindly Ma- rietta of the kitchen, the neighbors of the narrow street, with their niumble Tuscan wits, had gauged him years ago far lietter than he knew hiniself. The world had wounded Edward Runyon by its first harsh criticisms on his work, galled his nature, aiid left him to bear tIme burden of its sub- sequent imeghect, for lie having broken his lance in tIme lists, retired in mortification. To the stroke of omme mans pen he attributed the blight of mildew- on his life. AIm art critic had singled omit tIme early picture of a new painter for merciless sarcasm, for the display of his own wit, in willfully tnrniii~ pathos aii(l tragedy imito a.l)surdity, niud the l)uiblic hind laughed. This critic, no~v dead or forgotten, had driven Ed ~vard Ruimuyoii across the Athamitic, to bury himself fromim sight at the top of a dark old house in Floremmee; and lie could at amiy moumemit place his fin- ger on the priimted columns, h)aste(l in a scrap-book, which had blown away his fame like the do~vn of a dandelion globe, absorb- imug afresh the venoni of their poisoim with a flashmimig light in his hollow eyes. Time maim could brood over his wromigs rather than fight for his own. Instead of seekimig Lon- don, as Bemijammuin West,Leshie, and Washing- ton Alhstomi hind domme, hue shmrnuk omit of sight in Italy. Even the fair youlmg wife who had quitted her school desk to share his for- times hind passed bemienthi the cloud of his gloomily preoccupation without lessening it, amid died, heavimig time child Eleuia to share her fathers sommubre hioumme, amid lenrum early thie stern economumy necessary to subsist on their shemider immeonme. Youu should go omit, umy (lear, said Ed- ward Rumiyomm,highitimig hiis nueerschauimn within more animumatiomin than usual. TIme weather is perfect, amid it is Chiristimmas-day. Ehemma was an Itahian iii umiore than birthi she hoved time streets. Marietta pulled her sleeve, and whiispered, Return to time chmiirch, signorina, where you 1(1st tIme mommey, amid pi~iy thue Mmmdonna for its recovery. Chine ! amy mmii apoplexy seize tIme thief! Fifteen framics Time girl hind already reached for a shabhy little lint on a peg, given her mumnume of hmair a careless toss, amid assuumied a long coat emni- nemithy characteristic of tIme household for- tunes in time frayed buttomis amid senmims. Who kiiows whlnt I nmay find at the church 0? she said, blithely. Thiemi she went omit into the siunshuine, un comuscious of tIme part fate had assigned her to perforni in a Chiristmas (Iramlma. IV.A CHRISTMAS VISITOR. The child Elena had scarcehy departed whlemi the nervous excitemmuemit of Edward Ruumyomis maimer hecamne very apparent. 14 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. He was relieved by the absence of his daugh- tet, since he was thus free to enjoy expecta- tion without lessening his own dignity, or arousing her precocious curiosity. Destiny ha(1 playe(l him a very strange prank that morning, and if the result proved a disap- pointment, Elena should be left in ignorance. He had paused at a shop window to look at the display of holiday hooks fresh from London; Ed~vard Riinyon loved hooks, and indulged in none. A group of travellers stood in the shop door, and a womans voice inquired, Can yon inform me if there are either English or Anierican artists resident here at present ? In response the shop-keeper had actually mentioned him. Edward Rniiyon, shabby little man in a rusty cloak, had colored nerv- ously, and hastened on. The careless word of a tourist, the half-formed wish of a stran- ger merging into so many fresh channels dmmrimmg a (lay of sight-seeimig, meant so much to him. Would she come l Would she for- get in an hour? He was able to torment himself ~vith sinking misgivings as to possi- ble objections on the part of the stationer, who might have a favorite artist to advance. Marietta was watching him with scarcely repressed disfavor as he gazed abont his stu(li() and niade some feeble attempt to regulate its disorder, with no greater result attained than to blo~v the dust from the precious Venetian staudard. Signore, the signorina should have anew toilet for the festa, amid I am sure I hope that the Befana may bring her a gift at the Epiphany, she said, with the privileged fa- miliarity of an Italian servant. My good Marietta, we shall see. I am riot one of the rich, returned her master, with aii impatient sigh. The child can be robbed of fifteen francs, and you be none tIme wiser, thonglut Mari- etta, with some contemnl)t. Her words pricked his conscience. He was aim affectionate, if not an attentive, fa- ther. Elenas life was more like that of a boy than a girl: she ~vent and caine as she l)lease(l. Only oil faithful Marietta had de- volved the duties of mistress of the ward- robe, aim(l such raimnent as the girl had worn hitherto lund h)cen adapted by a neighboring unautna-unaker of eccentric taste from the dresses of her dead mother. E(lward Run- yon had forgottemi all about Christmas, had om veim his daughter no gift, had muot even kissed her in honor of time day. The memo- ries of such festivals, kept by a large por- tioum of the world, are peculiarly painful to those isolated like this mieglected artist; still lie might have walked with his daughter iiistead of sending her oat alone. He de- tested Christmas! The door-hell rang sharply, with a harsh and liiigering vibration, as if it were so sel dom heard that it was disposed to make the most of the circumstance. Edward Run- yous whole frame quivered in respoiise. Could the stramuger have taken the trouble to find him? If so, would she prove that long-expected angel of ilel~veraii cea cus tonuer? These thon0hts coimfuised his brain; he was so unaccustomed to visitors that even mmmere politemmess seenied to desert him. A lady and a gentleman entered the studio, time former emmerget ic, the latter passive. Edward Runyon returned their salutation helplessly; he actually proffered a chair to the lady already occupied by an opemi paiuit box aimd paletteaim error remimedied adroitly by Marietta. Excessive shyness amid emubar- rassmnent nma(le the artist duimmib, while tIme lauly snapped an eyeglass oim her miose, amid the gentleman stroked his bloimde beard, starimig at the Venetian vmise. Years had elapsed sluice a custoummer crosse(l this thresh- 01(1. Edward Rummyon did muot know who these people were or ~vhieumce they caumue, bumt their advent dazzled amid mugitated him. He ventured some confused remarks omi the weather, his hmaii(ls Ihmtterimu~ nervously about his watch chain ; the lady regar(led huini coolly thirouugim her eyeglass, and as- sented. Neither of tIme visit(urs was espe- cially considerate of the feelings of that seuisitive plauit, the artist, who shrank or expamided at the lightest tomich of their care- less fluigers. Is that for sale ? inquired the gentle- man, poimutimig witlm his caume to the Vemie- tiaui vase. No, hesitatingly replied Edward Ruin- you. The geuitleman ceased to stare at the vase, and transferred Imis scrutiny to a copy of Titiauis Venus. I detest copies, said the lady, severely. Edward Ruiumyon experieuuced a seuusation akin to the al)phicmition of a galvaumic bat- tery to his spine. Ahi, how eloquemit were those sketches on his walls! Heads of old macn half finished, bits of archuiteetmural beauty, interiors of churches, clusters of flowers, and several pictures framed, of the type known as adapted to the popular taste a boy fishmimig in a nmuddy stream, a mieat little girl sewing, with tIme cat beside her, mmii over(hressed umother watching the cradle of a piuik baby. Marietta had withdrawn to her kitchen after studying the backs of these visitors withi a specuilative interest. She was keemi- ly aware that all these stiudies had humming on Edward Runyons walls for years, when lie needed to sell them, therefore they could p055C55 ii0 mumarket value. Your Tuiscan mmmy respect the acquisition of mimomiey, in a way, limit respects success more. The muaster had never plumbed time depths of Mariettas scorn for hinuself because of his fmmiluires. Besides, lie did imot gild time external mask MANY LEAVES AND FEW GRAPES. 15 of appearance, even if hungry and cold at homeanother Florentine necessity. The old servant would have liked to behold the artist attired like a dandy, with silk hat and yellow gloves and cane when he ~vent abroad, or at least the signorina in rustling silk and feathers. She felt that a stricter adherence to poleuta as a diet, and more water in the red wine, as an inevitable re- sult, would be justifiable. Alas! Edward Ruinyon was still only a forestiere, although he had come to Italy to learn how to live the calm belief of all Italians. He indulged in a tire on cold evenings, ate beefsteaks more frequently than the soup meat, or lesso, had coffee after dinner; and the si guorina wore old gowns as atonement for such luxuries. Although she had withdrawn from the studio, not a movement there escaped Mari- etta. Why should not the signorina have a chance too l She could paint the portrait of the Padre Cecehi to the life, so that the holy man might behold his own face as in a mirror. Che! che! These 01(1 l~ictllres! 1lme fish might still slip through the net. The woman gazed out of her kitclmemm win- dow a moment, smiled reflectively, and stole back to the studio. The two visitors were in a remote corner of the large apartment scrutinizing a copy of the familiar George of Denmark, by Sustermans; Edward Run- vons back was also turned. Marietta stepped noiselessly across time room, slipped the canvas Elena had shown her out of the box, placed it against the wall, and vanish- ed into her kitchen again. Life is full of such chances. A moment later Ed~vard Runyon was startled by the ladys pausin~ in that dark corner, stooping, and taking up a picture for closer inspection. Look at this ! she exclaimed, with sud- (len animation, and placed it on the easel. As it is possible for one person, man or woman, to gatber all the elements of a vast assemblage into concentration on his or her o~vn distinct individuality, so this study (irew all light from those lifeless creations on the walls by its abounding vitality. It was merely a sketch, faulty in color, perhaps, and with crude defects on the very surface, yet the fine, keen head of time old alchemist started out of the sha.do~vy chamber, where he had so lone kept his feverish steadfast vigil, and claimed the sympathy of behold- ers by his own earnestness amid intense ab- sorption. Permit me to say tbat here you have ex- celled yourself, said the lady, gravely, and evi(hently esteeming herself a connoisseur. You have left the mannerisms of those stu(lies, with a marked increase of power and ease of treatment. I beg your l)ardon, said Edward Run- yon, stiffly, and gazing at the canvas with dilating eyes. The lady sumiled good-humoredly. You do not agree with me, then ? Where did you obtain the picture, ma- dame I he asked, still niore stiffly. I am not acquainted with the artist. The lady glanced at her husband; she was beginning to think Edward Runyon a trifle cracked. The signorina painted it, interposed the voice of Marietta. The signorina is my daughter, explain- ed the artist, in confusion. She is out. I thuink there may be some mistake. The lady was as sharp an(1 incisive in manner as he was vague and bewildered. I will buy this sketch for my gallery if your daughter wishes to sell it, she said, promptly. lt is her own property, madame, re- sponded Ed~vard Runyon, with thickly beating heart. She scanned him with cold severity. Evidently your daughter possesses gen- ius, extraordinary power, and originality. She umay beconme a great artist if properly encouraged. Next year I will return, and judge of her progress. I suppose she must be young. If she will take two hundred amid fifty francs, send the picture to our hotel to-morrow inornimug. Time yellow door clanged once more, a card lay on the table, and Edward Rmmnyomu sank into a chair opposite the easel, gazing, as if iii a dream, at the face of the Padre Cecchii. Despite this outward apathy, a storm of comithicting emotions was raging within his breast. What! Elena a genius! to become a fanuous artist, a rival! This silly woman, believimig herself to be a critic, had spoken such words. Had a flower sprung up at his side, amid lie remained ig- norant of its beauty and fragrance? Stay! he should have reco~nized the promise of his daughters sketch at a glance. Why had she not shown it to him I Ah, why, in- deed! All time shunibering pain, the henumub- ed misery, of his own nature was a~vakened, rouse(1 to action once more. In the suffer- imig he wrought, time alchemist, with his hollow check, sharp nose, and strange eye, might be weighmimig Edward Runyons pal- pitatimig heart between his finger and thumb immstca(1 of the vial. Time longing for an ideal perfection in the mans nature, of which the studies on time wall were time feeble gropings toward truth umever attain- edwholly umm attaimi able, indeedmuocked at him, while lie yearned toward his childs picture. Why should she not be an artist I Had lie ever destined her for ammy thing else Her first plaything had l)een a bit of red chalk, her only school the galleries, where she had frequently worked by his side faith- fully and well. XVlmat hiee(l had lie given to her efforts I He hind thought half bit- terly, that some time she might become a 111 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. teacher of drawing, as she was only a worn- I an. Doubtless this lady who had stepped into his path with strange resnits had de- parted inspired ~vith that subtle self-esteem which is permitted the rich and great as patrons. The church hells, those many-toned voices of Florence, chiming from every campanile, reached his ear; the sky was blue, and a wandering sunbeam fell throngli the high window on the pictnre. Was there a sweeter harmony in these hells for Christmas-day I They bronght to Edward Rnnyon deep sa(l ness, and also a soothing resignation. Years agooh, how many !his yonng wife had first stood at his side on Christaias-day, and now it seemed as if a cool soft hand was gently laid on his throbbing forehead, clos- ing his tired eyelids. Murietta, glancing through the door, thought him asleep. V.THE GOLDEN FRUIT. The Church of Oguissanti is old, mouldy, and infested by a throng of wailing snendi- cants. Above the door is still a beautiful Luca (lella Robbia, with its Madonna in re WAS SnE THE ANGEL OF IlLS DREAM MANY LEAVES AND FEW GRAPES. 17 lief against a background of porcelain blue, and the slen(ler tower still rises behind, but the sacred edifice is shorn of the adjacent monastery, where once dwelt the brethren of the Uuuiliate, who built the Carrnja Bridge. The young girl Elena, ignorant of the changes wrought at home, found herself at this portal, led hither solely by interest in the two frescoes, one of which had served a purpose iii her fathers picture. The inte- rior of the church ~vas clouded with incense; lamps burned before favorite shrines, where a few worshipers knelt. A monk in brown robe passed before the ehancel; a lay broth- or was screening a sacred crucifix. Midway between door and cliancel, Botticelhis San Ambrogio, in prayerful attitu(le, pen in hand, is seated before a lectern holding the open book, his bishops mitre at his elbow. Opposite, Ghirlandaj os San Girol amo rests his thoughtful brow on his hand as he writes, surrounded by books, rosary, hour- glass; and on the shelf l)ehln(l, quaint ves- sels with reed-pointed handles, such as were emblematic of the medical profession in the days when the MeLhici were doctors. Elena knew every line and curve of these old frescoes by heart. She could scarcely remember when she first saw them. Now her developing perceptions caused her to study living formsthe suiile of a baby, the action of a horse, the wrinkles of a toothless beggar. A kneel4ug object arrest- ed her attention as an atom of humanity. This was a (l~varg abject despair depicted on his upturned face, as lie crouched on the pavement in a little heap. The earnestness of his prayer was imiteuse. Groans and oc- casional words escaped his lips. The child- artist stood behind. him, and unconscious- ly put her head on one side in meditation. What a stmi(ly lie would make !the distort- ed body and pathetic, meagre face! Wai lie praying aloud? Listen. 0 holy mother of God, and all the saints, forgive my sin ! nionned the little maim. The ~vords fell unheeded on the girls ear. What if she sketched this manikin before a street shrine! He went to the rive) Who uttered these words? Elena started and glanced around. No person was near, amid her gaze reverted to the dwarf. At a glance she comprehended the crisis, because it was a sadly familiar one. The dwarf was praying here before comumitting suicide. Did not such catastrophes occur every year? Had imot Elena been told the circumstance repeatedly by symupathetic Marietta? She went lip to the dwarf and touched him on the shoulder. You must come with me, she said, quietly. Her heart beat violently withi fear and sudden trepidation. She was aloume, and somebody must act. Alessamindro Lun~immi turned toward her, voL. LvI.No. 331.2 sudden awe freezing hnis features. Was she the angel of his dream who hind obliterated the lucky numbers on the wall? Was she, iii still more -tangible shape, the o~mmer of the purse, with flyimig golden hair? He did not question her right to commimand hmini, amid followed her out into the square. Here she paused a muomemit to choose her course. The Lung Arimo basked in a glow (if aft- ernoon sunshine, amid was thronged with crowds of liedestrialis in their holiday at- tire, aund the brilliant eqmiipages for which the city is fanmous. 7Back of this thorough- fare tlme Borg Ognissanti rested in shadow. Elena moved down the latter street, and the gobbo followed nmechmanically. His fac- ulties were benunibed, but vengeance seem- ed to have overtaken him iii tIme fair shape of a child. Vengeance? He dared not dis- obey her. Was he glad to cast the oppress- ive burdemi of responsibility on amnothuer? A straw comild break his purpose eveui no~v. Arriving at home, she said, Follow me. Do you understand ? Yes assented Alessandro, and began to climb the stairs. Time yellow door opened to receive them, and the next momemit Elemia stood in the studio, holding the dwarfs sleeve, for fear he shoinild attempt to run away. The pent-np excitement of Edward Run- yon and Marietta greeted her in overwhelm- ing exphanations. She was an artist to be great somime time, and a gracious stranger had bought her sketch for two humndred and fifty frammcs. Two humudred and fifty francs and Christmas-day! Elenas chinook changed from rose-pink to crimson, her eyes sparkled, her little form dilated with emotion. She kissed her father, embraced Marietta, them danced abomit time roonin, clapping liner hamids, laughing, and singimig like one delirious. Happimmess does not kill. TIme dwarf stood on the spot where she had left him. Preseuntly Elena dammeed back to himmm, patted his shomilder re-assurimigly, and said, with a smile, We are rich now, and I shall pahit your portrait; so you must live here, and be mumy ummodel and servant. Yes, he replied, hike oime iii a dream. The first ray of returning hope trembled in the darkness of his thionght. He was not to seek tIne river that night. Once he found his tomingmue before relapsing unto stillimess. I took her money imm the chuireb for a terno in the lottery, he confessed to Ma- rietta, in the kitchen, later. I can imever tell her, thoughnever. I nmighmt go to the priest. XVe must see about it all another day, returned Marietta, pityimugly. The poor little gobbos tragedy hind been made kno~vn to the hmonsehold iii few words. The girl Elena was whimsical about him. He was her toy, her Christmas gift. He must be given a glass of good wine, and sit 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in one corner of the great room. Later Sudden impulse led her to that pathetic lit- there would he a Christmas supper, and she tle shape huddled in the corner. was to pay for the feast. That is the saint of the church, you Edward Runyon sat in his arm-chair, know, she explained, as if speaking to a watching his daughter with a certain dep- very young child. To-day ~vill never come recating hnmility. She was not the child hack again. of time morning. Change had touched her Edward Runyons eyes clouded with sud- chrysalis. Opposite sat the dwarf, also fol- den tears. lowing her flitting movements dreamily. Perhaps it was because the bells still She was not a vision, a spirit. The Madon- chimed and tinkled from every quarter na had sent her instead ofthe river. At that the darkening room seemed filled with length she took a bit of chalk and began shapes of other years, amidst which moved to trace a figure on the wallthe thought- the girl Elena, who, with simplest uncoil- fmil head resting on one hand, time long beard, scioimsness of noble action had on this Christ- the flowing robes, the desk of San Girolamo. mas-day saved a life, a soul. ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. rf~HE form which the Renaissance took in getting its lofty flight and stooping toward LEngland, in architecture and furniture time low lines of the Tudor, somewhat im- and general ornament, is known as the Eliz- pelled, probably, by the existence of the abethan, and in furniture it is as distinctive trecento in Italy, which every where pro- a form as its French and Italian differenti- duced its effect. Yet the insularity of En ations. gland, both physical and mental, made ab For many years the Gothic had been for- solute change a very slow process, and it was not entirely achieved even in the Elizabethan. Thus, instead of the exquisite light- ness of the pointed and ogee arches, we find one, even in the time of the last two Hemmrys, that barely lifts itself above the level of a straight lintel, under square span- drels, and we read of the introduc- tion of Romayne work then, the or- namentation adopt- ed from the antique, and perfected sub- sequently by Ra- phael and others, having given a new character to all artistic work, its impulse being felt beyond the sea in church and pal- ace, dwelling and furniture, either by the rumor of trav- ellers tales or by direct importation, and somewhat, per- haps, at a later date, by those mi- nor publications with margimial il- lustrations which STAIRCASE, CREWE aALL.

18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in one corner of the great room. Later Sudden impulse led her to that pathetic lit- there would he a Christmas supper, and she tle shape huddled in the corner. was to pay for the feast. That is the saint of the church, you Edward Runyon sat in his arm-chair, know, she explained, as if speaking to a watching his daughter with a certain dep- very young child. To-day ~vill never come recating hnmility. She was not the child hack again. of time morning. Change had touched her Edward Runyons eyes clouded with sud- chrysalis. Opposite sat the dwarf, also fol- den tears. lowing her flitting movements dreamily. Perhaps it was because the bells still She was not a vision, a spirit. The Madon- chimed and tinkled from every quarter na had sent her instead ofthe river. At that the darkening room seemed filled with length she took a bit of chalk and began shapes of other years, amidst which moved to trace a figure on the wallthe thought- the girl Elena, who, with simplest uncoil- fmil head resting on one hand, time long beard, scioimsness of noble action had on this Christ- the flowing robes, the desk of San Girolamo. mas-day saved a life, a soul. ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. rf~HE form which the Renaissance took in getting its lofty flight and stooping toward LEngland, in architecture and furniture time low lines of the Tudor, somewhat im- and general ornament, is known as the Eliz- pelled, probably, by the existence of the abethan, and in furniture it is as distinctive trecento in Italy, which every where pro- a form as its French and Italian differenti- duced its effect. Yet the insularity of En ations. gland, both physical and mental, made ab For many years the Gothic had been for- solute change a very slow process, and it was not entirely achieved even in the Elizabethan. Thus, instead of the exquisite light- ness of the pointed and ogee arches, we find one, even in the time of the last two Hemmrys, that barely lifts itself above the level of a straight lintel, under square span- drels, and we read of the introduc- tion of Romayne work then, the or- namentation adopt- ed from the antique, and perfected sub- sequently by Ra- phael and others, having given a new character to all artistic work, its impulse being felt beyond the sea in church and pal- ace, dwelling and furniture, either by the rumor of trav- ellers tales or by direct importation, and somewhat, per- haps, at a later date, by those mi- nor publications with margimial il- lustrations which STAIRCASE, CREWE aALL. ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 19 were published during the empire of the cinquecento for the use of designers and others. As early as the thirteenth century, indeed, England had begun to swarm with Italian placemen, who brought their habits with them, and had more or less influence on new construction. Torrigiano, Mabuse, and a few other French and Italian artists were employed by Henry VII.; Holbein brought the German rendition of the great change that had come over the spirit of things; and long after that Shakspeare finds occasion to speak of fashions of proud Italy, Whose manners still our tardy apish nation Limps after in base imitation. And if the movement was tardy even then, it was still slower in the previous Tudor erathat three-quarters of a century just preceding the precise Elizabethan; so that, in spite of a few articles of Renaissance fur- niture procured abroad for the royal family or some of the high nobility, a barbarous mixture of the old and new yet prevailed generally in England at the period when France enjoyed the accomplished style of the Henri Deux, and when Italy reveled in the perfect fantasies of the cinquecento. The term Elizabethan has been used dis- tinctively in relation to the Renaissance, rather than exactly in relation to the En- glish styles; for it is generally applied to that which really began some years before Elizabeth was born, and extended over some years after she died, only then receiving its full development, King Hal himself having had a taste for novelty and splendor that leaned kindly to foreign fashions, and the pedantry of the era of King James, that wisest fool in Europe, not having wrought immediate effect with the quips and con- ceits through which by-and-by the Eliza- bethan degenerated into the Jacobean. It is not, indeed, quite possible to fix the exact limits of the different variations of any main style, one shade overlapping and blending with another; thus there are chairs, for in- stance, those with the exceedingly high and narrow backs and small square seats, which are called Elizabethan, but which were in use, with much the same ornament, for an indefinite previous period, and there are pal- aces and country-seats built in Elizabeths last days, but decorated with the additional characteristics more particularly belonging to the Jacobeana universal thing, in fact; and you may see in the Louvre to-day an old armory whose upper portion is pierced in all the Gothic foliations of the Flamboyant, and whose lower portion is decorated with panels carved in all the richest caprices of the cinquecento. A rude and ill-informed attempt at clas- sicism is, of course, every where to be seen in the Elizabethan. Once in a while in some chimney-piece, with channeled columns, ar chitrave, and frieze, the attempt is almost a~ success, and the result exceedingly stately and beautiful. But, as a rule, a few pillars and pilasters with misunderstood details, a strap, moreover, usually clasped and buckled about them, some clumsy scrolls and rosettes, with masks and busts of the ancients, with here and there the human figure ill drawn, and here and there huge terms, heads rising from flat vases, or pedestals narrowing at the base, will complete the classic store, and in the mean time the strap and buckle pre- dominate over every thing else. Strap-work, indeed, together with shield- work, was very prominent in the Henri Deux. It was a method of ornament par- ticularly applicable to jewelry and work in gold. Cellini used it entirely. I there- fore made four small figures of boys, says he, with four little grotesques, which coin- pleted the ring; and I added to it a few fruits and ligature8 in enamel, so that the jewel and the ring appeared admirably suited to each other. Both in the French and the Italian work the method was miii- gled with better classic detail, and with finer natural imitation, but hardly in the Saracenic itself was the tracery so promi- nent as in the Elizabethan. If the type was meagre, its play of line was infinite: curve led to curve, intricacy to intricacy, and over all ornamented surfaces, the scrolls that supported other forms panels or scutcheous or masksthe figures, the facet- ed jewel forms, opened into successions and sequences of interlacing and escaping straps and ribbons, and transformed into pure sat- isfaction of complete line falling fitly the representation of all the gay buckling and harnessing of chivalry. These ribbons amid straps and buckles were always flat in sur- face, however curved in shape and situa- tion, and they rose from their background at right angles as actual straps would if laid on flatly, seeking hardly any of the contrasts of light and shade, but only the luxury of line chasing line. When the use of the cartouch became more general, one form of light and shade came to the assist- ance of this sort of ornament, for the sup- ports of the shield were frequently pierced with countless openings, crescent-shaped, lozenged, circular, rectangular, apparently in a mere hap-hazard open-work, but in re- ality, as a view of the whole together show- ed, repeating the straps and ribbons again merely by the contours of their perforation. While this pierced shield-work, with its in- numerable dat and curved planes, came aft- er~vard to assume more importance in time Jacobean, there was nothing of the Eliza- betiman that was not ormmamented with the strap-work in some form or other. If some- times the wainscots were set in the little square panels, or in the parchment panels of the preceding reigns, or in the round-arched 20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. panels peculiar to the Elizabethan itself miniature and open representations of which are to be seen on the back of the chair made from the wood of Sir Francis Drakes ship yet the vast screens between the sides of rooms, like walls themselves, were an en- tangleineut of the flonrishes of this carven tracery, as the reader will observe in the picture of Crewe Hall; and to its general idea the structure and ornament even of the ceilings conformed. We believe it is admitted that there are few, if any, grander effects in interior decoration than the inter- sectilw curves and angles of a lofty old Eliz- N abethan ceiling. Of course, in the nse of the strap and shield, heraldry and its escutch- eons and crests entered largely into the or- nament of the Elizahethan; the ensiglls nrmoria], set ill all shapes and snrrounded l)y all the curiolls mantling to be devised, appeared every where in conjunction with the family motto and with the intertwined initials of husband and wife, over gateways, over doorways, on dead-wall, over the fire- place; and stairways were decorated with carved monsters sitting on tile baluster-tops and holding before them the family arms, frequently looking as if tlley had just es- caped from one of the quarterings. Nevertheless, in the Elizabethan the Goth- ic is never quite forgotten. Its vertical lines are always breaking throngh the horizontal of the invading classic; its reverend mon- sters look with especial unkindness on tile fantasticism of the new monsters that Cel- lini described as the promiscuous l)reed of animals and flowers; its ornaments insist upon tlleir ri~ht llefore the Grecian; in ar- N chitecture its gal)les still rise, although with a sky-line gnawed out by the scrolls as worms gnaw our the sides of a leaf; and iii furniture its cove surmonuts the tops of those cabinets whose fronts are the fa~,ades of temples. The steadfast English mind clung to the old order of things, and relin DLNlNG-ROOM, (JREWE HALL. /7 ~ - 7 caAIR MADE FROM WOO]) OF SHIP OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 21 quished with reluctance the last relics of a style that had been for centuries a part of its life. If it must have the egg and (lart, it would keep the Tudor flower too. Thus all the Renaissance that came into England, after the bloody wars of the Roses made it possible to think of art and luxury, paid toll to the Gothic on the way, and the result was a singular miscellany, for its Gothic had now forgotten, and its Renaissance had nev- er known, why it had existed; and it is rather the talent with which the medley of material was handled, the broad masses, yet curious elaboration, and the scale of magnificence, that give the style the charm it certainly possesses, than any thing in its original and bastard composition. Some- thiiig of this same charm is to he found, hy- the-way, in niost of the literature of the era, in accordance with that subtle relation- ship existing between the literature and the art of any period. It is in the lawless mix- ture of Gothic and Grecian characterizing the Elizabethan that Shakspeare I)eoPles his Midsummer-Nights Dream with Gothic fairies reveling in the Athenian forest, alI(l Spenser fills his pages with a pageantry of medi~val monsters and classic masks. Shakspeare, indeed, is the peculiar I)roduct of the Renaissance. The machinery of The T pest and the setting of the Merchant of Venice arc direct results of its spirit. OOUNCLL HALL AT COURTRAY. 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The Renaissance of the Elizabethan came into England by way of the Low Conntries; and it would need hardly more than a glance at the cut representing the Council Hall at Conrtray, with the burly and plethoric shapes of its furniture, to become aware of this fact. The importation of furniture into England from Flanders and Holland had been long carried to such an extent that even a hundred years earlier a law was en- acted forbidding the practicea law that may have become inoperative, as it is well known that carved wood-work was one of the important articles of conimerce with the Low Countries, and the country houses of England of this period were filled with ar- ticles of Dutch and Flemish workmanship. Possibly the residence in England of num- bers of exiles fleeing from Spanish oppression in the Netherlands may have influenced the public taste; possibly the occupancy of the Netherlands by English forces at a later day may have strengthened the fancy for forms already familiar; possibly the English syra- pathy with the striig~le there affected the fashion. At any rate, whether from any of these causes or from purely commercial ones, it was the top-heavy and overloaded Dutch cabinet and the table u ith big co- lumnar legs capable of upholding mighty chines, and both covered with Flemish or- nament, that became part of the Elizabeth- an furniture. Things of the sort are still to be had in Holland, although very few of them genuine in point of age. The price paid for theum rewards the forgery, and they are made of stained wood, the profiles of the exuberant carving abraded by sand- paper till they have a metallic glisten, and seem to have felt the hand of the house-maid of three hundred years, dressed out further- more with placques of fine old porcelain or its very skillful imitation. It is this importation and custom that accounts for something of the character of the Elizabethan articles; for the Flen~ings, although fond of magnificence, and accus- tomed to all the splendor of the Burgundian court, never became absolute masters of the fully developed Italian style. Nor was the Fleming so thoroughly the master of his materials that his execution quite answered his ideas. Both German and Spanish work- manship came much nearer to the complete spirit of the Renaissance, the latter leaving little to be desired. The Flemish is, how- ever, generally held to be the most dramat- ic carving of the North; and although the French handled the figure lightly and fan- cifully, their drawing was apt to be incor- rect, giving, for instance, too much weight and size to the head. Yet after some years the Flemish work became less dignified and desirable. It was lumbered with turned- work sawed in halves and glued on, with panels overlaying and intersecting each oth- er at odd angles, and with cumbrous pend- ants under the corners, all of which work was injurions, and much of which was ugly. In the later period of the Elizabethan, the Italians themselves may have supplied art- ists and workmen for the furniture, but they must have worked hampered by the tastes and prejudices existing around them. A cer- tain rudeness of carving prevails throughout the earlier part of the style, and is consid- ered to give breadth of effect. The 01(1 carvers hid none of the means by which they gained their ends, and left even the tool marks in full sight. After strap-work, the characteristic that first catches the eye in Elizabethan furni- ture is its curious translation of classic shapes. Greci~ a columns of singular dis- proportion form the main structure of bed- steads, tables, and cabinets. These columns are noted for their clumsy thickness, and they rise, in one of the first umisapprehen- sions of the classic that mark the style, from lmnge spherical clusters of foliage, usually FLEMISH TABLE. OREAT BE]) OF WARE. ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 23 the acanthus, or what answers for that Frequently, at ahout half their length, these columns are broken by another huge spher- ical cluster; on this sometimes half the fo- hiage growing down~vard, half growing up- ward, and divided in the middle by a careful strap and buckle; occasion ally the upper half of this globe is absent. The lower part of the columns is often covered with nra- besques, and the upper half merely fluted, or else covered with a fine imbricated carv- ing. The tables thus upheld were mighty constructions, once in a while so made as to be pulled apart in an extension, but oftener bound by firm cross-bars, and almost immov- able through their weight. In some of the tables, instead of columns, a sort of cary- atidfernale half- figure, neither exactly sphinx nor monster, dressed oat in straps and ending in rude scrollsformed the sup- port at each of the four corners. In the cabinets the lower part was usually a closed cupboard, paneled and ornamented, with terms bet~veen the different divisions, the figure issuing from the vase being now a head only, and now two-thirds of the whole; the top projected, and was upheld by the big colunnis; and all the surfaces were en- riched with sculptures after the approved fashion. Of the bedsteads, with their heavy testers and cornices, the Great Bed of Ware which is to be seen in our cut, together with a wardrobe of the time of Charles I., and a chair of the time of George 11.does not give a false idea, although it is, of course, a can- cature in size. Sir Toby Belch speaks of this piece of furniture when he advises SirAndrew Aguecheek: And as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the Bed of Ware in England, set em down ;go about it. This bedstead is yet to be seen, it is said, in the room of an inn, sign of the Saracens Head, in the town of Ware, in Hertfordshire. Still, it is to be remembered that it was not at all unusual, in the great distinction accorded to the bed- stead and its dressing by the Renaissance, to find beds on the Continent which were all of twelve feet square, the size of this. In that portion of the Elizabethan which we more frequently speak of as the Jac- obean, although it was but the completer development of the former, the globular excrescences of the columns elongated them- selves into equally vast and far uglier acorn- shaped supports. A good deal of inlai(l- work was then used, and the carving (lid its best to reach and render the ideas of the cinquecento. It is indeed, styled the cinquecento 1)eriod of English art, every surface being rough with arabesques of griffins, vases, rosettes, dolphins, scrolls, fo- liages, Cupids, and mermaids with double tails curling round them on either side. Meantime the cartouch and its straps ligatures they were called in Italy, as we have seen, cuirs in France and Flanders were still held in honor, and scallop shells received a particular share of favor, a pe- culiar shell having then lately been brought CuT CmIAMmIER, HOLLAND nomiss. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. this time whose backs consisted of several just such irumense scallops as those of these Gilt Chamber chairs, ranged in a ro~v; and to- day the same idea of decoratioti peeps out in fan-like frills at ev- ery spare corner of the modern revival of the stylethe Neo-Jac- obean. These shell forms of fur- niture might befit the borne of Abdallah of the Sea, bnt they must have been singularly out of place on dry land and among the huge and heavy articles that stir- rounded theta in the Jacobean mansions. There was something, on the whole, in the early Elizabethan replete with dignity, a massy mag- nificence that agreed with that of home from foreign seas, and, ahhough the shell was no new decoration, hav- ing been innne(liately seized by the de- signers in need of other shapes. The Flemings ma(le seats that incloseti ho sitter in the valves of this scallop, carved just rudely enough to excuse their eccentricity, and in somewhat better taste than the piucusliiouy chairs in our picture of tha Gilt Chain- her at Holland House. In this room the figures over the fire-place were painted in fl~sh-color wherever bare; the rest was in shaded gold. The lower tnarl)les of the fire-place were black, and the upper ones were Sienna; the capitals ami bases of the columns and pilasters were gilt, and the groundwork flout which till the glittering decoration rose was white. Settees were made at the era an(l time monarch, that went well, too, with the mighty fartimingales and ruffs of the ladies, the trunk-hose and puffed and banded tioublets of the gallants, while the people who used it are too near nsShakspeare, Sidney, Raleigh, Jonson, Baconfor it not to have a peculiar interest. Well as it suited doughty old Queen Bess herself, the forms which it took under her sac- cessor, with their assutuption of foreign conceits and their display of profuse gilding, accorded no less characteristic- ally with time arrogant, pedantic, and petty James. All of this furniture, however, is exceedingly attractive, and there are few of us who would not re- joice over the possession of any article LLIZABETttAN (JItAIR FEOM FLAXTON nALL, SUFFOLK. JACOBEAN COURT-cBJPBOAED. JACOBEAN BUFFET: JAMES t. ELiZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 25 of it not too unwieldy for contracted mod- ern quarters. The sideboard and dresser which we give are superb specimens, and afford a good idea of the medley of design, with their not too well drawn fauns and sa- tyrs, fruits and flowers, Cupids, birds, scrolls, shields and straps, cornncopias, mermaids, monsters, and foliages. They belong to the l)eginning of the later period. And one can irnagine in looking at them, that it was no such light matter to clear the floor for the dance of the Capulets when the servant cried, Away with the joint-stools, remove time court - cupboard, look to the plate ! Shakspeare, by-the-way, not scrupling to furnish Italian palaces with English articles. The style, as it had become at the close of the Jacobean era, held its own, with slight variation and innovation, for some reigns. The execution of the carving was coarse and careless during the time of the first Stuarts, but afterward rose to be classed with tIme finest known; inlaid-work, also, was more freely used, and attained much excellence. There was, of course, an increasing preva- lent luxury in every thing. Fine pottery, for instance, became more frequent; for al- though glass had been made in London un- der Elizabeths patronage, porselyn was rare, and even earthenware was not then very general, gold and silver plate making time vessels of the rich, and pewter mugs and platters and wooden trenchers being still those of tIme poor, while mention is made of five dishes of earth painted, such as are brought from Venice, which were presented to the queen as something unusual; and it was thought a gift not unworthy of royalty when Lord Burleigh offered her a porrin- ger of white porselyn garnished with gold. The first use of the famous Dutch tiles is thought to belong to the reign of Charles I. Looking-glasses, also, which were very rare in Elizabeths time, became more com- amon in that of the Charleses, the Duke of Buckingham, during the reign of the second Charles, bringing a colommy of Venetian glass- makers to Lamabeth. The Elizabethan mir- ror which we give is some three and a half by four and a half feet in sizefive feet was time largest made till the latter part of the eighteenth centurythe frame is carved in oak and partially gilt, and the glass is set flatly. In the umirror of the time of Charles II. the glass is beveled, and in the glasses of the Merry Monarchs predecessor the frames were so made as to throw the glass forward and give it projection. Some of the frames were of amber, wonderfully carved in relief, a notable one being that presemited to Queen Mary by the Duke of Branden burg. Quicksilvered glass itself, unset, was seized upon as a novelty, and used as all novelties are, so that sometimes whole rooms, and even the ceilings, were lined with it. The mirrors made by the dukes colony were of superior excellence; they bad aim inch-wide bevel all along their outer extremity, whether they were rectan- gular or curved. This, says Mr. Pollen, gives preciousness and prismatic light to the whole glass. It is of great difficulty in execution, the plate being held by tIme work- man over his head, and the edge cut by grinding. The feats of skill in tlmis kimud, in the form of interrupted curves and sluort MIRROR: OnAIILES mm. ELIZABETnAN MIRROR. 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. lines and angles, are rarely accomplished by modern workmen, and the angle of the bev- el itself is generally too acute, whereby the prismatic light produced by this portion of the mirror is in violent and too showy con- trast to the remainder. Wall-hangings had now, of course, been long in more or less usethe leather, the (hinlush, velvet, and arras or tapestry. The Flemish tapestries, from the time of their first manufacture, were in great favor. Eliz- ahieth had a set wrought signalizing the dis- persion and destruction of the Armada. So fine had they become that they were often preferred to other decoration, and in the Stuart tune were stretched across the noble old carved panel-work itself. Here I saw the new fabric of French tapestry, wrote Evelyn, in the lust years of Charles II., con- cerning the Gobehins tapestry, established under the royal patronage in France: for design, tenderness of work, and incompara- ble imitation of the best paintings, beyond any thing I had ever beheld. Sonie pieces had Versailles, St. Germnains, and other pal- aces of the French king, with hnntin~s, fig- ures, and landscapes, exotic fowls, and all to the life rarely done. Yet works in tapestry had been, ion g before this, un(ler royal pro- tection in England also, the Raphael car- toons having been purchased by Charles I. for the nse of the establishment at Mort- lake, which, however, (bd not outlust that sovereign more than half a century; and the eniploymeut of draperies had become so profuse that they now largely took the place of the heavy paneled wooden tops which had so long encumbered the bedsteads. A good deal of furniture was imported into England during the reign of the second Charles from Venice and Spain; chairs cov- ered in black ox-hide embossed and trimmed with brass nails, and others, very quaint and beautiful, with spiral carving that made the legs and the supports of the backs look like twisted colonnettes, and gave great light and shadow and lustre to the wood. These spirally carved chairs had a low back in the early part of this kings reign. The spiral was probably borrowed from the Louis Treize style across the water; for although Louis Treize was dead and laid with his ancestors before Charles came to the throne, England usually kept behind the French fashions all of the time of an ordina.ry reign, and the Louis Treize style, by means of the unhappy religious wars that diverted thought from tIme fine arts, had become merely a sadden- ing of the gayety of the Renaissance; and although much fine work, of course, still continued to be done, the simple spiral curv- ing had taken the place to great extent of all the charming fooleries that had gomme be- fore. The ebony chair given in our illus- tration, once owned by Horace Walpole, at Strawberry lull, was without doubt a gen- uine specimen of this fashion, picked up somewhere by that collector; amid the chair from the library thut little Pepys took such pride and pleasure in decking out is a com- mon chair of the period. The poor young queen of Charles II. brought with her from Portugal such In- dian cabinets as had never before been seen, which were probably the beginning of our better knowledge of purely Oriental articles, with the exception of rugs, although some Japanese cabinets and screens had come into the country, perhaps by way of the Dutch commerce with the East. French furniture, also, was imported by time court at this time, although the magnificent boule- work, and the meretricious French glitter in general, were more than huif a century in finding their way freely across the Chan- nel; but with the exception of the great EBONY ChAIR OF TIME OF chARLES mm.; owazn LATER BY BORACE WALPOLE. cuAmmi IN PEPYI3 S LIBRARY. ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 27 looking-glass and toilet of beaten and mass- ive gold given by the queen-mother to this same young Portuguese princess on her mar- riage, tbe most splendid furniture of the court was of solid silver, or of silver plates of very flue repotesse work, that is, wbere the metal plate, imbedded in cement, has had its pattern beaten out with hammers, the cenient yielding just sufficiently to give the desired ornament, which is afterward heightened and relieved by the chasing of the graver. Much of the furniture of the Duchess of Portsmouth was of this precious metal; Mary dEste, the queen of James II., had a cabinet of silver filigree; there is still some of the sort at Windsor; and we give a cut of a portion of the silver furniture in the Kings Room, so called, at Knole Park. The legs of the table in this picture mark the period of Charles II. and his brother Janies, and were not infrequent under Will- iam III. The most important feature of this era in furniture and decoration was the appear- arice of the carved work of Grinliug Gib- bons arid his pupils, chiefly executed on the frames of mirrors, on panels and chinimiev- pieces, in lime and the softer woods. There had been nothing exactly like it before, aii(l there has been nothing comparable to it since. After its worth was recognized, it was nsed wherever it could be had, in church, palace, and cathedral. It was carv- ing of the naturalistic order, but with a symmetrical arrangement of objects and a faultless finish. The flowers and foliages of his groups or garlands sweep round in bold and harmonious curves, making an agreeable whole, though for architectural decorative carving no work was ever so free from conventional arrangements. His ani- mals or his flowers appear to be so many separate creations froni miature, laid or tied together separately, though in reality formz ed out of a block, and remaining still por- tions of a group cut in tIme solid wood. Of course no one will claim that this realistic representation is in accordance with the highest and noblest schemes of ortiament. On the contrary, it belongs among the low- est, if, indeed, it has a right at all to the term ornament, which is really the elabo- ration of the idea of beauty in the object represented into a harmonic succession of forms, and is not constituted by individual delineation and actual representation. The realistic is at best but copying; convention- alized forms take precedence of it, ideal- ized suggestions of nature exceed those, and the purely ideal ranks beyond the whole inasmuch, perhaps, as the soul of man is a higher thing than any form of matter, and the beauty that is born of the vitalizing processes of tIme human brain has that su- periority which in the natural world organ- ic substance has over inorganic. Yet this copying is, nevertheless, one form of art, and, executed with the marvelous technique of Gibboushis grace, his dexterity, and his matchless truthfulnesshas a value of its own entirely indepeiident of its relation to other forms of art. This day, writes Ev- elyn in his diary on the 18th of January, 1671, I first acquainted his Majesty with that incomparable young man Gibbons, whom I had lately met with in an obscure place by mere accident, as I was walking near a poor solitary thatched house in a field in our parish near Sayles Court. I found hiam shut in, but looking in at the windo~v I perceived him copying that large cartoon or crucifix of Tintoretto, a copy of which I had myself brought from Venice, where the original painting remains. I asked if I might enter; he opened the door civilly to me, and I saw him abont such a work as, from the curiosity of hand- hug, drawing, and studious exactness, I had never before seen in all my travels. I ques- tioned him why he worked in such an ob- sciire and lonesonie place lie told me it was that he might apply himself to his pro- fession without interruption, and wondered not a little how I found him out. I asked if he was unwilling to be made known to some great man, for that I believed it might turn to his profit. He answered he was yet but a beginner, but would not be sorry to sell off that piece. On demanding the price, he said one hundred pounds. In good earnest, the very frame was worth the moimey, there being nothing imi nature so tender and deli- cate as the flowers and festoons about it, and yet the work was very strong. In thue piece was more thami one hundred pieces of nien. Time carving of Gibbous that was SILVER FURNiTURE: JAMES mm. 28 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. first carried to the queen in order to secure her favor did not chance to please a certain old woman who had the royal ear, and it was not at once that the artist obtained the consideration which was his due; he has, however, enjoyed it ever since, and his work is still held ~unong the treasures of English art. Some of the best and most interesting of it is at Hampton Court Palace and at Chatsworth; and the school of carvers that followed him decorated all London with such masterly work that it is plain that if there had been any artist capable of design- ing, as there were carvers capable of execu- ting, it would have been a mighty period of decorative art. But, as it may be imagined, the decora- tive art of England had now become a mon- grel affair, and it became still more so with the accessiou of William and Mary. These sovereigns brought with theum certain Dutch fashions and predilections for bandy-legged chairs, articles of Japanese lacquer, and of carved ebonythe Dutch settlement of Cey- Ion having made ebony munch more attain- ableall of which, together with a pictorial marqnetry, added new elements to the con- fusion. This marquetry, although but a prelude to the wonderful boule-work that had not yet crossed from France, was much more elaborate than the old inlay. It was executed either in the natural woods or in ivory, ebony, or mother-of-pearl, and was to be found in some degree on almost every thing. The use of it demanded an unprec- edented extent of flat surface, and it thus wrou~ht a vital change in the appearance of the larger objects, bringing into view broad smooth doors to upright pieces, tall clocks and wardrobes, curiously curved planes for the display of the nmarquetry, and doing away necessarily with a great deal of the carving and munch of the architectural char- acter of the construction, so that articles ceased to be miniature temples, became box- like in comparison, and were covered with this flat and pictured decoratiomi of tulips, birds, figures, and landscapes. Some of the old ornament, however, yet remained, and a certain sculpture of foliage after the idea of the scallop shell, or when in length not unlike time frill of a shirt, may be observed on many of the chairs of the reign of XVill- lam III., that were followed by the white amid gilt chairs, with silken backs and cush- ions, peculiar to the time of Queen Anne. But this use of shapes adapted to the dis- play of marquetry probably brought about a departure from the Jacobean of a nobler sort which made use of tIme same simplicity of form, the vertical lines of which in up- right articles were perfectly straight till at the top curving over frequently in the old cove, and the surfaces decorated again with carviimgs chiefly of ancient figures and con- ventionalized tloriage iii low reliefa varia- tion which, begun under William and Mary, perfected itself under Anne, and was subse- quently deteriorated by the influence of the Quatorze. It was immediately succeeded by the work of Chippendale, who chose what lie fancied in the existing style, and added to it what he fancied in the French. It was in the reign of William and Mary that that old china came to the throne which has held sway ever since by time di- vine right of its own charm. The pleasant Queen Mary was a Stuart, in spite of her virtues, and loved to see pleasant things about her, and the fantastic forms and rich colors of the Oriental porcelaiii had touched her fancy. She had solaced the terni of her absence from England with its accumula- tion, and she brought great quantity of it with her from the Hague, where the taste for it was already formed, as every one knows that is fanilliar with the Dutch arti- cles of the day, whose fronts are often mere plastrons of porcelain, the access of the Dutch to the ports of the Orient having fill- ed Holland with strange wares a~~d strange fashions. Holland not only imported, but in her Dehft imitated, the Chinese wares, sometimes carrying out the huitation exact- ly to all the curiosity of its quaint design, and sometinies decorating the objects with the pencils of her best artists. The queen procured other china also, wherever it was to be had, so that, as we are told, her collec- tion was wonderfully rich and plentiful. Persian and Damascus cups, and fine glasses, such as the storied Luck of Eden Hall, were not unfamiliar by that time iii En- gland, and there were several potteries pro- ducimug fine results in France; but the beau- tiful S~vres, with all its exquisite colors its blen du roi, rose du Barr vert pr6, and jom)quiille; its inibedded jewels, and Wattean cuAni: WILLIAM iii. ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 29 paintingssingle plates of whose earlier and best manufacture now bring at auction sometimes as much as a thousand dollars, and a set of three jardini~res recently sell- ing for fifty thousand dollarswas not yet in existence; and neither was the Dresden, nor the Chelsea with its rich clarets, nor the Capo di Monte with its shells and corals and tl~nres in such high relief as to cast dis- tinct shadows, nor many other fine chinas. Nevertheless, the Henri Deux faience, dec- orated with masks and scutcheons and fine (lamascene-work, with its rosy reliefs and dark yellow backgrounds, was all that could be wished; the Palissy-ware had reached perfection in cups, platters, incense-burners, and possibly statuettes, havin~ unrivaled brilliancy of enamel colors, purity of tint and outline, in all its reptiles, shells, fruits, and foliaoes and there was almost unlimit- ed choice among Italiau wares, the gorgeous Luca della Robbia, the Castel Durante, th~ Foutana, the delightfully decorated Vene- tian majohicas, and countless others on which Raphael and his contemporaries had not dis- dained to lavish their (lesi(~ns. All thi 5, skillfully used, constituted no mean or friv- olous ornameut, the critics of the day to the contrary notwithstanding. XVhether or not, the queen filled her palace with china, jars, vases, idols, statnettes, pilgrim bottles, cups and plates and monsters, giving preference always to the Japanese and Chinese prod- uctsthe eg~ -shell, the sea-green, the im- perial ruby, the blue and white Nankin, the crackleperhaps by reason of the re- moteness which gives factitious value, per- Imps through the fascination of the hideous- ness of its gods and demons. In a few years almost every great house in the king- dom, says the historian, who did not ap- preciate this sort of beauty, contained a museum of these grotesque baubles; even statesmen and generals were not ashamed to be renowned as judges of tea-pots and dragons; and satirists long continued to re- peat that a fine lady valued her mottled green pottery quite as much as she valued her monkey, and much more than she valued her husband. In the next reign the pas- sion for this decoration bad become a rage; there were piles and pyramids of plates and platters in every fashionable dra~ving-rooin a chaos of Japan ; and the feeilletoas of the time, if those dignified issues may be so disrespectfully named, overflowed with sarcastic notice of it. An old lady of four- score shall be as busy in cleaning an Indian mandarin, says Addison, as her great- granddaughter is in dressing her baby; and a correspondent comnplain~ that if you en n~NeINe 51LEIVI~S tered his parlor, you would fancy yourself in an India ~varehouse. The sarcasm, how- ever, did not iii the least affect the fashion, and a dozen years after the easy Anne went to her rest, we find Lord Chesterfield writ- ing to Lady Suffolk from the Hague: I have bought some china here (which was brought by the last East India ships that caine in) of a very particular sort; its great- est merit is being entirely new, which in my mind may be ahuost as well as being un- doubtedly old; and I have got all there was of it, which amounts to no more than a serv- ice for tea and chocolate, with a basin and ewer. They are of metal, enameled inside and out with china of all colors. As I know the queen loves china, I fancy she would like these, but it would not becoume me to take the liberty of offering them to her Maj- esty; but if you think she would like them, I must beg you will be so good as to take the whole affair upon yourself, and manage it so that I may not seem impertinent. Were they not mere baubles, says the consumn- mate courtier, I could not presume to of- fer them to her Majesty at all, amid as they are such, I am ashamed of doing it. Of course this fashion of the use of china, 1IAI~C1di CABINET: CHIPPENDAL ~ I) SIGN. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. carried to such lengths, required conven- leuces for its care and display even beyond the old cabinets, buffets, and court-cnp- boards, or the simple shelf of the village inn, where Broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, Ranged oer the chimney, glistened in a row and thns with William and Mary had come in all sorts of odd little racks and sets of shelves, banging cabinets, and chimney-piece contrivances in wood-work, which produced almost a revolution in furnishing, and, deck- ed out with their precious burden, gave an amazingly different character to the walls that had been wont to the dark rich unre- lieved paneling and the heavy tapestry, and on which now, for the first time, paper-hang- ings, imported from the East throngh Hol- land, occasionally found place. The reign of these monarchs was, however, a very short one, and the fashions that they set were hardly well developed until the reign of Queen Anne, but the general shape of the furniture was more or less Dutch in charac- ter, with an aspiration after the severe but not yet perfectly nnderstood classic, com- bined with strange leanings to the fascina- tion of the Oriental. The Elizabethan pe- culiarities had largely disappeared, although some of the beauties were preserved; and the Renaissance that remained was still rather that of the Louis Treize period of France than any other. France was be- coming that fountain-head of elegance and taste in the public appreciation that Hol- land had been. The Quatorze was unfortu- nately creeping over, but in no great quata- tity, save where new houses were built and fnrnished, as the great man- sions were not too often enap- tied and refilled, and when it came at last it was already frequently debased by the Ro- coco; Japanese work of e~ery sort was in high favor, both the iniported and that imita- ted at home by figures em- bossed in gold - dust upon black lacquer and enriched with metal mounts, and whole snites were furnished in it: ~vall-papers were covered with indiennes and chinoiseries, and, as the reader may see in the cuts we give of hanging shelves and a clock not greatly differing from the Queen Anne, although from the designs of Chippendale, who worked forty or fifty CHIPPENDALE years laterthe Eastern or CLOCK. nament was in demand. Sir William Chaumbers published an interesting hook of Chinese interiors and designs; and Thomas Chippendale, who produced many simple and elegant forms, and adapted, also, some of tIme sur- prising tours de force among the rolling lines and absnrd caprices of tIme Rococo, printed a series of plates for furniture, in the introduction to which he says that be has been encouraged by persons of distinc- tion, who signify regret that the art of JbJ- nisteric is executed with so little propriety and excellence re upon marks the novelty of his publication, and declares that his pen- cii has but faintly copied his fancy. There are, he says, nine chairs in the present Chi- nese manner, which, I hope, will improve that taste or manner of work, it having yet never arrived to any perfection; doubtless it might be lost without seeing its beauty. Innumerable carved wooden tea-trays, tea- tables with raised open-work rinus for the security of the cups and saucers, somewhat like the old Roman abaci, and decorated tea- caddies, did honor in their almost invariable Chinese ornanment to the origin of the now general fashion of tea-drinking. Many of the articles of this school, with its qnaint blending of Dutch, Renaissance, and Japa- miese, are to be seen to-day in the possession of our old colonial families, or are to he found in the second-hand furniture shops to which they have been ignorantly banished, and are known among us siumply as old- fashioned. They are sometimes made in birch and in cherry wood, as well as oak, and tIme later ones in mahogany, with a del- icate satin-wood inlay, and fitted with fine brasses. It has been the custom to refer to nearly every thing in the first three-quarters of the eighteenth century under tIme general title of Queen Anne, particularly in a late revival and niodification of the furniture of that period; for the main characteris- tics of furniture and decoration in tIme reign of Anne extended over tbe time of the first two Georges, although steadily debased by the gradual infiltration of the spirit of the Qnatorze, not only in shapes and outlines, but in manufacture and tIme shams of ye- neerin g. Jim suite of much effort, it was not till aft- er the publication of Stuarts Athens, in 1762, and of Adams ~palatroa statistical de- scription, with many plates, of the palace of Diocletianin 1757, that the reign of pure and severe classicism begami in En- gland, although Inigo Jones, Sir Christopher Wren, and Sir John Vaubrugh lund all domme their best. Even then the classic struggled with the Chinese, Sir William Chamberss book of Chinese interiors having been pub- lished in the same year with Spalatro, while the best workers condescended to design and gild amid carve, when required, in all the nuesquinages of the Rococo. Excellent things were nevertheless produced not only by time Clmippeudales, but by Heppelwhite, among others, Copeland and Lock, by Thom ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 31 as Sheraton, and particularly by the broth- ers Adam, who designed exterior and jute- nor fittings and furnishings, who introdneed polished steel grates, and who took the pains to visit Italy and procure at the source in- structions for their columns and capitals and mouldings and festoons. The Adams were the authors of numerous fine designs, uone finer than their mantels and their looking-glass frames, which latter, exqui- sitely carved in airy grace and delicacy of broken garlands of fine blossoms falling about the great beveled sheet of glass, whether ebony or white or gilt, are of un- rivaled beauty. There was much mechanical arrangenient at this time about the furniture, which, al- though to he regretted for its tendency to~vard instability, had some reason for its being, in the use of bedrooms for sitting- rooms, writing-rooms, and for the reception of favored guests; tables that opened if a portion were lifted; desks that transform- ed themselves; chairs, sofas, and wardrobes that answered two purposes. Lions heads and feet and eagles talons, although an old ornament, were now every where to be found again. There were claw-footed loo-tables, and bedsteads and chairs resting on feet where the claws clutched a ball; certain tall secretaires, whose glass doors were sashed and latticed, were a nearly universal arti- cle; and there were charming light chairs of satin-wood and marquetryfor satin- wood had come in with the last as mahog- any had with the first quarter of the cen- tury, and it would be difficult to imagine woods capable of producing more beauty than the creamy richness of the one or the wine-dark depths of the other, especially when ornamented, as frequently was the case, with medallions painted by Angelica Kauffman and by Giovanni Cipriani. With the more finished acquaintance with classic subjects that the latter portion of the century acquired, of course the confused and mongrel shapes and decorations in fur- niture gre~v more and more distasteful, and the efforts to reach the purity of the classic were correspondingly increased. Something of this was due to the way in which the buried beauty of Pompeii had been slowly rising from its ashes, and something to the splendor of the Louis Seize revival of that l)eautyan effort rather helped than hin- dered, too, by the classical assnmptions of the First Empire. The British fancy was carried captive; journeys were taken, ex- ploratiomis were set on foot, measurements were made, and at last the Elgin marbles came home. Just before this event, Mr. Hope, the brilliant author of Anastatins, a man of vast wealth and learning, and a dis- criminating collector, had published his folio volume of plates and text upon the subject of Furniture and Internal Decoration, which (lid a great deal to stimulate the popular taste. The reader may jndge of the character of the results of this classicism directed by the best taste aiid the largest means, whether according with modern choice or not, by Mr. Hopes description of one of his own many and magnificent rooms, designed en- tirely with reference to the statuary which was its chief ornanmemit. The central ob- ject in this room is a fine marble group, ex- ecuted by Mr. Flaxman, and representing Aurora visiting Cephains on Mount Ida. The whole surrounding decoration has been ren- dered in some degree analogous to these personages, and to the face of nature at the moment when the first of the two, the god- dess of the morn, is supposed to announce approaching day. Round the bottom of time room still reign the embleums of night. In the rail of a black marble table are iimtro- duced medallions of the god of sleep and of the goddess of night. The bird consecrated to the latter deity perches on time pillars of a black marble chimney-piece, whose broad frieze is studded with golden stars. The sides of the room display, in satin curtaimis draped in ample folds over panels of look- ing-glass and edged with black velvet, the fiery line which fringes the clouds just be- fore sunrise; and in a ceiling of cooler sky- blue are sown, amidst a few unextinguished luminaries of time night, the roses which the harbimiger of day in her course spreads on every side around her. The pedestal of the group offers the torches, the garlands, the wreaths, and the other insignia belonging to the mistress of Cephalus, disposed around the fatal dart of which she made her lover a present. The broad band which girds the top of the room contains medallions of the ruddy goddess and of the Phrygian youth intermixed with the instruments and the euml)lemns of the chase his fivorite amuse- ment. Figures of the youthful Hours, adorn- ed with wreaths of foliage, adorn part of the furniture, which is chiefly gilt in order to give inure relief to the azure, the black, and the orange compartments of the hangings. It was not often that the style could be treated on such a scale of splendor as this; yet it needed the most lavish expenditure and critical care in order to be seen at its best, and with any poverty of treatment it became hard and formal and almost unlovely. It maintained its supremacy but for a little while; other fashions came to the top in France. Horace Walpole had feebly ini- tiated a return to the Gothic at houie, amid Pugin and Wyatt also had evoked its ~von- drous apparition again. Some furnishers favored the one, and some the other. From the first decade of the century to the pres- ent the largest liberty of choice has been allowed, and,infli~enced only by the whim of the upholsterer, a complete eclecticisum has reigned over bald Classic, inipoverished Re- 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. naissance, vulgarized. Louis Quatorze, mod- ernized Medheval, and imperfect Pompelan, used generally with ignorance of the origin, possibilities, and. congruities of either; so that, for example, the very word. Rococo has come to signify any thing especially quaint, even if it were an Indian or Aztec curiosity, and. has lost entirely in the popular knowl- edge its descriptive application to the rock and shell forms of the peculiar French style to which it belonged. In the revival of Gothic architecture, indeed, Gothic furni- ture has been carried with extreme nicety to its last results ; but, except for that, thoughtful selection has ceased to be made, delicate and exact work to be demanded, one style has been decorated with the orna- ments of another, and, until very recently, the Victorian era characterized itself in fur- niture only by its ugliness, its slovenliness, and its stupidity. But in the last few years some English artists and inca of taste, not quite satisfied with the modern Gothic, which alone is faithful to the law of its being, have taken to heart the matter of our poverty in furni- ture adapted to our requirements, and have endeavored to bring something like a new creation out of chaos. Among others, Mr. Eastlake has directed. his attention to the subject, and has issued. a valuable and time- ly volume that has exerted. a wide influ- ence. Although the archicohogy of Mr. Easthakes volume is not always careful most of the principles that he enunciates in it are beyond. question, and can be generally stated. in a fe~v words. He would have no carving or moulding or other ornament glued. onsuch work must be done in the solid; lie would have no mitred joints, but joints made at the right angle, and secured by mortise, tenon, amid pin; lie would. have woods in their native color, and unvarnishm- ed, or else painted. in fiat color, with a con- trastiiig hue and. a stenciled. ornament at the angles; lie would. have uncomicealed. constructiomi every ~vhere, an(1 purposes plainly proclaimed.; and. he would. have vemicerimig, round. corners, and. all curves weakening the grain of the wood, absolute- hy forbid.den. The furniture that lie thus proposes has straight, stroiig, squarely cut menmh)ers equal to their intention. Its orna- ment is painted. panels, porcelain phacques and. tiles, metal trimmings, and. comivention- ahized carvings in sunk relief; a part of the construction entering into the ornament, also in the shape of narrow striated strips of wood. radiating in opposite lines, after a fashion not altogether unknown in the time of Henry III. It has the honesty and solid- ity, but not the attraction, of the Med.iinval; an(l if it is stiff and some~vhat heavy, and fails entirely to please, it has yet a whole- some and healthy air. In addition to this, and. dividing favor in England. there lately came into vogue also a revival of some old. forms nuider the title of the Neo-Jacobean. This is the original Jacobean reduced to prosaic tameness. Its luxurious ormiameiit has given place in great degree to turned-work; the huge globes and acorns of its supports have been stretched. into slim vase-like menibers; its round- arched. panels have beemi every where re- taitied, amid. are introduced, with its shells fluted. seguments of a circlefilling every angle, its little monsters set on every coruier, and. a tiny balustrade finishing every upper and. lower line, the tops of mirrors, the bot- toms of chairs, and all the waste places. But in spite of its cupboards lifted. over empty spaces beuicath; of its well-built cab- inets, with their arching coves atop, lined with color, and. their little wrought curtains over thie open alcoves; of its long and. iiar- row sofas, with their fauuciful Persian up- huolstery; of its twisted. stems, its arrow- head. oriiament, its laboriously decorated chimney-pieces and. tiny fire-phaces, its high- handled. doors of unimumbered. panels, its curious combination of big and. little ele- mentsthe style strikes one only by its poverty. It is still in the dissatisfied search for beauty that does not outrage taste, conven- ience, and common-seuise that attention i~ now turning toward. another revival of 01(1 forms in fuirniture nuder the nanue of the Queen Amine, although frequently spoken of by dealers, with absuird. auiachronism, as the Early English. While the articles made ac- cording to Mr. Eastlakes instructions may be considered. a reform, amid the Neo-Jaco- beau a fashion, the revival of the Quieen Anne in this day of negations seems to have sufficiently positive features to be regarded as a style. This revival is said to be the work (If that kuiot of poets amid. artists and connoisseuurs of bric-~-brec at whose head staimd Dante Gabriel Rossetti aiid Wilhianm Morris, and. the traces of Italian fammey and English quaintness combined. iii it declare that it niighmt have been their work if it is not. Its imitroduction was associated with a revival of Quicen Anne forms iii architect- lire, that is, of the somumewhuat Dutch char- acter of country house with red. brick trim- mings aui(l curved. gables, to be found. in the latter years of William and. Mary, qualified by new invention and muodermi taste. Of comurse it met with opposition and criticism; for it appears to have spruuuig into notice fuill-grown, not like a grourthm answering a need., buit like a surprise. Animated discus- sions concernimug its merits and demerits, displaying equal acrimony and. iguuoraimce. took place in tIme ummeetimugs of the architects aim(l others immterested iui such things, various voices declaring that imobody womuld. credit Queen Aumnes epoch within any style at all, and. that if the epoch had. a style, it was not ELIZABETHAN AND LATER ENGLISH FURNITURE. 3o tins; that this was a mongrel, violating classic rules while pretending to be a forur of classic, and yet really not unsuited to Gothic surroundings; and that, being an attempt to unite the truthfnluess, variety, and picturesqueness of the Gothic with the common-sense of the Italian it should be called tire Free Classic, for it was in reality only a Renaissance, less strict and refined than the old Renaissance. A writer in Tine Builder said: We are now offered in some quarters tIne revival of tine furniture of the Qneen Annie and Georgian period, o2 which Chippendale and Sheraton were the leading makers. This type of furniture revels in curved lines and surfaces really unsuitable, as we have hefore. said, to wood construc- tion, and which, in fact, seem designed to create difficulties of execution in order to overcome them. Bnt it is not at all tins boinbe furniture referred to, with its curved lines and surfaces, that was chosen for the archetype of the new Queen Anne. It is tine that Chippendale and Sheraton pro- duced such designs, but they also, as we have seen, produced others more character- istic of themselves and of the period. The first portion of Chippendales One Hundred and Sixty Plates has exaurples of the rolling abominations of the Rococo, but the rest is a collection of simple and rather elegant shapes; and what resemblance there is be- tween the Chippendale furniture and the Queen Anne is confined to the latter portion of his plates and the articles manufactured from those designs. The Queen Anne, so called, of to-day, arid that which was purely home-bred arid national of tine original style, revels in no curves whatever, but is severely square and straight. Its lines are a rebound from tire curves of two centuries. All of its articles stand well off the floor, upon strong supports, the construction perfectly appar- ent, the corners sharp, the panels many amid sniall; it carries much plate-glass, cut al- ways with a deep bevel, arid it has a great QUEEN ANNE cAIIiNET. Von.. LXI.No. rrl.3 deal of carving in tire face, that is, in sunk relief of the conventionnal forms of fruit, flowers, foliage, birds, and animals, and their idealized surrestions it uses bunt little met- al on its heavy articles, but illuminates it- self with numberless small and pnecions mirrors, with brass scomnces and candelabra, and with rare china and its chimney-pieces overflow with sculptured beauty of column and capital aind frieze. Sonne of tire choicer traits of the Elizabethan are to be seen oc- casionally in the carving of tire cabinets; there is even a mint of the Louis Quinze in the long reedy legs that now and then lii)- hold some light square object; it is thor- oughly eclectic; aind if there is the least reminiscence of tire Gothic in tine tops of sideboards, buffets, and cabinets, there is a general character of tine Louis Treize through- out tire wirole. Such as it is, the style has struck the beauty-loving eye wherever it has been seen. Its dealers keep travellers ransacking the three kingdoms to procure original articles to accord with it or to be copied for it. In the march of improvement, ancient dwellings in the city constantly giving way to new onnes with mo(hern con- veniences, there has arisemi a trade whose members are teruned house-breakers, wino carefully take to pieces tIme buildimigs of one iruradred and one hinmndred an(l fifty years ago, preserving the wood-work witin which the first followers of Grinling Gibbons and his school urade old London fine, the win- dow-frames, cornices, panelling, balnisters, doors, and dessas portes, whnicln are so val- ued that a mnnamutel-piece of tine nrnndounbted period is reported to luring pounds where it once cost pennee, and even its duplicates command fabunlouns slims. Tine Queenn Anne, with whnicln all this is used, is perhaps tire most satisfactory domestic funruiturre that we have, being reasonable and surificiently ineauntifmnl. It is qunaint amid picturesque, and has the simplicity and quietness of old work, witinout architectural pretension. K 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BACK TO BACK. A STORX OF TO-DAV. PART II. CHAPTER YIII. YES, there is as much romance in a poor broken-down woolen mill, just gasp- ing and trying to live a little, as there is in a heroine recovering from a swoon, or as there is in a palace when the princes and princesses are fleeing from a mob, or as there is in an army when an active enemy has outflanked it. Bnt this story must not go into the details of Lucy Myricks loves and hopes and fears, of Bridget OShaughnessys sick children, of the fortunes of poor Will Brod, who only filled the lamps and niade the fires. This second part of Back to Back must just tell the hopes and the fears of those who set the great wheels running once more, as the five fatal years sped by. And if you want the pathos of human tears and smiles, why, you must take the train for yourself, and stop at Kingston, and ask Ta- ber to send you on to Pigottsville, and board at old Madam Mitchells for a fortnightand then, as Nasir-ed-Din says, you will know. John Myrick was no bad judge of men, as it proved. And as a large proportion of the help were English, Scotch and Irish, the fact that John Myrick was not two years in America made the less difference in his selection. He had, Heaven knows, no lack of al)plicants to choose from; thousands of good fellows were eating their own hearts out, and looking blackly from day to day, as their savings grew less and less, and they still had nothing to do. Of these appli- cants many went away in a rage when Myrick explained that they were to have only three-fourths of their wages paid down. But there were left many, and among the best workmen too, who had been used to laying np as much as a fourth of their wages, and who saw that this was a good way to lay it upnot sorry, indeed, to be forced to do it. These men could or could not put their wisdom in words, but they had it; for they knew that the worst folly is that in which you distrust your fellow-men. As it happened at Pigottsville, every man conld have a half acre behind his house, in which to raise his own potatoes, and, if he pleased, to keep his own pig. This luxury tempted some. And the women and chil- (lren, already on the ground, were willing enough to enlistpoor worn-out creatures for the best they could get. And so the mills started. Poor enough was some of the first flannel they turned outeach overseer knew thatand Myrick and Ringgold and Rising knew it bitterly well. Some of it was so bad that Ringgold would not put the mark of the mill upon it. He cut it up into short lengths, and sold it in auction-rooms in twenty different cities as remnants. And he always said the price per yard of his remnants was more thami he got for the best flannel that ever ~vent off the looms. But he never said what were his charges for commissions on the iemnants. This sort of thing did not last. Every body was on the alert, down to the boys who trimmed the lamps. And in the third week Max put up a bulletin- board at the foot of the great stairway. On this he posted, with a good deal of parade, with brass-headed tacks and a bit of red ribbon to hold the paper, BULLETIN No. 1. The overseers of the cards and looms re- port that one per cent. of wool has been saved in the last week, when compared with our first week. Mr. Myrick reports that there has been less waste each week than the week before. Not long after he had BULLETIN No. 3. The three boys in the oil-room have used, of all grades of oil, twenty gallons less than they used three weeks ago, althongh we light up earlier. Good for the boys ! But Maxs great triumph was BULLETIN No. 4. Every hand has a right to see a telegram, just received, from Walters, Dickins, and Trump. (These were the commission-mer- chants who sold the goods for Back to Back). Sold all Number Two at five-eighths advance. Order for twice as much more at once. But Max would not train the men to think that they were to advise him about the busi- ness, and he would put bad news on his bul- letin-board as well as good. He would cut out long gloomy articles on the woolen trade, and paste them up. And when Walters, Dickins, and Trump did not sell goods, he would give a hint of that too. None the less were his bulletins always read and di- gested. And Myrick assured him, of what he was not slow to believe, that the morale and tone of the men and women were im- proved by the constant sense that it was our work, that it was we who had suc- ceeded, or we who had failed. He was most proudand he tried to make the men feel sowhen, as he paid them off one Monday evening, he was able to post over the little grate in front of his desk:

34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. BACK TO BACK. A STORX OF TO-DAV. PART II. CHAPTER YIII. YES, there is as much romance in a poor broken-down woolen mill, just gasp- ing and trying to live a little, as there is in a heroine recovering from a swoon, or as there is in a palace when the princes and princesses are fleeing from a mob, or as there is in an army when an active enemy has outflanked it. Bnt this story must not go into the details of Lucy Myricks loves and hopes and fears, of Bridget OShaughnessys sick children, of the fortunes of poor Will Brod, who only filled the lamps and niade the fires. This second part of Back to Back must just tell the hopes and the fears of those who set the great wheels running once more, as the five fatal years sped by. And if you want the pathos of human tears and smiles, why, you must take the train for yourself, and stop at Kingston, and ask Ta- ber to send you on to Pigottsville, and board at old Madam Mitchells for a fortnightand then, as Nasir-ed-Din says, you will know. John Myrick was no bad judge of men, as it proved. And as a large proportion of the help were English, Scotch and Irish, the fact that John Myrick was not two years in America made the less difference in his selection. He had, Heaven knows, no lack of al)plicants to choose from; thousands of good fellows were eating their own hearts out, and looking blackly from day to day, as their savings grew less and less, and they still had nothing to do. Of these appli- cants many went away in a rage when Myrick explained that they were to have only three-fourths of their wages paid down. But there were left many, and among the best workmen too, who had been used to laying np as much as a fourth of their wages, and who saw that this was a good way to lay it upnot sorry, indeed, to be forced to do it. These men could or could not put their wisdom in words, but they had it; for they knew that the worst folly is that in which you distrust your fellow-men. As it happened at Pigottsville, every man conld have a half acre behind his house, in which to raise his own potatoes, and, if he pleased, to keep his own pig. This luxury tempted some. And the women and chil- (lren, already on the ground, were willing enough to enlistpoor worn-out creatures for the best they could get. And so the mills started. Poor enough was some of the first flannel they turned outeach overseer knew thatand Myrick and Ringgold and Rising knew it bitterly well. Some of it was so bad that Ringgold would not put the mark of the mill upon it. He cut it up into short lengths, and sold it in auction-rooms in twenty different cities as remnants. And he always said the price per yard of his remnants was more thami he got for the best flannel that ever ~vent off the looms. But he never said what were his charges for commissions on the iemnants. This sort of thing did not last. Every body was on the alert, down to the boys who trimmed the lamps. And in the third week Max put up a bulletin- board at the foot of the great stairway. On this he posted, with a good deal of parade, with brass-headed tacks and a bit of red ribbon to hold the paper, BULLETIN No. 1. The overseers of the cards and looms re- port that one per cent. of wool has been saved in the last week, when compared with our first week. Mr. Myrick reports that there has been less waste each week than the week before. Not long after he had BULLETIN No. 3. The three boys in the oil-room have used, of all grades of oil, twenty gallons less than they used three weeks ago, althongh we light up earlier. Good for the boys ! But Maxs great triumph was BULLETIN No. 4. Every hand has a right to see a telegram, just received, from Walters, Dickins, and Trump. (These were the commission-mer- chants who sold the goods for Back to Back). Sold all Number Two at five-eighths advance. Order for twice as much more at once. But Max would not train the men to think that they were to advise him about the busi- ness, and he would put bad news on his bul- letin-board as well as good. He would cut out long gloomy articles on the woolen trade, and paste them up. And when Walters, Dickins, and Trump did not sell goods, he would give a hint of that too. None the less were his bulletins always read and di- gested. And Myrick assured him, of what he was not slow to believe, that the morale and tone of the men and women were im- proved by the constant sense that it was our work, that it was we who had suc- ceeded, or we who had failed. He was most proudand he tried to make the men feel sowhen, as he paid them off one Monday evening, he was able to post over the little grate in front of his desk: BACK TO BACK. 35 Every dollar of this weeks pay-roll has er, where there was wool to buy, or flannel been earned by the sale of our own goods, to sell, or angry customers to soften. Many and we have deposited a handsome balance. a time Max would be left alone for a week XVe can make sure, if we will, that Back to or more, as Riuggold staid at Boston or New Back never borrows money again. York. The winter did not seem long to any But Back to Back did borrow money, hody among those most interested. Even alas! and more than once. Only just then John Myrick began to look hopeful. Lucy things seemed cheerful, and Max had hopes Myricks love matters must have gone bet- that way. ter. Her face began to get an English col But just these little glimpses will show or and plumpness again. And in place of that almost all the crew went to work with the rich long hair which Max well remem- a will. There were landsmen who were bered on the steamer, which the doctors at seasick as the voyage began, and very down- Sing Sing had cut off wheu she bad that hearted. There were some old sea-lawyers horrible fever, was growing a school-girls in the crew who talked more than they work- great mass of irrepressible curls, which ed. But, on the whole, from month to month made her look prettier than ever. She did things ~vent better and better. not work in the mill, nor did her mother. Maxs housekeeping in three rooms of John Myrick was as much interested as Dan Pigotts house was not so cheerful. Max in getting the district school to work Here is part of an entreating letter he well, and in keeping the boys in it till they wrote to Ruth, his sister, begging her to were fifteen, and the girls till they were keep house for him: older. Another year, Myrick, and Lucy shall keep the school, said Robert Ring- MAX RISING TO RUTH RISING. gold. Oh, my dear Ruth, if you would only And when they came to the 17th of May come! You do not know how much you the balance-sheet for six months appeared are needed. This woman we have this in this form. It was printed, and each week does not know a gridiron ~vheu she man, woman, and chil dhada copy: sees it. She always has fried beefsteak, BACK TO BACK MILLS BALANCE-SHEET. and, unless you come, she always will. Ca. Such is a sample of his entreaties. But Mrs. Rising, his mother, would not hear to any such project. Little did she remeaiber that, long before she was of Ruths age, she had gone out on a wild world to seek her fortune, or, if she did remember it all the more determined was she that Ruth should profit by her mothers experience. So Mas- ter Max was een left to make his own bed, concoct his own fancy roasts when he had them, broil his own steak if his steak was broiled at all, and, in a word, camp out for that winter in the pretty house which, in Dan Pigotts day, had been so comfort- able. But the young fellow had all the joy of eventful living, all the same, through the long winter and short spring, and (lid not suffer from dyspepsia. The factory bells, whose sound he hated as much as any poor spinning girl ever did, or as much as George ever hated the prayer bell at college, start- ed him as it started the spinners and weav- ers. Mrs. Mulligans coffee was poor, but it ~vas hot, and it was ready. The counting- room was lighted up as surely as the rest of the mill was, and Max and Ringgold show- ed from the beginning that they meant to share and share with the men who worked hardest. The times of trains in out-of-the- way places are not made to suit peoples convenience; on the other hand, peoples convenience is made to suit the times of trains. Dark or light, snow or rain, Robert Ringgold was dashing hither, dashing thith By sales of manufactured goods, after de ducting commissions and expenses $108,737 69 Ba. To amount paid for wool and supplies $74,108 73 To amount paid for labor of operatives 9,923 05 To amount paid salaries R. and R 600 00 To amount paid for repairs of mill and machinery 4,563 24 To amount paid for inlerest and expenses 4,300 16 To 234 per cent. interest paid to K. B., there being a profit 506 25 To balance of profit to be di- vided 14,736 23 $108,737 69 CHAPTER IX. MAX and Riuggold were disappointed that the show was imo better. Myrick was agreeably disappointed that it was no worse. Whatever the hands had thought, they all said it was just what they expected. Kauf- mann Baum was, perhaps, the only party in this mixed-up enterprise who was well pleased. Lucky that for once he was well pleased. For now for twelve months Kammfmaun Baunts hard time had come. If there had been a little breaking away of the thick clouds of the panic as the win- ter went by, it was but a false omen, and ev- ery thing blackened deeper than ever as the spring came on. Flannel! it seemed as if 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. men would not take flannel for a gift. Low- er and lo~ver ranged the prices, and yet there were no buyers. People owned to Ringgold that his flannel was good at the price, if there were snch a thing as a price; but who should name a price when the market was flooded with bankrupt stocks, and any body who wanted flannel had only to go to an auction and take all lie wanted for whatever he chose to give? Rising and Ri uggold tried the hazardous experiment of making some fancy flannels, even at the expense of unusual stock and new processes. But this experiment, though the product was really good, failed as a bit of finance. No gay opera cloaks that winter, times were so hardor, at least, none made from Pigotts- yule flannels. Riuggold fancied that his agents in New York and Boston were sick of the sight of him. This was sure, that they ordered nothing. Never by good luck a demand that goods might he duplicated. I would turn off some hands, said My- rick, but that is just what we can not do. Mr. Rising, I shall have to write to your uncle, said Ringgold, that we must renew the notes at the Equitable and the Hand-in- Hand. And I should rather write to him to tell him that I had crushed my hand be- tween these rollers. When he gave imie the notes, I told him I was sure we should take them up, and I was sure. Well, said Max, gruffly, all I can say is that he knew his chances when he came in with us. Did I but purpose to embark with thee Omi the smooth surface of a summer sea, But to forsake the ship and oceans swell Because the market broke and flannels fell? Write with as little apology as may be; or, Robert, if you wish, I will write. No, said Riuggold, ruefully; and he wrote the hated letter, asking for the new indorsemnents. Kaufmann Baum sent theam, with a note that was even kind. But Riuggold was not done with his dif- ficulties. Only the week before the notes were to be renewed, as he was on his way to Providence to arrange for one of them, and to Boston with the other, he opened his Herald in the train, to read of the bankrupt- cyyes, and the bad bankruptcyof Cots- wold, Cotton, and Fleece, whom the Herald chose to call, what they were not, the lar- gest woolen manufacturers incorl)orated as a private firm in America. The Herald even had a leader on the failure, explaining that it had long been expected, that it had been predicted daily in that journal, that the failure of all the woolen manufacturers in the country would probably follow, and, indeed, that the only wonder was, consider- ing how absurd the tariff, that any man or men ever spun a pound of yarn in America. Rioggold remembered sadly that only a week ago, in the same car, he had bought of the same hoy a Herald, which in a leading article had said that the woolen manufac- tmires of America took lead of any in the world; that it was a mere question of time when the mills of England, France, and Germany should yield to American com- petition, so entirely secure was our sys- tem. But his mind turned forward rather than back. He saw on the instant how desperate his errand was. With this chill about the woolen business, he saw in ad- vance how he should be bowed out of the bank parlors when he offered the new notes of the Back to Back Mills. He might as well stop before he started, but that they must have the money, and he must do some- thing. Arid it was just as lie anticipated. Dis- count! They would not touch his notes with a poker. Poor Ringgold caine back to their own county town, to the Farmers Bank, where he had kept and nursed their little ckposits. The cashier was civil, but, very unfortunately, the bank had exceeded its discount line. Riuggold knew this was not true. He knew that in that lull of busi- ness no bank in the country had exceeded its discount line. But no good of telling the man that he lied. Poor Riuggold! He had to take the express train, and face Kaufmanu Baum. Unless some New York bank would discount the new notes, Kauf- mann must protect the old ones. That means, my dear lady readers, lie must pay them. Kaufmann Baum met the exigency like a man. He went with Riuggold to his own bank and introduced him, and made the people there discount one of the notes. For the other, he telegraphed to his own agent in Boston to call and pay it. No; lie would umot let Riuggold apologize. There must be black in life as ~vell as white, lie said. Only you most give me lomiger notice how you staiid. In these tinies we can not niake money by striking sticks on the ground. And this was only the beginning of trou- bles. The firums credit was saved, but it was Kaufmanu Baum who saved it. Flan- nel was piling up, but not a rag could they sell at the profit of the hundredth of a mill on a yard. Week by week the men hind to be paid, and week by week it was Kauf- mann Baum who paid them. Other notes fell in. Sometimes there was a new dis- count, once or twice at horrible rates of usury. Sometimes there was none. Then Kaimfunanmi Baum paid the muomicy. And Kaufruana Baum was not made of nioney. Here is a specimen letter: KAUFMANN BAUM TO MAX RISING. My DEAR MAX,My own business here shows a dead loss on the quarter of more than $17,000, for which I have had to pro- vide by selhimig Western stocks at horrible BACK TO BACK. 37 loss. On 5000 governments which I hold (they are Berthas) I have received $166. All my other stocks have passed the divi- (lend day, and have given me not one cent. For every cent I have sent to you, I have sold at less than fifty dollars stocks for which I gave $123 within t~vo years. As yon know, Back to Back paid me nothing in November. For all this I do not com- l)lain. I only write it to show you why I do no more than I promised. What I prom- ised I will do. This letter came at Christmas. Max put it on the bulletin-board. By the same mail lie received from his aunt this note: DEAR Boy,Do not lose courage. What we can do, we ~vill; for, you know, Kaufmaun and I are one. He asked my consent to put a mortgage on this house that he might help you; and I never gave consent so gladly. I send you a gold cross my mother gave me. Give it at Christmas, with my love, to the woman who has best served in the Back to Back Mills. The story of the cross was soon known through the mills. On New-Years Day one of the sulkiest of the men came into the of- fice and asked Max for one of the engraved labels which were pasted on the outside of the bales. Max gave it to him. But the man did not go away. Mr. Rising, you know the boys say this fatty here is the old man yonder in New York. I know they do, said Max. You tell the old man we know what lies standing for us. Tell him the rotten eggs are in his face to-day; but tell him, when our time conies hell see we know how to stand by him. Max gave his hand to the sulky fellow and thanked him, and went home with some feeling that there was still a chance for a happy New-Year. CHAPTER X. ANY other mill so placed would have shnt off the water and dismissed the hands. But that was just what Back to Back must not (10, and could not do. Of course, if the law of supply and demand were true, the amount of flannel made would be just right, and the linrice would be just right. But it was not true, and on the practical scales, which give ns our breakfasts and dinners, never will be true. The help Were well pleased that they got three-quarters even of the ruling rate of wages, lower and lower though this became. It was better than nothing, and all prices were falling all the time. As Baum had said in his letter, the November accounts showed that the mill had lost mnon- ey. It had plenty of goods. But the more we make, the poorer we are. This every man and woman of them knew. Bulletin No. 63, however, simply said: We are learning to make flannel. Shears and Co. pronounce our No. 1 of last month the best flannel which has gone to market in the last twelve months. Bulletin No.64 said: Hurrah! Telegram from Mr. Ringgohd. Have sold thirty-seven bales at our agreed price. Put on the up- per looms. Omie hundred and tweiity-seven pieces best style No. 2. Thirteen fancy scarlets. As the men read this, running out of the mills at night, they rallied in the yard and gave three cheers for Mr. Riuggold. How many of them remembered those cheers the next May? For with next May had come, with one of those periods of what people call pros- perity, what was a harder test to Ringgold aiid to Max than even the grim twelve months which they had been grinding through. Prices did rally, goods did sell. Every body drew that long breath which implies that all danger is over, and that there never will be amiy danger again. And so there came for Master Robert and Master Max the times when no man speaks well of them. This experience belongs to the days of seeming prosperity quite as much as to those of evident adversity. The half-yearly account caine. Every man had had his three-quarters of his wages, and had bought more with it than so little nioney ever bought before. But when the men learned what had been passed to each mans account as invested capital, there began an nuder-tone of grumbling. Max felt it first, did not hear it much at all. As soon as Riuggold came home Max spoke to him of it, and before the day ~vas gone, Ring- gold felt it too. The men were cross. Some of the very best men in the mill were cross. Before the week was over, Myrick found an imimudent bit of ribald abuse of the firm pinned lip on the bulletimi-board. He then spoke of the disaffection to Max, though, to give hini his due, lie had held his peace be- fore. Nor did he offer any advice now. The sea-lawyers, as we called them he- fore, had come to the front as prosperity began. They had made some figures and some guesses; they had cut out scraps from price-currents, and pieced theni together; and now pretended that if the affairs of the concern had been better managed, there would have been a larger profit. Why had not old Riuggold sold off all the Number Twos in April, when every fool could have sold at a higher price than he got? Why did old Rising keep the mill running on goods 35 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. he could not sell, while their own accounts showed that he could have sold fancy flan- nels any day, and made three times the profit on them which he did l Why this, why that, and why tother? Who has not heard the criticism which the most ignorant whist- player makes of his wiser companions play when he has any body who is fool enough to listen to him h Myrick said that there were two or three of these possible balance-sheets, or balance- sheets which might have been; and, if Mr. Rising wished, he could bring him a copy of one of them. No: Max said he should not look at one of them. The contract hetween him and the men was that they should do their work and he should do his. He would no more tolerate any mans advising him as to the conduct of the business than the captain of a Cunard steamer would tolerate the inter- ference of a deck hand when he was taking the altitude of the sun. He would stick to his last, and he expected the men to stick to theirs. But though Max kept thus a stiff upper lip with Myrick, none the less was he unhappy. He liked to be popular, and he was wretched to find that he had failed so soon. He confessed to George Wilkinson, who came over to see him, that he had probably made a mistake in putting up the bulletins. But we wanted a common feeling, he said esprit die corpsand I was hound to get it if I could. But if I am only giving to these talkee-talkees the right to bully me, why, I will take my bulletin-board down. And show the white feather at the first reverse, said George, laughing. That will never do. So the bulletin-board remained. But Max was much more judicious than he had been so he thoughtia refraining from put- ting up much detail of the business. The men noticed this at once, and ascribed the reticence to cowardice, which was, perhaps, not unfair. So the rasped feeling grew stron- ger and strorm ger. Why should these two young fellows take for themselves as large a share of prof- its as the whole company of hands take l At the bottom this was the text of the growl- ing of the sea-lawyers. Some men of sense were glad to remember that but for the two young fellows there would have been no Back to Back at all, and sometimes in these long yarning matches said as much. Some of them asked who there was of the whole company who could have done Rob- ert Riuggolds work through the starvation spell, or which of them could have per- suaded Kaufmann Baum to take the burden he carried so long on his shoulders. But it was unpopular to ask these questions, and they were asked more and more seldom. The cloud became really oppressive. Max hated to make his daily tour through the work-rooms and see every body look so sour. I had rather, lie said to Riuggold, live in a log-cabin on the prairie sand hoe pota- toes than be the slave of these scowling blackguards. If I could make somebody 1 know go with me, the Back to Back Mills might whistle, and we would be off to-mor- row. Somebody I know was Prudence Wil- kinson, whom Max Rising loved with the eagerness of young life in its prime. And Riuggold knew that Max meant Prudence, and Max knew that Riuggold knew that he meant it. But Riuggold pretended not to know,and said, Ishall not go with you, if you mean me, and you would not start P1- morrow if I would. On the other hand, you would point the finger of scorn at a turn- coat: Did you but purpose to embark with me On the smooth surface of a summer sea, But to forsake the ship, to whine and howl, When the help quarrels and the weavers scowl? I, for one, booked for no such short voyage, said Riuggold. I enlisted for five years. Max looked as rueful as ever, but lie said it was even as Riuggold said, he supposed; and, comae what mighty he would not run away. The next day, as he sat at his writing just as the mill closed for dinner, two eggs, hor- ribly old, broke, one on his bead and the other on the lamp above him. They had been thrown in at the window. Max never stirred. He struck his own bell for the boy who carried his mail, and sent the little fel- low for Mr. Hillman. Hiliman, some one has been throwing eggs in at the window. Find who it is and drum him out of the village with any dis- grace you cau invent for him. It was easy enough to find who the boys weretwo overgrown cubs who were not even members of tIme company, but had been hired for a few weeks because work pressed. Hilhinan