Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 65, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 984 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0065 /moa/harp/harp0065/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 65, Note on Digital Production 0065 000
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 65, Note on Digital Production A-B

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 65, Issue 385 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 984 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABK4014-0065 /moa/harp/harp0065/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 65, Issue 385 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York June 1882 0065 385
Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 65, Issue 385, miscellaneous front pages i-19

HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. VOLUME LXV. JUNE TO NOYMIBER, 1882. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 327 to 335 PEARL STREET, FRANKLIN SQUARE 18 82. UN (C6RNELL LIBRARY~ ,4P H ~ K CONTENTS OF VOLUME LXV. / JUNE TO NOVEMBER, 1882. ACROSS LOTS William Hamilton Gibson 846 ILLUsTuATIONs. Among the Weeds 846 The Sheep Lot 854 A Clearing 848 The mysterious Errand 856 Testimony of the Immortelles 849 Dusk 85T The lonely Grave 850 Aunt Huldy 858 The Side-hill Meadow 851 Haunt of Heron 860 Field Bouquet 852 Morning in the Meadow 861 The Simplers Favorite 853 AMERICANS, THE FIRST Thomas Wentworth Iligginson 342 ILLU5TUATION8 Ruins of the Pueblo Pintado 542 Fortified Onondaga Village 349 Plan of the Pueblo Pintado 343 Fortified Maudan Village 1150 Restoration of the Pueblo Hungo Pavie 344 Morgans High Bank Pueblo 850 Plan of Hungo Pavie 344 Diego de Landas Maya Alphabet 551 The North Pueblo of Taos 345 Sculptured Head of Yucatan 352 Ruined Pueblo and Citadel 346 Female Face from Topila 352 Hodenosote, or Long House of the Iroquois ... 347 Incense-Burners from Yucatan 553 Plans of Iroquois and Nechecolee Houses 341 Colossal Statue of Chaac-Mol 354 Fortified Village of Mound-Builders 348 Indian Vase found in Vermont 354 AMERICA, THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN John Fiske 99 AMERICA.THE SPANISH DISCOVERERS Thosnas Wentworth Higginson 729 ILLUSTRATIONs. Christopher Columbus 729 The Vision of Columbus 737 A Chart of the Sixteenth Century 731 Ponce de Leon 738 Da Vincis Mappemonde 733 Vasco Nufiez de Balboa 739 The Landing at Guanahani 735 AMERICA.THE VISIT OF THE VIKINGS Thomas Wentworth Iligginson 515 ILLUSTRATIONS The Dighton Rock ~ 515 The Old Mill at Newport 523 Norse Boat unearthed at Sandefjord 517 The Mount Hope Bay Inscription 523 Hieroglyphics on Rock in New Mexico 518 Hieroglyphics on Inscription Rock,New Mexico 524 Stone Windmill at Chesterton 519 Old Norse Ruins in Greenland 525 Vikings War Ship, engraved on Rock in Norway 521 North Atlantic in the Year 1570 526 AMERICA.VIRGINIA IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD John Fiske 895 ATHENS OF AMERICA, THE SOCIAL Eugene L. Didier 20 IlLUsTRATIONs Ellin North Moale 20 Isabella Pinkney White 29 Elizabeth Calvert 22 Henrietta DArcy Wilson 30 John Eager Howard 23 Amelia Didier DArcy 31 Belvidere, the Home of the Howards 24 Harriet Lane Johnson 32 Mrs. B. C. Howard 25 Robert Goodloe Harper 32 Robert Gilmor, Jun 26 Emily MeTavish 33 Ellen Ward Gilmor 28 AUTUMN. From a Picture by E. A. Abbey 648 AUTUMN SKETCHES. With Two Illustrations Alice G. Howe 884 BALTIMORE.See Athens of America. CAIRO, LYING IN STATE IN Amelia B. Edwards 185 ILLUSTRATIONS The Royal Mummies in the Museum at Boolak. 185 Mummy and Mummy Case of Rameses the Great 194 Scene of the Discovery 186 Head of carved Effigy enlarged 195 Exterior of the Cave 186 Mummy Case and Mummy of Queen Isi-em- Ground-Plan and Section of the Excavation... 187 Kheb 199 Dayr-el-Baharee 188 Mummy of Thothmes IlL, as found 200 Funeral Canopy of Queen Isi-em-Kheb 189 MiniatureMummyCase inscribed with the Name Head of King Pinotem II 190 of Sontimes, and small Funerary Objects... 