collared one himself, hroughthin~ up to the office, and paid him the trifle due since Monday. Did not I lend you that coat, you blackguard ?take it off! The boy did so, amid the grins of the loaf- ers around. No~v would you take a quarter extra, said Hillmau, and give me the privilege of kicking you out of the mill ? TIme boys hand closed unconsciously on the money as it was offered, perhaps because he did not fully understand the proposal. But in an instant Hiliman was as good as his word, and the little pirate found himself literally kicked out of the place whose hos- pitality he had abuse. Now send me Shepard, screamed Hill- man, and I will settle with him. But Shepard never came. BACK TO BACK. 39 Good manners required as a part of my contracts for help. AMOS HILLMAN. This little transaction was the beginning, middle, and end of overt violence. But still Max was not happy, because he saw that his men were soured. He would leave the mill early and late, so that he need not see his owmi workmen off duty. It proved that Mrs. Mulligan was the mother of the boy whom Hihiman kicked out of the office. She turned and left the housekeeping of Mr. Rising in a rage. His domestic affairs looked black- er and blacker, therefore, with such sorry help as he was able to improvise in the crisis. Still Max ~vas proud. He never confessed his failure to any onenot even to his sis- ter Ruth, to whom he wrote most confiden- tially, not to his father, not to his mother; and they never guessed his troubles till he wrote a letter describing a rainbow after the cloud. Late in September,Ringgoldhadbeen away for nearly ten days, worried to death about some important contracts. He was not due by the train till nine in the evening, and Max had told Ellen, the girl-of-all-work for the day, that he should stay at the office till nine. She might make tea for both after Mr. Ringgold came. Riuggold, in fact, stopped at the office. His accounts were encouraging enough, hilt Max was very dull. Riuggold could not cheer him up as they walked to Maxs quar- ters togethmer. Bmit when they came to the Pigott house, it was already lighted. To Maxs surprise, and to Riuggolds still more, it was evident tilat a large staff was in at- tendance. A brilliant fire was on the audi- rons in the parlor, and as Max pushed back imito the dining-room, an elegant petit souper, only too abundant, was already served. Mrs. Bell, the mother of two nice girls in the null, herself as pretty as Hebe, and as young, with a white cap and apron on, was in attendance. Please, Mr. Rising, the wonmen-folk want- ed to make you a little surpriseyou and Mr. Riuggold, if you please. And, please, they has sent me and Mary and Nora to tend the table, if you please. We could not get no partridges, hut theys quails, Sir, and Mrs. Murphy has dulcks in the kitchen, Sir, and some other birds, if you dont relish tIme quails. The truth was that the table was spread with an exuberance which would have an- s~vered for ten guests rather than two. The gentlemen did justice to the improvised feast, and expressed all the amazement that could be expected or desired as the succes- sive courses appeared. When at last Mrs. Bell brought on a very Hiliman put on the bulletin-board that miscellaneous dessert of nuts, raisins, peach- night these words: es, melons, and doughnuts, Max attempted once niore to express their satisfaction. Poor Mrs. Bell then screwed up to make the set speech of the occasion: Please, Sir, the women knows a good deal better nor the men all that you gentle- men has done for us here. These mcii is of no account, niost of them. They did not know what it was to have the mills shut, and the store shut, and the childer hungry, and every thing as dead as a door-nail. But the wonien knows, and theys very thankful to you as started things a-going. And they ~vnnted me to say to you never to mind a word of what them men over there says to you, for the women and the childer will stick to you through thick and thin. So good-night, if you please, Sir. Nora and I will come over and fix up in the morning. CHAPTER XI. WELL, that worry wore l)y. Time darkest day, Live till to-morrow, will have passed away. The next six months balance was the niost l~rilliant the mills had made, the dividends were the largest, amid there was not one cent paid on that hated interest account, which had gobbled 1i~ 50 much good money before. As it happened, also, the success was palpably due to Maxs obstinacy in con- tinuing in the line of manufacture which the sea-lawyers had specially condemned, and this was so clear that the workmen themselves were the first to point it out to. those gentry. John Myrick put an end to all that swagger one night at tile club-room, when he offered to all the three of the worst talkers to take their stock in Back to Back off their hands, and to pay. cash down for it, if only they would leave Pigottsville for twenty years. The laugh turned against them. They had not the least idea of giv- ing up the stock which they were constant- ly traducing. Now, in an American village, when the laugh turns against a man, that is the end. Capital ha~J been put under the harrow, and the middle-men had had to walk through the fire. Before the next autumn was over, the workmen had their turn. The whole system kept the people together much more than is the habit of factory towns. They could not easily sell out; and as they gain- ed more and more faith in the system of three linked in one, they were more and more desirous of standing by the trial till the five years were over. Boys and girls grew up together in the schools, young men and maidens fell in love with each other, neigh-. hors came to rest on neighbors, and the place had a much more united habit than Pigotts- vihle had ever known before. None the lesa 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was all that they did watched from the out- side, and jealously watchednay, angrily watched sometiuies. So it happened that at a regular meeting of the club one Saturday eveuing a letter was read from William Fordyce, who said he was corresponding secretary of some sort of Mutual Protection Society, to say that he and a special committee of this society wonid come over at any time the club found convenient to discnss with them the rate of wages paid at Pigottsville. Though this was all the letter had to say, Mr. Fordyce took the occasion, in six additional pages, to censure the Back to Back hands very bitter- ly because they cut under the established rate of wages, and ruined the market for labor, which was the poor mans only coni- modity. He grew hot as he wrote, and said that they were the worst enemies the work- ing-man had in America, that they were playing into time hands of their tyrants, and a good deal more. John Myrick read the letter aloud, and said, I move the letter be put in the fire. I know William Fordyce. I went through a long strike with him in 55. if there ever was a rat and a turn-coat, hes the man. I move he be told to mind his own business. The fellows all laughed, and this was sub- stantially the order arrived at. But none the less did Mr. Fordyce and the comamittee of five appear the next Saturday night; and with smiles and hand-shaking and good manners all round, introduced themselves into the club meeting. In faet, every body had known that they would come, that they had friends among the workmen who were glad to see and hear them. Fordyce was far too eloquent a speaker not to be well known by repute; aud as he had spoken on the wages question every where else, it seemed almost a disgrace that he should not speak at Pigottsville. So a motion was soon made that he should be asked to address them. Andhe took ofthis (rreat-coat and addressed them. At first he spoke with great caution, and felt his way. But nothing is so dangerous as the tempta- tiomi of public speaking, and before he knew it, Fordyce was on one or two of his regular addresses mixed together, explaining how the system of the proletariat made the rich richer and the poor poorer, and how things were never going to be mended till the pyra- mid was turned over, and labor, which cre- ated all wealth, was at the top, and capital, which was at best only a fiction, was at the bottom. He spoke extremely well; he illus- trated with humor, and even with pathos, what lie had to say. Nine-tenths of it had not the least reference to the condition of things in Back to Back, but it warmed up a great many old prejudices, it confirmed all the hypotheses of the sea-lawyers, and it suggested the existence of untold secret frauds in the copartnership in which these men were working. John Myrick hated Fordyce with time hatred of an old Yorkshire quarrel. He hated his very gift of speech, which had upset John more than once before. To have this old devil turn up in this new place was too much for John, and in all the enthmusiasum and applause in which Fordyce sat down, he rose to reply. He ~vas not in the least prepared to reply; he never spoke well in public; he botched the whole business, be- came heated, confused, and unhappy; and after half an hours bungling, he sat down, leaving things a great deal worse than they were at the beginning. Fordyce and the deputation retired civilly, but the seed was planted, and their work had begun. This was only the beginning of sorro~vs, but the end was not yet. Week by week the club meetings were given over to dep- mitations larger amid larger. The various ummions and mutual societies of every name seemed to have no motive but to break up Back to Back. Inflammatory posters began to appear on trees and stommes, and at last on the bulletin-board. Ridiculous nicknames were attached to Hilinman and Myrick and Ringgold and Rising, and to every body else who was prominent in carrying forward the plan of the corporation. Finally, the Mon- day evening when the wages were paid was called Bloody Monday, and the wages were called blood-money. Every body took them, but every body was told that iii tak- big them lie was starving every body in ev- ery woolen muill iii the world. And when, through the whole of time confederacy in which the mutual protectionists were al- lied, it was determined that every weaver and spinner should strike on an appointed Momiday, the Pigottsville people were threat- cued with the hatred and scorn of all their class, often of their own brothers, sisters, fa- thers, and mothers, if they did not strike as well. On the other hand, if they did strike, every honor conceivable to the editors of the Judgment Day and of the iconoclast would be their due, and they might draw at sight for these laurels. Monday morning was, therefore, an anx- ious day to Myrick, Hihimnan, and the other overseers of rooms. I hope yomm know how hard this is on the hands, Mr. Rising? Kimow it h said Max. I guess I do; I think it is the hardest strain any man ever goes through. A maims foes shall be those of his own household. You may say that, indeed, Mr. Rising. If young Pott yonder comes into this mill this day, his father will not speak to him for years, nor his sisters, nor his brother. He emits hminmself off as if he had turned a Turk and waur, said Hillman, grimly, for I doubt if the old man would care much if Pott took five wives. BACK TO BACK. 41 All the same, the bell rang when six oclock came. Chindrick, the bell boy, meant to stick by the institution. All the same, the lamps were lighted, for it was now the dead of winter. Coggles and Nipps and Throg- morton, the lamp boys, and Jane Leiders and Mary MShane, who trimmed the lamps, meant to stick by the institution. But these were neither spinners nor weavers. The hell rang its first time, and the bell rang its second time, and the hate was hoisted, and themainshaftturned,andtherewasnota man nor woman in the mill. Every workman and every work-woman on the roll was in the street in front of the mill. The women shivered in their shawls the men took comfort in their pipes. But every one waited to see what the rest would do. They waited three, fonr, five minutes. Then, on a water-butt which stood by the (loor to catch the waste water from the roof, climbed that surly dog, usually so speech- less, Michael Gorry, generally known as Tipsy Mikethongh no man there ever knew him to touch liquor. Every body laughed to see Mike there. The boys cried out, A speech! a speech !a speech from Tipsy Mike ! Mike smiled for once, and waved his hand. Every body crowded round the wa- ter-butt, and there was a round of hand up- plause. Gorry waved his hand again in a grotesque imitation, which every one recog- nized, of Mr. Fordyces most elegant gesture. Boys, said he, my speech is this. When the rotten eggs flew fastest in old Fattys face, I swore that we would stand by him when our turn came. And now I s~vear I will. The speech was more profane than here reported, but it avowed a great purpose and a great heroism. And when Tipsy Mike swung himself off the butt upon the stone step and ascended the stairs, the crowd cheered and followed him. A good many houses were smeared with blacking, a good many windows were bro- ken, terrible things were threatened in the Iconoclast an(1 the Day of Judgment, but the strike never made head again. CHAPTER Xli. So forged along the Back to Back Mills, from good to bad, from ba.d to good, as a great steam-ship driven forward by swarthy stokers, cunning engineers, good - natured seumen, drives on by day and by night, with her head kept obstinately to one point by her steersmen, who pretend not to care whether she makes thirty knots a day in the teeth of a gale, or three hundred as she runs before one. Al~vays, under all circum- stances, the help, the middle-men - nay, Kaufmann Baum, the capitalistthought that particular month the most interesting and critical of all in the fortune of the enter- prise. This is the condition of healthy life that the present is always its peculiar golden time. Sometimes old Fatty felt the cab- bages and rotten eggs hitting him in the face; sometimes it was Rising and Ring- gold; sometimes it was Myrick and Hill- man, and Tipsy Mike, the gallant teetotaler, who did not receive the praise of men for his teetotalism. But all the same, the work for which the mills were built and were re- fitted was done and well done. The repu- tation of the mills for thorough work was established, and each party of the three found out more and more that he had the confidence, not to say the regard, of the oth- ers, in proportion as he had a share of extra hard work to do or abuse to stand. Meanwhile every thing in the mills was watched over and guarded from wear and tear, as men and women care for their own and for nothing else. Not so munch as a rope-yarn was launched in the deep. This did not seem to tell much at first, but in the long-run it did tell. It told in the charges for repairs. It told in time supplies of coal and oil. It told even in the pur- chases of dyes and wool and other material. There was of course a friendly spirit, which grew up among hands who by the nature of their contract had to live iii the same place so long, and there was a steadiness not often found, because, for once, they did not think of moving front town to town. They had their lyceum and library. Insur- ance against sickness was provided by the workmens fund, which piled itself up, little by littlefrom the forfeits of deserters. Myricks figures and Maxs showed at the end of five years that the product of the mills was fairly ten per cent. a year more than the mills ever earned under the old system. This was clear profit, excepting what the material cost; and it added one- third of the net value of this product to the final dividend. The saving of materials, in consequence of more assiduity, better econ- omy, more perfect work, amid mutual watch- fulmiess, was full two per cent. on the amount consumed. Here was t~velve per cent. gain- ed. And therefore, year by year, each workman, besides his weekly payment of seventy-five per cent. of his wages, was credited not simply with the reserved quar- ter, but with twelve per cent. more, the pure result of the Back to Back principle. To be sure, every man and every woman had been squeezed by the enforcememit of the rule which paid only three-fourths of the wages in cash. But it was in cash that was one tIming. There was no store pay, and no sort of encouragement for credit. They did not like it that Hihiman and My- 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. rick would not take in so many children as they offered to them. But the children throve the better, and the fathers and moth- ers really made up the difference in the pigs and eggs and chickens and cabbages and potatoes which the boys and girls took care of. At the end of the first year it appeared that the accumulation of profit had been $23,46~ 27. In that horrible second year, when every thing was so blue, things were very different. In the first half year the wages paid had been $3127 11, and there had been a poor ghastly little balance of profit $19 87. In the second half year the wages were only $7364so much did they reduce every thing. But they made more profit with less work, and for the half year this was $14,247 24. The workmens share brought their wages to the full rate of wages elsewhere. All parties saw, however, that the curse of this yeaii~ was the horrible in- terest account of money paid for loans. And now, therefore, all parties looked, not with jealousy, but pleasure, on the gradual piling up of the reserve or working capital, ~vhich, for the after-years, made this interest ac- cOul)t unnecessary. Indeed, there was soon an interest account the other ~Nay, and the Farmers Bank was very obsequious about Rising and Ringgohds deposits now, and, for that matter, about changing a hill for Tip- sy Mike, or opening an account ~vith Amos Hiliman. For the mills had won a reputa- tion in all the neighborhood. In the third year, when the mills were (lriven to the very edge of their capacity, and the market chose to smile every where, the profit was $39,200 84. In the fourth year, of course, all manufacturers were try- ing to do the same thing again, and becauie their own rivals. To speak umore simply, they cut their own throats. The markets were overstocked, and prices fell. But Bfick to Back had no interest to pay, had large sums, indeed, drawing interest, and earned $33,756 22. The fifth year things rallied, and the profit was $34,123 94. TIme sickness fund was $1879 23, besides $763 which had been paid out to the needy sick. Here was $144,810 38 to he divided in equal parts among the three guardsmenCapital, Engine-man, and Laboreror $48,270 13 to each set of partners. The sickness fnnd be- longed to Labor only. For us, said Myrick, as he paid to Gorry a check for his share, we have had to save a quarter of our wages, and we have two- thirds as much more added to it. Mr. Myrick, said Michael Gorry, I am going into old Fattys I)lace. A few of us are talking of buying the mill. In fact, this was what they did. They were too confident by this time of the prin- ciple to want to change the plan of account- keeping. But after they had paid off Kauf mann Baum, ten of them made a company, under the general act, and bought the mill and machinery of him. Baum himself sub- scril)ed for a tenth, Max, Hilhman, Myrick, Gorry, and Mrs. Bell, for herself and daugh- ters, each took a tenth, and the other four shares were broken up among smaller hold- ers. But all parties were so well satisfied that every body went on on the old terms, though some of the overseers were at work in rooms of which they were part owners. Yes, Lily, yes, Hannah, yes, Grace, yes, my impatient Williamalways eager for the love-making and the rest of the storyall the rest turned out well. Before this last dividend Max Rising had hired the Pigott house and broaght home to it Prudeimce Wilkinson to set his housekeeping in order. It proved that Mike Gorry and Nora Bell understood each other better than any body had guessed. I am glad to say Gorry had been converted that winter, and had re- nounced his profanity, which was, indeed, of the outside kind, cushy got rid of. Then a stout, bull-necked Englishman came from Sing Sing, and said that pretty Lucy My- rick, the school-mistress, had promised to marry him, aimd it proved he was not mis- taken. Some people in Texas who were go- ing to establish some flannel mills at San Marcos temnpted Robert Riuggold and his wife to go there and start them on the back to back principle. But with that one gap in their little circle, they closed up tighter than ever, and began on five more years of bearing eachm otimers burdens and helping in each others triahs, back to back. THE END. A MEMORY. THREE scenes comprise the sacred whole Of that deep bliss which in me lies, Dashed with a sweet, divine surprise, And surging from my inmost soul. The first unfolds a fairy place, Alive with music, lights, and flowers, While, through the silver-clashing hours, I hut behold one beaming face Celestial eyes serenely blue, Beneath a brow of bland repose Until my spirit overflows, And softens to their tender hue. The next, a beach and weedy hill, With ships bent seaward evermore Where breeze and surf and chafing shore Are lost in something wilder still. And last, a drive by walls of stone, In starlight, to a wooded track, When, heart to heart pulsating back, Her lamp of life became my own.

42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. rick would not take in so many children as they offered to them. But the children throve the better, and the fathers and moth- ers really made up the difference in the pigs and eggs and chickens and cabbages and potatoes which the boys and girls took care of. At the end of the first year it appeared that the accumulation of profit had been $23,46~ 27. In that horrible second year, when every thing was so blue, things were very different. In the first half year the wages paid had been $3127 11, and there had been a poor ghastly little balance of profit $19 87. In the second half year the wages were only $7364so much did they reduce every thing. But they made more profit with less work, and for the half year this was $14,247 24. The workmens share brought their wages to the full rate of wages elsewhere. All parties saw, however, that the curse of this yeaii~ was the horrible in- terest account of money paid for loans. And now, therefore, all parties looked, not with jealousy, but pleasure, on the gradual piling up of the reserve or working capital, ~vhich, for the after-years, made this interest ac- cOul)t unnecessary. Indeed, there was soon an interest account the other ~Nay, and the Farmers Bank was very obsequious about Rising and Ringgohds deposits now, and, for that matter, about changing a hill for Tip- sy Mike, or opening an account ~vith Amos Hiliman. For the mills had won a reputa- tion in all the neighborhood. In the third year, when the mills were (lriven to the very edge of their capacity, and the market chose to smile every where, the profit was $39,200 84. In the fourth year, of course, all manufacturers were try- ing to do the same thing again, and becauie their own rivals. To speak umore simply, they cut their own throats. The markets were overstocked, and prices fell. But Bfick to Back had no interest to pay, had large sums, indeed, drawing interest, and earned $33,756 22. The fifth year things rallied, and the profit was $34,123 94. TIme sickness fund was $1879 23, besides $763 which had been paid out to the needy sick. Here was $144,810 38 to he divided in equal parts among the three guardsmenCapital, Engine-man, and Laboreror $48,270 13 to each set of partners. The sickness fnnd be- longed to Labor only. For us, said Myrick, as he paid to Gorry a check for his share, we have had to save a quarter of our wages, and we have two- thirds as much more added to it. Mr. Myrick, said Michael Gorry, I am going into old Fattys I)lace. A few of us are talking of buying the mill. In fact, this was what they did. They were too confident by this time of the prin- ciple to want to change the plan of account- keeping. But after they had paid off Kauf mann Baum, ten of them made a company, under the general act, and bought the mill and machinery of him. Baum himself sub- scril)ed for a tenth, Max, Hilhman, Myrick, Gorry, and Mrs. Bell, for herself and daugh- ters, each took a tenth, and the other four shares were broken up among smaller hold- ers. But all parties were so well satisfied that every body went on on the old terms, though some of the overseers were at work in rooms of which they were part owners. Yes, Lily, yes, Hannah, yes, Grace, yes, my impatient Williamalways eager for the love-making and the rest of the storyall the rest turned out well. Before this last dividend Max Rising had hired the Pigott house and broaght home to it Prudeimce Wilkinson to set his housekeeping in order. It proved that Mike Gorry and Nora Bell understood each other better than any body had guessed. I am glad to say Gorry had been converted that winter, and had re- nounced his profanity, which was, indeed, of the outside kind, cushy got rid of. Then a stout, bull-necked Englishman came from Sing Sing, and said that pretty Lucy My- rick, the school-mistress, had promised to marry him, aimd it proved he was not mis- taken. Some people in Texas who were go- ing to establish some flannel mills at San Marcos temnpted Robert Riuggold and his wife to go there and start them on the back to back principle. But with that one gap in their little circle, they closed up tighter than ever, and began on five more years of bearing eachm otimers burdens and helping in each others triahs, back to back. THE END. A MEMORY. THREE scenes comprise the sacred whole Of that deep bliss which in me lies, Dashed with a sweet, divine surprise, And surging from my inmost soul. The first unfolds a fairy place, Alive with music, lights, and flowers, While, through the silver-clashing hours, I hut behold one beaming face Celestial eyes serenely blue, Beneath a brow of bland repose Until my spirit overflows, And softens to their tender hue. The next, a beach and weedy hill, With ships bent seaward evermore Where breeze and surf and chafing shore Are lost in something wilder still. And last, a drive by walls of stone, In starlight, to a wooded track, When, heart to heart pulsating back, Her lamp of life became my own. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 43 THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. They were passing throngh the Strand as they talked, and by a newspaper office, which was all lighted up and bright. Reporters were coming ont of the place, or rushing up to it in cabs; there were lamps bnrning in the editors rooms, and above, where the compositors were at work; the windows ot the building were in a blaze of gas. Look at that, Pen, Warrington said. There she isthe great engineshe never sleeps. She has her amnba~sadors in every qnarter of the world, her conriers upon every road. Her officers march alomig with armies, and her envoys walk into statesmens cabinets. They are ubiquitous. Yonder journal has an agent at this minnte giving bribes at Madrid, and another inspecting the price of potatoes in Covent Garden. Look! here comes the Foreign Express galloping in. They xviii be able to give the news to Downing Street to-morrow; funds will rise or fall, fortunes be made or lost. Lord B will get up, and holding the paper in his hand, and seeing the noble marquis in his place, will make a great speech; andand Mr. Boolan will be called away from his supper at the Back Kitchen, for he is foreign sub-editor, and sees the mail on the news- paper sheet before he goes to his own. And so talking, the friends turned into their chambers, as the dawn was beginning to peep.Pendennis. AFTER a midnight walk down Broadway, er side several of the larger buildings were a few months ago, two gentlemnen cross- itaminous in the upper stories, which seemed ed the breezy interspace of City Hall Park as like rows of lamps hanging in the air. the yellow disk of the illuminated clock in These were the offices of the great morn- UP-TOWN bELTV~RY. the tower marked one. A few outcasts were ing newspapers, which are concentrated asleep on the benches; the foliage swayed, within an eighth of a mile, and the anima- and broke the rays of the lamps into ama ir- tion glowing in them l)rOught Warringtons regular flicker; the high dnrk buildings on apostrophe to the nmind of one of the gen- the Broadway side rose massively, like the tiemen, who repeated it to his companion. embattlements of a fortress, but on the oth- Clustered nmong scores of other publish- iL~

THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 43 THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. They were passing throngh the Strand as they talked, and by a newspaper office, which was all lighted up and bright. Reporters were coming ont of the place, or rushing up to it in cabs; there were lamps bnrning in the editors rooms, and above, where the compositors were at work; the windows ot the building were in a blaze of gas. Look at that, Pen, Warrington said. There she isthe great engineshe never sleeps. She has her amnba~sadors in every qnarter of the world, her conriers upon every road. Her officers march alomig with armies, and her envoys walk into statesmens cabinets. They are ubiquitous. Yonder journal has an agent at this minnte giving bribes at Madrid, and another inspecting the price of potatoes in Covent Garden. Look! here comes the Foreign Express galloping in. They xviii be able to give the news to Downing Street to-morrow; funds will rise or fall, fortunes be made or lost. Lord B will get up, and holding the paper in his hand, and seeing the noble marquis in his place, will make a great speech; andand Mr. Boolan will be called away from his supper at the Back Kitchen, for he is foreign sub-editor, and sees the mail on the news- paper sheet before he goes to his own. And so talking, the friends turned into their chambers, as the dawn was beginning to peep.Pendennis. AFTER a midnight walk down Broadway, er side several of the larger buildings were a few months ago, two gentlemnen cross- itaminous in the upper stories, which seemed ed the breezy interspace of City Hall Park as like rows of lamps hanging in the air. the yellow disk of the illuminated clock in These were the offices of the great morn- UP-TOWN bELTV~RY. the tower marked one. A few outcasts were ing newspapers, which are concentrated asleep on the benches; the foliage swayed, within an eighth of a mile, and the anima- and broke the rays of the lamps into ama ir- tion glowing in them l)rOught Warringtons regular flicker; the high dnrk buildings on apostrophe to the nmind of one of the gen- the Broadway side rose massively, like the tiemen, who repeated it to his companion. embattlements of a fortress, but on the oth- Clustered nmong scores of other publish- iL~ 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing offices, loomed the buildings of the Trib- une, the Herald, the Sun, the World, and the Times, white wreaths of steam rolling lip from their roofs and from the grat- ings over the press-rooms. The press- looms extended beyond the buildings under the side~valk, and the pavement vil)rated with the beat of the ma- chines, which were already tossing off l)arts of the papers, the insides or the outsides, leaving a reserve of space for the news that might arrive afterward. W~here tile heat had penetrated the hard flags, some newsboys had curled themselves in innocence and dirt. Others lay asleep on the steps, where the most important and most hurried (If the larger contributors to journal- ism kindly forbore from disturbing them. Occasionally a telegraph mes- senger dived into the entrance of a bnilding, then an errand-boy from the post-office with a pile of newspapers and letters, and then a reporter from some late meeting up town. As a matter of appearance more than any thing elseas the last form aduiit- ting advertisenients had long since closeda clerk sat in the advertis- ing office, on the ground-floor, and (lrowsed wit lights h the half down. Tile two gentlemen entered one of I lie offices, arid began to ascend that long stairway by which all editorial inoms are attained, clistom and econ- nniy invariably putting editors in a garret, whence they may look down, iiliysically and mentally, on the world they write about. More telegraph boys, compositors, proof-readers, and report- ers passed the visitors on the stairs, who, when they had explained their business to an inky office-boy, were admitted into the sanctum sanctoruia of a celebrated morning Ilaper. A close, low-roofed, smoky room, lighted by innuaierable Argand burners, and filled with little desks, at which sat, stooping, busy nien, puffing cigars or pipes, and scrib- bling with pens or pencils at lightning speedthat was the next scene opened to them. On some of the desks there were piles upon piles of newspapers from points as far apart and as varied as the capitals of Eu- rope and plaintive outposts on the far West- ern plains. A little tin box shot up and down a wooden shaft in the middle of the rooni, into which rolls of manuscript were put by an office-boy, who rushed from desk to desk and gathered the sheets as they came froni the writers hands. From time to time a nervous, sharp-voiced, imperative gentleman, in a very much soiled linen dust- er, called to one or the other of the work- ers, and gave orders which would have been quite unintelligible to a layman, who might have mistaken the establishment for a slaughter-house when he heard a pale-faced JAMES GORi)ON BENNETT: NEW YORK hERALD. 4~K~ IlEhiALi) IIIJILDiNG. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 4;) little gentleman requeste(l to make a par- agraph of the Pope, cut down Anna Dick- inson, double-lead General Grant, put a minion cap bead on Peter Cooper, and boil down the Evangelical Alliance. But making a paragraph of the Pope simply ap- plied to the compression of some news concerning him into that space; the min- ion cap head intended for the venerable philanthro- pist meant the kind of type to be used in the title of a speech or lecture of his; and boiling down and cut- ting down were two tech- nicalities expressing con- densation. The gentleman in the lineii duster was the ni(rlit editor in cliaroc the despot of the hour, and the intermediary between the writers and pri muters, the lat- ter being on the floor above, and the little tin box in the shaft counnunicating with them. By three oclock the last line of copy must be iii the printers hands, and from miuimmiglit until that time a newspaper office in the ed- itorial department is in a state of nervous intensity and activity for which I can imagine no parallel. The smoke from the ci- gars and pipes rolled up to the ceiling, and the pens sped over the pages of manuscript paper. The writers bent to their work with tremendous ear- nestness and concentration; there was not one of them who had written less thai) a column of matter that night, and some were closing two and three column articles, which contained nearly as mnammy words as five pages of Harpers Magazine. They were pale and care-worn. One of them was head- ing and sub-heading cable dispatches from the seat of war, another was writing edito- rial paragraphs on the important telegraph- ic news that came in, another was damning a new play in virulent prose, another was revising a thrilling account of a murder another was transcribing his stenographic notes of a speech on the inflation of the cur- rency, another was puttin~ the finishing touches upon a well-considered article crit- icising a debate in the French Assembly, and another was absorbed in the desariptioui of a yacht race. The little tin box in the shaft bounced up and down more frequently, and the night e(iitor became more nervous and imperative than ever, as the lingers of the big clock on the wall ~vent beyoimd two. The pages ofma.nnscript were sent up one by one, and. long moist proof-sheets came down from the composing- room. Then the cut w. n. nURLBEET: ~EW YORK WORLI). OF in. v, \~~\ THE WOLiLI) AND TIlE EVENING MAIL. 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ting down began, and some of the writers saw articles that had cost them hours of research annihilated by the stroke of a pen, or reduced from col- umns to paragraphs not on account of unimportance, but simply because there is always a superflu- ity of matter, con- trary to the errone- 0115 notion that the cditors great diffi- culty is to fill his sl)aceand in sonic instances even the paragraphs were finally omitted to make room for un- expected news that arrived later. Tel- egrams were still coming in at half past two, but soon after that hour one dispatch brought the words good-night, and that meant the closing. The night editor and his assistant now dis- appeared into the composing-rooms, where they remained to superintend the making- up of the forms, and the men at the desks l)rel)ared to leave, or threw themselves back ill their chairs for a chat and some more smoke. The composing- rooni at night is all a-glitter with lights strung under reflect- ors, which throw the THE TIMES RUILDINO. strong beams dowim on the type-setters, who are actively fin- gering the little me- tallic letters. The paper columns of manuscript are transformed to lead- en ones, and the leaden ones are framed into pages of six, seven, or eight columns each. Then the pages are stereotyped, by which process dupli- cate or trii)licate mi- pressiomis are taken of them, and they are finally put on the press, which finishes the business of making the pa- per. In the neighbor- hood of the newspa- per offices in Printing-house Square and on Park Row there are several queer basement restaurants, where coffee and cakes or other simple refreshments are sold for ten or fif- teen cents. During the day their patron- age comes from newsboys and shoe-blacks, but after dark they are popular with the journalists, who gather around one of the common little tables to eat a modest supper before going to their homes. Liveliness of conversation after such work as the slaves of the lamp have done would scarcely be expected, but the writer has heard many and many a brilliant story in these sympo- sia, and has seemi men with world- wide reputations sharing tIme hot buttered cakes and somewhat suspi- cious coffee. Later they go to their homes, and before they are in their beds their paper is issued. Thousands buy it and read it and grumble at it, and only a few of tIme wore reasona- ble and reflective ever think what a Jlrodigious embodi- imment of thought and action it is, and how dull and much worse the world would be without it. To begin at the / i/ / GEORGE JONES: NEW YORK TIMES. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 47 beginning in the description of a metro- politan newspaper is not an easy thing, for where the beginning is, after the issue of the first number, can not be said with certainty. Before one issue is complete, I)reparations are making for the next, and at the moment the night editor saw the last form put on the press that morning when the two visitors were ia his office, special correspondents were already work- ing in the interests of the paper at London, Paris, Berlin, and St. Petersburg; they were travelling on horseback and on camel-back, in steamers and railway cars, and by many conveyances much less common; they were attached to every exploring expedition, and were listening to debates in the great Par- liament Houses; they were unearthing an- tiquities in ruined cities, and interviewing Prime Ministers; in brief; they were every where, and it can be said of them, as some- thing similar was said of the British flag, that the sun never sets upon them, and that they never sleep. But the local work of the day begins in the City Department, which includes the city editors and reporters, and which exem- l)lifles the thoroughness of the system by which a metropolitan newspaper is made. In the number and ability of the staff, and in the conipleteness of organization, we be- lieve that the journals of no other city coin- pare with those of Ne~v York. In London, Manchester, and other English towns, local news is gathered in a hap-hazard fashion; hut in New York every point to which news may jiossibly come is occupied with fidelity and diligence by experienced men. The city editor is usually a well-paid and 4 able writer, with resources at his command that especially qualify him for his position, and his coadjutors are mostly young men of ambition, who have done wisely and well in beginning their career at the bottom of the ladder. Some years ago, when the writer held the place of second assistant to a noted city ed- itor, his superior was approached by a fashi- ionably dressed and pleasant-faced youth, who prefaced a request for employment with the state- ment that he had recently gradu- ated from Prince- ton, and present- ed several ex- cellent letters of introduction. The editor po- hitelv said that lie would be glad to have hiinm try his hand among the reporters, at which the apl)hi- cant shrugged his shoulders, and replied, with umiconscious im- pudence, that lie expected a chance as spe- cial correspond- ent, editorial writer, or some- thing of that sort. Poor boy! his ambition overleaped itself; J. M. iIUNDY NEW YORE EVENING MALL. GAVin M. STONE: JOURNAL OF cOMMERcE. JOURNAL OF COMMERCE. 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and fell upon the other side. The City Department was full at that time of clever t~raduates, who, besides having distinguish- ed themselves at Harvard, Cornell, Yale, Williams, or Brown, had that natural apti- tiide for journabsin which never so surely manifests itself as in the willingness to sub- ordinate ambition to practicable opportuni- ties. We had with us the poet of the (then) last years class at Yale, who was doing all sorts of literary drudgery, and ~vho had since advanced to an enviable position in his pro- fession ; and the staff included any number of other really able descriptive writers and news-gatherers, who never for a moment considered a reporters place beneath theni. The 01(1 Bohemian element that once sul- I ied metropolitan reporters has been almost entirely cast out. Some of the beery, illit- erate, vulgar representatives remain, but the characteristic attache of the city staff is a l)olite, shrewd, and intelligent gentleman. The outcry against the interviewer is oc- casionally justifiable, l)ut the phase of jour- nalism which he represents is a concession to 1iublie appetite and demand that is not always voluntary on the part of the jour- nalist. The politician or financier who is followed froum club to club or aroused in his house at midnight by a pertinacious reporter is not to be blamed for considering the re ln)rter a nuisance; but, ten to oiie, the latter is more mortified by the indignity of his mission than time former is troubled by the intrusion. The desire of an influential news- paper to obtain ones opinion on any subject is a compliment to which fe~v men are in- sensitive, and it often happens that tIme per- soil interviewed is miiore disposed to talk than the interviewer is to inquire. The poise of the mans head ~vill be prouder as lie reads the paper on the next day, and he will unblushingly complain before his fam- ily of the interviewers impertinence! The expense incurred by a prosperous newspaper in gathering local news is heavy. The city editor is paid from fifty to one hun- dred dollars a week, and his assistants are paid from thirty to forty dollars; the re- porters receive from twenty-five to thirty- five dollars a week, and as many as thirty are employed on salary by one paper, in ad- dition to a large number of others who are paid by space, that is, according to the (Juantity of work they do. The price paid to outsiders, or specials, as the unsalaried men are called, is about eight dollars per columna column containing between six- teen hundred and two thousand wordsand a writer who combines ingenuity and good descriptive powers with experiemice amid in- dustrious habits can earim imiore by special work than the best salary. The city editor arrives at the office about ten in the morning, and his staff is waiting for him, excepting those members who were assigned to duty on the night previous, and who are already at their posts. His own and all tIme other morning papers are on his desk, and from them he derives many sug- gestions for the days work. A line in an obscure paragraph of one contemporary may give him time idea of a long article; an an- miouncemneut in ammothier may remind hilmim of something flint would have otherwise es- cal)ed his attention; and a beat in a third -in. e., sonic news which his own paper does not coutainmay remind him of tIme ardu- WiIITELAW mmmii: NEW YORK TRIIiUNE. WILLIAM CULLEN IimIYKNT: EVENINO LOST. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 49 He knows every man in office and out of office, his hours and his haunts. A letter of introduction from him would secure ad- mnittance to the murderer in his cell, the prominent divine, the railway magnate, or the popular lecturer. He kno~vs not only the streets and numbers of the residences of men who may have facts to give on any topic, but has directions to their clubs, churches, billiard-rooms, saloons, and places of business at his tongues end. He is a walking directory, with much information never before introduced. After an hours hard work with scissors, paste pot, and a scrap-book containing all ousness of his position. His knowledge of riety of assignmeiits proves how wide a city affairs and people is almost limitless, scope a reporters experience may have, and Should any one ask huin the way to the ob- ho~v constantly he drifts from grave to scurest alley, he could tell it in an instant, gay, from lively to severestanding by a death-bed at one hour, and the next sitar- ing the festivities of a dinner at Delmoni- cos, or watching a horse or yacht race. In making the assignments the special abilities of the men are remembered. Jones, Merlin, and Taber are stenographers, and are sent to assemblies which require long reports. The proportion of stenographers in the staff is small, however, as verbatim work is not ofteu required. Mr. Cleveland has had a large experience in financial circles; Mr. Allen is an irresistible interviewer, and time umust added to his assignment means that General Butler is to be interviewed whether he likes it or not ; Aldrich, who is notices received at the office of events to occur on this day, he assigns his staff to (luty, and many who were not relieved until 1 or 2 oclock AM. are again at work before 11 A .M., such being the hardness of a report- er s life. The assignment 1)00k is brought out, and entries are made in this manner, the names on the right representing those of the reporters: Oyer and Termiaer Court Joaes. Wall Street Cleveland. Interview General Butler (must) Allen. Council of Political Reform Merlin. Yacht Regatta imambers. Special on Liquor Frauds Giliham. Fitueral at Christ Church Smith. Special on Election (see smete) Sullivan. Auction at Leavitts OBrien. Autumn Weather (a neat ) Aldrich. Dinner at Delmoalcos (he/f celuma). . . Taber. When the book is fully made out, the va ordered to write a neat paragraph on an- ttamma weather, excels in description ; Sulli- van is thoroughly posted itt politics; and Chambers is famous as a yachtsman. Spe- cial articles are those imi the preparation of which special sources of infortnation are used, or those describing matters that arc imot of mere transient interest, stich as mar- kets, ferries, or street cars. The most trtast- worthy and capable men are employed in this service. See note means that a let-. ter has been written containing full instruc- tions, which ~vill be foumid in the reporterZs. box; but with the ordinary assigmuments no other orders are given than the brief line in time book, and time man must decide time length and the treatmmment of the article for lmimself One who fails to accurately gauge time value of his assigunnemut, who overesti- mates or underestimates it, emun not expect Voa. LVI.No. 3314 nimramatrTmNtm PAPEasEAaLY MOttNtNG. 50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. advancement; in fact, the successful report- er must not only have a quick apprehension for what is news, hut he must also he able to find subjects for treatment without any suggestions or assistance of any kind from the editors. The perfection of discipline maintained in the City Department would greatly sur- prise the people who imagine that a great newspaper puts itself together, and that the editors most onerous duty is the filling of space. The precision with which nearly ev- ery thing is done would be creditable to the cadets at West Point. Each man as he re- ceives his assignment draws a line nuder his name to indicate the fact; failures to obtain news which other papers contain is punished by suspension from duty or dis- missal; faulty English or delay in supplying copy elicits a savage repriman(l from the city editor, an(l unless a man is heroically attentive to duty the various penalties will break him. While the assistant city editor is required to keep track of all details, the city editor himself is wide-awake on all points. But his remarkable ability is best seen when oc- casion arises for a spread. Thirty or for- ty mcii are then dispatched to various points, selected with an immediate perception of their value and strength. The affair is as momentous as a battle, and woe l)etide the man who is found wanting! An ocean pas- senger steaumer is wrecked on the Jersey coast, and the earliest intelligence reaches the city at about noonwe imagine this for the sake of the example. The first thing to be done is to get several men to the scene of the disaster, and if no regular line of trav- el is open, special conveyances are chartered regardless of cost. Time passengers saved, the captain, time pilot, the men of the life- savilig station from which the wreck was discovered, time agent of the steamer, the of- ficers of other vessels in port, and every one who can throw soume light on the disaster must he seen and interviewed. Most of these people are so fraught with their own tromi- bles that they will not readily yield answers to the reporters interrogations, and the lat- ter only succeed in extorting statements from them by a degree of quiet persistence that would be deemed highly creditable in any other cause. We have imagined that a brief telegram announces the wreck in the city about noon. Two hours later the scribes are on the spot, having reached it by a private steamer or a special train. The day is raw, misty, and miserable, and the great vessel looms through the ghostly atmospherea blot of darknesswith the surf beating over her and breaking on the low, sandy beach. There is plenty of activity and excitement; the life-saving station and the neighboring cottages of fishermen are filled with women passengers, who have been brought through the surf; the hfe-saving car is passhmg from the vessel to the shore with living freight, and the reporters elicit what information they can as they assist the surfmeu and wreckers in the work of succor. Rain, mist, and spray are of no consequence to the news- gatherers; the day may be bitterly cold and wet, and they may have come from the city in light and insufficient clothing; their fin- gers may be almost frozen; hut the note- book and pencil are in constant use, and the moisture drops over their writing in troublesome pools as they beseech and be- siege the surfmen in dripping tarpaulins, who have landed from the wreck. Then cOMMERcIAL AnvERTISFIi. nuen IIASTiNCS: NEW YORK COMMERCIAL AnVERTiSER. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 51 the hour comes when, having drained every source of information, they must make for the nearest telegraph office, which is prob- ably at Long Branch, and a race takes place among the representatives of different pa- pers for precedence ia the use of the wire. The competition involves strategy, but they all reach the office within a few minutes of each other, and settle down to the writing up of their accounts, handing the operator page by page as it is coml)leted. An essential quality in all journalists, and especially in correspondents or rel)ort- ers, is facility of perception, decision, and expression, and if they are with- out it in the beginning of their ca- reers, the recurrence of the necessity for it develops it. A critic may find many grammatical lapses and mdc- ga ncies of language in the printed (lescriptions of those tired-out men who are scribbling, with empty stom- achs, in all sorts of uncomfortable positions, to the nervous tick-ticking of the busy Morse instrument which is putting electricity into their words under the dark waters of the New York Bay. It is a very easy thing to find fault with them, and it may be very true that their style is artificial awl their diction either impoverished or redundant; but it is outrageously unfair to take no account of the pressure under which they work out their fluent productions, to say noth- ing further of the unfavorableness of their condition to literary composi- tion. Their note-books have been re- duced to a pulp in the rain and spray, amid the pencil marks are all blurred; the notes themselves are disconnect- ed and meagre, having been gathered hurriedly from hurried people; but out of the chaos, without having time for revision, the Froissart of his day, us some one calls the reporter, weaves a continuous, lucid, graphic narrative of the wreck, and not of the wreck alone, but also of the voyage preceding it, incorporating a full abstract of the log, and conversations with the captain, pilot, offi- cers, crew, and passengers, and furbishing the mosaic of detail with a strong pictur- esqueness of epithet that would not be un- worthy of a much greater literary artist. Each man has written bet~veea two and three columns before midnight, and lest the intellectual reader fails to understand how great an achievement this is, we advise him to test the matter by putting himself under a coh(l shower-bath, and then trying to com- pose, in Isis wet clothes, an acceptable three- page article for this Magazine within four hours. The telegraphic dispatches are supple- mented by a mass of other facts which have been gathered in time city, such as a history and description of the steamer, the value of her cargo, the amount of the imisurance; and when the paper appears in the morn- ing the account of the disaster covers near- ly a whole page, and is a marvel of com- pleteness. In reporting large meetings the number of stenographers on the staff is increased. Let us suppose, for example, that a political demonstration is to be made at the Cooper Union, and that the Tribuac is arranging to report it. Many of tIme speeches are to be published in full, and altogether the pro- ceedings will fill from twenty-five to thirty columns of the miext days paper. Four or five members of the permanent staff can report rerbatim, amid all the rest can make good synopses, which in most instances are sufficient. Some of the principal speakers have written their orations, aimd greatly help the city editors by lending their manu- scripts in advance, which are put into type, but others have made no preparation, and the usual corps of short-hand men is aug- mented by recruits drafted for the occasion from the law-reporting firms of the city. In reality five or six meetings are to be held, 11 EVENING POST BUILnINe. 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. one in the hail and the others outside, an(l the city editor-in-chief divides his staff into five or six squads, which are each assigned to a l)articillar stand, under the direction of one of their own nnuiber. The men are next assigned to a take, that is to say, each man takes notes for fifteen minutes more or less, in turn, and then rushes to the office, where he writes his matter up. Thus the first take has been edited and put into type hours before the man assigned to the last take has left the hail. This brings me to the night editors of the City Department, by whom all the matter of the reporters is read and revised. They are two in nuniher, and their J)ositions are of great responsibility. Beginning duty at five or six oclock in the afternoon, they are occupied until two in the morning improv- ing bad English, condensing diffuse articles, toning down broad or libelous statements, and preventing all waste of space. The City Department includes several smaller departments, to which regular men are permanently assigned. The police de- partment is one, and an able reporter is constantly stationed at head-quarters to gather the news that arvives there of crimes, tires, and other disasters. The mayors of- fice, the coroners offices, the surrogates office, the courts, the head-quarters of the Fire Department, and every point at which an item may be gleaned, are also occupied, and a small vessel cruises about the harbor night and day in search of the in-coming ships and steaniers which bring foreign pa- pers and letters. Should we follow the reporters from the time they leave the office in the morning until they are relieved at night; we would he led to stranger scenes than the Jersey coast, and among stranger people than the surfmen at the wreck. One man becomes a detective in the unravelment of some mu- nicipal fraud, and is closeted at one hour with a justice of the Supreme Court, the next hour with a notorious gambler in his saloon, the next with a l)rominent politician in the sumptuous parlor of a fashionable cliii), and the next with a poverty- stricken ex-office- holder in a garret. Every grade of so- ciety and every neighborhood are visited by him in his investigations. No rebuff discour- ages him, no accu- mulation of dis- appointments ex- hausts his pa- tience, and noth- ing satisfies him except the infor- mation necessary to the complete- ness of his article. Another would be found with a squad of health-officers and policemen inspecting the sub-cellar tenements of a poor neighborhood, or raiding the infamous re- sorts in Greene or Mercer Street~ another passes the day at a religions conference, an- other at a horse-race, another in the ante- room of a sick millionaires chamber, another amid the strife of XVahl Street, and another at a niecting of coopers, or boiler-makers, or physicians, or actors, or seamen. The scenes change without intermissions. Now the music is slow, now it is lively; now mir- rors and crystal pendants to the candelabra multiply the lights, and then the darkness is made darker by the pale and sickly flick- er of a taper. All the woe and gayety, the penury and the splendor, the crying want and the spendthrift luxury, of the great metropolis are known to the reporter as no other man knows them. That facile pencil ot his punctures every vein of life, and no place is too inconvenient for its use. In the street car as he rides down town to his office, in the d~p6t while he waits for a train, or in the train amid the (listracting noise of the locomotive, lie plies it with su- perlative energy and industry. liElORTER IN TOIl BACCACE-CAiI. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 53 Sonie time ago an attaek6 of a morning paper was sent by an afternoon train to Norwalk, Connecticut, for the purpose of investigating a hunted Ring thiefs trans- fer of property. He reached South Nor- walk after four oclock, and then rode to Norwalk in a slow street car. The only train by which he could return to the city was the Boston express, due shortly after nine and in the four hours intervening he had to interview several people and make long abstracts from the connty clerks rec- ords. He had not begun to write out his material when the train started but sit- ting on one trunk in the baggage-car, ~vith another trunk for a desk, lie wrote an arti- cle a column and a half long during the two hours journey to the cityan arthile of the greatest importance, which needed no correction of the editors tlion~h the baggage-men had been playing an uproari- ous game of euchre, and the locomotive had been whistling furiously at every one of the numerous crossings, during its composition. Such activity as this is common among re- porters, who develop above all other things, as I have said, the indispensable ability to work un(ler pressure. By one of those broad generalizations with which the world is apt to content it- self, many people, iii thinking of a great newspaper, l)laee at its head a miscellane- ous sort of person who does every thiiig in connection with it, writing every thing, reading every thing, and listening to every body. When they can fix upon his name, they address all communications to him per- sonally, and the writer has seen envelopes at the Tribune office containing notices of births. marriages, deaths, and other such triflestrifles as matters of newscareful- ly and secretly inscrihed to Mr. Greeley. But the metropolitan newspaper is a ma- chine with too many ramifications for the coiitrol of one man, and the vast mass of details involved in its production is clas- sified and distributed among the several members of a large staff of sub-editors, the editor-in-chief holding his subordinates re- sponsi ble. The one who resembles the fanciful crea- tion of the public mind most is the day ed- itor in charge. He receives and opens the mail, distributing the various matters which it brings among the several departments, putting foreign correspondence in the hands of a foreign editor, news relating to art in the hands of the art editor, local news in the hands of the city editor, political news in the hands of the political editor, scientific news in the hands of a scientific editor, and agricultural news in the hands of an agri- cultural editor. Each of these editors has a sp& ial branch of the paper to look after; and in addition to them there is a dramatic editor, who attends exclusively to theatric- al matters; a financial editor, who reviews the money market; an exchange editor, ~vhose duty it is to read the hundreds of papers seiit in from outside towns; and a literary editor, who is devoted to book re- viewing and literary news. Master of all is the editor-in-chief who directs the policy of the paper, writes occasional leadiiig ar- TUE SUN UcIlDiNO. CiiARLE5 A. DANA: NEW YORK SUN. 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tides on momentous questiAns and super- vises the whole intellectual establishment. The office hours of the editor-in-chief are light, but his position is the hardest on the staff, for the responsibility of all the utter- ances of tbe paper falls upon him, and the care follows him from the office to his club, and from his club to his bedroom. He is never off duty. A private telegraph wire connects the office with his house, and ques- tions and answers are flashing over it at all hours. If he seeks repose at his club, he has scarcely lighted his cigar and curled himself lip in an easy-chair when a print- ers devil appears before him with proofs; if he goes to the opera, he is summoned from his box in the middle of the performance by a messenger with a note from the man- aging editor; he is called from the ball- room and the most fascinating of partners into an anteroom, where another devil is in waiting with more proofs; and when he draws the curtains around his bed and is falling asleep, the little telegraph instru- ment on his study table awakens him by its sharp tinklings, which impatiently de- mand advice from him in regard to the treatment of some momentous news which has come in since he left the officeit may be the resignation of a ministry, a declara- tion of war, a speech by President Hayes, the death of a king, or a Russian victory on the Danube. ernoon be again reaches the office, where a crowd of callers are anxiously waiting for an audience with him among them being office-seeking politicians who want recom- mendationswhich they will not get; phi- lanthropists who want to enlist the influence of the paper in some scheme of Utopian form; authors who want puffs; unemployed journalists who want positions; and many others who want to make suggestions in re- gard to the policy of the lualuer, time general burden of all their business being in some want. The editor closets himself imume- diately after running the gauntlet of these importunates, and opens his private mail, indorsing some letters, which are handed to his private secretary, and destroying many others. An usher then serves the cards of the callers upon him, some of whom are re- ferred to the sub-editors, or to the managing editor, who stands in relation to the editor- in-chief as the captain of a flag-ship stands to an admiral, the executive officer beiu~ the day editor in charge; others are dismissed; ~mnd a fewa very feware adamitted. It is almost as easy to slide up hill as to obtain an audience with the chief editor of a metro- politan newsl)al)er, whose sanctum is hedged in by a divinity which is not apparent in the proportions or the furniture of the modest apartment. Ia personal interviews or in letters dic- tated to his secretary he communicates with Bet~veen two and three oclock in the aft- all his princil)al assistants, giving them top- WAIrINe FOR AN AUnIENcE wirn THE EDITOR. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 55 ics for articles, and hints as to the tone but with the development of the telegraph which the articles are to have, or correcting it expanded, and it was reorganized in its errors in their work of the previous day. present form twenty-six years ago by the His correspondence is voluminous, and oc- proprietors of the Journal of Commerce, time cupies him, with the secretary, who writes Courier and Enquirer, the Express, the Trib- in short-hand, until six or seven oclock, une, the Sun, and the Herald. The Courier when he disappears, to re-appear later in the and Enquirer being merged into the World, evening. He is courted every where. Cab- the latter paper secured the franchisu of met officers, leaders in the world of art, lit- the former, and the Times was admitted to erature, and sciencejudges, and millionaires the partnership in 1851. The association is all are desirous of standing well with him, conmposed of the several papers, not of the and do not stint their efforts to win his favor, individuals who own or control them, and When the time comes for going to press, so the proprietorship or policy of a paper the night editor has sixty or seventy col- may change without affecting the position umus of matter in type, and the capacity of that paper in the partnership. of the paper is about forty-eight columns. It collects news primarily for its own sev- All the news and the articles are desirable, en memhers, taking for the use of all a com- but something must be omitted, and the mon dispatch, narrating Congressional pro- chief at his house is called upon by his tele- ceedings or any event of general interest, graphicinstrumeuttodecide. Then,perhaps, and reducing the cost to each by dividing some accident happens to one of the forms between all the expenses of reporting and as it is being stereotyped, or a second edi- telegraphing. But its scope was enlarged tion becomes necessary, to admit some news soon after its organization, and it now sells that arrives after three oclock, and he is news at stipulated rates to over five hundred again aroused. It is sunrise before the lit- other papers published in every part of the tie instrument is quiet, and the paper __ ________ ____ ___________ is issued before its chief is thoroughly asleep. Large as the salaried staff of editorial writers is, contributions are often pur- chased from outsiders for the editorial ~age and the news columns, and the authors, whose naumes (10 not often ap- pear, are frequently eminent specialists in literature, science, and art. A con- trast thrusts itself upon us here be- t~veen the editorial panes, so called, of the New York and London papers. Those of the latter are absorbed in immost instances by political subjects or abstruse matters of social science; but the reader of our metropolitan journals finds on the editorial pages, in addition to the political leaders, agreeable essays on nearly every variety of topic. Besides having its own staff of re- porters and correspondents, the metro- politan newspaper also shares the fa- cilities of the Associated Press, which, both in its history and its methods, is exceedingly interesting. I write of it e catbedrd, as my facts were supplied by the general superintendent, Mr. J. XV. Simonton. Exactly what the association is, very few understand. Some suppose that it is a newspaper, and it receives requests from country journals to exchange; others mistake it for an advertising agency; and even among some news- paper men many curious misconcep- tions of its objects prevail. It was started, long before the telegraph was a practical success, by four New York papers, and its sole aim was co-opera- tion in the collection of marine news; Lc VIE TRIBUNE BUIL1,INC. 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. continent. Its agents are scat.tere(1 over the whole world. Its Londoii offices are never close(1, an(l the news arriving there is for- warded under nearly three thousand miles of ocean at all hours as rapidly as it is re- ceived. Confining itself to no arbitrary limit, its daily cable tolls are seldom less than three hundred dollars, and sometimes they are four times that amount. North and Central America are covered by its own arents. and by arrangements with the great news agencies abroad, including Renters, it receives the news collections of time latter from every part of Europe, Asia, Africa~, and South America. Iii well-populated regions of the United States sub-associations are formed, which give the local papers fuller details of local affairs than more distant pa- pers woul(l require; and in sparsely settled districts, where news items are not frequent enou~h to warrant the appointment of reg- ular agents, tIme telegraph operators are au- thorized to employ men of ability iii the interest of the associatiou whenever any calamity, disturbance, or excitement occurs. As the dispatches reach the general agen- cy they are handed to the manager of the mnanifoldi ng - room, nuder whose directioii copies are multiplied for distribution, the muanifolding process enabling one writer to make from twelve to twenty-six copies at a tune, by means of a very tough oiled tissue- l)aper alternated with carbonized paper, and aim agate or carnelian point substituted for a peum or pencil. ASSOcIATED PRESS ROOMS. When a page of manifold is written, the office assistants separate all(l envelop the copies, which are sent to the city newspa- pers by messengers. Other copies are hand- ed to agemuts representing sections of the papers in the North, South, East, an(1 West, who edit them, each agent eliminating what- ever will not interest his particular constit- uency, and addimig am my thing of value that he can obtain from other sources. The distribution is effected 1)y tel- egraphic delivery at many different points along a con tinuious line of wire at the same instant of tiume. The svs- tern involves coin- bimmation reports, which are forward- ed to all who share them at or within certain fixed hours, arranged by con- tract with the tel- egra~)l1 company. Though the reports to Bostoim are sent direct at all hours, the same report is repeate(l to all 0th er places in New England on a coin- bined circuit; that is to say, New York is put into tele- graphic connection by a single wire si OSWAT1) oTTENI)ORFER: STAATS-ZRLTUN(j. THE METROPOLITAN NEWSPAPER. 57 multaneously with New Haven, Hartford, Springfield, Worcester, and other points East where there are papers entitled to the news. In each town or village an operator takes position a.t his instrument when re- port hour is called, and is ready to write the report in manifold as it comes over the wire. Another operator writes the mes- sage by the transmittiiig instrument in New York, and that one writing sends it to all points on the circuit. The receivers are highly skilled in the bnsiness, aad read by Sound without the aid of the recorded Morse characters. The telegrams to the Westera press are sent in the same manner, being delivered simultaneously at Pittsburgh, Wheeling, Cleveland, Cincinnati, Chicago, St. Lou is, and other principal points. At Cincinnati Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis, Milwaukee, and Meniphis coIi(lensed abstracts, known us pony reports, are made an(l forwarded to smaller towns, whose papers can not afford the cost of the longer dispatch. Pliiladel- phia, Washington, and Baltiniore are also served in combination, and reports to all points south of the Potomac are made up by an a~ent placed at Washington for that purpose. Washington receives a full resurn6 of the general news of the world, for~varded froni New York, and also dispatches from New Orleans, Mobile, Charleston, Richmond, and other points. Each of these Sonthern cities is interested in the news of the others, and to supply them with it a summary of all that has been received at Washington is in- cluded in the combination report, which, be- ing delivered at all points, gives back to each city some of its own news. This drawback is inseparable from a combination systeum, and though it involves some waste of tele- graphed words, the saving to the papers is very large. The Canadians take the Associated Press news from Bnffalo to Toronto, whence it is distributed thronghout the Dominion. The Pacific coast is served partly from Chicago and partly from New York, the agent of the California press in Chicago being furnished with drop copies of what is sent from New York, so that he may avoid duplica- tion. Other drop copies of the reports going to California are also taken off the wire at Salt Lake City, Denver, and Chey- enne for the use of local papers. The charges to outside papers are adjnst (iETTING I~EWS FROM STEAMER IN NEW YORK BAY. 55 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ed on a liberal basis. Thus, while a poor from the expenditures invariably shows a country paper may receive the same com- large deficit, which, divided by seven, gives bination report that a strong and influen- the amount or shaie to be paid by each of tial paper in a great city receives, it is not the seven New York papers forming the charged more than ten per cent. of the association. amount assessed upon the latterassessed The American Press Association is an or- not arbitrarily, but with the consent of all. ganization simi- The aim of the association is, first, to get lar to the Associ- news, and second, to get in return the high- ated Press, and est amount the paper using it can afford to S supplies ne~vs to pay; but equal use of the news by papers a large number couL~)eting with each other in one place in- of papers, includ- volves equal charges to aPl of the compet- / big the New York itors. Some of the poorer papers in the 1 Ecening Mail; but South receive the combination report of the it is not as cx- whole worlds newsall charges paidfor tensive in its re- fifteen dollars a week, while the charges for sources or its bits- the same matter to a metropolitan paper / mess as the older often amount to concern, the suc- over live hundred I cess of which is dollars a ~veek, owing principal- and occasionally ly to the remark- fifteen hundred able execntive dollars a week. ability of its su- The Western, Ne~v perintendent, Mr. England, audNew Simonton. York State asso- We know from ciations pay the experience what parent institu- drudgery and cx- tion fixed sums haustinglaborbe- per month for the fall the man who use of news dcliv- is bound down to ered to their re- the desk of a met- porters at desks ropohitan news- in the New York paperthe exact- office, and make ing discipline, the their o~vn con- unreaiitted appli- tracts with the cation, and the telegraph compa- unsatisfactory re- nies. All others - sults,which break have direct ac- the hearts and counts with the rack the brains New York office THE EXPRiSS BULLETIN. of many prontis- or itslocal agents. lug writers. Bitt At the end of each week tlte cashier makes a beyond the compensation, which exists for statement of all disbursements and rectipts all wlto are ambitious, in sharing the anony- of that week. The (leduction of the teceupts muons power of the pressa power which all IN TilE PRESS-ROOM. MONMOUTH. 59 people appreciate, consciously or uncon- sciously, despite their disavowmentis the exhilaration of the professioii, the sharp competition, the swift action, and the inner view of men and manners which the jour- nalist obtains. It is this exhilaration that keeps and sustains many who would other- wise endeavor to escape a business which is both arduous and underpaid. To-morrow morning the reader will find his paper on the breakfast tableprice two, three, or four centsand, unless our article has impressed him, lie will read it and cast it aside without thinking of its suggestive- ness as an epitome of civilization, or of the enornions mental and mechanical labor it has cost. But cavil as he may, that moist sheet, fresh from the marvelous machines of Hoe, Walter, or I3ullockserved at the door by the same urchins that the two visitors sa~v asleep over the warm gratings of the press- roomsis the very essence of our times, embodying the highest results of discovery in all times. MONMOUTH. REAcH a hand out to Monmouth, and not pass him by With a stare of contempt and a pitiless eye. He is poor, he is sa(1, and a drunkard, I fear Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear Ab, God! what a ravage of sin and decay! What a wreck of the youth once so genial and gay! So witty at college, so full of brave cheer Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! How proudly we marshaled ourselves in his name When the country demanded his rifts for her fame! How his voice iii tho Senate rang lofty and clear Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! A vassal to Pleasure, of Error the slave, Oermastered by passions that drag to the grave, We have watched him sink deeper and faster each year Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! Too late to restore him tis never too late To strive for a soul driftin,, down to its fate. His heart is not dead: bring him back from the rear Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! Let us rally around him, and never despise A brother in ruins, but help him to rise. If we win, what a rapture will be our rewar(l For Monmouth again of himself will be lord. NEwSBOYs wALTIN(5 FOR TilE PAPER.

MONMOUTH. 59 people appreciate, consciously or uncon- sciously, despite their disavowmentis the exhilaration of the professioii, the sharp competition, the swift action, and the inner view of men and manners which the jour- nalist obtains. It is this exhilaration that keeps and sustains many who would other- wise endeavor to escape a business which is both arduous and underpaid. To-morrow morning the reader will find his paper on the breakfast tableprice two, three, or four centsand, unless our article has impressed him, lie will read it and cast it aside without thinking of its suggestive- ness as an epitome of civilization, or of the enornions mental and mechanical labor it has cost. But cavil as he may, that moist sheet, fresh from the marvelous machines of Hoe, Walter, or I3ullockserved at the door by the same urchins that the two visitors sa~v asleep over the warm gratings of the press- roomsis the very essence of our times, embodying the highest results of discovery in all times. MONMOUTH. REAcH a hand out to Monmouth, and not pass him by With a stare of contempt and a pitiless eye. He is poor, he is sa(1, and a drunkard, I fear Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear Ab, God! what a ravage of sin and decay! What a wreck of the youth once so genial and gay! So witty at college, so full of brave cheer Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! How proudly we marshaled ourselves in his name When the country demanded his rifts for her fame! How his voice iii tho Senate rang lofty and clear Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! A vassal to Pleasure, of Error the slave, Oermastered by passions that drag to the grave, We have watched him sink deeper and faster each year Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! Too late to restore him tis never too late To strive for a soul driftin,, down to its fate. His heart is not dead: bring him back from the rear Reach a hand out to Monmouth, give Monmouth a tear! Let us rally around him, and never despise A brother in ruins, but help him to rise. If we win, what a rapture will be our rewar(l For Monmouth again of himself will be lord. NEwSBOYs wALTIN(5 FOR TilE PAPER. 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MASTER ROBBYS ROMANCE. I SUPPOSE other people would think they could tell this story better than I can. Theres Ethel, now; bnt she conldnt make any kind of a hand at it, becanse, you see, she was in it all along, and what conid she know of how it looked to other people? Nellys a baby, bnt she was all mixed up in it too. As for the rest, they didnt know any thing about it till it was all over, so what could you expect of them? Besides, if grown people write stories for children, I dout see why children shonldnt write sto- ries for grown people too, once iu a while. Who am I? Well, Im Master Robby Law- rence, tea years old on my last birthday, and standing fonr feet one in my stocking feet. Ethel shes niy big sister, and Nelly is my little onea nice little thing enough, bnt only a girl, after all, and always mak- ing blunders. Boys dout. But thea every- body knows that boys are born with more brains than girls ever get in all their lives. You see, there was just us three, and we hadnt any mothernever had had any as long as Nelly or I could remember. XVe had a father, to be sure; but whats the good of a father when lies off down town all day, and only conies buck in time to kiss you good-night and ask whether youve been a goo(l boy fore you go to bed? Ethel is all the mother we ever knew, and she is a liret- ty good sort of girl, as girls go, only she al~vays waiits to boss us too munch. Its all very well for girls to he bossed, like Nelly, you know, bnt it doesnt do for boys. Boys are meant to take care of themselves. Of course youll want to know whether Ethel is pretty, and thats ~just oiie of the things that always did bother me. Peo- ple call her pretty, I know, for Ive heard them, but I dont exactly see how she can be. All the beauties that ever I read abont had (leep, dark eyes, and straight noses, and hair that canie down to their feet pnrple hair, they say sometimes. Mnst look kind of fnniiy, I should thimik ; but I suppose its all right if its iii print. Sonmethues they have clear blue eyes and golden hair, but those are the silly ones whats al~vays a-crying. Eth- el aint that kind at all; so she ought to have raven hair and every thing to match. But theii, you see, she hasnt. Wheu I was a youmigsrer I nsed to think she was awful tall ; but somehow she doesnt look near as big to tue now, amid some time, maybe, shell seem quite short. Little wonian, papa calls her sometimes. Her eyes arent bla~k nor blue, but a sort of shiny gray. Some- times they look almost black, though. I know they did the (lay she caught me ston- ing a kitten, so I reckoum its when shes mad. Her hairs a kind of yellow-brown, all soft and crinkly ; but it (loesnt come dowim but just a little way below her waist, and I dont call that very long; do you? Then her nose isnt straight oiie bit, and her cheeks have funny little dents iii thmeni whmemi she lauglms, hike she had put her fin- ger in when she was a baby amid left a mark. SItes got pink cheeks amid red lips and little white teeth; but so have I, and nobody ever called inc pretty for that. Id knock eum dowti if they did, I know, but Ethel doesnt seem to aiind it one bit. Girls are such queer tImings! I asked Ethel once ~vhiether she was pretty or not, but she wouldnt tell nie. Sue just turned all sort of pink, and didnt say either yes or ito. Frank Gresham ~vas there, amid lie laughed, but he didttt say any timing, and Ethel hustled nie omit of time room so quick I didmmt have time to ask him. Thats just the fault I had to fimid with Ethel, you seeah~vays hiossing. There was omie thmimmg I suppose I ought to tell you, for it really does come into my story. though youi migbtmmt think so at first. Nelly and I wemmt to school in the immornings; but we got home at one oclock, amid had the afterimoons all to ourselves. Our nursery play-room we call it, but the rest will call it nursery, all we can dois up in tIme fourth story, and we used to spend most of our tinme timere. Ethel caine there most every day, and she used to play with us like she wasnt any bigger thman we werecroquet, you know, an(l battledoor and shuttlecock, amid ball. Ethel was a bully catchier, I tell you. Then, when we were tired, shed tell mis stories fairy tales sometinmes, amid sommietitnes stories about men and wonien thmat were so brave, why, it made your hair stick up straight to hear what tlmey did. That was time kind of story I hiked best; but Nelly she hiked the fairy tales, amid always mmse(h to beg for themn. Well, you see, Cymithiy Brownthat was our mmniheshe heard Ethel tehliuig us these sto- ries, and she kmie~v we liked em; so one day she brought us a lot of books and picture- papers, aimd told mis we tumighit read them if we wouldmtt let Ethel kmiow. We didmmt wammt to promise, first off; but the stories were jmist bully, amid Cyutthmy said Ethel would take themum all away if shine kmiew of it, amid maybe tuirn her off besides; so Nelly amid nine thtourhmt it womild be mean to tell, and we didmmt. Ohm, I tell you, those books were just primmie. There was Time Pirate of the Pelopoa- nesus, amid Time Bravo of Bagdad, amid The Ladys Revenge, and Nova Creiiuas Cuose, amid ever so niatty others, j mist elmock-fimll of hove and imimurder amid fighutimig. They used to scare Nelly so she (li(ltit care mmmcli about thieni; limit they (hidmit scare ate a bit, amid I liked thiemn first-rate. Well, of comirse it all had to conic omit. Cymtthiy shed jmist bromight mis a mew lot, autd mlotmt you believe Ethel found thtemmm beflire we had looked at omie of thicum! Ohm, ivasmmt she immad, tlmommghi! She just took imp those books amid papers amid lint every one of theum straight into the fire,

60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. MASTER ROBBYS ROMANCE. I SUPPOSE other people would think they could tell this story better than I can. Theres Ethel, now; bnt she conldnt make any kind of a hand at it, becanse, you see, she was in it all along, and what conid she know of how it looked to other people? Nellys a baby, bnt she was all mixed up in it too. As for the rest, they didnt know any thing about it till it was all over, so what could you expect of them? Besides, if grown people write stories for children, I dout see why children shonldnt write sto- ries for grown people too, once iu a while. Who am I? Well, Im Master Robby Law- rence, tea years old on my last birthday, and standing fonr feet one in my stocking feet. Ethel shes niy big sister, and Nelly is my little onea nice little thing enough, bnt only a girl, after all, and always mak- ing blunders. Boys dout. But thea every- body knows that boys are born with more brains than girls ever get in all their lives. You see, there was just us three, and we hadnt any mothernever had had any as long as Nelly or I could remember. XVe had a father, to be sure; but whats the good of a father when lies off down town all day, and only conies buck in time to kiss you good-night and ask whether youve been a goo(l boy fore you go to bed? Ethel is all the mother we ever knew, and she is a liret- ty good sort of girl, as girls go, only she al~vays waiits to boss us too munch. Its all very well for girls to he bossed, like Nelly, you know, bnt it doesnt do for boys. Boys are meant to take care of themselves. Of course youll want to know whether Ethel is pretty, and thats ~just oiie of the things that always did bother me. Peo- ple call her pretty, I know, for Ive heard them, but I dont exactly see how she can be. All the beauties that ever I read abont had (leep, dark eyes, and straight noses, and hair that canie down to their feet pnrple hair, they say sometimes. Mnst look kind of fnniiy, I should thimik ; but I suppose its all right if its iii print. Sonmethues they have clear blue eyes and golden hair, but those are the silly ones whats al~vays a-crying. Eth- el aint that kind at all; so she ought to have raven hair and every thing to match. But theii, you see, she hasnt. Wheu I was a youmigsrer I nsed to think she was awful tall ; but somehow she doesnt look near as big to tue now, amid some time, maybe, shell seem quite short. Little wonian, papa calls her sometimes. Her eyes arent bla~k nor blue, but a sort of shiny gray. Some- times they look almost black, though. I know they did the (lay she caught me ston- ing a kitten, so I reckoum its when shes mad. Her hairs a kind of yellow-brown, all soft and crinkly ; but it (loesnt come dowim but just a little way below her waist, and I dont call that very long; do you? Then her nose isnt straight oiie bit, and her cheeks have funny little dents iii thmeni whmemi she lauglms, hike she had put her fin- ger in when she was a baby amid left a mark. SItes got pink cheeks amid red lips and little white teeth; but so have I, and nobody ever called inc pretty for that. Id knock eum dowti if they did, I know, but Ethel doesnt seem to aiind it one bit. Girls are such queer tImings! I asked Ethel once ~vhiether she was pretty or not, but she wouldnt tell nie. Sue just turned all sort of pink, and didnt say either yes or ito. Frank Gresham ~vas there, amid lie laughed, but he didttt say any timing, and Ethel hustled nie omit of time room so quick I didmmt have time to ask him. Thats just the fault I had to fimid with Ethel, you seeah~vays hiossing. There was omie thmimmg I suppose I ought to tell you, for it really does come into my story. though youi migbtmmt think so at first. Nelly and I wemmt to school in the immornings; but we got home at one oclock, amid had the afterimoons all to ourselves. Our nursery play-room we call it, but the rest will call it nursery, all we can dois up in tIme fourth story, and we used to spend most of our tinme timere. Ethel caine there most every day, and she used to play with us like she wasnt any bigger thman we werecroquet, you know, an(l battledoor and shuttlecock, amid ball. Ethel was a bully catchier, I tell you. Then, when we were tired, shed tell mis stories fairy tales sometinmes, amid sommietitnes stories about men and wonien thmat were so brave, why, it made your hair stick up straight to hear what tlmey did. That was time kind of story I hiked best; but Nelly she hiked the fairy tales, amid always mmse(h to beg for themn. Well, you see, Cymithiy Brownthat was our mmniheshe heard Ethel tehliuig us these sto- ries, and she kmie~v we liked em; so one day she brought us a lot of books and picture- papers, aimd told mis we tumighit read them if we wouldmtt let Ethel kmiow. We didmmt wammt to promise, first off; but the stories were jmist bully, amid Cyutthmy said Ethel would take themum all away if shine kmiew of it, amid maybe tuirn her off besides; so Nelly amid nine thtourhmt it womild be mean to tell, and we didmmt. Ohm, I tell you, those books were just primmie. There was Time Pirate of the Pelopoa- nesus, amid Time Bravo of Bagdad, amid The Ladys Revenge, and Nova Creiiuas Cuose, amid ever so niatty others, j mist elmock-fimll of hove and imimurder amid fighutimig. They used to scare Nelly so she (li(ltit care mmmcli about thieni; limit they (hidmit scare ate a bit, amid I liked thiemn first-rate. Well, of comirse it all had to conic omit. Cymtthiy shed jmist bromight mis a mew lot, autd mlotmt you believe Ethel found thtemmm beflire we had looked at omie of thicum! Ohm, ivasmmt she immad, tlmommghi! She just took imp those books amid papers amid lint every one of theum straight into the fire, MASTER ROBBYS ROMANCE. 61 I told her they were Cyntliys, and she had no right; but she said shed settle with Cynthy, and walked straight out of the room. We never saw Cynthy again, and I reckon Ethel sent her away, for when we asked about her, they just said shed gone. One good thing about it, though, was that we never had another nurse, and we saw more of Ethel than ever. Well, you see those books had set me thinkingthats the good of books, people sayand pretty soon I made up my mind that Ethel ought to be in love with some- l)ody or other, but it took me ever so lonr to find out who it was. There were Frank Gresham and Roger Grey, they canie to see her oftenest of any body, anl I thought it must be one of them, but do what I ~vould I couldnt find out which of them she liked l)est. They were both good-looking, amid one of themthat is, Frank Greshamnwas rich. He was Mrs. Lorraines brother, too, and Mrs. Lorraine and Ethel were such great friends that I thought that might have something to do with it. R.oger Grey was a young lawyer, and he hadnt lived in New York very long, but his father and our father had been friends, and so when he came here to live he came to see us. Then my father took a great shine to him, so he kept on coming, only after a while it ~vas always Ethel he asked for.. I tlionglit it was a shame, but when I told papa so, he only laughed, amid said he didnt mind, for that Roger was a fine fellow. I didnt see what that had to do with it, for I was only a youngster then, and green, you know. I asked Ethel, one day, which of theni she was in love with, but she wouldnt tell me. Sue only looked a~vful mad for a miunte, and then all of a sudden she burst out laughing, and called me an absurd baby, and told me I was too young to think about such things, and never to talk like that again. Au ab- surd baby, indeed! Well, I was bound to find out all about it then, you know; but do what I would, I couldnt make out umuch: women are so sly! I remember just as well the night I found out at last. Ethel was going to the opera with Mrs. Lorraine, Frank Greshams sister, you know. She didnt begin to dress till late, because she had been telling Nelly and inc stories after diniier, and forgot what time it was. Ethel looks bully when shes dressed, and I wanted to see her, so I just went down into the back parlor, so as to be sure not to miss her when she caine down. I lia(lnt beeii there very long when Roger Grey canine into the room. I was in a cor- ner, and he didnt see me, so I just kept on reading. Pretty soon Nelly canine in and ~an up to Roger like shine always did. He always made a fuss over her, and I really believe the little goose thought lie came on purpose to see her. Is your sister at home, Nehly ?~ he said after he had kissed her and talked to her for a while. Oh. yes, shes at home, says Nehly, but she cant come down, cause shes busy. You know, shes engaged. Engaged, is shea? says Roger Grey, looking kind of white and scared. Are you sure of that 1 She tehled me shine was, says Nefly, looking up at him with her big innocent eyes. Roger Grey sat still for a little while. Theii lie said, Do you know to whom she is engaged, Nelly ? No, says Nehly, but its to somehody thats coming here to-night, so if you wait long enough you can see. Roger Grey didnt wait, though, not a hit of it. He just jumped up iii a mighty big hurry, and put Nehly down and kissed her, and said, Good-by, my little maid. Then he was going off, but Nelly ran aft- er him. Oh, Roger! dear Roger she call- ed,wont you stay, or else come back to- morro~v I Roger turned at that, hut he only waited to say, Not to-morrow, Nehly dear. Some time, maybe ; and he was gone. He niust have met Frank Gresham at the door, for the bell didnt ring at all, amid Frank Greshain was in the parlor before I knew it. Mrs. Lorraiiie was waiting in the carriage outsi(le, amid had sent him in for Ethel. Then Ethel came down, all wrapped in her white cloak, trimmed with soft white fur that looked like fresh snow. She had holly berries amid heaves iii hierhair and at her throat, and she hooked just like the pie- tmires of King Winter in our story-books, omihy Ethel hasnt got a beard like lie has. Her cheeks were as pink as a rose, and her eyes looked all kind of soft and shimiy as she looked around the room. Where is Mr. Grey, Nelly 1 she said. Hes gomue, said Nehly. He said he couldnt stay, and he cant come to-morrow, either. Somehow the light seemed to go out of Ethels eyes at that, amid she looked puzzled and sorry and a little bit frightemied, bat she didnt say any thing, only kissed Nelly and me, and put her hand on Frank Gresh- am s arm and went omit of the room with him. I thought it was all sort of queer, and I asked Nelly about it after they were gone; but she just stuck to it that she bad said exactly what Ethel told her to, so I thiomight it must be all right. Auinyhow, I was glad I hiaml found out which of theni it was Ethel was iii hove with; for it had puzzhed me no eii(l, mind I dont hike to be puzzled one bit. Well, of course Frank Greshama came to 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the honse more than ever after that; but Roger Grey never came at all. Somehow, just about this time, Ethel grew so queer that we didnt know what to make of her, Nelly and I. It didnt come all at once, you know, but just a little at a time. First, she didnt seem to care so much about playing with usused to tire her, she said, as if playing could tire any body! And then, when she told us stories, they werent nice, jolly ones any more, but about little mer- maidens that loved kings sons so hard that they died of it down among their coral groves; and girls made of snow, that hard- hearted fathers would bring in and set be- fore the fire till they melted all away; and nixies that sat on the water and cried be- cause people told them they had no souls; and all kinds of sorrowful things, until Nel- ly was crying as hard as any nix of them all. I didnt cry, because Im a boy, and boys dont cry, you know; but I dont mind telling you I had mighty hard work to keep from it sometimes. When Ethels eyes grew big and dark and deep-looking, and the pretty pink all went out of her cheeks, and the corners of her eyebrows gathered them- selves np into a little frown that wasnt cross, you know, but just sorrowful, why, I tell you, I had to take hold of my throat with both hands, and hold my breath till my heart most stopped beating. If Id let up once, for ever such a little bit, I should have been a goner, and howd that look, Id like to know Ia great boy nine years old blubbering away like little Nelly there, thats only seven, and a girl at that! If Ethel had been cross, I wouldnt have mind- ed it so much. I could have stood up to her then, and, if things got very bad, I could have told papa, and he would have settled her. But just to see any body grow pale and thin and peaked, like they were melt- ing away before your eyes, why, its no fun, I can tell you. She was lively enough when there was company therejust the same as ever, as far as I could see. It was only when she was alone with us that she let herself look like she felt. I suppose she thought we wouldnt notice; but, I tell you, youd better not reckon too much on that. Children see a heap more than you think they do. Well, now, you see, this is what puzzled me. What on earth should Ethel be look- ing so sad about, when she was engaged to Frank Gresham, and he kept coming to the house all the time, bringing her flowers and music and boabons, and all sorts of lovely things too? She liked em, I reckon, all but the bonboas. She ut*d to give them all to Nelly and me. I suppose that was be- cause she was too old to care about candy. Im glad I aint. The flowers she always put in the parlor, and she wouldnt have done that if she hadnt liked them. Roger Grey never gave her any thing, as far as I know, except a stupid little bunch of pink flowerstrailing arbutus, he called them. Ethel thought it was a mean present; I know she did, for she turned as red as fire when he gave them to her; and after h ewas gone she took them right straight up to her own room, and nobody saw any more of them. Of course that must have been because she was ashamed of them. I never knew whether she liked the music or not till one day I was in the parlor when Frank Gresham was there. He asked Ethel to sing him one of the songs he had brought her. It was an awful spooney sort of thing. It began, Absent from thee! what deeper woe ? Then it went on all about a fellow that had to come back to a girl and sneak round her, when he knew she didnt care a bit for him. It ended: I must retain, thongh doubly cnrst; Thongh all thy lightuings scathe my brain, I heed them not, Ive known the worst, For absence owns no master pain. I dont wonder Ethel didnt like it; but as long as Frank Gresham had given it to her, she neednt have let him know it, I think. First she said she hadnt practiced it; then she said the piano was out of tune; but I knew bettey, so I said, Oh no, Ethel. Dont you know the man came to tune it only yester(lay I She didnt take any notice of that, but just turned to Frank Gresham, when he kept on teasing her, and said, Mr. Gresham, that style of music doesnt suit my voice.~~ Of course he looked mad; who wouldnt? but he just said, Not when I bring it, you mean And Ethel she turned red, and she said, Interpret it as you please; but since you insist, I will sing you a very old song which does snit me precisely, and which I hope you will al)preciate. And then she ~vent straight to the piano and sang something that began, Why so pale and wan, fond lover, Prithee why so pale ? It ended, Qait, qait; for shame: this will not move, This can not take her; If of herself she will not love, Nothing can make her. Thats all right, I know, for I got the songs and looked. There was ammother line to that last verse, but I dont like to put it. It wasnt a very imice one for a lady to sing, I think, and I know Frank Gresham thought so too, for he was so simocked he just took up his hat and walked straight out of the house, and didnt come again for ever so long. I reckon Ethel was sorry then, for she didnt get any flowers or boa bons or any thing. MASTER ROBBYS ROMANCE. 63 Papa asked Ethel sometimes what had become of Roger Grey, but she always just said she didnt know, and then began to talk about something else. I did think she might have cared a little, and so did papa, I know, for he used to look at her so queer, and once he said, I am sorry Roger Grey doesnt come here any more, for lie was a fine fellow. I hope it is not your fault, Ethel ? Ethel said no, it was not her fault; bnt I wasnt so sure of that, for I remembered how rude she was to Frank Gresham. Well, things had been going on in this way for a nionth or moreI cant exactly tell how long. One day Ethel was sitting in the nursery with us, but she was very stupid that day. She wouldnt play with us nor tell us stories, but just sat looking straight at the fire, and not seeniing to hear any thing we said. So at last Nelly and I gave it up as a bad job, and went off into the corner to play by ourselves. Pretty soon the door opened, and Miss Bessie Ar- mitage caine into the room. Miss Bessie was Ethels great friend, and when she came here she never sent Nora up, but jnst hunt- ed all over the house until she fonnd Ethel. She had not been here for ever so long, be- cause she had been away in Washington or somewhere. Of course they had an awful lot to say to each other, and I suppose they forgot all about us. Presently Miss Bessie looks at Ethel and laughs, and says, When are you going to make your hum- ble confession, my dear ? Confession? says Ethel, looking puz- zled. What have I to confess ? Oh, you humbug ! says Miss Bessie, laughing harder than ever. Do you real- ly think I havent heard what is in every bodys mouth about you and Frank Gresh- am? Every bodys letters but yours were full of it, and you never said a word, yo~ little wretch. I could hardly believe it at first, for when I went away I thought Rog- er Grey was likely to conie in winner. But on the way here I met Roger himself, and I asked him if he knew any thing about it. He said, I believe it is so, Miss Armi- tage. Ihad it on very good authorityher own, in fact. Before I could say any more lie had raised his hat and was off like a shot. Ethel just sat and stared into Miss Bes- sics face, but she looked like she didnt see her at all, and her face was as white as a sheet. Roger Grey told you that I she said, in such a queer voice, like somebody was drag- gi tig the words out of her. Certainly he told me so. Isnt it true ? says Miss Bessie. And Ethel says, in the same queer way, Not one word of it. You are not engaged to Frank Gresh am? and Roger Grey thinks you are? and you are just the shadow of the Ethel I used to know? I wondered what you had been doing to yourself, but I begin to see now. What do you mean ? says Ethel, turn- ing red, and looking mad enough to eat Miss Bessie. Just then Miss Bessie canght sight of Nelly and me. I wished she hadnt, for I wanted to know what was coming, awfully. Oh dear! there are those children, says she. Why do you always have them round, Ethel? Little pitchers are such a nuisance! Come into your own room, and let us finish our talk there. I turned and looked at Nelly when they were gone, but Nelly hadnt minded a word they said. She was such a baby, you know. Its lucky for Ethel that I had nuore sense. Nelly, said I, what did Ethel tell you to tell Roger Grey that last time he came the time she was dressing to go to the op- era, and couldnt see him, you know ? I had ever such a time to make Nehly re- memberchildren are such stupid timings but I got it all straight at last. Ethel had told her to tell Mr. Grey that she had an engagement, and was dressing for it; that she hoped he would wait until she came down, or, if he couldnt do that, that he would call the next day. Aiid there the little goose had gone and mixed it all up, and let him go off supposing that Ethel was engaged to Frank Greshaun. No won- der he never caine again, and no wonder Ethel had been growing thin and peaked ever since! I could see the whole thing plain enough now. Ethel may talk as much as she likes about Cynthys books, but whered she be now if I hadnt read em? Much Id have kno~vn about love and jealousy without them! Well, you see, when I had heard Nellys story, I sat and thought for a while; then I said, Now look here, Nelly. Youve done an awful sight of mischief, and its got to he undone somehow. The only way I can see is tor you to tell Mr. Grey all about it. Nelly looked at me with her face all puck- ered up and the tears standing in her big blue eyes. She had been getting mimore and more scared ever since I began to ask her questions, but she didnt burst out till I got to the part about telling Mr. Grey. Then, of course, she began to roar. Nelly never Pissed round and fretted like some girls do: that was one good thing about her. If she wanted to cry, she cried like a good fellow and had done with it, and till she was done with it there wasnt much use in trying to stop her; so I just sat still and let her roar her prettiest. When she seemed to have got through, I said, Its got to be done, Nelly, so theres no use cryiiig. Do you want to see our Ethel 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. melt away like a gain-drop, and die of a broken heart? Thats the way young worn- cii always do when theyre crossed in love. Howd you like to see her pine and pine, and grow thinner and thinner every day, till there wasnt any thing left of her at all, and to know it was all yonr fault, you hard- hearted little thing? Nelly had her mouth open and her eyes shut for another roar, but I put my hand over her mouth so quick she couldnt get it out, aiid went on: Now, Nelly, you see what youve got to do is just this. Youve got to find out Roger Grey, and tell him of the awful blunder youve made, and get him to come hack. Id do it for you, only it would come better from yoa. Nellys eyes had been getting bigger and bigger, and here she broke in: Tell Roger? Oh, Robby, I couldnt! Wouldnt it do as well to tell Ethel, and then she could tell him, and Tell Ethel, indeed Why, you little goose, says I, dont you see that for Ethel to tell him would be just the same thing as for her to ask him to come and make love to her, and what girl would do that ? Why, I would, says Nelly, lookiiig up at me as innocent as innocent; I won ldnt mind it omme bit. Besides, Robby, how could I ever find out Roger Grey to tell him ? Thats so, sai(l I. I had never thought of that before, but after a nmimiute I had a bright idea. Look here, Nelly, says I; well write a letter to Roger, and tell him about it. Nora gets lots of love-letters, and shell show us all about how to do it. Nora was the waitress, and she was ready enoii~h to help us, after she had sat down to laugh a little first. I tell you, it was a job to write that lettertook us t~vo hohrs, with all the help Nora could give us on tof her head and the Polite Letter-Writer. It was a screamer when it was done, though. Here it is: HONORED SIR, AND IDOL OF MY HEART (we di(limt know which to put, so we thoaght wed better put both), I take niy ~icn in hand to say that these few lines leave me ivell, and hope that they find you the same (that was out of one of Noras letters). My sister Nelly and me presents our conipli- meats, and are very sorry about a mistake we made (it was all Nellys mistake, you know, but I put myself in, because I did not want to hurt her feelings). We told von that our sister Ethel was engaged to Mr. Frank Gresham. But she isnt. She was oiily engaged for the opera. Shes been peaking and pining ever since you stopped coming here, and aint jolly a bit. So we hope youll come back and make love to her again, if you dont umind, and yoar petition- ers will ever ~iray. Oar pea is poor, our ink is pale, Our love for you will never fail. And so no more at present from Your obedient servaiits to comumand, Ronnv LAWRENCE. Then we wrote on the outside Mr. Roger Grey, aiid Nora took it, and said shed get her cousin to find out where he lived and take it to him. Youd better believe Nelly and me watch- ed the door-bell after that; but we didnt have long to wait, for Roger Grey came the very next night. Ethel was in the nursery when Nora came to tell her lie was in the parlor. Nora grinned, amid we grinned; but Ethel she just turned pink amid looked sort of flustered, but pleasedyou hiet! Dont you think it was a shame that Nelly and inc couldnt go down to see the fun, when there wouldnt have been any fun at all only for us? But we didnt dare. Well, there isimt munch more to tell, for of course every thing canine right after that. When papa heard about our letter he laugh- ed till he cried. But I doiit see any thing in it to laugh at; do you? Roger and Ethel didnt either, and they wouldnt let us be teased about it. We had farm at the weddimig, I tell you. There was lots of oysters amid chickeim-salad and ice-cream aimd jellies aimd all sorts of goodies. Nelly and me were bridemaid and groomsman. There were two or three otlm- ers, limit they didnt count. Miss Bessie Arimmitage was one. But Mr. Frank Greshaum wasnt there at all, and I think that was queer, when hed always made out he liked Ethel so much. I think weddings are prime, and Nelly and mes going to have another just as soon as ever we can. TO A FRIEND WHO SLEPT ILL. How hast thou angered into stern disdain That mild, comupasstonate god round whose bowed head Time clustering poppies dcoop their drowsy red Sommmns, that walks the world from twilights wane All the long night till day he horn again, While after him a shadowy lelon streams The pale diaphanous floating forms of dreams? He kisses brows that ache from earthly care; He soothes to peace time inuhignaut souls of slaves; Oer nammy an eye grown tired ~vittu tears lie waves Those rich-dyed languid flowers that his hmamuds hear; And yet for thee no tender spell doth spare, O friemid that liest awake and hearest night Flow on past hauks of time in stealthy might! Ah, would that I, who am loved right well of Sleep, Mi~ht make fond intercession, friend, for thee, Each aighut when some shy dream should visit me In the dusk halls of slumber, vague and deep; Both the dreams dun hands would I seize and keep, Praying of her to sliced, with tender charms, Amid wreathe ahiouit thy neck two balmy arms!

64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. melt away like a gain-drop, and die of a broken heart? Thats the way young worn- cii always do when theyre crossed in love. Howd you like to see her pine and pine, and grow thinner and thinner every day, till there wasnt any thing left of her at all, and to know it was all yonr fault, you hard- hearted little thing? Nelly had her mouth open and her eyes shut for another roar, but I put my hand over her mouth so quick she couldnt get it out, aiid went on: Now, Nelly, you see what youve got to do is just this. Youve got to find out Roger Grey, and tell him of the awful blunder youve made, and get him to come hack. Id do it for you, only it would come better from yoa. Nellys eyes had been getting bigger and bigger, and here she broke in: Tell Roger? Oh, Robby, I couldnt! Wouldnt it do as well to tell Ethel, and then she could tell him, and Tell Ethel, indeed Why, you little goose, says I, dont you see that for Ethel to tell him would be just the same thing as for her to ask him to come and make love to her, and what girl would do that ? Why, I would, says Nelly, lookiiig up at me as innocent as innocent; I won ldnt mind it omme bit. Besides, Robby, how could I ever find out Roger Grey to tell him ? Thats so, sai(l I. I had never thought of that before, but after a nmimiute I had a bright idea. Look here, Nelly, says I; well write a letter to Roger, and tell him about it. Nora gets lots of love-letters, and shell show us all about how to do it. Nora was the waitress, and she was ready enoii~h to help us, after she had sat down to laugh a little first. I tell you, it was a job to write that lettertook us t~vo hohrs, with all the help Nora could give us on tof her head and the Polite Letter-Writer. It was a screamer when it was done, though. Here it is: HONORED SIR, AND IDOL OF MY HEART (we di(limt know which to put, so we thoaght wed better put both), I take niy ~icn in hand to say that these few lines leave me ivell, and hope that they find you the same (that was out of one of Noras letters). My sister Nelly and me presents our conipli- meats, and are very sorry about a mistake we made (it was all Nellys mistake, you know, but I put myself in, because I did not want to hurt her feelings). We told von that our sister Ethel was engaged to Mr. Frank Gresham. But she isnt. She was oiily engaged for the opera. Shes been peaking and pining ever since you stopped coming here, and aint jolly a bit. So we hope youll come back and make love to her again, if you dont umind, and yoar petition- ers will ever ~iray. Oar pea is poor, our ink is pale, Our love for you will never fail. And so no more at present from Your obedient servaiits to comumand, Ronnv LAWRENCE. Then we wrote on the outside Mr. Roger Grey, aiid Nora took it, and said shed get her cousin to find out where he lived and take it to him. Youd better believe Nelly and me watch- ed the door-bell after that; but we didnt have long to wait, for Roger Grey came the very next night. Ethel was in the nursery when Nora came to tell her lie was in the parlor. Nora grinned, amid we grinned; but Ethel she just turned pink amid looked sort of flustered, but pleasedyou hiet! Dont you think it was a shame that Nelly and inc couldnt go down to see the fun, when there wouldnt have been any fun at all only for us? But we didnt dare. Well, there isimt munch more to tell, for of course every thing canine right after that. When papa heard about our letter he laugh- ed till he cried. But I doiit see any thing in it to laugh at; do you? Roger and Ethel didnt either, and they wouldnt let us be teased about it. We had farm at the weddimig, I tell you. There was lots of oysters amid chickeim-salad and ice-cream aimd jellies aimd all sorts of goodies. Nelly and me were bridemaid and groomsman. There were two or three otlm- ers, limit they didnt count. Miss Bessie Arimmitage was one. But Mr. Frank Greshaum wasnt there at all, and I think that was queer, when hed always made out he liked Ethel so much. I think weddings are prime, and Nelly and mes going to have another just as soon as ever we can. TO A FRIEND WHO SLEPT ILL. How hast thou angered into stern disdain That mild, comupasstonate god round whose bowed head Time clustering poppies dcoop their drowsy red Sommmns, that walks the world from twilights wane All the long night till day he horn again, While after him a shadowy lelon streams The pale diaphanous floating forms of dreams? He kisses brows that ache from earthly care; He soothes to peace time inuhignaut souls of slaves; Oer nammy an eye grown tired ~vittu tears lie waves Those rich-dyed languid flowers that his hmamuds hear; And yet for thee no tender spell doth spare, O friemid that liest awake and hearest night Flow on past hauks of time in stealthy might! Ah, would that I, who am loved right well of Sleep, Mi~ht make fond intercession, friend, for thee, Each aighut when some shy dream should visit me In the dusk halls of slumber, vague and deep; Both the dreams dun hands would I seize and keep, Praying of her to sliced, with tender charms, Amid wreathe ahiouit thy neck two balmy arms! KERAMOS. rri11~s sang the Pott~i at his task Beneath the blossoming hawthorn-tree, While oer his features, like a mask, The quilted sunshine and leaf shade Moved, as the boughs above him swayed, And clothed him, till he seemed to be A figure woven in tapestry, So sinuptuously was he arrayed In that magnificent attire Of sable tissue flaked with fire. Like a magician he appeared, A conjurer without hook or beard And while he plied his magic art For it was magical to me I stood in silence and apart, And wondered more and moic to see That shapeless, lifeless mass of clay Rise Ul) to meet the masters hand, And now contract and now expand, And even his slightest touch obey; WThile evei in a thouizhtful moo(1 TURN, turn, my wheel! Turn round and round Without a pause, without a sound: This spins the flying world away! clay, well mi ed with marl and sand, Follows the motion of my hand; For some must follow and some command, Though all are made of clay! K / ~\ II! V N 1 Vot. LVLNo. 3315

KERAMOS. rri11~s sang the Pott~i at his task Beneath the blossoming hawthorn-tree, While oer his features, like a mask, The quilted sunshine and leaf shade Moved, as the boughs above him swayed, And clothed him, till he seemed to be A figure woven in tapestry, So sinuptuously was he arrayed In that magnificent attire Of sable tissue flaked with fire. Like a magician he appeared, A conjurer without hook or beard And while he plied his magic art For it was magical to me I stood in silence and apart, And wondered more and moic to see That shapeless, lifeless mass of clay Rise Ul) to meet the masters hand, And now contract and now expand, And even his slightest touch obey; WThile evei in a thouizhtful moo(1 TURN, turn, my wheel! Turn round and round Without a pause, without a sound: This spins the flying world away! clay, well mi ed with marl and sand, Follows the motion of my hand; For some must follow and some command, Though all are made of clay! K / ~\ II! V N 1 Vot. LVLNo. 3315 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. He sang his ditty, and at times Whistled a tune hetween the rhymes, As a melodious interlude. Turn, turn, my wheel! All things must change To something new, to something strange. Nothing that is can pause or stay: The moon will wa~r, the moon will wane, The mist and cloud will turn to rain, The rain to mist and cloud again, To-morrow be to-day. Thus still the Potter sang, and still, By some unconscious act of will, The melody, and even the words, Were intermingled with my thought, As bits of colored thread are caught And woven into nests of birds. And thus to regions far remote, Beyond the oceans vast expanse, This wizard in the motley coat Transported me on wings of song, And by the northern shores of France Bore me with restless speed along. ~ What land is this, that seems to be A mingling of the land and sea? What land is this? Yon pretty town Is Deift, with all its wares displayed .ij V )~ If II I This land of sluices, dikes, and dunes ? This water-net, that tessellates The landscape? this unending maze Of gardens, through whose latticed gates The imprisoned pinks and tulips gaze; Where in long summer afternoons The sunshine, softened by the haze, Comes streaming down as through a screen; Where over fields and pastures green The painted ships float high in air, And over nil and every where The sails of windmills sink and soar Like wings of sea-gulls on the shore? KI~RAMOS. 67 The pride, the market-place, the crown And centre of the Potters trade. See ! every house and room is bright With glimmers of reflected light From plates that on the dresser shine; Flagons to foam with Flemish beer, Or sparkle with the Rhenish wine, And pilgrim-flasks ~vith fleurs-de-lis, And ships upon a rolling sea, And tankards pewter-topped, and queer With grotesque mask and musketeer! Each hospitable chimney smiles A welcome from its painted, tiles; The parlor walls, the chamber floors, The stairways and the corridors, The borders of the garden walks, Are beautiful with fadeless flowers, That never droop in winds or showers, And never wither on t.hcir stalks. Turn, turn, my wheel! All life is brief; What now is bud will soon be leaf, iFhat now is leaf will soon decay; The wind blows east, the wind blows west,~ The blue eggs in the robins nest Will soon have wings and beak and breast, And flutter and fly away. 6 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Who is it in the suburbs here, This Potter, working with such cheer. In this mean house, this mean attire, His manly features l)ronzed with tire, Whose figulines and rustic wares Scarce find him bread from day to day? This madman, as the people say, Who breaks his tables and his chairs To feed his furnace fires, nor cares Who goes unfed if they are fed, Nor who may live if they are dead? This alchemist with hollow cheeks, And sunken, searching eyes, ~vho seeks, By mingled earths and ores combined With potency of fire, to find Some new enamel hard and bright, his dream, his passion, his delight? 0 Palissy within thy breast Burned the hot fever of unrest; Thine was the 1)loplmets vision, thimie The exultation, the divine Insanity of noble minds, That never falters nor abates, But labors and endures and waits, AK) Now southward through the air I glide, The song my only pursuivant, And see across tile landscape wide The blue Charente, a pon whose tide -~ The belfries and the spires of Saintes Ripple and rock from side to side, As, when an earthquake rends its walls, A crumbling city reels and falls. // / KI~RAMOS. 69 ~7 I ~ ri~ill all that it foresccs, it tiiids, Or what it can not find, creates! Turn, tarn, my wheel! This earthen ,jar A touch can make, a touch can mar; And shall it to the Potter say, What makest thou 2 Thou hast no hand ? ) As men who think to understand A world by their creator ~planned, Who wiser is than they. Still guided by the drQamy song, As in a trance I float along Above the Pyrenean chain, Above the fields and farms of Spain, Above the bright Majorcan isle That lends its softened name to art, A spot, a dot upon the chart, Whose little towns, red-roofed with tile, Are rubylustred with the light Of blazing furnaces by night, And crowned by day with wreaths of smoke. / Then eastward wafted in my flight On my enchanters magic cloak, I sail across the Tyrrhene Sea Into the land of Italy, And oer the windy Apennines, Mintled and musicd ~ ith ~ N I 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The palaces, the princely halls, The doors of houses, and the walls Of churches and of belfry to~vers, Cloister and castle, street and mart, Are garlanded and gay with flowers That blossom in the fields of Art. here Gubbios workshops gleam and glow - f. With brilliant iridescent dyes, rrlle dazzling whiteness of the snow, riThe cobalt blue of summer skies; And vase and scutcheon, cup and plate, In perfect finish emulate Faenza, Florence, Pesaro. Forth from Urbinos gate there caine A youth with the angelic name Of Raphael, in form and face Himself angelic, and divine In arts of color and design. From him Francesco Xanto caught Something of his transcendent grace, And into fictile fabrics wrought Suggestions of the masters thought. Nor less Maestro Giorgio shines With inadre-perl and golden lines Of arabesques, and interweaves His birds and fruits and flowers and leaves About some landscape, shaded brown, With olive tints on rock and town. Bebold this en p within whose bowl, Upon a ground of deepest blue With yellow-li~ctred stars oerlaid, Colors of evel~r tint and hue Mingle in one harmonious whole / / KI~RAMOS. 71 With large blue eyes and steadfast gaze, 11cr yellow hair in net and braid, Necklace and ear-rings all ablaze With golden lustre oer the glaze, A ~vornans portrait; on the scroll, Cana, the Beautiful ! A name Forgotten save for such brief fame As this memorial can bestow A gift some lover long ago Gave with his heart to this fair dame. A nobler title to renown Is thine, 0 pleasant Tuscan town, Seated beside the Arnos stream; For Luca della Robbia there Created forms so wondrous fair They made thy sovereignty supreme. rUhese choristers with lips of stone, Whose music is not heard but seen, Still chant, as from their organ-screen, Their makers praise; nor these alone, But the more frnoile forms of clay, Hardly less beautiful than they, These saints and angels that adorn The walls of hospitals, and tell The story of good deeds so well That ~overty seems less forlorn, And life more like a holiday. 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. here in this old neglected church, That long eludes the travellers search, Lies the dead l)iShOp on his tomi); Earth upon earth he slumbering lies, Life-like and death-like in the gloom; Garlands of fruit and flowers in bloom And foliage deck his resting-place; A shadow in the sightless eyes, A pallor on tl)e patient face, Made perfect by the furnace heat; All earthly passions and desires Burnt out by purgatorial fires Seeming to say, Our years are fleet, And to the weary death is sweet. T~ ~ + I I // 0 I But the most wonderful of all The ornaments on tomb or wall That grace the fair Ausonian shores Are those the faithful earth iestores, Near some Apulian town concealed, In vineyard or in harvest field Vases and nrns and bass-reliefs, Memoi i l~ of foraotten giiefs, Oi iccoids of heioic deeds Of dcmi (rods and mighty chiefs /1 / KI~RAMOS. 73 Figures that almost move and speak, And, buried amid mould and weeds, Still in their attitudes attest The presence of the graceful Greek: Achilles in his armor dressed, Alcides with the Cretan bull, And Aphrodite with her boy, Or lovely Helena of Troy, Still living a ad still beautiful Turn, turn, my wheel! Tis Natures plan The child should grow into the man, The man grow wrinkled, old, and gray. In youth the heart e~rults and sings, The pulses leap, the feet hare wings; In age the cricket chirps, and brings The hareest-home of (lay. And now the winds that sonthxvnrd blow, And cool the hot Sicilian isle, (C 1~~ K I~l Bear nie away. I see below The long hue of the Libyan Nile, Flooding and feeding the parehe(i lands With annual ebb and overflow: A fallen palm whose branches lie Beneath the Abyssinian sky, Whose roots are in Egyptian sands. 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. On either bank huge water-wheels, Belted with jars and dripping weeds, Send forth their melancholy moans, As if, in their gray mantles hid, Dead anchorites of the Thebaid Knelt on the shore and told their beads, Beating their breasts with loud appeals And penitential tears and groans. rrliis city, walled and thickly set With glittering mosque and minaret, Is Cairo, in whose gay bazars rflle dreaming traveller first inhales rrhe peifumne of Arabian gales, And sees the fabulous earthen jars, Hnge as were those wherein the maid Morgiana found the Forty Thieves Concealed in midnight ambuscade; And seeing iimore than half believes The fascinating tales that run Through all the Thousand Nights and One, Told by the fair Scheherezade. More strange and ~vonderful than these Are the Egyptian deities Ainmon, and Einoth, and the grand Osiris, holding in his hand The lotus; Isis, crowned and veiled; The sacred Ibis, and the Sphinx; Bracelets ~vith blue-enameled links; The Scarabee in emerald mailed, Or spreading wide his funeral wings Lain ps that perchance their night-watch kept O~er Cleopatra while she slept All i)lIIlindeIedl from the tombs of. kings. Turn, turd ~, my wheel! The human race, Of every tongue, of every place, 61a ucasian, (Joptic, or JJKIalay, All that inhabit this great earth, TVhatever be their rank or worth, A~ kindred and allied by birth, And made of the same clay. (IIJ~ (I ~ - / I KZ KI~RAMOS. 75 Oer desert sands, oer gulf and bay, Oer Ganges and oer Ilimalay, Bird-like I fly, and flying sing, To flowery kingdoms of Cathay, And bird-like poise on balanced wing Above the town of King-te-tehing, A burning town, or seeming so rrhl.ee thousand furnaces that glo~v Incessantly, and fill the air With smoke uprising, gyre on gyre, And painted by the lurid glare Of jets and flashes of red fire. As leaves that in the autumn fall, Spotted an(i veine(1 with various hues, Are swept along the avenues, And lie in heaps by hedge and wall, So frora this grove of chimneys whirled To all the markets of the world, These porcelain leaves are wafted on Light yellow leaves with spots and stains Of violet and of crimson dye, Or tender azure of a sky Just washed by gentle April rains, And beautiful with c6ladon. Nor less the coarser household wares The willow pattern, that we knew In childhood, with its bridge of blne Leading to unknown thoronghfares The solitary man who stares At the white river flowing throngh Its arches, the fantastic trees 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. And wild perspective of the view; And intermingled among these The tiles that in our nurseries Filled us with wonder and delight, Or haunted us in dreams at night. And yonder by Nankin, behold! rElic Tower of Porcelain, strange and old, Uplifting to the astonished skies Its ninefold painted balconies, XVith balustrades of twining leaves, And roofs of tile, beneath ~~ho~e eaves Hang porcelain bells that all the time Ring ~vith a soft melodious chime; While the whole fabric is ablaze With varied tints, all fused in one Great mass of color, like a maze Of flowers illumined by the sun. Turn, turn, my wheel! TVhat is begun At daybreak must at dark be done, To-morrow will be another day; To-morrow the hot furnace flame TVill search the heart and try the frame, And stamp with honor or with shame These vessels made of clay. Cradled and rocked in Eastern seas, riThe islands of the Japanese Beneath me lie; oer lake and plain rphe stork, the heron, and the crane Ihrough the clear realms of azure drift, And on the hill-side I can see \\~ \~ KI~RAMOS. 77 7 All the bii~ht flowers that fill the laud, Ripple of waves on rock or sand, The snow on Fusiyarna s cone, The midnight heaven so thickly sown With constellations of bright stars, The leaves that rustle, the reeds that make A whisper by each stream and lake, The saffron dawn, the sunset red, Are painted on these lovely jars; Again the sky-lark sings, ngaia The stork, the heron, and the crane Float through the azure overhead, The counterfeit and counterpart Of Nature reproduced in Art. / (1ff \ Al The villages of Imari, Whose thronged and flaming workshops lift Their twisted columns of smoke on high, Cloudcloisters that in ruins lie, With sunshine streaming through each rift, And broken arches of blue sky. Art is the child of Nature; yes, Her darling child, in whom we trace The features of the mothers face, 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Her aspect and her attitude, All her majestic loveliness Chastened and softened and subdued Into a more attractive grace, And with a human sense imbued. Tie is tl)e greatest artist, then, Whether of pencil or of pet), Who follows Nature. Never man, As artist or as artisan, Pursuing his own fantasies, Can touch the human heart, or I)lease, Or satisfy our nobler needs, As he who sets his willing fcet In Natures foot-prints, light and fleet, And follows fearless where she leads. Thus mused I on that morn in May, Wrapped in ray visions like the Seer, Whose eyes behold not what is near, But only what is far away, When suddenly sounding, peal on peal, The church bell from the neighboring towit Proclaimed the welcome hour of noon. The Potter heard, and stopped his wheel, His apron on the grass threw down, Whistled his quiet little tune Not overloud nor overlong, And endcd thus his simple song: Stop, stop, my wheel! Too soon, too soon, The noon will he the afternoon, Too soon to-day he yesterday: Behind us in our path we cast The hroken potshercls of the Past, And all are ground to dust at last, And trodden into clay THE MAN IN THE CAGE. 79 THE MAN IN THE CAGE. XIT HAT is that you say, Glosher? Iii a cage? A human being in an iron cage? Just so. Thars the house, and thars the window of the room hes in. I saw him led in, chained like a mad steer, three men with their guns pointed behind. Thats a year ago this September. Its a low cage, ~vith bars as thick as my wrist. Hes chain- ed to the floor inside it. The house was a small brick building, the shingled roof curled and black with age; it stood in a field overgrown with this- ties and Jamestown weed. A rotting pal- in g fence separated it from the crooked grassy highway which served as a street for the villagea drowsy hamlet in North Carolina, lying literally above the clouds, on one of the mountains of the great Bal- sam range. Glosher lounged on, whistling, to the inn, with the string of trout which they had caught, and Mr. Britton, his rod in hand, leaned over the fence looking at the win- dow inside of which was the cage. He was a sensitive little man, and this thing had startled and moved him greatly. He had been sauntering along just now, a little vain of his days fishing. The after- noon sunshine was warm and brilliant: ev- ery color kindled in it and the thin air to new vigor; these weeds shone like hits of pure lavender; and the blackberries glowed upon the tumble-down fences in knobs of rubies and garnet. Every body in the lit- tle hamlet had a friendly greeting for him. At the door of one unpainted house an old woman sat cardin~ wool, her yellow - hair- ed grandchild asleep at her feet; on the porch of another a pretty girl was spinning. Glosher, who was a manly young fellow, had looked sheepish as they passed, and the girl blushed and broke her thread. Mr. Britton smiled to himself~ He was but three months married, and every lover was his brother. The village hung on the edge of the height; below it the sea of cirrus clouds was full of light and motion, while a range of mighty peaks beyond shut the hamlet, so it seemed to his fancy, into a strange and sunny calm. A moment before he had thus been filled with a soft feminine content in himself and his world and his God, thankful for the hap- py chance which had led him to this peace- ful eyrie to spend his hardly earned holi- day. Now he could think only of this window. It was a gaping cave of daikuess in the sun- shine, and the man within for a year had seen nothing of grassy street, or of young girls, or little children, or (Iriving clouds. He was a beast, chained like a beast in a cage. As Mr. Britton waited uncertain, he heard coming out of the darkness a sigh and the clank of a chain. Good God! That these things should be in such a world !in such a world ! He hurried on, very sorry for this human beast, but more stung and aggrieved that the ennobling emotions and harmony of his holiday had been impaired. His coat sleeve, too, was stained with some of the daiik lichen on the fence about this accursed place. He wiped it off with a quick sense of loathing and taint. The Rev. Edward Britton was noted for the dainty fastidious- ness of his dress and of his morals. When he reached the little inn he found the landlord waiting at the gate nuder the walnut-trees. Guests were a novelty, and were made nuich of by these mountaineers. We air a-waitiu supper for you, Sir. Oh, no difference; its you thats to be con- sultedwalkiug beside him down through the old-fashioned garden, with its border of hollyhocks and blue succory. You hed good luck, Glosher says, Sir. What has that man done, that you cage him like a brute? interrupted the young clergyman, in a harsh, excited tone. Done? Ef youll come into this room, Ill tell you the story, dropping his voice. Its a strange one enough. No, pushing past him. Why should I hear it? Mr. Britton changed his coat before going into his wifes room. It was a cozy apart- ment, with windows looking out over the stretch of solitudes and heights of the Nan- tahela range. A wood lire burned on the hearth. Mrs. Britton, who had been a shy girl but two or three mouths ago, sat before it trimming a hat. She was a plump, pink- cheeked dot of a woman, with quick-glan- cing dark eyes, and a habit of frequent de- cisive little nods and gestures. Her lap was full of brightly colored ribbons; her hand, with its tiny gold thimble, fluttered about her work like a white glancing bird. And what have you discovered in this queer corner of the world to-day, Phmbe? he asked, with a qualm of apprehension. An old slave in a hut out of town, who told me she refugeed from Virginia during the war, leaving two sons behind her in Albemarle. I wrote an advertisement and some letters about them. I think they will bring the boys to light. What more did you do, my dear? I made a sketch of an Indian who came in with his blow-gnu and some skins, and of a nmountaineer who was going up to the high range to salt the wild cattle. See, here he is: blue homespun, high boots, bags of salt on his hips, gun for wolves, and whiskey for rattlesnakes. It is very spirited, Ph~be. A little faulty as to the knees, elm? with kindling

THE MAN IN THE CAGE. 79 THE MAN IN THE CAGE. XIT HAT is that you say, Glosher? Iii a cage? A human being in an iron cage? Just so. Thars the house, and thars the window of the room hes in. I saw him led in, chained like a mad steer, three men with their guns pointed behind. Thats a year ago this September. Its a low cage, ~vith bars as thick as my wrist. Hes chain- ed to the floor inside it. The house was a small brick building, the shingled roof curled and black with age; it stood in a field overgrown with this- ties and Jamestown weed. A rotting pal- in g fence separated it from the crooked grassy highway which served as a street for the villagea drowsy hamlet in North Carolina, lying literally above the clouds, on one of the mountains of the great Bal- sam range. Glosher lounged on, whistling, to the inn, with the string of trout which they had caught, and Mr. Britton, his rod in hand, leaned over the fence looking at the win- dow inside of which was the cage. He was a sensitive little man, and this thing had startled and moved him greatly. He had been sauntering along just now, a little vain of his days fishing. The after- noon sunshine was warm and brilliant: ev- ery color kindled in it and the thin air to new vigor; these weeds shone like hits of pure lavender; and the blackberries glowed upon the tumble-down fences in knobs of rubies and garnet. Every body in the lit- tle hamlet had a friendly greeting for him. At the door of one unpainted house an old woman sat cardin~ wool, her yellow - hair- ed grandchild asleep at her feet; on the porch of another a pretty girl was spinning. Glosher, who was a manly young fellow, had looked sheepish as they passed, and the girl blushed and broke her thread. Mr. Britton smiled to himself~ He was but three months married, and every lover was his brother. The village hung on the edge of the height; below it the sea of cirrus clouds was full of light and motion, while a range of mighty peaks beyond shut the hamlet, so it seemed to his fancy, into a strange and sunny calm. A moment before he had thus been filled with a soft feminine content in himself and his world and his God, thankful for the hap- py chance which had led him to this peace- ful eyrie to spend his hardly earned holi- day. Now he could think only of this window. It was a gaping cave of daikuess in the sun- shine, and the man within for a year had seen nothing of grassy street, or of young girls, or little children, or (Iriving clouds. He was a beast, chained like a beast in a cage. As Mr. Britton waited uncertain, he heard coming out of the darkness a sigh and the clank of a chain. Good God! That these things should be in such a world !in such a world ! He hurried on, very sorry for this human beast, but more stung and aggrieved that the ennobling emotions and harmony of his holiday had been impaired. His coat sleeve, too, was stained with some of the daiik lichen on the fence about this accursed place. He wiped it off with a quick sense of loathing and taint. The Rev. Edward Britton was noted for the dainty fastidious- ness of his dress and of his morals. When he reached the little inn he found the landlord waiting at the gate nuder the walnut-trees. Guests were a novelty, and were made nuich of by these mountaineers. We air a-waitiu supper for you, Sir. Oh, no difference; its you thats to be con- sultedwalkiug beside him down through the old-fashioned garden, with its border of hollyhocks and blue succory. You hed good luck, Glosher says, Sir. What has that man done, that you cage him like a brute? interrupted the young clergyman, in a harsh, excited tone. Done? Ef youll come into this room, Ill tell you the story, dropping his voice. Its a strange one enough. No, pushing past him. Why should I hear it? Mr. Britton changed his coat before going into his wifes room. It was a cozy apart- ment, with windows looking out over the stretch of solitudes and heights of the Nan- tahela range. A wood lire burned on the hearth. Mrs. Britton, who had been a shy girl but two or three mouths ago, sat before it trimming a hat. She was a plump, pink- cheeked dot of a woman, with quick-glan- cing dark eyes, and a habit of frequent de- cisive little nods and gestures. Her lap was full of brightly colored ribbons; her hand, with its tiny gold thimble, fluttered about her work like a white glancing bird. And what have you discovered in this queer corner of the world to-day, Phmbe? he asked, with a qualm of apprehension. An old slave in a hut out of town, who told me she refugeed from Virginia during the war, leaving two sons behind her in Albemarle. I wrote an advertisement and some letters about them. I think they will bring the boys to light. What more did you do, my dear? I made a sketch of an Indian who came in with his blow-gnu and some skins, and of a nmountaineer who was going up to the high range to salt the wild cattle. See, here he is: blue homespun, high boots, bags of salt on his hips, gun for wolves, and whiskey for rattlesnakes. It is very spirited, Ph~be. A little faulty as to the knees, elm? with kindling So HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. interest iii his face. There were one or two good prints on the wall, which they had brou~ht in their trunks. Pluiebe and lie were amateurs in art, and had found a good deal of keen enjoyment already iii their work and (lisputes. Phnbe took out her pencils and retouched the sketch. Then she went back to her sewing, and her hus- band stirred the fire, and began to talk of home and parish work. Outside, the cloud of fog had risen, and began to shut them in. The logs crackled and sparkled, turning Phebes blue ribboii into green. Presently Joe, the lame waiter, caaie rip carrying a tray rvith their supper. As he spread it on a round table at the side of the fire, Mr. Britton scanned eagerly the smoking coffee, the brown biscuits, the delicate sairnon-col- ored trout. He always did relish a good meal, and the days fishing had made him hungry. Joe was dismissed, and Phebe drew closer to the table. How rosy and fair she was! How warm was the fire! When he proceeded to dress a trout for her he had quite forgotten the man in the cage, and all the rest of the world outside of that wall of screening mist. It seenred to him as if his life was round- ed and perfect just then. He and his wife ate their trout, and talked pleasant parish gossip. He was twenty-three. He had graduat d the year before, with the reputa- tion of possessing a nice talent for English verse and a vein of tender sentimentalism, which would iiot impair iris usefulness as a l)opillar preacher. His only doubt as to his own qualifications for the heavenly calling was as to his lack of stature in tIre pulpit. But when lie really went into the pulpit, a stool on which he could staird remedied that difficulty. When lie was monirted on the stool his face appeared above the snowy surplice, blue-eyed, calm, fastidious, framed in fair hair and side whiskers, and as inno- cent of all knowledge of human nature as the insipid Madonna in the window overhead. As soon as he was called to the parish of All-Saints he married. All-Saints was a sung nest for these two tame birds. It was made up of half a dozen families in a town which had sprung up about a railway sta- tion in Ohio. The church was new, from the red cushions to the tiny organ and paint- ed window. Choir, vestry-meii, congrega- tion, all were new arid full of zeal. There was the gray old senior warden, who kept an exceedingly sharp eye on the Reverend Edward; there were the bustling matrons in black silk, with their sewing circle; there was the inevitable cordon of aduriring young ~rirls. Mr B ritton was wont to declare that iris flock were one with him in spirit; that they held up his hands in iris battle with error. He had, in fact, carried iris own be- lief into practice with regard to changes in nibs, chasubles, and altar cloth, and the. whole congregation supported him heartily, as they did in his dispute with the Low- Church pastor of St. Thomas concerning the number of genuffections requisite in the creed. It will thus be seen that the Rev. Mr. Britton had reason when Ire felt his life to be rounded aird coInl)lete. He could have wished, perhaps, that Phebe had riot been too much occupied with housekeeping dir- ties to take much iliterest in tire alb or chrasuble troubles. She was always ready, however, to stand sponsor for tire children of the congreuation, or to nurse them when they were sick, and was as anxious about the brides, and cried over the (lead, as if tire people were all her own kinsfolk. He was talking norv of sourme of these ba- bies whom he had baptized and young girls whom he hind married. I thank God often for the happy lot that has fallen to me, niy dear, ire said, iris voice unsteady. To be the shepherd of tins lit- tle flock from tire cradle to tire grave! I little thought when I was a boy such good fortune would be mine. When you were a boy, and your step- father used to thrash you so horribly I said Piwebe, in her brusque way. Matthew Pansent 1Pansent? It seenis as if I had heard that nanue within a day or two. Didnt your tell nie lie ~vent to South Caro- lina after your mothers death I Yes. It is irot necessary to speak far- ther of hun. Mr. Brittons voice was singu- larly altered. He rose hastily, arid began to pace up and down the room. When sire looked up she saw that his mild face had undergomie a ghastly change. He stopped in froiit of her. Phube, I desire thrat your will never mention that mans name to me aga.inin a harsh, strident toiie. No, Edward. Mr. Britton walked for an hour up and down the dim fire-lighted roour. He did not speak again. He was a gentle, surbunis- sive Cirristian. Every body knew that. He knew it of himself. Burt at tIre bare memition of Pauisents name Iris head began to throb, and tire blood burned in iris veins with thre fire of hell. His sole thourghrt was (if what purnishment he would mete out to the wretch if he had the power. None seemed to him sufficient. Hate hima I WIry should he not hate hun? Had lie not tor- tured iris youth, made his unothrers old age one long breath of urisery? To irate him was to hate siurfraud lie caught one of Phebes occasloimal keen glances, and tried to suiile back to her. I will go out in the fresh air a while, niy dear. I am not well. His conutenamice was pinched and colorless; there was a dif- ferent man looking out from it than the sen- timenutal little clergyman whom she had niarried. THE MAN IN THE CAGE. 81 As he went down the stairs into the im- penetrable fog he staggered. It was hard that he, a clergyman, a godly man, should be thus torn with wrath, however righteous. How could he follow out the holy, calm life he purposed, while this man lived? If he were dead, if he could see him lying on the ground here He stopped, staring before him with a long breath of relief. It seemed for a mo- ment as if the world was actually rid of this incubus; then, recollecting himself with a shudder, he went on. Whea Mr. Britton returned, an hour later, the only trace of the moral convulsion through which he had passed was that he was cross and peevish. These weak, sweet- ly toned natnres are not infrequently found with an obstinate, inhuman chord running through them, and when it is struck, all their ordinary harmonies are jarred out of tune. This may account for the fact that Mr. Britton presently told his wife of the man in the cage, although, an hour or two hefore, he had been anxious to keep her in ignorance of this terrible thing. It is the barbarous custom of this State,~ he continued, irritably. They treat a great criminal as a brutechain him by leg and arm to the floor, inside of just such a cage as is used for wild beasts. Phebe turned very pale as she listened; but she said, calmly, Does the man have enough to eat ? How should I know, my dear? I sup- pose that depends on the humanity of his keeper.~~ Are his friends allowed to see him ?~ I believe that he has none. Glosher tells me that nobody has visited him except the jailer. Her eyes filled with tears. Caged and chained for a year in a Christian country, and not a soul to speak kindly to him, or tell him of Jesus who died for him ! Mr. Britton moved uneasily. That is owing to the fact that there is no regular chaplain; there could not be, of course. This is a mere country jail, with the one in- matenot a penitentiary. You are going to him to-morrow, Ed- ward l I ~ Mrs. Britton did not look up. She was trimming the lamp, afld her fingers moved nervously. There was a moment of silence. Mr. Brittons pale blue eyes stared vacantly; he pulled unconsciously at his neat whisk- ers, ran his forefinger about the pretty white band around his neck. This was no question of albs or altar cloths, of baptizing babies or preparing timid young girls for confir- ination. It was as if a door had suddenly opened into the horrors of the shadow of death, and a voice commanded him to walk through it. VOL. LVI.No. 3316 Yes, I will go, he said, humbly, after a while. But he was taciturn for the rest of the evening, and bore himself toward his wife with an aggrieved air. The next morning Mr. Britton rose with an exalted sense of heroism upon him. Pholbe was right. Undoubtedly this was a part of his high duty. But he really, after all, did not think much that morning of the message he was to carrythat was all such a familiar subject to him. He was a little disappointed that Lodon, the jailer, received his proposal to visit the prisoner without surprise or admiration. I thought it was time some of you preach- ers was seem to him, he said, dryly. Cant take you in till evenin, though. Im pow- erful pushed gettin in my hay just now. He was surprised, too, to find Pho~be ready to go with him, as she always did when he visited the sick. I have put up a few peaches and cakes, and some salve. They tell me the chains have worn into the flesh. Salve and peaches! Why, this is a mur- derer who killed an old feeble man. He is under sentence of death. He is a man, after all, I suppose, said Mrs. Phebe, calmly packing a jar of honey in her basket. When Lodon that evening led them through the yard, overgrown with lilac Jamestown weed, Mr. Britton felt his heart sicken within him. The great iron door of the jail creaked on its hinges. They enter- ed a low brick passage. Lodon locked the door behind him, and drew the bars from a heavy iron trap which closed the stairs. In another moment they would be shut in with this human beast. I have not thought of what I should say to him, and his one chance of salvation is in me, thought the clergyman, his foot upon the stair. One moment, Lodon. II feel ill. This air Pho2be touched him on the hand. She was very pale, but she smiled cheerfully. It is only a man just like yourself whom you are going to meet, Edward, she whis- pered. A man like himself? Really, Pholbe had the strangest way of expressing herself! He passed on, sustained by a fresh sense of dignity and virtue. Lodon, hurrying through the dark upper passage, stopped at another iron door, rust- ed with age. Nowtnruing the key in the lock. The cage was a net-work of iron bars, about fifteen feet square, in the centre of a large room, into which the setting sun shone warmly and softly. The air was pure, the cage was scrupulously clean. The murderer was in the centre of it. Phcebe shut her eyes before she could go near him. If it was my brother, now l she thought. 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. When she opened them she saw an hon- est-eyed countryman, clad in decent home- spun, rising to meet her with a sudden pleased smile. I did not know that a lady was com- ing, he said. The voice was unembarrass- ed and sincere. Mr. Britton hastily went up to the cage. Who is that ? he cried. Merciful God! John Matlack! Is that you ? The two men stared at each other, the irGa grating between them. The clergy- man held to the bars with both hands; the shock of shame for his old friend was so great that he stammered and choked and then stood dumb. But John Matlack ea- gerly thrust out his chained hand. Edward! God bless you! II have not seen a face that I knew for a year, and now youyou ! He was weak and emaciated with long confinement. The tears ran down his cheeks; lie had to raise both bloodless hands together to his face to wipe them off. It was a pitiful sight. But Mr. Britton did not give him his hand. It was John Mat- lack; but it was no less a murderer. Phmbe thrust hers through the bars. The pity, the tender mercy, of all the good, motherly women in the world seemed to look on him through her eyes. Why, I have heard so much of you, John. You were on the farm with Edward. He has told me of all the ploughing and coon-hunting and Oh, Edward, speak to him! Why are you here, John ? Mr. Britton took out his cambric handkerchief andwiped his neatly shaven face nervously. Matlack stood upright and looked him steadily in the eyes. The chain from his leg to the floor creaked like some live thing as he moved. Why am I here? Because I have been found guilty of the murder of an old man, and sentenced to be hung for it. Thats why. I have but a few days longer to live. But you did not do it !you did not do it ! cried Phmbe, breathlessly. You can not think him guilty, Edward. Look at his face. Her husband answered the demand in the prisoners eyes rather than her words. God knows with what pain I see you here, he said, evasively. You are the last man whom I should have thought capable of such a crime. If I had found you here, Ned,I should have known you incapable of it, and have asked no further,~~ said the prisoner, with a quiet dignity. He turned away. The chain, to Phmbes excited eyes, crept hideously across the floor, held him, dragged him back. Mr. Britton feebly pulled at his side whiskers. John Matlack, his old playfellowmurder? It was incredible. And yet he had been tried and sentenced by law, and to Mr. Britton the law was an infallible twin power with the Church. Thars sometliin to be said on Mr. Mat- lacks side, Lodon began, slowly, tapping on the cage with his keys to emphasize cer- tain points. Evidence was circumstantial wholly. Old gentleman that was killed hed started a mica mine in the Nantahila Mount- ings. Mr. Matlack hyar was boss. Tliar was hard words between them more than once; that was proved on the trial. The old man was powerful aggravatin. The day afore the murder he comae up from Ash- ville, a-lookin into things, and a-swearin tremenjus, callin Matlack a swindler and what not. Matlack he answers back, with an oath, as how hed be even with him, and turned and walked off; and them as stood by said they knew he meant it. That night the old man staid up in the cuttin-house, lookin over accounts. Them mine houses is nothin bat plank sheds, you know. The next mornin he was found lyin on the pile of mica chips, stone-dead, with a bullet through his heart. That was no proof! cried Pho~be. No; but you hevnt heerd me out, Mis- tress Britten, said L odon, warming in the recital. A bit of the waddin was found with the bullet, and it was a scrap of an envelope directed to John Matthe rest hem torn off. Mr. Matlacks wife was ready to swar that he was at home all night, takin care of their sick boy. Thar was plenty mored hey sworn they didnt believe John Matlack could do such a thing nohow. But that kind of testimony isnt law. Matlack had remained with his back turn- ed to them, unmoved while Lodon told his story. The truth was that Mr. Brittens belief in his guilt had stunned him. He had grown used to looking the coaling death in the face. After a year of solitude this friend of his youth had suddenly ap- pearedand condemned him. It was a fresh cut of pain, and a deep one. When his wife was named, however, he turned quickly and glanced at Phmbe. Yes. Where is she? what can I do for her, or for you? demanded that little wom- an, her cheeks on fire. Nothing. She is illdying, they tell me. I could save her if I were near her. She knows whether I am innocent or not, thank God! I know it. You dont suppose that I believe that evidence? Not a syllable of it. Mr. Britten was miserable enough while all this was going on. He would have si- lenced his wife if he could; but how could he? John had been like a brother to him when they were both hard-worked farm boys. The law could not be wrong. It was his duty as a man of God to exhort this THE MAN IN THE CAGE. 53 criminal to repentance; but when he looked into the candid, noble face the words died on his lips. Who was this murdered man ~ he stam- mered, not knowing what to say. Surely you have heard, said Matlack Matthew Pansent. Pansent.?dead ! Mr. Britton began slowly to pace up and down the cell, as was his habit when he was studying his sermons, his white fingers working with his collar. Phmbe looked after him in terror: she alone saw how greatly he was shaken. He under- stood it now. John Matlack was innocent. It was he who was the murderer. God had given him his wish. He went up to the cage; but his jaws re- fused to move when he would have spoken to Matlack. I had forgotten that he was your step- father, Ned, John said. But I had noth- ing to do with his death. He tried me hard, but I never would have harmed the old man. I would. There never was a time when I should not have been glad to see him dead. It is I who might to be chained there, not you. Mr. Britton said this in a low, rapid whisper, and then went straight to the door. He moved and looked like a man demented. For a week after this night Mr. Britton shut himself up in his chamber. In his ag- ony of remorse and humiliation lie acted very like a child, and Phmbe was as a moth- er to him. He protested that he would leave the ministry even the Church. Blood-guiltiness was on his soul, if not his hands. He never had understood the relig- ion he taught: he never had known the Saviour whom lie showed to others. Phmbe left him only to visit the innocent man in the cage. She read to him, wrote letters to his wife for hhn and about him. One day she came home trembling and little disposed to talk. The Governor has set the day for for The execution ? Yes. Next Friday. He has but four days to live. He will die an innocent man. Why need he die at all ? There is no chance. The Governor has been besieged for his pardon. It is neces- sary to have an example. There has been too great laxity, it appears, in this part of the State. He had been trying to read a circular letter from the bishop, but he threw it down and wandered on. Why, look at me, Phmbe! I ought to be in his place, and here I am, with my priestly coat and white surplice, regarded as a godly man. John Matlack in chains, and next Thursday a rope about his neck! Think what justice there is in that! Think But Mrs. Britton went hastily into her own room. She was not fond of thinking. What is to be done ? she said to her- self. When she came back her counte- nance was rigid as that of a middle - aged woman. She spoke no more of the pris- oner. She went down the next day, as usual, to the jail. She stopped in her reading once or twice, looking at Matlack with a shudder. XYhat is it that you see, maam l asked Lodon ,with surprise, for she was not a nerv- ous woman. Oh, the chain. It seems alive to me. It creeps after him, holds him until they are ready to murder him. You ought not to come here, Mrs. Brit- ton, said Matlack. It is too great a strain on any woman. She looked at him. Considerate of her, with death just at hand !with a wife and child in the world whom lie should never see again! But Matlack bore himself with the same gravity and simplicity in the face of his terrible fate as he had done when he was ahoy. Nothing but his deathly pallor told of any suffering. Do not come to-morrow, he said, when she rose to go. There will be another (lay. I should like to give you a message then for For your wife and little Charley. I know, John. Theres nobody else Id ask to see them, though some of my old friends have been down this week. Theyre very kind. But you Yes, yes. Good-by, now, shaking his hand and turning away. Oh! this copy of hymnsI have been reading to you. I will leave it. She handed it to Lodon for inspectiona few small sheets of manu- script bound in a thick parchment cover. The jailer noticed how cold her hand was as he touched it. He passed the roll through the bars of the cage. You will find much comfort in some of them, she said, looking Matlack steadily in the eye especially in the first. As she turned away, the cell grew sud- denly dark before her, and the hideous clank of the chain jeered and mocked at her. The street was drowsier than usual that evening. It was the day for the weekly mail to come in, but the carrier had arrived, and his mule and cart were put away, and all the excitement was over. Most of the houses were already closed for the night. The doctor and squire were seated in front of the store, finishing a game of draughts by the fading twilight, and a negro near by was picking a banjo, while another shuf- fled a doleful jig and sang, Fahwell for- eberoh-h, foreber. Mrs. Britton laughed nervously. The moon hung how in the horizon, heavy mass. 84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. es of fog drove through the valley. She remembered that the moonlight would only last an hour. She looked out to the vast sweep of wooded mountain ranges. Once safe in these impenetrable solitudes, no fugitive could be discovered, thank God! There was a little chamber, too, where a young wife lay near to death, with her boy beside her, waiting to hear that her hus- band had died upon the gallows. If Mr. Britton happened to read that night the story of how Lazarus was snatched out of the jaws of death. His wife listened, with her head lying on her folded arms on the table. This man too, 0 God ! she said. When her husband read the evening prayers, she did not kneel, and did not know he was praying. Mr. Britton touched her gently after a while. You are feverish, my dear; you need rest, he said. She walked hastily to the window. The fog had blotted street and houses out of sight, and without was the silence of death. Early the next morning a commotion was heard on the street below, shrill cries and men running. Mrs. Britton was already seated, her sewing in hand. She stitched on carefully without lifting her eyes. Lame Joe tapped at the door. He stut- tered with excitement when Mr. Britton opened it. De prisoner am escaped, Sah. Watch- spring sawcut de iron. Too many oh hes frens hyah las week. Mr. Britton ran down the stairs to join the excited crowd below. Phmhe did not move, but as she sewed her eyes shone, and the tears fell like rain. Four years later Mr. Britton sat reading the newspaper one evening to his wife. lie was a changed man in these four years, it was reported in church gossip. His ser- mons were no longer the tine efforts of lit- erary skill and scholarship which they had been at first; but there was a humility and earnestness in them, like the voice of a man saved from shipwreck crying to his fellows, which gave them strange power. Look at this, he said, laying the news- paper before her, and pointing to a passage. His finger shook as he did it. E. P. Connors, who died in the State- prison on Tuesday, confessed to the murder of Matthew Pansent, in this county, five years ago. His ante-mortem statement was sworn to before a magistrate. This is the murder for which Matlack,as our readers will remember, was convicted,and is still under sentence of death. Mrs. Britton did not say a word after she had read the paragraph, but she rose quick- ly and left the room. She came back car- rying a folded paper; she was evidently struggling with deep controlled excitement. Will you send this telegram to-night to California ? He took it gravely. It is to John Mat- lack I Yes. What of him, Pho~be ? He is with his wife and boys. This is all he needs in life. You have been his friend all this time I Yes, Edward I thought so. He laughed to himself when he went out of the room. Then he put on his overcoat and took the telegram to the office. A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. (CONTINUED.) THIS was April of 1849, and only one stcam-ship had preceded ours. Its pas- sengers had been taken up the coast to San Francisco on the California, the first of the line sent round the Horn; she was to have returned and been at Panama to connect with us. A second steam-ship, the Panama, had alsb left New York on her way round, but was not to reach Panama until a month later. It could only be conjectured why the Galifornia did not return, and it wns sup- posed, as was afterward proved, that all her crew had deserted to go to the mines, and no men could be induced to take their places. The madness of the gold fever was upon every body up there, so we were detained in Panama seven weeks before the relief came. Seven weeks of tropical climate in the rainy season was hard upon those who had even the best accommodation, hut sim- ply fatal to those who had only tents and no resources against the climate. Another monthly steamer, and sailing vessels from all our ports, brought in accessions, until there were several thousand Americans banked up in Panama, and none of them prepared for this detention. The suffering from it was great, and one of the greatest troubles was that, though the mails con- tinned to arrive, which would contain not only their family and business news from home, but in many cases money remittances which were very much needed, no one was authorized to open them, as they were made up for San Francisco. Our consul, who was, of course, a foreigner, cared more for the technical offense he might give to the government than for the actual good he might do to the Americans. Our people met the emergency in their national way: they called a public meeting, where it was decided that a committee of twelve should be chosen, to be agreed upon by all pres- ent; that these twelve persons before all should open the mails and distribute them. This committee was selected from among the government officials there the Ameri~

84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. es of fog drove through the valley. She remembered that the moonlight would only last an hour. She looked out to the vast sweep of wooded mountain ranges. Once safe in these impenetrable solitudes, no fugitive could be discovered, thank God! There was a little chamber, too, where a young wife lay near to death, with her boy beside her, waiting to hear that her hus- band had died upon the gallows. If Mr. Britton happened to read that night the story of how Lazarus was snatched out of the jaws of death. His wife listened, with her head lying on her folded arms on the table. This man too, 0 God ! she said. When her husband read the evening prayers, she did not kneel, and did not know he was praying. Mr. Britton touched her gently after a while. You are feverish, my dear; you need rest, he said. She walked hastily to the window. The fog had blotted street and houses out of sight, and without was the silence of death. Early the next morning a commotion was heard on the street below, shrill cries and men running. Mrs. Britton was already seated, her sewing in hand. She stitched on carefully without lifting her eyes. Lame Joe tapped at the door. He stut- tered with excitement when Mr. Britton opened it. De prisoner am escaped, Sah. Watch- spring sawcut de iron. Too many oh hes frens hyah las week. Mr. Britton ran down the stairs to join the excited crowd below. Phmhe did not move, but as she sewed her eyes shone, and the tears fell like rain. Four years later Mr. Britton sat reading the newspaper one evening to his wife. lie was a changed man in these four years, it was reported in church gossip. His ser- mons were no longer the tine efforts of lit- erary skill and scholarship which they had been at first; but there was a humility and earnestness in them, like the voice of a man saved from shipwreck crying to his fellows, which gave them strange power. Look at this, he said, laying the news- paper before her, and pointing to a passage. His finger shook as he did it. E. P. Connors, who died in the State- prison on Tuesday, confessed to the murder of Matthew Pansent, in this county, five years ago. His ante-mortem statement was sworn to before a magistrate. This is the murder for which Matlack,as our readers will remember, was convicted,and is still under sentence of death. Mrs. Britton did not say a word after she had read the paragraph, but she rose quick- ly and left the room. She came back car- rying a folded paper; she was evidently struggling with deep controlled excitement. Will you send this telegram to-night to California ? He took it gravely. It is to John Mat- lack I Yes. What of him, Pho~be ? He is with his wife and boys. This is all he needs in life. You have been his friend all this time I Yes, Edward I thought so. He laughed to himself when he went out of the room. Then he put on his overcoat and took the telegram to the office. A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. (CONTINUED.) THIS was April of 1849, and only one stcam-ship had preceded ours. Its pas- sengers had been taken up the coast to San Francisco on the California, the first of the line sent round the Horn; she was to have returned and been at Panama to connect with us. A second steam-ship, the Panama, had alsb left New York on her way round, but was not to reach Panama until a month later. It could only be conjectured why the Galifornia did not return, and it wns sup- posed, as was afterward proved, that all her crew had deserted to go to the mines, and no men could be induced to take their places. The madness of the gold fever was upon every body up there, so we were detained in Panama seven weeks before the relief came. Seven weeks of tropical climate in the rainy season was hard upon those who had even the best accommodation, hut sim- ply fatal to those who had only tents and no resources against the climate. Another monthly steamer, and sailing vessels from all our ports, brought in accessions, until there were several thousand Americans banked up in Panama, and none of them prepared for this detention. The suffering from it was great, and one of the greatest troubles was that, though the mails con- tinned to arrive, which would contain not only their family and business news from home, but in many cases money remittances which were very much needed, no one was authorized to open them, as they were made up for San Francisco. Our consul, who was, of course, a foreigner, cared more for the technical offense he might give to the government than for the actual good he might do to the Americans. Our people met the emergency in their national way: they called a public meeting, where it was decided that a committee of twelve should be chosen, to be agreed upon by all pres- ent; that these twelve persons before all should open the mails and distribute them. This committee was selected from among the government officials there the Ameri~ A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 85 can commissioners for running a boundary line between Mexico and California, the custom-house officers, officers of high rank in the army, and persons of political and personal distinction well known to all who were there. From among these the com- mittee of twelve was made up. The newspapers brought over by the steamer passengers gave me my first infor- mation of the sufferings of Mr. Fremonts overland party, and with these were rumors still more painful than the reality. I knew that in those mail-bags were letters from my father giving me the truth, and bring- lug such comfort as could be sent through letters, yet for want of them I was left to the horrors of imagination. This, added to the effects of the rainy season, began to make me ill. When the bags were opened, they quickly came to letters with my fa- thers well-known frank upon them, which were as quickly brought to me, and passed up to the balcony on the end of a split sug- ar-eanethe sugar-cane for my little girl, the letters for me. Then I only thought of my letters; now I can see in it the intelli- gent results of self-government, making our people do the right thing under unusual circumstances. Hundreds were suffering for want of proper food and accommoda- tions, ~vhieh they could not have without money, while in these closed bags lay the letters containing their drafts, which could be exchanged by the compaitys agents or express company; so they made their laws as they went. This was the governing letter brought me by the mails. I do not apologize for giv- ing it in full, for it is a necessary supple- ment and complement of this narrative of personal experience of the inipediments to reaching California at that period: LETTER FROM COLONEL FREMONT TO HIS WIFE. Taos, NEW MEXaCO, J~nne4ry 27, 1845. I write to you from the house of our good friend Carson. This morning a cup of chocolate was brought to me while yet in bed. To an overworn, overworked, much-fatigued, and starving traveller these little luxu- ries of the world offer an interest which in your corn- fortable home it is not possible for you to conceive. While in the enjoyment of this luxury, then, I pleased myself in imagining how gratified you would be in pic- turing me here in Kits care, whom you will fancy con- stantly occupied and constantly uneasy in endeavoring to make me comfortable. How little could you have dreamed of this while he was enjoying the pleasant hospitality of your fathers house! The furthest thing then from your mind was that he would ever repay it to me here. Bat I have now the unpleasant task of telling you how I came here. I had much rather write you some rambling letters in unison with the repose in which I feel inclined to indulge, and talk to you about the fu- ture, with which I am already busily occupied; about my arrangements for getting speedily down into the more pleasant climate of the lower Del Norte and rap- idly through into California, and my plans when I get there. I have an almost invincible repugnance to go- ing back among scenes where I have endured much suffering, and for all the incidents and circumstances of which I feel a strong aversion. But as clear infor- mation is absolutely necessary to you, and to your fa- ther more particularly still, I will give you the story now instead of waiting to tell it to you in California. But I write in the great hope that you will not receive tins letter. When it reaches Washington you may be on your way to California. Former letters have made you acquainted with our journey so far as Bents Fort, and from report you will have heard the circumstances of our departure from the Upper Pueblo of the Arkansas. We left that place about the 25th of November, with upward of a hun- dred good mules, and one hundred and thirty bushels of shelled corn, intended to support our animals across the snow of the high mountains, and down to the low- er parts of the Grand River tributaries, where usually the snow forms no obstacle to winter travelling. At the Pueblo I had engaged as a guide an old trapper well known as Bill Williams, and who had spent some twenty-five years of his life in trapping various parts of the Rocky Mountains. The error of our jour- ney was committed in engaging this man. He proved never to have in the least known, or entirely to have forgotten, the whole region of country through which we were to pass. We occupied more than half a month in making the journey of a few days, blunder- ing a tortuous way through deep snow, which already began to choke up the passes, for which we were obliged to waste time in searching. About the 11th of December we found ourselves at the north of the Del Norte Canon, where that river issues from the St. Johns Mountain, one of the highest, most rugged, and impracticable of all the Rocky Mountain ranges, inac- cessible to trappers and hunters even in the summer- time. Across the point of this elevated range our guide conducted us, and having still great confidence in ills knno~vledge, we pressed onward with fatal reso- lution. Even along the river-bottoms the snow was already belly-deep for the mules, frequently snowing in the valley and almost constantly in the mountains. The cold was extraordinary; at the warmest hours of the day (between one and two) the thermometer (Fahr- enheit standing in the shade of only a tree trunk at zero; the day sunshiny, with a moderate breeze. We pressed up toward the summit, the snow deepening, and in four or five days reached the naked ridges which lie above the timbered country, and which form the dividing grounds between the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Along these naked ridges it storms nearly all winter, and the winds sweep across them with remorseless fury. On our first attempt to cross we encountered a poudrerie, and ~vere driven back, having some ten ortwelve men variously frozenface, hands, or feet. The guide became nigh being frozen to death here, and dead mules were already lying about the fires. Meantime it snowed steadily. Tile next day we made mauls, and, beating a road or trench through the snow, crossed the crest in defiance of the pendrerie, and encamped immediately below in the edge of the timber. The trail showed as if a defeated party had passed bypack-saddles and packs, scattered arti- cles of clothing, and dead mules strewed along. A con- tinuance of stormy weather paralyzed all movement. We were encamped somewhere about 12,000 feet above the sea. Westward the country was buried in deep snow. It was impossible to advance, and to torn back was equally impracticable. We were overtaken by sndden and inevitable ruin. It so happened that the only places where any grass could be had were the ex- treme summits of the ridges, where the sweeping winds kept the rocky ground bare, and the snow could not lie. Below these, animals could not get about, the snow being deep enough to bury them. Here, there- fore, in the full violence of the storms, we were obliged to keep our animals. Tiley could not be moved either way. It was instantly apparent that we should lose every animal. I determined to recross the mountain more toward the open country, and haul or pack the baggage (by men) down to the Del Norte. With great labor the baggage was transported across the crest to tine head springs of a little stream leading to the main river. A fe~v days were sufficient to destroy our fine band of 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. mules. They generally kept huddled together, and as they froze, one would he seen to tumble down, and the snow would cover him; sometimes they would break off and rush down toward the timber until they were stopped hy the deep snow, where they were soon hidden by the poudrerie. The courage of the men failed fast; in fact, I have never seen men so soon discour- aged by misfortune as we were on this occasion; but, as you kno~v, the party was not constituted like the former ones. But among those who deserve to be hon- orably mentioned, and who behaved like what they weremen of the old exploring partywere Godey, King, and Taplin; and firet of all Godey. In this sit- uation I determined to send in a party to the Spanish settlements of New Mexico for provisions and mules to transport our baggage to Taos. With economy, and after we should leave the mules, we had not two weeks provisions in the camp. These consisted of a store which I had reserved for a hard daymacaroni and bacon. prom among the volunteers I chose King, Brackenridge, Creutzfeldt, and the guide Will- iams; the party under the command of King. In case of the least delay at the settlements, he was to send me an express. In the mean time, we were to occupy ourselves in removing the baggage and equipage down to the Del Norte, which we reached with our baggage in a fe~v days after their departure (which was the day after Christmas). Like many a Christmas for years back, mine was spent on the summit of a wintry mount- ain, my heart filled with gloomy and anxious thoughts, with none of the merry faces and pleasant luxuries that belong to that happy time. You may be sure we contrasted much this with the last at Washington, and speculated much on your doings, and made many warm wishes for your happiness. Could you have looked into Agrippas glass for a fe~v moments only! You remember the volumes of Blackstone which I took from your fathers library when we were over- looking it at our friend Brents? They made my Christmas amusements. I read them to pass the heavy time and forget what was around me. Certainly you may suppose that my first law lessons will be well re- membered. Day after day passed by, and no news from our express party. Snow continued to fall al- most incessantly on the mountain. The spirits of the camp grew lower. Prouc laid down in the trail and froze to death. In a sunshiny day, and having with him means to make a fire, he threw his blankets down in the trail and lay there till he froze to death. Aft- er sixteen days had elapsed from Kings departure, I became so uneasy at the delay that I decided to wait no longer. I was aware that our troops had been en- gaged in hostilities with the Spanish IJtahs and Apa- ches, who range in the North River Valley, and became fearful that they (Kings party) had been cut off by these Indians; I could imagine no other accident. leaving the camp employed with the baggage and in charge of Mr. Vincenthaler, I started down the river with a small party, consisting of Godey (with his young nephew), Mr. Preuss, and Saunders. We carried our arms and provisions for two or three days. In the camp the messes had provisions for two or three meals, more or less, and about five pounds of sugar to each man. Failing to meet King, my intention was to make theRed River settlement, about twenty-five miles north of Taos, and send back the speediest relief possible. My instructions to the camp were that if they did not hear from me within a stated time, they were to follow down the Del Norte. On the second day after leaving camp we came upon a fresh trail of Indianstwo lodges, with a con- siderable number of animals. This did not lessen our uneasiness for our people. As their trail when we met it turned and went down the river, we followed it. On the fifth day we surprised an Indian on the ice of the river. He proved to be a Utah, son of a Grand River chief we had formerly known, and behaved to us in a friendly manner. We encamped near them at night. By a present of a rifle, my two blankets, and other promised rewards when we should get in, I prevailed upon this Indian to go with us as a guide to the Red River settlement, and take with him four of his horses, principally to carry our little baggage. These were wretchedly poor, and could get along only in a very slow walk. On that day (the sixth) we left the lodges late, and travelled only some six or seven miles. About sunset we discovered a little smoke in a grove of tim- ber off from the river, and thinking perhaps it might be our express party on its return, we went to see. This was the twenty-second day since they had left us, and the sixth since we had left the camp. We found themthree of them, Creutzfeldt, Brackenridge, and Williamsthe most miserable objects I have ever seen. I did not recognize Creutzfeldts features when Brack- enridge brought him up to me and mentioned his name. They had been starving. King had starved to death a few days before. His remains were some six or eight miles above, near the river. By aid of the horses, we carried these three men with us to Red Riv- er settlement, which we reached (January 20) on the tenth evening afterleaving our camp in the mountains, having travelled through snow and on foot 160 miles. I look upon the anxiety which induced me to set out from the camp as an inspiration. Had I remained there waiting the party which had been sent in, every man of us would probably have perished. The morning after reaching the Red River town, Godey and myself rode on to the Rio Hondo and Taos in search of animals and supplies, and on the second evening after that on which we had reached Red Riv- er, Godey had returned to that place with about thirty animals, provisions, and four Mexicans, with which he set out for the camp on the following morning. On the road he received eight or ten others, which were turned over to hire by the orders of Major Beale, the commanding officer of tins northern district of New Mexico. I expect that Godey will reach this place with the party on Wednesday evening, the 31st. From Major Beale I received the offer of every aid in his power, and such actual assistance as he was able to render. Some horses which he had just recovered from the Utabs were loaned to me, and he supplied me from the commissarys department with provisions which I could have had nowhere else. I find myself in the midst of friends. With Carson is living Owens, arid Maxwell is athis father-in-laws, doing a very pros- perous business as a merchant and contractor for the troops. Evening. Mr. St. Vram and Aubrey, who have just arrived from Santa F~, called to see me. I had the pleasure to learn that Mr. St. Vram sets out from Santa F6 on the 15th of February for St. Louis, so that by him I have an early and certain opportunity of sending you my letters. Beale left Santa Fi on his journey to Cal- ifornia on the 9th of this month. He probably carried on with him any letters which might have been at Santa F6 for me. I shall probably reach California with him or shortly after him. Say to your father that these are my plans for the future. At the beginning of February (about Saturday) I shall set out for California, taking the southern route by tire Rio Abajo, the Paso del None, and the south side of the Gun, entering California at tire Agna Ca- liente, thence to Los Angeles, and immediately north. I shall break up my party here, and take with me only a fe~v men. The survey has been uninterrupted up to this point, and I shall carry it on consecutively. As soon as possible after reaching California I will go on with the survey of the coast and coast country. Your father knows that tins is an object of great desire with me, and I trust it is not too much to hope that he may obtain the countenance and aid of the President (whmn- ever he may be) in carrying it on effectually and rapid- ly to completion. For this I hope earnestly. I shalt then be enabled to draw up a map and report on tire whole country, agreeably to ourprevious anticipations. All my other plans remein entirety unuttered. I strait take immediate steps to make ourselves a good home in California, and to have a place ready for your re- ception, which I anticipate for April. My hopes and wishes are more strongly than ever turned that way. Sfosday, 29. My letter now assumes a journal form. No news yet from the party. A great deal of falling weather; A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. rain and sleet here, and snow in the mountains. This is to he considered a poor countrymountainous, with severe winters and but little arable land. To the Unit- ed States it seems to me to offer little other value than the right of way. It is throughout infested with In- dians, with whom, in the course of the present year, the United States xviii he at war, as well as in the Ore- gon Territory. Tohold this country will occasion the government great expense, and certainly one can see no sonrce of profit or advantage in it. An additional regiment will be required for special service here. Mr. St. Vram dined with us to-day. Owens goes to Missouri in April to get married, and thence by wa- ter to California. Carson is very anxious to go there with me noxv, and afterward remove his family thither, but he can not decide to break off from Maxwell and family connections. I am anxiously waiting to hear from my party, in much uncertainty as to their fate. My presence kept them together and quiet, my absence may have had a had effect. When we overtook Kings starving party, Brackenridge said that he would rather have seen me than his father. He felt himself safe. TAOS, NEW Msxsco, February 6, 1849. Afteralong delay, ~vhich had wearied me to a point of resolving to set out again myself, tidings have at last reached me from my ill-fated party. Mr. Haler came in last night, having the night before reached Red River settlement, wim.h some three or four others. Including Mr. King and Prone, we have lost eleven of onr party. Occurrences after I left them are briefly these, so far as they are within Halers knowledge. I say briefly, because now I am unwilling to force my- self to dxvell upon particulars. I wish for a time to shut out these things from my mind, to leave this coun- try, and all thoughts and all things connected with re- cent events, xvhich have been so signally disastrous as absolutely to astonish me with a persistence of mis- fortune, which no precaution has been adequate on my part to avert. You will remember that I had left the camp with occupation sufficient to employ them for three or four days, after which they were to follow me down the river. Within that time I had expected the relief from King, if it was to come at all. They remained where I had left them seven days, and then started down the river. Manuelyou will remember Manuel, the Cosumne Indiangave way to a feeling of despair after they had travelled about two miles, begged Ilaler to shoot him, and then turned and made his way back to the camp, intending to die there, as he doubtless soon did. They followed our trail down the rivertwenty-two men they were in all. About ten miles below the camp, Wise gave out, threw away his gun and blanket, and a few hundred yards further fell over into the snow and died. Two Indian boysyoung men, countrymen of Manuelwere he- hind. They rolled up Wise in his blanket, and buried him in the snow on the river-bank. No more died that daynone the next. Carver raved during the night, his imagination wholly occupied with images of many things which he fancied himself eating. In the morn- ing he wandered off from the party, and probably soon died. They did not see him again. Sorel on this day gave out, and laid down to die. They built him a fire, and Mono, who was in a dying condition, and snow- blind, remained. These two did not probably last till the next morning. That evening, I think, Hubbard killed a deer. They travelled on, getting here and there a grouse, but probably nothing else, the snow having frightened off the game. Timings were desper- ate, and brought Haler to the determination of break- ing up the party in order to prevent them from living upon each other. He told them that he had done all he could for them, that they had no other hope remain- ing than the expected relief, and that their best plan was to scatter and make the best of their way in small parties down the river. That, for his part, if he was to be eaten, he would, at all events, befound travelling when he did die. They accordingly separated. With Mr. Haler continueddve others and thetwolndian boys. Robrer now became very despondent. Haler encour aged him by recalling to mind his family, and urged him to hold out a little longer. On this day he fell be- hind, but promised to overtake them at evening. Ha- ler, Scott, Hubbard, and Martin agreed that if any one of them should give out, the others were not to wait for him to die, but build a fire for him, and push on. At night Kerns mess encamped a few hundred yards from Halers, with the intention, according to Taplin, to remain where they were until the relief should come, and, in the mean time, to live upon those who had died, and upon the weaker ones as they should die. With the three Kerns were Cathcart, Audrews, MKie, Stepperfeldt, and Taplin. Ferguson and Beadle had remained together be- hind. In the evening Rohrer came up and remained with Kerns mess. Mr. Haler learned afterward from that mess that iRohrer and Andrews wandered off the next day and died. They say they saw their bodies. In the morning Halers party continued on. After afew hours Hubbard gave out. They built him a fire, gath- ered him some wood, and left him, without, as Haler says, turning their heads to look at him as they went off. About two miles further, Scottyou remember Scott, who used to shoot birds for you at the frontier gave out. They did the same for him as for Hub- bard, and continued on. In the afternoon the Indian boys went ahead, and before night-fall met Godey with the relief. Haler heard and knew the guns which he fired for him at night, and, starting early in the morn- ing, soon met him. I hear that they all cried together like children. Haler turned back with Godey, and went with him to where they had left Scott. He was still alive, and was saved. Hubbard was deadstill warm. From Kerns mess they learned the death of Andrews and Rohrer, and a little above met Ferguson, who told them that Beadle had died the night before. Godey continued on xvith a few New Mexicans and pack-mules to bring down the baggage from the camp. Haler, with Martin and Bacon, on foot, and bringing Scott on horseback, have first arrived at the Red River settlement. Provisions and horses for them to ride were left with the others, who preferred to rest on the river until Godey came beck. At the latest, they should all have reached Red River settlement last night, and ought all to be here this evening. When Godey arrives, I shall know from him all the circumn- stances sufficiently in detail to enable me to under- stand clearly every thing. But it will not be necessary to tell you any thing further. It has been sufficient pain for you to read what I have already xvritten. As I told you, I shall break up my party here. I have engaged a Spaniard to furnish mules to take my little party, with our baggage, as far down the Del Norte as Albuquerque. To-morrow a friend sets out to purchase me a few mules, with which he is to meet me at Albuqmierqne, and thence I continue the journey on my own animals. My road will take me down the Del Norte about 160 miles below Albuquerque, and then passes between this river and the heads of the Gila to a little Mexican town called, I think, Tusson; thence to the mouth of tile Gila and across the Colo- rado, direct to Agua Caliente, into California. I in- tend to make time jourmicy rapidly, and about the mid- dle of March hope for the great pleasure of hearing from home. I look for a large supply of newspapers and documents, more, perhaps, becamise these things have a home look about them than on their own ac- count. When I think of you all, I feel a warm glow at my heart, which renovates it like a good medicine, and I forget painful feelings in a strong hope for the future. We shall yet enjoy quiet and happiness t~- getherthese are nearly one and the same to me now. I make frequently pleasant pictures of tile happy home we are to have, and oftenest and among the pleasant- est of all I see our library, with its bright fire in the rainy stormy days, and the large windows looking out upon the sea in the bright weather. I have It all planned in my own mind. * * * * * * * Now friends and strangers both rose to protest against my going any fmlrther; ev- ery one was convinced that, after such fa 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tigues and starvation, Mr. Fremont would not succeed in making his way throngh an unknown country to California, and that I should find no one to meet me when I did reach there. This decided me to go on, for I could not accept that idea. The ladies in whose house I was were as kind as possible to me, and fortunately I could speak Spanish with them. All this time there was no steamer either from round the Horn or from California, and the only way of leaving the Isthmus was to return to New York, which was insisted upon by friends who thought that I ought not to wait any longer, with such uncertainties of transfer, and the greater uncertainty ahead. On the yellowed leaf of a little well-worn hook,in faded ink, I see now the words, Panama, May, 1849, and the quotation, On a narrow neck of land, Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand. Mr. Gray, one of the Boundary Commission- ers, came to me early one morning with a newspaper containing a long letter from my father regarding the expedition, ia which he gave, for the benefit of the friends of those with Mr. Fremont, all that was known posi- tively of the expedition, and the most rea- sonable and reasoning conjectures as to the safety and results of that which had just started again from New Mexico. About sun- down Mr. Gray came to me with still an- other newspaper, with still more on the same subject. He found me where he had left me in the morningsitting upon the sofa, with the unopened paper clasped in my hand, my eyes closed, and my forehead purple from congestion of the brain, and entirely unable to understand any thing said to me. All the long train of troubled feeling and un- certainties and discomforts, together with the climate, had culminated in brain-fever. Now came all the benefit of being in a private family; Madame Arc6 cared for me asthoughlhadbeen her own child,and so conscientiously that she summoned an Amer- ican, although her own preference was for her Spanish family physician. His course of treatment was to exclude all outer air, andfollow the old Spanish practice of bleed- ing, and hot water internally and external ly. The American physician (attached to the Boundary Commission) was for iced .di~inks,eooling applications to the head, cur- rents of fresh air, and blisters. These two, with theiroontradictory ideas and their in- ability to umJerstand each other fully, only added to the oonfusion of my mind, and be- came part of my delirium. My lungs were congested, and it was needed to apply a blister all over1~We chest. No leeches could be had, and croton-oil, which would have answered the purpose without leaving dis- figuring marks, was not to be found any ~where. And hereJ.h~d another of the kind- nesses done me, of which I have had so many before and since, from American men, who deserve fully their reputation for disin- terested kindness and care toward women. No one ventured willingly into the sun; but a gentleman had himself rowed out to an English man-of-war which lay in the bay, and found in their medicine chest the cr0- ton-oil that was needed. This was no small thing to do. The reef in the harbor at Pan- ama is so far extended that vessels had to lie out about three miles; the tide rises twenty-five feet, so that not only was it a protracted exposure to the sun, but danger- ous from the impetuosity with which the tide came in. My brother-in-law all this time remained dangerously ill from the effects of his sun- stroke, and as he had to be taken back to the United States, even my new Spanish friends thought I too should return at the same time. I had become well enough to walk as far as the ramparts, which were very near the house. All the Americans came there the hour before sunset, the only cool time of the day. They were an eager animated set of people when first there, but the failure of the steamers to arrive had told upon every one. They felt, like ship- wrecked people, that there was no escape from there; every sailing vessel that could be chartered had been to carry up the peo- ple. Those who had their through tickets still held to the hope that one steamer might come round the Horn if the other did not return. The first time I ~vent to the ramparts after my illness the sight of this discouraged set of people almost de- cided me to go home, all the more that with the natural kindliness of fellow-coun- trymen in a distant place many of them came up, as I sat upon the old brass gun in an embrasure, to tell me how glad they were I had not died, and begged me not to stay there any longer but to go back. I was spared the necessity of deciding for or against by the simultaneous arrival of the two steamers, one from California, the other from around the Horn, both getting there in the night within an hour of each other; so that their guns were mistaken for a second fireit was supposed the first steamer had fired again. Every one had been listening for weeks for these guns. It was a splendid moonlight night, about two oclock, and in a few minutes all the Ainer- icans had crowded to the ramparts, and all the native people were up and talking on the streets. All the passengers were land- ing, but the interest concentrated on those from California. Straightway men forgot all the trials connected with the crossing and the waiting, for there was the stream of returning gold-diggers, bringing with them the evidence that in the new country was more than justification for all the trials they A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 89 were going through with to reach there. Of conrse I was up, dressed, and looking at all this busy throng crowding the great square which was in front of our house. I heard my own name, and got sight of a fa- miliar face and uniform as two gentlemen turned into the entrance below the balcony. One of them was saying, Mrs. Fremont here! Heavens, what a crib for a lady ! The naval officer* was on his way direct to Washington with official statements and gold specimens forwarded to the govern- ment. Here was the hardest trial for me. This time I was not advised but ordered to go home, and every thing short of force was used to make me return, under proper care. I had only a few hours to decide, for at the earliest light they had to leave to con- nect with the returning steamer. In the chronicle of the conquest of Mexico there is one night of disaster and massacre which Bernal Diaz records under the head tristisi- ma noche; I had had many sad nights since leaving home, but after my old friends left I think I could name this my saddest night. After this I did no more deciding, but let myself go with the current. The Panama, having just come round the Horn with but few passengers, and having had for its com- mander Lieutenant (now Admiral) Porter, was in admirable condition, and I was put upon her. Her sister steamer was in all the disorder and discomfort resulting from the want of a proper crew and servants. Lieutenant Porter left the ship here, and the captain who took charge broke down on the voyage from fever, and died shortly after. There were accommodations at most for eighty passengers; we had over four hundred. The ships steward gave us scanty fare, reserving the canned provisions to sell for his own benefit. For a piece of gold he would sell a little can of vegetables or pre- served meat. As usual, I, however, was thoroughly well taken care of. My cough was incessant and racking, and I saw so many eyes turned to me with pity in them that I left the deck and went to my cabin to be where I would disturb no one. The gentleman in the next state-room became alarmed by the peculiar sound of the cough which he understood better than I did, and getting no answer to his knock opened the door and found me, as he feared, with a broken blood-vessel. After that I was bet- ter off than before, for they made me a room on the quarter-deck with the big flag dou- bled and thrown over the boom. Every body contributed something to make me comfortable; one a folding iron camp-bed- stead, some, guava jelly, some, tea, while one of my fellow-passengers gave me from his own private stores delicate nourishing things which brought back my strength, Edward L. Beale, late minister to AustrIa. and personally snperintended their prepa- ration. That this was kindly felt as well as well done will be understood by all who know himMr. Samuel Ward. There were several ladies, and one of them, the wife of an officer, shared my deck tent. The ship was so crowded that the whole floor of the deck was chalked out into measured spaces allotted to persons who slept there. My state-room was kept merely for a dressing- room, and I let a good quiet woman who was out of money, and whose husband was working his passage np, sleep there. My reliable woman claimed her place in it, but she had to go up in the steerage. I had paid all her expenses in Panama at the hotel, and throngh to San Francisco, on condition that she never came in my sight. The seven weeks in Panama had proved that new scenes brought no desire for reforma- tion, and by this time there was no popular opinion to sustain her. To dismiss her with a completed record, I will add that one of the great fires in San Francisco in 1851 was traced to her, where she had set fire to her dwelling-house in revenge on Mr. De Lessert for having refused to permit her to remain as his tenant. The Vigilance Committee, as she was a woman, disliked to punish her as they did other criminals; so she was only sent out of the country. It must have been some comfort to her to know that my house was burned in the fire she h~d started. The first voyage had only made me know the ocean by day, but on this journey up the Pacific I learned to know it by night also. My flag tent on deck first taught me the luxury of sleeping in the open air, e~t la belie Jtoile, truly; and the stillgreaterdelight of watching the night through all its phases, and seeing the sun rise from the ocean: it was full compensation for all the discom- forts of the voyage. As I have said, the deck was parceled out into sleeping-places; nearest ns were the gentlemen of our more immediate party and acquaintance. I over- heard among these one night a stir and mur- muring which took shape to my mind as the announcement of some impending dan- ger; I caught the sense that the captain would not open his door, that the captain would not answer any one, and then the quick decision to do themselves what was necessary. A new sound was added to that made by the steamers way through the wa- tera low, busy, grating, whispering sound of watersand I could see long broken lines of foamy white, which even my inexperience told me were unusual. Seeing that we were sitting up and listening, we were told not to be alarmed, although we were in sound of the breakers, that there was time yet to work the ship off, and that Captain Ring- gold had taken command. I was too igno- rant to be alarmed. To me it was only a beautiful new phase of the sea. It was for- 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tunate for u~ that we had experienced naval officers on board, for the captain remained ill, and they proved a safe dependence. As our voyane wore on, the lack of read- ing matter began to be felt; we had all exhausted our supply during the long de- tention at Panama before getting on ship- board, and there was nothing to be ex- changed, for each one had the same thing. Every body had a Shakspeare and not mnch besides. Something was said among us one day about this: how people inevitably read the same books, thought the same thoughts, and nsed the same expressions; how rare it was under the sun to find any thing new or fresh; whether from want of courage to do our own thinking, or unwillingness to make the breach in received nsages~ we continual- ly would follow in grooves laid for us. The first school of whales we met illustrated this. I sent different gentlemen about the deck to quietly ascertain what the people were writing in their note-books, for every one had produced a little note-book as soon as they saw the whales. I was sure that the greater number would put it: This morning, for the first time, we met the levi- athan of the deep disporting himself in his native element, or, Glorious sight! huge monsters at play ! I was sure very few would call a whale a whale, and it proved so. It was a mornings fun for us to watch the different ambassadors on their missions; they would draw out the unsuspecting writer, saying there was a fine sight something to write home about ; it was very hard to keep ajournal on a monotonous sea-voyage, etc. Then the writer would proudly read out what he had been prepar- ing for home. In almost every case it was the stereotyped sentence. When the re- turns were in, we found the leviathan had it by an immense majority: very few whales. For myself; I did not miss books. I was in the languid content of convalescence, and it was enough to lie still and take in so much that was new and, as a German friend of mine puts it, harmonious to me. From my flag tent on deck I loved to look out, myself in shadow, to the deep blue of the ocean, stretching far, far, to where it joined with the line of the cloudless blue skyto the calm splendor of the bronze and golden sunset clouds at that grand mo- ment of the suns setting in the ocean. I had never before seen the stars all through a night. I had not known how close, how animated, they could be. I had never watched the paling of the stars before the coming day, nor that beautiful ripple that comes just as the sun rises in the first breath of morning. Like nothing else in nature for its suggestion of freshness and new happy life, except the smile that some- times comes on the face of a sleeping baby about to wake. There was no need to keep a journal. Every thing burned itself in in its own im- age on my mind, and all suttled there as part of the endless talks I should have when, returned home, like Sindbad, I should relate my voyages. Against all adverse circumstances was the pure air of the ocean coming into my lungs night and day and healing them. By the time we reached San Diego I was fairly well; but I do not know how it would have been if fresh discourage ments had reached me there. At this point I was to learn whether Mr. Fremont had or had not arrived in California. As we dropped anchor, and boats put off to us from the shore, I went below. If I had needed any proof of the universal good feeling and in- terest in me it came now, for I think the whole ships passengers crowded to my door. The colonel has come I The colonel is safe ! Its all right now, madam ! The colonel was in the Angeles three weeks ago, and had gone up overland to meet the steamer, which was overdue. Then their fears and sympathies were openly ex- pressed to me. No one had thought it pos- sible that a party so broken down with hardships could force its way in the winter months through the then unknown coun- try, and they dreaded the result for me. The few remaining days of the journey were completely charming. We had come into bracing cool air, which repaired the damage done by the tropics, and every one was eager and confident of success in the now certain gold country. Major Derby (John Phcenix) gave way to his wildest fun and high spirits, and organized a series of tableaux vivants and theatricals that were acted every night on deck in a way that would have made the fortune of a theatrical managerthere were many cultivated and charming people among the passengers and altogether life seemed very bright and full of happy possibilities as we entered the Golden Gate.* * Called Chrysepyke (Golden Gate) on the map, on the same principle that the harbor of Byzenfium Constantinople afterward was called Chrysocerce (Golden Horn). The form of the harbor and its ad- vantagea for commerce, and that before it became an entrepdt of Eastern commerce, suggested the name to the Greek founders of Byzantium. The form of the hay of San Francisco and its advantages for com- merce, Asiatic Inclusive, suggest the name which is given to this entrance. This is a foot-note occurring in Senate Document, Miscellaneous, No. 148, Thirtieth Congress, First Ses- sion. A resolution dated June 5, 1848, ordered the printing of this document, which is called Geograph- ical Memoir upon Upper California in Illustration of his Map of Oregon and California, by John Charles Fremont. There have been various versions of the naming of the entrance to the bay of San Francisco. This was the origin of the name given on the map published in June of 48. The Ilrst gold was found in August of that year. J. B. F. A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 91 We found a bleak and meagre frontispiece to our Book of Fate. A few low houses, and many tents, such as they were, covered the base of some of the wind-swept treeless hills, over which the June fog rolled its chilling mist. Deserted ships of all sorts were swing- ing with the tide. A crowd of men swarmed about what is now Montgomery Street, then the mud shore of the bay. It was Alad- dins old lamp, however, homely as it seem- ed, and fortune was there for those who had what my father nsed to call a stomach for a fight, or for those who, born lucky, suc- ceed by virtue of the unknown force to which we concede that term. The mere landing of the passengers was a problem. The crews who took boats to shore were pretty sure not to come back. The Ohio, Captain Ap Catesby Jones com- inanding, was there. Captaiu Jones very kindly invited me on board to remain until Mr. Fremont should arrive, for I had the disappointment of finding he was not yet here. Mr. Howard, a wealthy merchant, had brought out his boat, and I accepted his in- vitation, as after so much sea travel the land was best for me. There were then some three or four regu- larly built houses in San Francisco, repre- senting the Hudson Bay and the Russian hide business; the rest were canvas and blanket tents. Of course there was no lum- ber there for building, and there were not even trees to be cut down; nor would any man have diverted his attention from the mines to go to house-building. A little later, when they found the hardships of mining life too great and the returns too uncertain, the tide turned, and many men came back to make fortunes at steady work in build- ing up the town. Sixteen dollars a day was ordinary pay for carpenters. The young officers of the army and navy there used to lament to me that their business was so fai less profitable. One of them turned to profit his having been on the Wilkes sur- veying expedition, and made really a great sum of money by piloting in the thick in- coming fleet of vessels of all sorts. I was taken to one of these houses, which had been the residence of Liedesdorff the Russian consul, who had recently died there. It was a time of wonderful contrasts. This was a well-built adobe house one story high, with a good veranda about it, and a beau- tiful garden kept in old-world order by a Scotch gardener. Luxuries of every kind were to be had, but there were wanting some necessaries. Fine carpets and fine fur- niture and a fine Broadwood piano, and no house-maid. The one room with a fire-place had been prepared for my Bleeping-room, and bad French furniture and no end of mirrors, but lacked a fire. The June winds were blowing, and I felt them the more from recent illness, which had left the lungs, however, very sensitive. There was no fuel proper; and little fagots of brush-wood, broken-up goods boxes, and sodden ends of old ship timber were all that could be had. The club of wealthy merchants who had this house together had excellent Chinese servants, but to make every thing comfort- able to me they added the only woman that could be procured, who accepted a temporary place of chamber-maid at two hundred and forty dollars a month and perquisites. One of the perquisites was the housing of her husband and children as well as herself. She had been washer-woman to a New York regiment, and was already the laundress of these gentlemen. She was kind enough to tell me that she liked my clothes, and would take the pattern of certain dresses, and seem- ed to think it a matter of course that I would let her carry off gowns and wraps to be copied by her dress-maker, a Chinaman. I declined this as civilly as I could, but the result was that she threw up the situation. The only really private house was one be- longing to a young New Yorker, who had it shipped from home, house and furniture completea double two-story frame house, which, when in place, was said to have cost ninety thousand dollars. At this price, with the absence of timber and the absence of labor,it will be seen that it was (~cult to have any other shelter than ~t. The bride for whose reception this house was in- tended arrived just before me, but lived only a few weeks; the sudden and great changes of climate from our Northern weather into the tropics, and from the tropics again into the raw, harsh winds of that season at San Francisco, were too much for her, even with all the comforts of her own beautiful home. At a party given to welcome her the whole force of San Francisco society came ont, the ladies sixteen in number. Visits in the daytime were held as a mark- ed attention. I was told that time was worth fifty dollars a minute, and that I must hold as a great compliment the brief visits which were made to me constantly through the day by busy men. There was not only gold to be had at the mines, but a golden shower ivas falling for whoever had wit to catch it. I heard of many marvelous strokes of fortune, which caused elevated eyebrows when I repeated them on my return. Our steamer was to have put in at Mon- terey, but her fuel was so nearly exhausted that we made straight for San Francisco. Mr. Fremont had ridden up from the An- geles to Monterey to meet me, and after waiting there a little, and no steamer ar- riving, came on to San Francisco, getting there about ten days after I didfortunate- ly for me, for I was already getting ill again with morbid imaginings that I had been de 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ceived, and that he had not arrived in the country at alL Now that we have the tele- graph and railroad, as well as our steamer connection, only those who experienced the want of all these can realize the dead blank absence created then. The winds of San Francisco had renewed the trouble with my lungs, and we went down by steamer to Monterey, where there was a very different climate. Bayard Tay- lor has celebrated the noble pine-trees that border the Pacific here. There was none of the stir and life here which made San Francisco so remarkable. There was a small garrison of married offi- cers with their families, but no man of any degree voluntarily kept away from the mines or San Francisco; it was their great oppor- tunity for sudden money-making. Domes- tic matters were even more upset than in San Francisco, where Chinese could be had. Here it was like after a shipwreck on a des- ert shore; the strongest and the most capa- ble was king, and, to produce any thing like comfort, all capacities had to be put to use. The major-general in command of the post, General Riley, was his own gar- dener. He came to me, proud and triumph- ant, with a small market basket on his arm, containing vegetables of his own raising. And as we would bring roses of our cultiva- tion, so h~brought me a present of a cab- bage, some ~arrots, and parsley. The French ships brought cargoes of every thing that could be sealed up in tin cans and glass, but the stomach grows very weary of this sort of food. It was barely a year since the gold had been discovered, but in that time every eatable thing had been eaten off the face of the country, and nothing raised. I suppose there was not a fowl left in the northern part of the State, consequently not an egg; all the beef cattle left had been bought up by Baron Steinberger in San Francisco; there were no longer vaqueros or herdsinen, and flocks and herds had dis- appeared. There were literally no cows, consequent- ly no milk. Housekeeping, deprived of milk, eggs, vegetables, and fresh meat, be- comes a puzzle; canned meats, macaroni, rice, and ham become unendurable from repetition. There were only the half-do- mesticated Indians as servantspoor cooks at best; and while wood was abundant around here, there was no one to cut it. Mrs. Canby, wife of one of the officers, was fortunate ia having an attached as well as capable servant, a Mexican mulatto, who had been with General Canby through the Mexican war, and who rmsained with them against all temptations. This man was a very capable baker, and until I was fortu- nate enough to chance upon a cook, he brought me daily a fragrant loaf of fresh bread, wrapped in its clean napkin and on a beautiful china plate. Nor was I the only one who felt the great kindness of this lady; she was kind and thoughtful for allthe children of the soldiers, any one; wherever she could give help, she did so. General Canby was one of those modest officers whose promotion fell behind his merits. My father was for twenty-eight years chairman of the Senate Military Coin- mittee, and while the Secretary of War changed with the changing political for- tunes of the day, he remained fixed, the comprehending and thorough friend of the army. Understanding army interests, and having his friendships with officers, he was its intelligent and useful friend. I think it is to him that is due the longevity ra- tion. When, my voyage over and myself safe back at home, I told of this among the many other kindnesses shown to me, my fa-~ ther quietly looked up General (then Major) Canbys position, had him written to, and the result was promotion and a more con- genial post. Both himself and his wife were so good and gentle, and thorough in their kindness to others, that it seemed unnatural he should meet a cruel death. Monterey was quite a town, with many good houses. Their adobe walls looked like rough stone, while the red-tiled roofs gave color and picturesquenessthe finer houses built with a disregard of space, the long front to the street, and short wings running back at either end, while the remainder of the square was a large garden, shut in by hi~h adobe walls with a coping of red tiles. Travel teaches one that there i8 nothing new under the sun. In all the different countries in which I have been, and in all grades of society, every where I have seen certain characteristics inevitably re- peated. There are women in all classes upon whom every advantage is thrown away; while there are as certainly to be met with in every grade women who seem to have a creative faculty for embellishing life; they seem to have the power of not only using to the best advantage what they have, but even to create resources about them. I could see this even in the village of Digger Indians who were my nearest neighbors on the Mariposas: one woman would have her baby in a frightful condi- tion of dirt, the coarse black hair matted into its eyelashes; while another would have hers clean, and hung about with neck- lace and decorations of bits of polished bone, beads, ends of red tape, even wax seals which she had cut from envelopes thrown away, while her shock of black hair was comparatively tidy and in some order. This difference of capacity was eminently notice- able at this time in California, where all usual surroundings were not to be had. Among the California ladies were some married to Americans, and they came at A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 93 once to see me; others, who were thorough- ly Californian, and to whom my name rep- resented only invasion and defeat, did not come at first, but after a little were among the kindest people I knew there. The only cow in the town belonged to one of these, and she sent me daily a portion of the milk, because I too had a little child. They had very much the life of our Southern people; their household, their children, their domes- tic surroundings, filled their days busily and contentedly. Their houses were charming- ly neat and orderly, and when I made a ~is- it I generally found the lady of the house sitting in the inner court, shaded by the ~)rojecting roof; and surrounded by domes- ticated Indian girls at their sewing. They seemed to have the passion of Hol- landers for the accumulation of household linen; also for satin dresses, which they bought in number, and bad made np with- out any reference to style or fashion, and packed them away in huge Chinese trunks. These trunks were painted bright reds, greens, and yellows, with well-executed wreaths of flowers upon them, and were kept as ornamental pieces of furniture in the sitting-rooms, along with French clocks, no end of chandeliers, and otber handsome things. Pictures of church subjects and En- glish hunting scenes were to be met every where. In making a visit, one of the first atten- tions was to hand you the cigarette, both made and unmade, in order that you might consult your habit. This part of the en- tertainment was a failure with me, and I had always to explain that I inherited an inability even to endure the smell of to- bacco. As we show a photographic album, they would open these huge trunks and show the satin dresses. The Fourth of July made the occasion for a grand ball; there were some Californians in town, and there was a man- of-war, and the post furnished some dancing men, among them a long thin young captain, since, General Sherman. The dressing for this ball was a serious matter to these native Californian ladies. They had already all these expensive gowns, but tbey wished something absolutely ne~v and in our fashion: as they expressed it, As they wore them in the States. An American who had lived there many years asked me to show her in strict confidence my ball dresses; she did not believe me when I told her I had none with me; she said that she wonld show them to no one else; that only her dress-maker and herself should see them (the dress-maker was the wife of a corporal). I could not convince her that it was not unwillingness on my part to share the fashions with her; she looked upon it as an excuse. When I said really I had no evening dresses with me, she broke out with What have you got in all those trunks, then, for I know you have many trunks. I told her to come and see, and insisted that she should look. When she saw only morning and walking dresses and. under-wear, she exclaimed, as though it had dawned upon her that I was a sort of social impostor: Why, you was pore when you left the States! Why, I have thirty- seven satin dresses, and no two off the same piece. The evening of the ball was to disclose the secret of the toilets of the native ladies; each had had a new dress that was tobe a sur- prise to the others; the merchant who sold the goods and the dress-maker who made them were each pledged to let no one know about the others dress. When the company assembled, eight of these ladies had gowns exactly alike: a caf6 an lait Chinese satin, with a large pattern on it, making the ef- fect of what we use for furniture covering. On no account would they have worn a low- necked and short-sleeved dress; so, while the sleeves were long, the corsage was com- pletely covered by a large Madras silk hand- kerchief pinned down Quaker fashion. The largest and best building in the town was the Governors residence; it occupied double the usual space, and was really a good building, with vcry thick walls, and a charming great garden, surrounded by a hedge of roses. I was fortunate to have one wing of this, where I made my first housekeeping. The large window of one room looked into the bay, with its great crescent-shaped sweep toward Santa Crnz; the boom of its long rollers was with me all the time. For fnrniture we had what could be gathered in San Francisco and shipped down by steamer. Beautiful Chinese mat- ting of varied colors, whole pieces of French and Chinese furniture damask, and Chinese bamboo furniture. An exquisite circular table of carved and inlaid work made a din- ing table, and we had beautiful Chinese, French, and English china. There was no toilet china, but a punch-bowl makes a good basin ; the best wax candles, and fiat tin candlesticks. We had one great luxury, a large fire-place for a wood fire,but no shovel, tongs, or andirons, and no wood to be had for money. Here friendship stepped in, and supplied me bountifully with wood of the right kind and cut in the right way, for the government teamsters were ordered to sup- ply me as they did the ladies of the post. I had no servant at all. A woman with a baby in her arms came to the open door one day, and asked me if I wanted a cook; on being told that I did indeed, she asked, Would you take one from Sydney? Be- cause I am from Sydney, and am off the ship that came in yesterday. She was under the influence of some hurt feeling, and went on: I have been to the Generals and to 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the Consuls, and they would not have me, because I was from Syduey and on that ship. Why are you not, too, afraid to take me 1 I said, Because your baby is so clean, so well kept, and looks so well (a child eighteen months old); he answers for it that you are clean, patient, and kind. Yon will not repent taking me, the wom- an said. And I never did. She went into place at once, and made me wonderfully comfortable as long as I remained. She was a thoroughly trained English servant, who had lived in Australia with the wife of the Chief Justice. She had all her creden- tials, and deserved them. This need of a cook had been provided for in a man who had already travelled with Mr. Fremont, and who had come with him again this tune. He had been cook on a man-of-war, and we knew him and all his peoplemost respectable colored people in Washington. With him, and my own wom- an Harriot, I had the nucleus of a good household. The mission Indians made good women-servants, as Mr. Fremont had seen in the many California households with which he had been familiar, so we had never fore- seen any trouble on this account. In fact, I had grown up to such a fixed order of things in all domestic arrangements that ideas of this kind had never come to my mind. But I lost my Harriot in New York in the way I have told, and Saunders was in the mines. Although a free man himself; his wife and children were slaves because of the law that children of a slave mother were also slaves. He had now the opportunity of making quickly the money with which to buy their freedom. He had been offered the lot for seventeen hundred dollars, and Mr. Fremont equipped him and sent him off to our mines, on their first arrival at San Francisco, to gather this. He really did not like to leave me, but we would hot have allowed him to stay under such cir- cumstances. Up to a certain point every thing seemed to be against us. Then the tide turned, and it was indeed a flood of good fortune. When we left home it was on the plan of a seven years absence, amounting to exile; into an unknown country, without mail communi- cations; and upon the slow process of the increase of flocks and herds was based the possibility of a journey back to revisit my people. The gold discoveries made rapid the advance in travel and mail facilities which would otherwise have been of grad- ual slow growth. General Taylor was at this time Presi- dent. His was a direct, brave, and single nature. What he thought just and right he did, irrespective of usage or politics. His brother, Colonel Taylor, had been upon the court-martial which made the decision upon which Mr. Fremont refused the promotion given him, and resigned from the army. Colonel Taylor was one of the four offi- cers who sai(l that the oldest officer in the army would have been puzzled how to act upon the question which Mr. Fremont had been called upon by his superior officers to decide for themthe question of the rel- ative rank between a commodore and a general. Quite without my fathers knowledge, the President offered to Mr. Fremont a govern- ment eniployment of dignity, and one for which his past life had fitted himthe place of Commissioner for the United States to run the boundary line with Mexico under the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. This, the President told my father, was intended to express his personal feeling in regard to the harsh finding of the military court. As may be imagined, the arrival of the mail was the event to all. This was among the things we learned by the first mail that reached us after my arrival. Mr. Beale, a friend of ours, a young naval officer, was sent out with special dispatches from the government, and was also given this coni- mission to bring to Mr. Fremont. We thought we had nothing more to ask of fate when we found that we too had our propor- tion in the great stream of wealth, which meant for us independence, and its first use the return home; but this unlooked-for and gracious act of justice crowned our content. My father was especially touched by it. Apart from personal gratification, he had been too long a leader in the triumphant and fierce Democratic party not to feel the full value of this unlooked-for giving of a high post outside of the Presidents party. The commission sent in such a way had to be accepted for a time at least; hut as it would have involved some years of stay out there, there was no hesitation about not hold- ing it. Our new independence was too com- plete and too sweet to be given up for any cause. That long white envelope, with its official stamp in the corner, which brings such terror into officers families, and sounds the note of separation to so many, was not again to come to us; henceforth we were to direct our own movements. That was what we proposed. Mr. Beale was from Washington, and a young favorite of my fathers. He, too, had had his part in the early California conquest. For the few months lie remained on that coast he made part of our little household. With a friendly captain (also from Wash- ington), and really no service to be done, as his ship lay at anchor in the bay, renewed leaves of absence were very easy to get. All our plans had been made before the discovery of gold. We had expected to live the usual life of people going to a new coun- try, and had sent round all manner of useful A YEAR OF AMERICAN TRAVEL. 95 things, from a circular saw to a travelling carriage. All these, except the latter, were stored in the companys warerooms in San Francisco. While the fine weather lasted I travelled wherever wheels could go, and lived night and day in this carriage. Mr. Aspinwall had it built under his own directions in New Jer- sey, and a sliding bottom to the seats and double cushions made an excellent sleeping- place. We had this and double and single harness in quantity, hut no horses, no one to drive, and no made roads to drive upon; we just followed bridle-paths among the trees, and where the ground was very slop- ing the Indian men put their riatas around the carriage,keeping it up until we came to level ground again. Mine was the first car- riage that had ever been in the country, and horses had not been used in harness there. Low-hung wagons with solidwooden wheels drawn by oxen, made the transportation for ]adies who wished to go by wheelcarretas, they called theni. Our experiences in gath- ering a team were unusual and rather try- ing to a womans nerves; an Oregon mare, warranted gentle, was harnessed in with a rather old California riding-horse, which was supposed to be tamed by time and work. Mr. Beale, who had in him the traditions of his boyhood in Maryland, and the remem- brance of reins handled there, felt sure that he could drill these into an efficient pair of carriage-horses; he was very strong, and he had that confidence in himself which belongs under twenty-five. I wonder now, when I remember, that I got into that carriage with those horses. The Oregon mare rose straight on her hind-legs, while the Cali- fornia horse, slower to understand, stood quiet for a little, and then commenced the favorite local habit of bucking. And this they kept to, getting frightened and ob- stinate. I too was frightened, and begged for mules, which we tried. There were only pack-mules, and these considered harness as un unpleasant pack, and tried to rub it off against every objecttrees and what- ever offered theni a surface to rub against. I do not know what we should have done, hut we came upon a camp of Texans who had just arrived, and were a short dis- tance out of Monterey; they had with them a number of fine-looking mules, which Mr. Fremont found had been used in wagons, and he tried, at first quite in vain, to buy some of these for me. They were men of means, liked their animals, andl~adnorea- son to part with them. I caught the name of one of the party as they spoke to each other, and told Mr. Fremont to ask him if his mother was not from North Carolina, and if her name was not Caroline; the young man came up to the side of the carriage, very much astonished, and we found he was the grandson of old friends of my fathers; so I had again, through friendship, what money alone could not have bought mea comfort- able pair of harness mules. They were mis- matched in size; the larger was white, slow, and a very patient creature; we named him Job; while his companion, which was small enough to deserve the name of Picayune, was a brisk little animal that made up in work and nerve force for lack of size. Mr. Fremont had with him two of the bet- ter class of mission Indians, who had been with him for years, coming and going be- tween the United States and California. These men, Juan and Gregorio, were the most graceful horsemen I have ever seen, even in this country of graceful horsemen. When we came to a good bit of open coun- try, and could go at speed, they would fast- en to the carriage the long riatas, which were always carried at the saddle-bow, and in this way I would have two postilions rid- ing abreast in front of my mules. The men wore the old picturesque California dress, and their regular rhythmed movement as they moved gracefully with their horses made it a picture I always loved to watch. How I enjoyed that out-door life! In this way we went from Monterey to San Fran- cisco and back again from San Francisco to Monterey, stopping at different ranchos and farms to see and be seen by the people who wished Mr. Fremont to bring me to them. We would turn out of our way to accept the invitation of some of the old Californi- ans to visit them at their ranchos. At one of these we came to where the whole family had collected to meet me. Families of four- teen, eighteen, even to twenty, children were not uncommon. One of the Madames Cas- tro had twenty-six children, nearly all sons. This was one of the large families. They had collected in force, the married members coming in also, while the grandmother was the one to bid me welcome. There was nothing about these homes or people to re- mind us that we were in a new country, nor was any thing lacking to comfort and well-being. The buildings were spacious and beautifully clean, while the physical ad- vantages of the people were beyond doubt. The old lady, though herself past eighty, was like the portraits of Catherine of Russia. Her thick snow-white hair was turned back in a natural cushion upon her head, while her dark eyes, fine teeth, and clear color be- longed to youth. It was very agreeable to me to make these visits. They had learned that my father un- derstood and protected the new citizens of the United States in Louisiana and Florida, and that they could rely upon him as a friend at the seat of government; and al- ready there was sufficient evidence that the Americans who were coming in were to be the source of great trouble to them. They would also tell me of their gratitude to Mr. 96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Fremont Don Flemon, as they called himfor having protected them from all rudeness or unnecessary loss of any kind during the progress of his battalion through the State when it passed from their owner- ship to ours. Our own war has taught us there was a difference in commanding offi- cers in that respect. As Mr. Fremont neared California he met a large party of Sonorians, some t~velve hundred, including women and children, who were going up into California to the mines; from these he first knew of the dis- coveries of gold. The American crowds pouring in looked very unfavorably upon these as Mexicans, and resented any nation but ours having the good of the gold. Mr. Fremont joined his little party to theirs to protect them from this feeling, and arranged with them to go upon his lands at the Man- posas, from which they could not be driven off as it was private property; he knew the gold must be found there as well as farther north in the same mountain range. The So- norians were accustomed to mining work, particularly the gold washings, and he ar- ranged that they should work for him, he giving the lands and the protection, and they giving him half the results. Already we had had the astonishment and pleasure of receiving buckskin bags filled with gold- dust and lumps of gold as an installment on this arrangement. I remember the first came to us at SanJos6, where we had stopped over. Our means and our belongings were in sharp contrast. It was good fortune to get even one room in a house, and I had one room pour tout partage, but I had learned by this time that it was great good luck to have a whole room. One bedstead and one table made the furniture, each the simplest and crudest construction of rough wood; the bed was at least clean, as it was fresh straw sewed up in clean cotton cloth. I had my large grass hammock, which not only made a sleeping-place at night, but in the morning it was triced up higher, while Mr. Fremont and our midshipman coachman, with their high boots drawn outside of their trousers, deluged the room with hot water to put an end to that days supply of fleas. Our food, such as it was, was supplied by a man who kept a restaurant in the town, and who, having once been cook on a whaler, considered himself equal to any occasion. We were at this place when our first con- voy of gold reached us. The buckskin bags, containing about a hundred pounds of gold, were put for safety under the straw mat- tress. There were no banks nor places of deposit of any kind. You had to trust some man that you knew, or keep guard yourself. We sent this back to Monterey, and it accu- mulated in trunks in our rooms there. When those Sonora people wanted to go back to their country, at the end of sonic months, they sent to say to Mr. Fremont that they were going, and that their share came to a certain amount. We were in San Francisco then, and it was not convenient for Mr. Fremont to go back to Monterey, so he sent them the keys of our rooms and of the trunks, leaving it to theni to make the division. This they did with scrupulous honor, not taking an ounce more than their stipulated portion. Sydney Smith tells of a merchant who bought a lottery ticket for himself and one for a friend, and, marking on them their names, put them by in a drawer without further thought. Some time after, he saw that one of these numbers had drawn a great prize, and going to look, found that it was his friends tickct, and he turned over to his friend the prize. Sydney Smith said he never thought of this without feeling an emotion of grati- tude and pride that such an act could be done. I think that our Sonorians take rank with the London merchant. MY UNCLES HEIRESS. MY uncle David and I were close friends so close that we smoked many a pipe together before my father knew that I touch- ed the weed, and so intimate that whatever he had learned in the world of trade or fash- ion was at my command. It needed only a hint from me to set Uncle David talking, yet he was considered a taciturn man. Hav- ing given me the entry to his little study, he gradually learned to consider me very much as a favorite booka book with ears, that would nod now and then, rustle an ap- proval, or give a sympathetic sigh; for he had seen from my earliest years that noth- ing short of a thumb-screw would extract from me any confidence which he bestowed; hence his soliloquies were often as abrupt, singular, and real as if he had been think- ing aloud. I remember as if it was yester- day how, on a certain snowy winters night, I stretched my young legs comfortably be- fore a wood fire in the grate, lolled back in a deep easy-chair, with one of his best Ha- vanas in my mouth, and said, in a lordly tone, By-the-way, Uncle Dave, how did you first come to know the Van Ruyvens i? I was in his office for some timeuntil I met Yes, but I could see that Uncle Davids eyes were getting fixed on a particular log and open- ing very wide; that meant that the past was coming up to marshal its events before him. He dropped his cigar and clutched his chin with his hand, allowing his fingers to play nervously on his lower lip. Pres- ently he began to speak in the quiet, rather monotonous voice into which such contin

96 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Fremont Don Flemon, as they called himfor having protected them from all rudeness or unnecessary loss of any kind during the progress of his battalion through the State when it passed from their owner- ship to ours. Our own war has taught us there was a difference in commanding offi- cers in that respect. As Mr. Fremont neared California he met a large party of Sonorians, some t~velve hundred, including women and children, who were going up into California to the mines; from these he first knew of the dis- coveries of gold. The American crowds pouring in looked very unfavorably upon these as Mexicans, and resented any nation but ours having the good of the gold. Mr. Fremont joined his little party to theirs to protect them from this feeling, and arranged with them to go upon his lands at the Man- posas, from which they could not be driven off as it was private property; he knew the gold must be found there as well as farther north in the same mountain range. The So- norians were accustomed to mining work, particularly the gold washings, and he ar- ranged that they should work for him, he giving the lands and the protection, and they giving him half the results. Already we had had the astonishment and pleasure of receiving buckskin bags filled with gold- dust and lumps of gold as an installment on this arrangement. I remember the first came to us at SanJos6, where we had stopped over. Our means and our belongings were in sharp contrast. It was good fortune to get even one room in a house, and I had one room pour tout partage, but I had learned by this time that it was great good luck to have a whole room. One bedstead and one table made the furniture, each the simplest and crudest construction of rough wood; the bed was at least clean, as it was fresh straw sewed up in clean cotton cloth. I had my large grass hammock, which not only made a sleeping-place at night, but in the morning it was triced up higher, while Mr. Fremont and our midshipman coachman, with their high boots drawn outside of their trousers, deluged the room with hot water to put an end to that days supply of fleas. Our food, such as it was, was supplied by a man who kept a restaurant in the town, and who, having once been cook on a whaler, considered himself equal to any occasion. We were at this place when our first con- voy of gold reached us. The buckskin bags, containing about a hundred pounds of gold, were put for safety under the straw mat- tress. There were no banks nor places of deposit of any kind. You had to trust some man that you knew, or keep guard yourself. We sent this back to Monterey, and it accu- mulated in trunks in our rooms there. When those Sonora people wanted to go back to their country, at the end of sonic months, they sent to say to Mr. Fremont that they were going, and that their share came to a certain amount. We were in San Francisco then, and it was not convenient for Mr. Fremont to go back to Monterey, so he sent them the keys of our rooms and of the trunks, leaving it to theni to make the division. This they did with scrupulous honor, not taking an ounce more than their stipulated portion. Sydney Smith tells of a merchant who bought a lottery ticket for himself and one for a friend, and, marking on them their names, put them by in a drawer without further thought. Some time after, he saw that one of these numbers had drawn a great prize, and going to look, found that it was his friends tickct, and he turned over to his friend the prize. Sydney Smith said he never thought of this without feeling an emotion of grati- tude and pride that such an act could be done. I think that our Sonorians take rank with the London merchant. MY UNCLES HEIRESS. MY uncle David and I were close friends so close that we smoked many a pipe together before my father knew that I touch- ed the weed, and so intimate that whatever he had learned in the world of trade or fash- ion was at my command. It needed only a hint from me to set Uncle David talking, yet he was considered a taciturn man. Hav- ing given me the entry to his little study, he gradually learned to consider me very much as a favorite booka book with ears, that would nod now and then, rustle an ap- proval, or give a sympathetic sigh; for he had seen from my earliest years that noth- ing short of a thumb-screw would extract from me any confidence which he bestowed; hence his soliloquies were often as abrupt, singular, and real as if he had been think- ing aloud. I remember as if it was yester- day how, on a certain snowy winters night, I stretched my young legs comfortably be- fore a wood fire in the grate, lolled back in a deep easy-chair, with one of his best Ha- vanas in my mouth, and said, in a lordly tone, By-the-way, Uncle Dave, how did you first come to know the Van Ruyvens i? I was in his office for some timeuntil I met Yes, but I could see that Uncle Davids eyes were getting fixed on a particular log and open- ing very wide; that meant that the past was coming up to marshal its events before him. He dropped his cigar and clutched his chin with his hand, allowing his fingers to play nervously on his lower lip. Pres- ently he began to speak in the quiet, rather monotonous voice into which such contin MY UNCLES HEIRESS. 97 ned trains of thought led him. It was one of his most complete and interesting confi- dences to me, for it had to (10 with an event that affected his life most profoundly, that colored and controlled it still. These were Uncle Davids words: There was dancing going on late one night in two large dra~ving-rooms in a great house. A young man, in passing through a small room that lay between them, greeted one of a pair of gentlemen with that half nod with which our people of the Northern and Middle States preserve their dignity at the expense of courtesy. Now that is the kind of man I allude to, sai(l the younger of the two, not a res- ident of New York, but hardly a stranger either. There he goes, with his smooth, vapid face, his chin thrust out, his elbows wide of his sides, a dress exactly like that of nine-tenths of the people here, a flat hat in his ungloved hand. How can such a creature exist through the day without ex- piring from inanity l He spoke aloud, like a man conscious of an ability to express himself forcibly on any subject, and not unwilling to hear his own voice. On a sli~,ht acquaintance he was sure to seem a good-hearted fellow, somewhat disposed to the saying of smart things, but the last man in the world to hurt anothers feelings. One saw that in his face. But he did not know that the person to whom he referred had merely moved as far as the other side of a curtain which draped the door into the smaller and less frequented drawing - room. Unfortu- nately the young man criticised heard ev- ery word, and, moreover, still more unfortu- nately, the young man was no other person than myself! I could not help agreeing in part with my plain-spoken satirist; but that did ndt make it any easier to bear. Quite the con- trary. I could not avoid coloring with vex- ation. The gentleman with whom he stood, a wary frequenter of social places, turned the subject. A beautiful house we have here, said he, looking about him. Ye-es, said his acquaintance, in a tone of doubtful assent. But it smacks of New York. Nothing substantial, little that is new or individual. Now in London they do things very differently. If I know any thing of architecture, this house is very flimsily built; would not stand alone with- out aid from the buildings on either side. I am surprised the floors support so well a crowd of people such as we see here. Pleas- ant, if there should be a sudden smash ! His friend, used to severe remarks on New York city, and conscious that he him- self knew nothing on the subjectprobably with little faith, moreover, in the speakers VoL. LVI.No. 3.31.7 attainments in architectureexcused him- self and sauntered off. The critic stepped through the doorway on my side of the curtain, and came face to face with me be- fore the red had died away from my coun- tenance. We had met before, and Ihad been civil to him. Forgive me ! was all he could stutter, becoming in turn scarlet with embarrass- ment, and seizing my hand in both of his. For some moments I had nothing to say; but he would not cease to press my limp hand. It was plain how much lie felt grieved at having wounded me. We were in a great house up town, newly built, beloi~ging to people who are hardly known until they give a large ball, and in- vite the curious and unexelusive to rush in to admire or criticise. As a stranger, it was not at all odd that Furnival should have been there. For my part, I had caused my name to be placed among the number in- vited by the man who arranges such lists for persons unprovided with a wide visiting circle of their own. Our elderly host and hostess, who stood, very much frightened at their crowd of guests, near the doorway of the first drawing-room, were of the num- ber of those who are compelled to put them- selves in the hands of such a man in order to fill their apartments, and, for reasons of my own, I had signified my readiness to appear. After passing a few meaningless words with the owners of the house and their pale, timorous daughter, I had just reached the spot where I could get from the assemblage all the pleasure there was to be extracted, as far as I was concerned, when my equanimity was overthrown after the fashion mentioned. You are right enough in the main, said I, beginning to return the pressure of my acquaintances hand, but still a little net- tled. Yet it is possible that you are a lit- tle hasty in jumping to conclusions. The dress and appearance which you have some reason to attack with your caustic wit have certain advantages which you may not yet have noticed. You enjoy them yourself be- ing forced to use them to some degree, no matter what your theory about them may be. They make a man a mere counter, so that he can step from one part of the board to the other unnoticed. They do not hinder him from stopping where there is something to interest. What you say, and the way you say it, convince me more than any timing else that I have been hasty, besides being confound- edly rude, said he, loosing my hand, and smiling, after a most disarming fashion, in my face. He was a handsome fellow, and when lie fixed you fully with his large sparkling eyes, you began to feel that here was a man to whom you could make a con- fidence with safety. One was also suddenly 95 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. aware that he was a person in whose good opinion it was worth standing; that, having established yourself in his mind as a being not quite as silly as you looked, you might always be sure of a generous recognition. I would like to give you an idea of my situation just at present, said I, reddening again at the idea of making a confidence to any one, but pushed on by a combination of emotions and circumstances, attracted by the look of the man. If you have nothing better to do than to lean here against the ~vall for ten minutes or so, why, Ill try to give you some clew to present appearances. My acquaintance gave me a sympathetic, grateful look, and took an easy positiou by my side without uttering a word. Noth- ing could have been more condncive to a continuation of the mood into which I was plunged. We were both silent for a while. I was sunk in thought; but his eyes, after roving al)out the room, in which compara- tively few dancers were airily moving around and around, rested on a young girl opposite, and remained fixed in observation. While I east about in my mind how to begin, I glanced at his face and saw the direction in which his eyes were leveled. The sight was remarkable enough, certain ly. The woman on whom his curious dilat- ed eyes were fastened was the centre-piece of the room, as far as beauty and grace were concerned. Yet she was not very thickly besieged with men. She sat sidewise on her chair, as if utterly indifferent to the po- sition she assumed; only one foot showed under a dress heavily trimmed with old lace, yellow and foam-like, and her posture sug- gested the idea that, after the fashion of little school-girls, she was sitting on the other foot. But the one that was conscious- ly in public sufficed. It was not a very small or a very thin foot, but rather plump. The slipper on it had a heel of inordinate size, and, through the open-work in ~ fine silk stocking, showed her creamy white skin whiter even than the round fingers of her ungloved hands. To crown all this singu- lar appearance came a mass of diamonds in her hair, at her ears, her neck, her waist, worn, like every thing else, with a kind of insolence, as if the wearer were quite sure their splendor could not overshine her own personal charnis. At the moment she was looking down drearily on a row of rings of all kinds covering and almost hiding her hands, the glitter of which was caught and repeated far up her round arms by tier after tier of bangles, silver, golden, ivory, and in- laid wood, which she took a barbaric pleas- ure in rattling every now and then; for this purpose she would raise her arm and survey the operation with perfect coolness. Her smooth flat forehead was broken by a per- pendicular frown in the centre, and the corners of her mouth indicated a cynical disgust with every thing about her. It was not surprising that my companions gaze should be fixed on so much animate beauty, rendered piquant by such an unusual series of decoration. That was the sight I had come for; it was she who had brought me away from a cozy room and the niost fasci- nating of my favorite authors. I am spared, said I, smiling a little at the intensity of his gaze, a description of the woman who is responsible for what I am: she sits there before you. I do not know why it isI never speak of my own affairs to any onebut to-night I must un- bosom myself to somebody, and in you I fancy I recognize a loyal person who will hear and not betray. I trust to the honor I read in your face. You must know, then, that yonder sits a woman named Marcia Van Ruyven, an extraordinary character (though you may think me poor authority), and, unhappily for every one, a great heir- ess. You are naturally astonished at the dress she wears, but you must at least ac- knowledge that, bizarre and dowager-like - as it is, she carries it perfectly. You see shes a human being, not a mere pasteboard chit like But there, I must not be bitter too. Well, I was always in love with that girl, although her insolence made me quar- rel with her at first introduction. But do not snppose that made a breach between us. Far from it. She liked me at once, and the more I bullied her, the meeker she would get. But then, you know, in this world every thing comes to an end, and quarreling can not be kept np between two young people forever. Ah, yes! If its only for the sake of a change, they will occasionally alter the directiongo to the other extreme, in fact. Look at her now, how she treats that young fellow ! There was no need to encourage my com- rade to look, for lie was examining Marcia closely. A young man, hardly more than a boy, had come up with the juvenile assur- ance of his class, and asked for a dance. We saw Marcia turn her face up to him, and raise her eyelids with a slow motion al- most terrible. Such an impertinent, frozen face it was! We could see him getting red and fingering his hat nervously; finally saw him break away and retreat, completely routed. The corners of Marcias mouth re- laxed a little into a glimmer of a smile, as she beckoned to a gentleman who was ob- sequiously holding her larger bouquet, and making himself agreeable to mamma. The latter, a well-preserved and portly lady, whose face was etched with hard lines gain- ed in ull sorts of struggles, eyed every one who approached her group with the dreamy, far-off look of the granter of letters of cred- it ~vhen some merchant comes into his office to buy his paper. Is he good for all he says? MY UNCLES HEIRESS. 99 Was he not hurt in that recent speculation? Dare I give him the use of my name on a bill of exchange? The good lady had lit- tle idea that one could read all those ques- tions in the sharp glance over her well-fed smile. Presently, while Marcia was occupying herself with the disposal of her numerous flowers, a young man with a more than nsually vacant countenance lounged up, and, to Mrs. Vau Ruyvens hearty welcome, returned a patronizing nod. We could see that he too asked Marcia for a dance; but instead of hurting his feelings as before, she arose, all sweetness and grace, and allowed herself to be carried away. You see she does make exceptions, said my friend, not without a glint of enjoyment at what he very naturally expected would discomfort me. His fate is only worse, said I. It would have been no use to snub him at once, for he would not have felt it. Such men must be handled carefully until the time comes; then the dullest must see; then he will be crushed. But, besides, dont you see that mamma must sometimes be humored? The young manwho is by no means a bad sort of fellow, I assure youis one of the best unmated bridegrooms going. Ah! here they come. Now did you ever see any one more bewilderingly lovely ? I was sorry for my folly as soon as I had said thatenthusiasm is infectious-but it was too late. I had gone too far; and, aft- er all, I might as well have the enjoyment of expressing my fondness to a third person. Marcia came sweeping slowly by on the arms of her partner, both of them perfect dancers, and used to each others step since child- hood. The youth held his head high, with a countenance bespeaking his own content. Behold me ! said the face rich, courted, good-looking, and in my arms the loveliest, richest, most capricious girl here! I have only to nod, and she is mine. On the oth- er hand, the girls face said: You are all a pack of fools, but at least I shall get some enjoyment out of you. This is a divine dancer. Every woman and girl is envying me him, either for his good looks or his wealth; and, best of all, I am allowing him to suppose that he can marry me when he chooses. So much pleasure I shall have. And so they rustled airily by. She is a woman worth fighting for, said my companion; and I could see the veins on his temples swell and his jaws square ia mere imagination of a contest. So I thought at one time, said I, drear- ily. There were hours when we sat to- gether concocting the most fearful schemes of adventure and bloodshedrather a vio- lent contrast, it sometimes occurred to me in those days, between them and the reality of the dull business to which I was con- demned. But what would you have? We did what we could; only, unfortunately, the war was over, and I could not nerve myself to go off and be a pirate in cold blood on the chaiice that Marcia would remain true. If there had been a war, now, and I not killed, who knows what we might be to each other ? My comrade turned his face on me with a strange look I did not misinterpret. Beware ! I cried. I see by your eyes that she has fascinated you too. You look at me with something hostile in your glance, as if vaguely you thought of disputing her with me. Remember that I have not the slightest hold on hersince it appears that words are nothingand that you are free to try. Any thing I can do to assist you shall 1)0 loyally at your service. My friend turned very red, and hung down his face, so that I needed nothing more to convince me that I had guessed rightly. It was my turn to grasp his hand. You must hear me out now, anddonot let your imagination run away with you. Excuse me, said he, laying his hand on my arm; you have interested me so much iu your story that I would like to see the lady nearer by before I hear the rest. You understand? It will help me to a clearer view of her and you. Marcia and her partner had ceased dan- cing, and were standing not far off from us. I took the opportunity of catching her eye and forcing a recognition. Then I brought up Furnival and presented him to her, with- out allowing any one a moments time for consideration. Marcia was totally unpre- pared for this sudden move, and at once vented her displeasure on the new-coiner. While he stood waiting for her to speak, ei- ther because at a loss for words, or because he wished her to speak the first word, she ran her eyes over him in a leisurely manner, so that he could not have helped feeling them linger on any weak point in his dress or figure. A pair of bright yellow gloves made her eyes snap. Yet his utter quiet and the look he fixed on her were not en- tirely displeasing, as any one as well accus- tomed to her face as I readily perceived. Still, she was about to turn away, ignoring him, and making a remark to her father, when Furnival stepped forward. Dont go till you have danced with me, said he, quietly, in the tone of one who might have known her always, yet nst in the least offensively. Her partner of a moment before glanced superciliously over the assured speaker, and turned with a cough to demand another dance by a mere gesture. But Marcia had been attracted by Furnivals voice, and had caught her partners expression of owner- ship. Without a moments hesitation she accepted Furnivals arm. As she moved off, 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. she tossed the fan and small bouquet she carried, to lier former partner, biddin~ him carry them to her mother. The expression on the face of the child of wealth at being dismissed so abruptly, repaid Marcia amply for any suffering she may have undergone from Furnivals dan- cing. They did not get far before they stopped, and finished the circuit of the room in a walk. You certainly dance very badly, said Marcia, a.s calmly as if it were a remark on the weather. Ah, well, it is vulgar to dance too per- fectly, answered Puruival, on the alert for war, and grasping about for any ~ capon that came to hand. Yet I dance very well. How do you account for that ? In a ladyI should call it eccentricity. What a very mixed set of people there is here to-night ! said Marcia, irritated that he should slip out of the dilemma. One hardly knows to whom one may not be in- troduced. Pleasant to discover your grocer in a recent introduction, for instance. Furnival smiled in a way he thought pro- voking, but was really provoked. I myself, Miss Van Ruyven, am in a business not unconnected with groceries. They were standing near me again, and Marcia had taken her hand from his arm. She beckoned to me. So I feared, said she from your dan- cing ; and with that Parthian shaft, walk- ed off by my side, while Furnival bowed ironically. How nice of you to present that charm- ing fellow to me ! said she, as we approach- ed her mother, and I was waiting for some outburst of anger. Bring him to see me, will you? Or, noyou dont visit me any more, do you Isend me his address; that will be better. I love grocers. They ap- pear to have ori,,inality, and you know that is a trait quite impossible to find in our set. I wish you had less, said I, gloomily. Marcia gave a ringing laugh that called the attention of the room, and dropped me a deep courtesy. Don Desperando has given inc the best compliment of the season, she cried aloud to her mother. Her tone ignored the pres- ence of any one else in the room. Much as I loved her, I could not be blind to such bad manners; but there was nothing to be done. Who was that young man you were dan- cing with? said Mrs. Van Ruyven, sharply, without lowering her voice in the least, and acknowledging my presence by the merest twitching of her eyelids. The most charming man imaginable, cried Marcia. Our friend here always does know such nice, odd, Bohemian kind of peo- ple! I am going to ask them both to din- ner. From her daughter Mrs. Van Ruyven look- ed anxiously across the room to my friend. I am sure he is an adventurer, ~ said she. Who are these Furnivals? He looks poor, and is sure to be pushing. Now youre in for it, said Marcia to me. Mamma, it was all this youths fault. You know I never did a wrong thing in niy life. Confess you told him we were rich. Of course I did. I told him that Miss Van Ruyven is a great catch; the Van Ruy- vens people he must know if he wanted to go any where, etc., etc. An adventurerI knew it, quoth Mrs. Van Ruyven, unconscious of the amusement she was giving her daughter. She was only too happy to horrify her. Dear me, no, mamma; you are mistak- en. Hes only a grocer. Grocers are never adventurers. Nothing could be more re- spectable. Here I made my excuses and rejoined my friend, for the five or six men who pursued Marcia at every entertainment had discov- ered her, and were closing around the prize. Arc you ready to henr the rest of my little story I I asked, demurely, when we had taken up our station by the doorway aoain. I am sorry to have interrupted it, said he, in a burst of frankness, and trying to laugh off his discomfiture. But his eyes fol- lowed Marcia with an expression of mixed admiration and anger. You have seen, said I, how disagreea- ble she can make herself. Well, she can be as charming as she was disagreeableeven more charming, if the mood is on her. I doubt the existence in this city of another woman who has as much originality in be- ing delightful, if she wants to exercise her talent. That must be my excuse for suffer- ing what I have at her hands. You have heard that she is understood to be a great heiress; you probably know that I have little or no means. Well, you may imagine what I have endured from that mother of brass of hers, from relatives and friends their insinuations, insults. But I could have borne all that. It was when 8he indulged in seine distant hint of the kind, or that I suspected she harbored such a thought, that I wanted the earth to swallow me up; that the day became black before my eyes; that an insane desire to kill some one arose in me. But I was helpless. I was poor; she was rich. What difference was there be- tween me and any other of the dozen who crept around the money-box on their knees? Well, I will do her the justice to say that she did find a difference, generally speaking. One day I came in to see her, and the servant, supposing her up stairs, showed me into a drawing-room to wait. In a mo-~ ment I was conscious that some one was moving in a distant room; and passing over MY UNCLES HEIRESS. 101 the deep carpets of a dark middle chamber to the open doors, I found Marcia. She was walking up and down talking to herself cx- citedly. My God! my God! she cried, raising her arms tragica~1y; are there no men in this city? Where can I find a man? Here~ Marciat I cried~ springing for- ward where she could see me. What you want done, that I will do. She stood still, looking hard at me, her bosom rising and falling excitedly, her eyes flashing. If you were a man, you would know what I want; you would have a couple of horses, or a coach, or a yachtsomething ready to take me out of this. I hate it. I loathe this city. I despise the people I know. I can not bear these carpets, these inane pictures. I want to live in a log-hut en a prairie. Take me away. Marry ~ne, if you think I am worth it, and take me away. I held her for a moment in my arms, un- able to believe my ears or the possibility that her words contained. Then I said, Exactly at twelve to-night, when you hear something strike your window, come down prepared for a journey. I will give three raps on the outer door. Then open. Well, every thing was readycarriage, church, clergyman, several witnesses not in the plot, a small steamerand at twelve I stood on the steps of her house, giving the three light raps. She opened the door, and appeared in full evening dress. I entered in consternation, and she closed the door. What does this mean? I asked, with my heart in my mouth. Well, the truth is, she answered, in a tone of real regret, I think I have changed my purpose. You will not mind much, will you? but I could not do it. You under- stand. Oh, said I, huskily, you can not re- solve to do any thing so out of the way wrong, in factwithout your mothers per- mission. How absurd! said she, pettishly. As if I cared what mamma thought! No somehow, I was afraid Afraid of what? Come! I cried. The clergyman and the steamer are waiting. Do run up and change your things. You can be all ready and off inside of half an hour. Go at once! hurry! She began to play with her rings much as she is doing at this moment as she sits over there; she actually pouted like a little spoiled child. The most singular scene be- gan between us. For a long time I could not make out what had caused her to change her mind. It was not mere caprice. At length the truth dawned upon me in its full horror, and I was dumb. Would you believe it?she could not satisfy her- self that I was not marrying her for her nioney. Why didnt you tell her that you need have nothing to do with it ? cried Furni- val, in an exasperated tone. ~ So I didas soon as I could recover from the shock. It did seem at first that a woman who could suspect you of such a thing could not be your wife. But thenI was infatuated. I was angry enough to be positively violent. Curse your money,~ said I, rudely-. It has almost ruined you, and will only stand between us hereafter. You can deed it all away before we get married to-nightdo what yen please with it. It would not be mine in any case. I have enough for us to live onvery plainly. What more do you want? Dont you hate all this heaped-up comfort about youthis art that is not art, but a kind of product of a furnishing shop? We will live in a studio, and you can de- velop your talent for painting and earn money! At that she clapped her hands, and turn- ed to run up stairs. You ought to have seen her with the dim hall lamp shedding its peculiar light over her head and figure, and the gleam of delight breaking out from her eyes. She does not look so well to- night. Well? said Furnival, biting his lips im- patiently, as I remained silent in thought. Go on. What came of it ~ Oh, she turned to me again, and said, But I wont have any more Worth dresses, nor give any dinner parties. Peo- ple wont call on me. Nobody will send me flowers and bonbonni& es. Suppose they dont, said I, impatiently. Life is not dependent on dinner parties and bonbonni~res. No, said she; bat they are things that make life less disgusting, and one is sure of them. Whereas, on your plan, there is noth- ing sure.~ Then you dont love me at all, said I, hearing a great singing in my ears, and feel- ing much worse, it seemed to me, than if I were dying. She took my hand and pressed it to her lips. Ha! you may well flash your eyes, my handsome friend. I have been honor- ed as I say, and by that glorious creature over there! But I do not want to boast indeed, I dont know how I have come to tell you all thisI trust to your honor. Well, I explained it all in this way: Her mind has been so thoroughly poisoned from her childhood up that she can not bring hers elf to believe that any one is dis- interested. The skeptical spirit has become ingrained. She will probably never marry, unless she takes some immensely rich man, whose fortune will gravitate toward hers by that singular force inherent in large 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. masses, whether they consist of money or planets and stars. Quite possibly, if she marries at all, you have seen her husband in the dancer of a few moments ago. Furnival was pondering deeply, and I was curious to know what was passing in his mind. I fancied that he was making a resolution to see more of Marcia, and per- haps to try his luck at her hand. It may have been fancy alone, but did I not detect a covetous glitter about his handsome eyes that was not becoming to them? But it was momentary, for a thought struck him, as if something were just remembered, but which changed the whole complexion of affairs. Van RnyvenVan Ruyven ! he said. Where have I heard that name before? It is singular If you knew the father, you would not be likely to forget hini. There he comes from the hall. He is always on the look- out for his daughter,~ and I believe it will break his old covetous heart if she does not make a brilliant marriage. A-a-ah ! said Furnival, with a long- drawn rise and fall of tone, as he caught sight of Mr. Van Ruyven. He seemed sur- prised, and yet glad, as if he had put togeth- er several dews, that were floating about unconnected in his mind some moments be- fore. His manner toward me changed in some indefinable way that jarred on my nerves. I waited for his next word, but he contented himself with regarding Van Rny- yen and his daughter silently. Marcia treated her father with more con- sideration than her mother, but even to him there was a shade of condescension and impatience in her manner. Could it have been on account of the mistakes in good manners and even good grammar of which the old gentlemna was sometimes guilty, or did the reason lie deeper? Mrs. Van Rny- yen, who seldom~ took the trouble to conceal a battle, was plainly in great discontent with Marcias recent proceedings, and was engaged in telling her husband ho~v the willful young lady had flivored an unknown and suspicious stranger, and snubbed the best dancer and the best m teli in New York. Van Royven, a tall old man, with long feat- ures, and a trick of keepin~ his eyes wan- dering about the floor, assumed to.ward his daughter an attitude almost pathetic. It was as good as a play. One could see by the movement of his hands that he was cx- postulating with her for such unseemly con- duct; but whatever the arguments he used to her may have been, they were not suffi- cient to nmake her yield a jot from the hard and scornful look that her features wore. From where we stood, Furnival and I could read the domestic squabble as plainly as if we had stood among them. It is a most extraordinary thing, said I, hoping to draw him back to the train of thought that might cause him to explain his peculiar tone of having discovered some- thing. The rich are very short-sighted if they think that poor men, any more than rich men, are trying to marry for money. For my part, rich people seem to me to be more eager to add to their pile by any means in their power, by trade, barter, or alliance, than comparatively poor people. Van Ruyven knows that well enough. His daughter is as little likely to get a good wealthy husband as a good poor one. The truth probably is, that they grow so covet- ous for more, that it is not so much the fear of getting a poor son-in-law as the gratifi- cation of their ruling passion, the desire to add to the family wealth, that sways them. There are some millionaires who need all the help they can get, said Furnival, sententiously. How do you mean ? said I, watching Van Ruyven turn away from his daughter, and step forward to meet the eligible youth, the young man of fortune, who, after sulk- ing in the other room over Miss Marcias snub, had been drawn back again to her side by the irresistible attraction of her in- difference. Did you ever see an apple of Gomor- rah ? asked Furnival, frowning darkly and folding his arms with some exaggeration. Imagine Van Ruyvcn such an apple, and apply the parable. I am quite at a loss to understand you, said I, feeling secretly irritated. Watch your beautiful friend8 father as he talks to that sprig of fashion. Do you see how he cringes and tries to be polite? He is overdoing it, and will scare away the bird if he is not careful. But you must be asking yourself how it comes that he should take so much trouble about the youth, not- withstanding his money-bags. You are more and more enigmatical, said I, shortly. Well, then, if you must be told in so many words, your Mr. Van Ruyven over yonder has been a ruined man for years, and no one has known it besides a few persons outside of New York, whose interests are fur- thered by keeping it a secret. For your con- fidence, there is another of greater value. Impossible ! Quite so, of courseuntil it all comes out. But you are my friend, and I owe you reparation. Let me warn you in time. His house is not his; his business is a sham; his credit is only preserved l)y the tender- est care and a prudent refraining from trial of its strength. Do you really think I am going to be- lieve all that ? I cried, angrily. Look at Maref a. Is that the daughter of a bank- rupt ? Oh, bless you, she doesnt know any MY UNCLES HEIRESS. 103 thing about it. No one knows, I tell you, and that is why the information is invalu- able. But see; they are pushing her in a way that would not do with most men. It was indeed a curious pantomime that was being enacted before our eyes with a plainness it seemed incredible that others did not see. With eyebrow and elbow Mrs. Van Enyven was remonstrating with her scowling daughter for ignoring the pres- ence of the young nabob. Anger only made Marcia more beautiful. Van Ruyven moved from one to the other with an attempt to conceal purpose in his motions, but evident- ly a prey to au cager desire to win. Now that I bad been told~ a thousand things I had noticed about Van Ruyven sprang up in confirmation of what I had just heard, of what I would have called an absurd slander a moment before. Bankrupt, fraud, beggar, coward, seemed written over a face that I had considered earnest and preoccu- pied, but decidedly aristocratic. My fan- cied skill at physiognomy had to bear the rudest blow. I mentally vowed never to trust to intuitions again. XVhile such thoughts hurried through my mind, and I was breaking my way through a jungle of memories, conclusions, doubts, and impressions into a clear vista of actu- ality, both Furnival and myself had taken a peculiar attitude toward the Van Eny- vens, by no means unperceived by Marcia. She had long seen that we were talking about her, and, as if she felt that something unusual was about to happen or be uttered, bad instinctively moved forward until the group about her was ranged in some sort defiantly over against us. The other peo- ple had for the most part deserted the small- er for the larger drawing-room, where the dancers were now thick, and the floor dense- ly crowded. Feeling sure that Marcia knew nothing of her position, and being unable to read from Mrs. Van llnyvens hard-lined face whether she had been told the truth or not, my heart was too much bubbling over with delight to resent Furnivals tone and air. It was at once unfeeling and patronizing; he had no care for the shock that must fall on Marcia, and plainly considered me a lucky fellow to be warned in time from a perilous alliance. But, as I have said, Marcia had noticed the change in our expressions across the room, and as I, without definite purpose, took a few steps toward her, she moved sym- pathetically forward out of the little group. At the moment, when I hesitated what should be my course, there happened an un- usual commotion iu the further drawing- room. Low cries, quick commands, and one or two shrieks were accompanied by an om- inous cracking as of timbers. A voice cried that the floor was falling; others called out that there was no danger. I knew that would come ! cried Fur- nival, and disappeared like a flash. There was no immediate danger, but the panic had set in. A crowd was struggling in the little room between us and the draw- in g-room, tearing the curtains as it came. Marcia had turned deadly pale, and cast a frightened glance at her friends; then she looked for Furnival, then at me, and half held out her hands. I was at her side, and hurried her out of the room by a side pas- sage. Take care of mamma. Put her in the first carriage you find ! cried Marcia, impe- riously, to her followers; and doubtless they obeyed her loyally. I managed to get her down the stairs, full of fainting women and exasperated meu who were assuring them that it was a false alarm. The dressing- room for men being luckily on the lower floor, I got a coat to cover her shoulders, and took her out on the sidewalk. It was some distance to her carriage, which stood far down the line of coaches. Marcia advise me, said I. Suppose me in love with a woman who thinks her- self an heiress. But really she is poor. She has treated me shamefully. Would you con- sider yourself bound, on discovering that she is a pauper? Bound I said she, recklessly; but paus- ing, with a little quaver in her voice No. But suppose I love her to distraction ? She is a lucky woman, said Marcia, gloomily. Suppose it is you, Marcia ? I ?what do you mean? Not that ou~ fortune is gone ?not that we are paupers? So I hear, Marcia. She stopped short, laughed a little wild- ly, and burst into tears. I covered her as best I could with the coat; but every one on the street was so much excited by the ru- mor of an accident, that for the moment it was hardly noticed. I can understand how hard it must be, said I, feeling not a little uncomfortable at the way in which she took it. But it is cruel that you should not know of it. Hard! cried Marcia, lifting a face glit- tering with those strongest tokens of emo- tiontears. I never was so happy in my life. Theres a weight gone from here. Before I could say a word, she had stripped her arms and hands of the bangles and rings that covered them, and had thrown them broadcast to a crowd of men and chil- dren which had closed about us in open- mouthed wonder. I hastened to put her in the carriage before she did any thing more. Then I stood hesitating, pale with lon~ing, red with hope and embarrassment, uncer- tain whether to shut the door or not. The coat had fallen from her shoulders, and as she leaned forward in the harsh light of the. strcet lamp, I thought she had never been 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. so beautiful, although for the first time I saw her look falter. I feel so lonely in the world, she stut- tered, m if groping her way in her own mind. Is that the way beggars feel I I said nothing, but swung the door par- tially to. What a change it makes in every thing! How wicked and selfish I have been! Poor father ! Still I could not utter a word, but held the door firmly, while I looked down into her eyes. Dont you think we have suffered enough ? she whispered, in answer to a question I had not asked with my lips, blushing down to her shoulders, and holding out her hands, no longer disfigured by their barbarous oruaments, with the same gesture she had used in the room above. That carriage door was my gate to para- dise. I sprang in, and we were whirled away. My own cigar had gone out during Uncle Davids story of his courtship. I was spell- bound, and almost feared to look in his face. Presently a rap was beard; Uncle David sat over the fire with his face in his hands, and I slipped to the door. When I came back I said, with some embarrassment, Aunt Marcia sends to say that you must come at oncethat you are late already. My uncle David rose without a word, crossed the floor noiselessly, but lingered at the doorway till he caught my eye. His face had a peculiar expression of depreca- tion and warning. He smiled faintly, and raised one finger to his lips; and II do not know exactly whyblushed. JAMRACIIS. A LITERARY friend of mine, connected, I believe, with the Daily News, hearing that I was going to visit that mysterious mart of living animals at the East End of London known as Jamrachs, told me that few persons returned from that place in an unmutilated condition. He illus- trated his rensarks by reference to the fate of some of his own personal friends, one of whom had the flesh of his back torn into strips by a bear, another had been fearfully bitten and clawed about by (I think) a leopard, while a third had the whole of his clothes torn off hy a monkey, and was taken home in a four-wheeled cab wrapped up in a policemans great-coat. The animals were, he assured me, none of your civilized beasts with polished manners, such as maybe found in the Zoological Gardens, but fresh from their native jungles, and with nothing be- tween them and the visitor but the thin sides of large tea-chests. He finished up with a graphic account of his last visit there, on which occasion he conducted Col- onel Forney. I have not seen the gallant colonels new volume about England, but, from his guides account, I should say the distinguished editor hardly took such care of himself as mi,ht have been expected from a representative Philadelphian. He was said to have escaped from a bird five feet tall, with a bowie-knife for a beak, which aimed to stab him in the back, only to rush into dangerous proximity to a jackal and tiger, which immediately formed u.n investi- gating committee, and began to feel wheth- er he had any Pacific subsidy in his nether pockets. Nothing daunted, however, by the expe- riences of these gentlemen, I set out yester- day to beard the lions in their den. It is a long way off from Kensingtonabout ten milesand it takes one past many curious old places. One may pause to look in upon the quaint old room at Clerkenwell where Dr. Johnaon sat so long editing the first pe- riodical ever published, The U tiernans Mag- azine. A coffee-house is attached to it, where the wine is better than the coffee, the nature of which drink, as sold in public places in England, is what no fellow can find out. The old wooden arm-chair in which the doctor sat while writing most of his works is kept there in good condition. What more natural than to sit in it? Every visitor does, but only to find every body in the room gather around him, and point to some printed verses framed just above it. The verses are as follows, and many faces have grown serious while perusing them: Here ponderous Johnson sat some years and pon- dered, Giant in bulk, mighty in mental strength, While simple Goldsmith silent sat and wondered At thoughts so strong in words of such great length. Dreamst then, then halting traveller, ut this gate, That thou art fit to fill this famous chair? Mount up to it, and thou shalt learn, too late, If not too soon, what thy transgressions are What pains await the pilgrim to this shrine That takes the chair to which no duty calls. Him thus exempt from blame and shame and fine, Bet let him stand his ground, nor fly these walls, When Johnsons grumbling ghost growls under- ground, Pardon this wretch profane that az~na rnz no~raz uou~n! Having paid for the bottle that passes round, amid bowed to the good wishes ex- pressed in proper Johusonese by the coin- pany, the ambitious pilgrim may pass on. But being in the room at an hour when no company is present, I take my surreptitious sit with impunity, and pass on. I think it best, however, before proceeding further amidst the snares of the old city, to obtain the companionship of a Londoner, who also knows sundry by-ways which one may live here long without seeing. He takes me, for instance, through Aldermans Walkan ancient open space devoted to the infant

104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. so beautiful, although for the first time I saw her look falter. I feel so lonely in the world, she stut- tered, m if groping her way in her own mind. Is that the way beggars feel I I said nothing, but swung the door par- tially to. What a change it makes in every thing! How wicked and selfish I have been! Poor father ! Still I could not utter a word, but held the door firmly, while I looked down into her eyes. Dont you think we have suffered enough ? she whispered, in answer to a question I had not asked with my lips, blushing down to her shoulders, and holding out her hands, no longer disfigured by their barbarous oruaments, with the same gesture she had used in the room above. That carriage door was my gate to para- dise. I sprang in, and we were whirled away. My own cigar had gone out during Uncle Davids story of his courtship. I was spell- bound, and almost feared to look in his face. Presently a rap was beard; Uncle David sat over the fire with his face in his hands, and I slipped to the door. When I came back I said, with some embarrassment, Aunt Marcia sends to say that you must come at oncethat you are late already. My uncle David rose without a word, crossed the floor noiselessly, but lingered at the doorway till he caught my eye. His face had a peculiar expression of depreca- tion and warning. He smiled faintly, and raised one finger to his lips; and II do not know exactly whyblushed. JAMRACIIS. A LITERARY friend of mine, connected, I believe, with the Daily News, hearing that I was going to visit that mysterious mart of living animals at the East End of London known as Jamrachs, told me that few persons returned from that place in an unmutilated condition. He illus- trated his rensarks by reference to the fate of some of his own personal friends, one of whom had the flesh of his back torn into strips by a bear, another had been fearfully bitten and clawed about by (I think) a leopard, while a third had the whole of his clothes torn off hy a monkey, and was taken home in a four-wheeled cab wrapped up in a policemans great-coat. The animals were, he assured me, none of your civilized beasts with polished manners, such as maybe found in the Zoological Gardens, but fresh from their native jungles, and with nothing be- tween them and the visitor but the thin sides of large tea-chests. He finished up with a graphic account of his last visit there, on which occasion he conducted Col- onel Forney. I have not seen the gallant colonels new volume about England, but, from his guides account, I should say the distinguished editor hardly took such care of himself as mi,ht have been expected from a representative Philadelphian. He was said to have escaped from a bird five feet tall, with a bowie-knife for a beak, which aimed to stab him in the back, only to rush into dangerous proximity to a jackal and tiger, which immediately formed u.n investi- gating committee, and began to feel wheth- er he had any Pacific subsidy in his nether pockets. Nothing daunted, however, by the expe- riences of these gentlemen, I set out yester- day to beard the lions in their den. It is a long way off from Kensingtonabout ten milesand it takes one past many curious old places. One may pause to look in upon the quaint old room at Clerkenwell where Dr. Johnaon sat so long editing the first pe- riodical ever published, The U tiernans Mag- azine. A coffee-house is attached to it, where the wine is better than the coffee, the nature of which drink, as sold in public places in England, is what no fellow can find out. The old wooden arm-chair in which the doctor sat while writing most of his works is kept there in good condition. What more natural than to sit in it? Every visitor does, but only to find every body in the room gather around him, and point to some printed verses framed just above it. The verses are as follows, and many faces have grown serious while perusing them: Here ponderous Johnson sat some years and pon- dered, Giant in bulk, mighty in mental strength, While simple Goldsmith silent sat and wondered At thoughts so strong in words of such great length. Dreamst then, then halting traveller, ut this gate, That thou art fit to fill this famous chair? Mount up to it, and thou shalt learn, too late, If not too soon, what thy transgressions are What pains await the pilgrim to this shrine That takes the chair to which no duty calls. Him thus exempt from blame and shame and fine, Bet let him stand his ground, nor fly these walls, When Johnsons grumbling ghost growls under- ground, Pardon this wretch profane that az~na rnz no~raz uou~n! Having paid for the bottle that passes round, amid bowed to the good wishes ex- pressed in proper Johusonese by the coin- pany, the ambitious pilgrim may pass on. But being in the room at an hour when no company is present, I take my surreptitious sit with impunity, and pass on. I think it best, however, before proceeding further amidst the snares of the old city, to obtain the companionship of a Londoner, who also knows sundry by-ways which one may live here long without seeing. He takes me, for instance, through Aldermans Walkan ancient open space devoted to the infant JAMEACHS. 105 cockney democracy, who there (iwell on good terms with flainingoes, wild-ducks, and especially with a large American turkey, which struts about with patriarchal pomp, overseeing the other birds. There is also a fountain playing, at which the ragged ur- chins are gazing on this hot day, and sor- rowing that they were not born ducks. We pause next at the Clothes Exchange, to which admission is granted for a penny, each person securing thus the opportunity of exchanging an article he can spare for one he or she may covet. An elderly gen- tleman who had more hats than he required for his own wardrobe offered one to a friend in exchange for boots, describing the hat as a first-rate article, with nothing whatever the matter with it except a little shattering caused by the wheel of a wagon. On all sides men, women, and children clamored in various foreign languages their desire to exchange garments of every description, male and female. An old woman wanted to exchange with me for twelve shillings a coat suitable for a boy of twelve. I inform- ed her that the price was too small and the coat too. Next we pay a penny each to see wax-works. They were chiefly models of murderers, which a dingy old man described with automatic tongue. Here were Ser- geaut Coates, the Purifeet murderer, and his victim; Wainwright and his victim; Dr. Pritchard, the poisoner; Fish, the Black- burn murderer; several other murderers the Claimant; Napoleon III.; the Shah; Garibaldi; the late Prince Consort; the old Frenchwoman who lived under many reigns, and died, aged 120, by an accident; the old woman who, in 1851, walked from Cornwall to see the Queen, remarked unflivorably on her Majestys appearance within H. Ms hearing, so amusing the Queen that she gave her a dinner and 5. I caught a glimpse of an insufficiently suppressed handbill, an- nouncing that the Leanie mutineers were on exhibition, and the impression was so strong that these wax-figures had, like those of Artemus Ward, been doing duty in other capacities, that the effect of the portraits was marred. I even suspected that one of the murderers was originally modeled to rep- resent the President of the United States, and his victim was not wholly unlike the Duchess of Edinburgh. Here we are finally in Pateliff Highway, where are the lowest, though not the most dangerous, dens in London. The police never dream of suppressing vice and vil- lainy in Ratcliff Highway, being only too glad if they can give it a semblance of out- ward decorum. This they can do at every other time than Saturday evening, when the blaze of blackguardism mounts to a con- flagration. Feeble indeed amidst all these grog-shops and brothelsat whose door- ways, even in the early afternoon, the gay spiders were sitting to allure the sea-faring flies of all nations into their websappear- ed the poor little Seamens Bethel. It is in the street named for St. George; and this little chapel, able to hold fifty people, is the only visible spear pointed at the Dragon. The door and windows of the Bethel have on them notices in German, French, Italian, and Portuguese, announcing when the serv- ices are respectively held in those languages. Inside the Bethel there are pictures on the walls of various Bible scenes, with contexts in various languages. I also observed on a table a picture of Jephthah about to offer up his daughter as a sacrifice to Jehovah, with a printed narrative extolling the val- iant captain and his daughter. Somehow this curious picture wove itself in with the poor girls who were being sacrificed in the street outside. It was a droll thing to ob- serve inside this Bethel the posters of the various theatres in the neighborhood, the aged attendant saying, when I expressed my surprise at this, that the sailors want- ed to know such things ~ but his expres- sion and tone said, We have lived long enough in Ratcliff Highway to consider it a thing to be thankful for if a sailor is about nothing worse than the theatre. But I must not forget my object, which is to find how Jamrach manages the ferocities with which he has to deal. Entering into a small room next to the street, I realize how, even when it is foul and sooty, the at- mosphere around human beings is pure com- pared with that which exhales around wild beasts. The smell is horrible. But a big parrot close by the door tells me it is all right, and I pass on to the back shop. Here I meet for the first time that strange genius Jamrach, Naturalist and Importer of Animals, Birds, and Shells. This man, who will sell you any thing from a mouse to an elephant, from an insect to an ostrich, is a huge German, with a blonde and rosy face, and a substantial vigorous look about him which accords with his manner and his in- telligence. The visit was expected, and he at once prepared to show me his curious merchandise, while I amused myself with some twenty droll little monkeysmarmo- setswhich, when I looked into their cage, massed themselves up into one corner in such a way that their bodies were conceal- ed, and there was a pyramid of little human faces, with high white foreheads, whiskers, and twinkling eyes, altogether making a show I would have travelled twice as far to see. They are sold for pets at 2 a pair. Jamrach then opens a trunk, and takes out of it with his hand a snake about three feet long, ash-colored save for a yel- lowish tint, and holds it out toward me with the innocent question whether it is not a fine fellow. The reptile has a strong body, holds itself straight out from his hand, like 100 HARPERS NEW MONThLY MAGAZINE. a stick, then squirms from side to side too insinuatingly for my taste, but its owner declares it never bites. If it were to bite, it would be all up with you, he serenely added. I was glad it didnt bite. I turned around and found a dozen cobra beads erect- ed against the glass, within six inches of my head, and observing that the covering to their box was only white paper, began to think it was time to see tim tigers. Nor was the situation in the little roomsome ten feet widemade more cheerful by the fact that just then a boy was bitten by a boa brought in that morning. It made eight or ten little perforations in his finger. The boy was still at his work, and on my sugges- tion that the attention of a surgeon seemed desirable, a pale-faced clerk raised his head and said, Oh dear, no; we never go to phy- sicians for a little thing like that. The only danger is that the animal sometimes leaves a tooth in the wound. And he went on writing. Jamrach said: These new boas are nasty-tempered. They came in this morn- ing. Ill show em to you. I would have been willing to forego the sight, but he had already shoved out a round dumpy basket, a foot deep by more than that in diameter, and was unbinding the rope tied around it. He took off the cover, and there piled in one mass were nine young boa-constrictors, that on top being the one that bit the boy. They remained quietwe did not interrupt their slumbersand the lid was closed on them safely. It is difficult to imagine how there should be such a demand for snakes, but Jamrach supplies the zoological gardens of Europe. There ought to be some experi- ments of a moral and ~esthietic kind on these boas. One of these reptiles which Jamrach recently got had quite a curious history. An English ship which had stopped at a wharf at the African Cape had a sort of dance on board the evening before sailing for En- gland, and a band played music during the iiight. It is supposed that the boa was at- tracted by this music. At any ratc, it was discovered, after the ship was a week on its voyage, that a boa was on board. The first intimation of its presence was the disap- pearance of the rats with which the ship had long been infested. The crew and pas- sen0ers were at first alarmed, but they man- aged to make the animal a secure prisoner in that l)art of the ship in which he had se- creted himself; and when the vessel arrived in London, Jamrach was sent for, and took with him this amusing sea-serpent. A great deal of Jamrachs custom is in provi(ling variegated frogs and little tor- toises for aquaria. They are cheap, the tor- toises being sold sometimes for half a crown the halfdozeu. They were crawling all about the area, and there was danger of treading on them. But it is with birds that lie drives the best trade, especially as the fashion of having aviaries increases. Three rooms are filled with birds. When we went in one, the parrots, of which forty or fifty have one cage about a yard squarean arrangement which Jamrach says they likeall strug- gling for precedence, clung to the front wires, and began screaming at us with loud clamors, in tones that seemed to call for liberty. In another, the thousands of tiny sparrows just from Senegal, and others, tint- ed and jeweled, natives of all parts of the world, raised their little voices with the same appeals. I felt a special sympathy. with a large number of my feathered coun- trymen, especially a flock of bluebirds, and could not help thinking that it is sad, when such worthless scoundrels as Winslow and Brent are going into full-handed freedom, these pretty innocents, because they are worth eight shillings the pair, should be in- carcerated for life. But still more pathetic ~vas the scene in a room which had just been filled with birds from some distant region, brought and caged the same morning. The birds are about as large as sparrows, and each had a separate cage, made of splinters of wood, about five inches square. The birds are songsters by nature, but now among the hundreds of themtheir cages were l)iled two or three deep from floor to ceilingnot one little heart was cheery enough to chirp out a note. The death-like stillness of the room was only broken by the incessant flut- ter of each in its tiny prison. Passing to the rooms of the larger .mii- mals, we found three small elephants. One was of a small species, and though twenty- five years old, was hardly larger than a donkey. Another, though only eighteen months old, had almost caught up with the elder iii size. The three were tied, and hav- ing no chance to take other exercise, swayed their bodies to and fro, their heads up and down, incessantly, and put out their trunks and feet, to withdraw them again with a machine-like regularity. There is a black bear, about the size of a Newfoundland dog, and even more harmless, awaiting sale as a family pet. His kindliness is guaranteed, Jamrach being responsible for any baby he may hug to death. Near him, however, is a very vicious crane, which continually en- deavors to relieve the monotony of its con- finement by striking with its sharp beak at any eye that looks into its prison. A death had just occurredthat of a fine baboon, whose face looked humanly serene and touch- ing as it had escaped from the miserable cage in a dark room, where no doubt it had oft- en dreamed of its heaven of palm-trees and liberty. Opposite to it, a few yards distant, was another monkey, extremely intelligent in appearance, which sat gazing pensively, as I thought, over toward its neighbor, which had not that morning made its usual ap- pearance at the front of its cage. Monkeys JAMRACHS. 107 have been raised ill price by Darwinism, and Jamrach can not meet the demand. There were seals and emus and a raccoon, and all manner of handsome cats and Tas- manian devils and ichneumons. I was much interested in observing a lion, which had just been caii~ht, when it was fed. It re- vealed how much less used it was to civili- zation than our lions in Regents Park, by the treacherous, predatory way in which it approached its food. The large piece of raw beef was no sooner put in between the iron bars than the lion, half crouching, ap- proached it softly and sidewise, as if afraid of its escaping; and having, in perfect silence, come close enough, it gave a little spring at the meat, closing its paws around it, fixing its teeth deep, and dragging the beef as if it were a living victim off to the corner of its cage. Some of the other animals first bit the various pieces of meat cast to them, all around, as if to kill them, before proceed- ing to devour them. This lion will go off this week to India, having been purchased by a rajah for 100. The rajahs are very fond of collecting animals iu their gardens. I saw, also, two magnificent tigers, which were to be sent off that day to the new Sul- tan. He paid 4~0 for the two, not, I be- lieve, for the purpose of letting them loose amon~ the insurgents, but for the gardens with which the late Sultan so much delight- ed the people of Constantinople. The pres- ent Sultan evidently doesnt mean to lionize less than his predecessor. Altogether, I found my visit to Jamrachs extremely entertaining. I was astonished to find how cheap many of his rarities were. He evidently has a vast business, orders coming in all the time from places as remote as Teheran, Constantinople, Cairo, and St. Petersburg. He has a monopoly of this queer business in Europe, and was much amnsed as he told me that the only city whose public gardens rarely came to him was London. There is a sort of feeling among the curators of the Zoological Gar- dens and the aquaria here that it will not be sufficiently impressive if an animal is known to have been bought in London Docks. They will, therefore, rather make offers to public gardens on the Continent which have duplicates, though in nearly every case the animal bronght thence is one which had been previously sold by Jam- rach. He says that he can not supply Amuer- lea, because the passage of animals over the Atlantic involves risksthat is, of course, to the animals, not their human fellow-voy- agerswhich neither the transatlantic buy- er nor Jamrach is wilihig to incur. An at- tendant must he seat either from America or London to accompany the wild beast, which involves much expense. Jamrach says there is now a very good importer in New York. Besides the living things which this pe- culiar and scientific merchant sells, he has an immense curiosity shop, almost equal in interest to a court of South Kensington. Barbaric musical instruments, Burmese sa- cred gongs, Chinese dragon-shaped harps, vases from ancient Nineveh, Japanese work of infinite variety, idols, demons, bamboo carvings, shells by the ton, old armor, shields, buck-horns, ancient lampsthousands of things which have been brought to him for purchase by sailors and captains from all the ends of the earth. One of the finest specimens of Japanese art which I have ever seen is now in his possessiona nude female model so life-like as almost to cheat the eye, and so cunningly made that there is no conceivable attitude in which it can not be made to stand. Its price is 30, and it will no doubt be eagerly competed for when its arrival is made known among our artists, who have just now such a pas- siou for painting Japanese figures. Jamrach is such a very intelligent, well- informed, and affable man that a visit to his wonderful establishment, singularly en- tertaining in itself, is rendered doubly so if one has his personal attendance. He is well acquainted with the London scientific men, and the anthropologists keep a sharp eye upon his collections, continually enriched as they are by new importations. Just now, indeed, one little collection has caused con- siderable excitementabout twenty small masks of human faces and heads (hollowed oat behind), each about as large as Jam- inchs big fist, which were found in some Mex- ican graves. One of them has been sent to Darwin, who has expressed the deepest inter- est in it, and it is probable that the meaning of the burial of these little heads of burned clay in human graves will be discussed by the learned. Some of Jamrachs visitors sug- gest that a race of small-headed people is im- plied, but perhaps they were merely dummy heads, which were substituted when human sacrifices ceased. Colonel Lane Fox, presi- dent of the Royal Anthropological Society, has a curious little collection, which I have seen, of stone forms cut in the shape of urns, but with human features cut on the side of each. These stones are not in any case hollow, nor have they ever been so; they are simply dummy vases or urns. They were taken from graves (invariably) in some semi-barbarous region. The question why these dummy vases, with human faces on them, should have been placed in graves puzzled tIme London anthropologists for some time, but they are now generally agreed that they are fac-mirniies externally of cm- erary urns. So long as cremation l)revailed in the region from which they were brought, it was the custom to gather the ashes of the dead in such urns, and to decorate them with seine attempt at portraiture of the per- 108 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. son deceased, all of which, however rude, would involve trouble and expense. Gradu- ally the custom would be invested by time with sanctity; it would be surrounded with ceremonies and haunted by superstitions: and we may be pretty sure that it would be especially believed thereas it has been at some time in every region of the world that the souls of the dead would watch jeal- ously to see if, in any particular, the honors to their ashes fell short of usage, or were too economically rendered, with a view of avenging any such offense. When, there- fore, through some compulsory change, bur- ial superseded cremation, it seemed very im- portant to the people that the shades of their dead should understand the new ar- rangement was not due to any stinginess. Lest it should be thought by either the dead or the living that they grudged their de- ceased relative the completest and most re- spectable funeral, they would buy the urn just as before, and bury it with the body, and tile portrait should be cut on it. But when other generations had come, the laws of util- ity woul(l modify the custom; the urns would be merely blocked out, the faces on them would be conventionalized, and then the barbarian would have reached just the stage of funeral civilization which may be wit- nessed in London every day, where custom still preserves the homage of fuss and feath- ers and mummers for the dead long after their meaning is forgotten, and simply be- cause it is mean, and so forth, to cc ono- mize in the expenses of a funeral. I should have had little doubt that the twenty or thirty little heads at Jamrachs discovered in Mexican graves were substi- tutes for human sacrifices at those graves, but for a fact to which the careful German called my attention, namely, that no two of the faces were alike. Each was evidently meant to represent a human individuality. And yet the heads are less than half the size of an ordinary head! It may still be that these brick skulls and faces represent a transitional phase in the process I have de- scribed, in which it was necessary for the slave to throw into his masters grave either his head or something enough like it to cheat the ghostly eye, which should see it with a certain aerial perspective. After leaving Jamrachs, somehow the peo- plo swarming along Rateliff Highway ap- peared to possess curious animal traits, and, what is more, to be gainers by the associa- tion. A man, for instance, who was assidu- ous in his endeavors to punch the head of a young womanwho in all St. George-in- the - East seemed to find no champion, though a gaping crowd stood aroundap- peared to me a plain transmigration from that ugly wingless crane, with the bowie- knife beak, shying it at the human race. Now and then a cobra slipped furtively past, pursuing it might he a bright-feather- ed but lame and soiled bird. There are voices that are growls, others that bark like the hyena and the Tasmanian devils. One has only to blur the outlines a little like the old artist who with two strokes could change the face of a tiger to that of Venusonly to lose sight of the morpho- logical man and woman and listen to their voices, look into their eyes, to see all Rat- cliff Highway alive with arrested devel- opments : as such not to be hated, any more than Jamrachs lad hates the boa that bit him this morning, but to be watched, and sometimes caged, unless they are as harmless as that African boa of the ship, aiid able to exterminate vermin that are noxious. The population of this region is quite dif- ferent from that of any other part of Lon- don, there being women as well as sailors from the East and West Indies, and English people, too, from those remote coasts, corners; and islands scattered about this kingdom, who not only retain bits of primitive cos- tume, but in themselves seem to be mere fragments and hints of the normal English- man. rhese people hardly fill the ideas I had formed of them from the pages of Charles Dickensthat is, not generally. Dickens was far better at studying a select- ed character than at selecting one that is a specimen of the rest, or in painting the crowd. That tall dark girl with a ragged knot of hair falling down, engaged in lively altercation with somebody, might be Pleas- ant Riderhood, and you slouching scoun- drel might be the Rogue ; and, as may be easily imagined, I can find any where here the public-house of The Six Jolly Fellowship Porters, with Miss Abby Pot- terson presiding at the bar. This crowd, as a whole, does not seem to meperhaps because I look at them prospectively from the point of view supplied by Jamrachs beastsso hopeless or joyless as they are often described. What they need is more beauty. What they are forever craving and seeking is beauty. They can be fasci- nated by sweet music, as for that matter even Jamrachs reptiles may be. They will idle away hours looking at wretched photo- graphs and dismal lithographs in a shop window. The only satisfaction for their famished ideahity is the music-hall, the pen- ny gaff (wherein the very thieves insist that Vice shall be dramatically crushed and Vir- tue triumphant), the dance-house. A little green square decorated with flowers, with one of the many idle military bands playing in it during the afternoons, a good reading- room and club, a museum and picture-gal- lery (the West End collections could easily spare one without the public being aware that any pictures or curiosities had been transferred), and a large theatre, subsidized THE DAILY ADVERTISER. 109 by the government and under its strict su- pervisionthese would not be very expen- sive or revolutionary reforms, but they would, I feel sure, rescue St. George-in-the- East from the Dragon, which is decidedly getting the better of liim. THE DAiLY ADVERTISER. 1.AT LOW TIDE. MR. JACK DALY was seedy. The hay seed had been out of his hair a long while, but there was nothing growing, or even sprouting, in the field of his worldly expectations. It was hard to say why this should be so. Luck was against him, but wit, good nature, and audacity were on his side. He had been so often discomfited, however, that defeat was beginning to tell upon him, and he showed outward signs of distress; though he had not yet lost faith in himself, he began to have doubts of his coat. At the time of our discovery of him he had thrown that aside, and was employed in a leisurely manner in making catch lines on a bulletin in the office of his friend Benjamin, a college mate, who was managing a news- paper in a thrifty town. Benjamin upon his stool was an American nineteenth-cen- tury oracle, giving forth weekly utterances in the Daily Ad~crtiser, which boasted a cir- culation in every State and Territory in the Union, secured in some desperate cases by a prudent use of the exchange list. He himself, as a matter of policy, was dressed in a broadcloth coat, originally secured in payment of advertising, and not indicative of sumptuous living. The two had ~vorked in silence for some time, when Benjamin, having thoroughly worked an idea into an editorial leader, turned about and watched Daly by the window, marking-pot in hand, surveying his work. Jack, said he, you must be putting high art into that bulletin. I havent heard a whistle from you these ten minutes. I couldnt even get up a penny whistle. So hard up? So hard downif down ever is hard. Gold 108. That middle figure is my fig- ure. Naught plus naught equals naught. Naught minus naught leaves naught. Naught times naught is naught. Sum total of Jack Daly, always naught. Pooh! Dont cipher