201 Outer Mummy Case of Queen Ahmes Nofretari 191 Queen Makara and Princess Maut-em-Hat 203 Mummy and Inside Coffin of same Queen 192 Hieratic Papyrus of Princess Nasi-Khonsu 204 CALIFORNIA, SOUIHERN William Henry Bishop 713, 863 ILLUSTRATIONS. A Bit of old Monterey 713 County Court-House, Fresno 866 Palo Alto 715 Chinese Quarter, Bakersfield 867 Ralstons Country Place 717 Private Residence in Fresno 871 A Brandy Cellar 719 Mooneys Brewery, Visalia 872 Champagne-making 720 An Old-Timer 872 From the old Fort, Monterey 721 Logging back of Visalia 873 Cedars at Monterey 722 Gypsy Camp, Bakersfield 875 The Hotel del Monte 723 A typical Ranch-House 877 The Chinese Fishing Quarter, Monterey 724 A Rodeo 878 Chinese Fish-drying House, Monterey 725 The Tehachapi Pass 879 Portuguese Whalemen at Monterey 726 San Luis Obispo 880 The Day of San Carlos 727 In the Kern River Cafion 881 Map of Southern California 863 iv CONTENTS. CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY AND THE NEW NORTHWEST F. E. Pr dergast 414 With a Map. CRUISE OF THE NAMELESS, THE Barnet Phillips 356 ILTUSTRATIONS Out on Long Island Sound 356 Ichthyology off Block Island 365 Dismal Jonas, of the Squint 35? Sad Circumstances attending onr Artist 36? Reminiscences of an ancient Salt 339 All snng for a Squall off Point Judith 368 134 A.M 361 Afternoonat Nonquitt 369. Mrs. Knut Waterss Code of Signals 363 Westward again 310 Reckless Diet of the young Lady of Nantucket 364 DELIGHT IN DISORDER. Drawn by E. A. Abbey Frontispiece. DOCTORS HOUSE, THE Lizzie W. Charnpney 925 DOCTOR SPOILED, A Barnet Phillips 588 DOON~S, THE HOME OF THE Hate Hillard 835 ILr,USTEATIoN5. On Exmoor, the Land of the Doones 835 Porlock Vale and Bay 840 Barustaple 836 The Porlock Cherubs 841 Lynmouth 83? Ocre Church 842 The Devils Cheescwring 838 Water-Slide on the Bagworthy 843 The Torr-Steps 839 Ruined Huts of the Doones 844 EDELWEISS OF THE SIERRAS AN Constance Cary Harrison 116 EDITORS DRAWER. DRAWER FOR JUNE 157 DRAWER FOR SEPTEMBER 642 DRAWER FOR JULY 319 DRAWER FOR OCTOBER 805 DRAWER FOR AUGUST 480 DRAWER FOR NOVEMBWI 968 EDITORS EASY ~DHAIR. CHAIR FOR Ju~a~ . 145 CHAIR FOR SEPTEMBER 629 CHAIR FOR JULY 306 CHAIR FOR OCTOBER 795 CHAIR FOR AUGUST 466 CHAIR FOR NOVEMBER 957 EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORD. IT~emn STATEsCongress: Consular and Diplomatic Outrages in Ireland, 15?; Operation of Land Act, 157; Appropriation Bill, 156; Indian Appropriation Bill, 156; Resignation of Earl Cowper, and Appointment of Earl Army Appropriation Bill, 156, 419; Agricultural Appro- Spencer, 318; Resignation of Chief Secretary Forster, priation Bill, 156; Army Pension Appropriation Bill, and Appointment of Lord Cavendish, 318; Assassina- 479, 641; General Deficiency Appropriation Bill, 419; tion of Lord Cavendish and Under-Secretary Burke, 315; Japanese Indemnity, 419; Legislative, Executive, and Repression Bill, 318, 641; Marriage of Prince Leopold Judicial Appropriation Bill, 419, 641; River and Harbor and Princess Helena, 318; Resignation of John Bright, Appropriation Bill, 419, 641, 804; Sundry Civil Appro- 641; Passage of Arrears Bill, 805; Finding the Crew of priation Bill, 641; Naval Appropriation Bill, 641, 804; the Rira, 961. France: Primary Education Bill, 151; Garfield Salary Bill, 641,804; Total Appropriations, 804; American Pork, 151; Tunis Expedition, 157; Capture of Geneva Award Bill, 419; Immigration Bill, 419, 641, 804; Ha-Nol, 318; Judiciary Reform Bill, 419; Divorce Bill, Woman Suffrage, 419; Diplomatic Relations with Per- 419; Resignation of Ministry, 804; new Cabinet, 805. sia, 804; Anti-Chinese Bill vetoed, 156; new Bill passed, Germany: Ecclesiastical Bill, 151, 318; Tobacco Monop- 156, and signed, 318: Internal Revenue, 641; Anti-Po- oly rejected, 419. Spain: Approval of Treaty with lygamy Bill approved, 156; Life-saving Service Bill, 156; France, 318: Slavery in Cuba, 419. India: Massacres in Mississippi Improvement, 318; Tariff Commission Bill, Mandalay, 318; Insurrection in Corea, 961. Russia: 156, 318; Contested Elections, 156, 318, 419; Executive Retirement of Prince Gortehakoff, 15?; Treaty with Department of Agriculture, 318; Intermediate Appel- Persia ratified, 151; Anti-Jewish Laws, 318; Coronation late Court, 318; Citizenship, 318; five per cent. Land deferred, 419. Egypt: Ultimatum from England and Bill, 318; Bank Charter Extension Bill, 318,641; Indian France rejected. 419: Resignation of Ministry, 419; Re- Training Schools, 804; United States Senator Chilcott appointment ot Arahi Bey, 419; Riots in Alexandria, appointed, 156; United States Senator Anthony elected, 419; Flight of the Rhedive to Alexandria, 479; Bom- 419; Nominations confirmed, 156, 318, 641, 804; General bardinent, Burning, and Capture of Alexandria, 641; Fitz-John Porters Sentence remitted in part, 318; Pre- Massacre of Europeans, 641; Arabi dismised as Minis- sident Arthurs Messages relating to an American Con- tar of War, 804; Sir Garnet Wolseleys Arrival at Alex- gress and Mississippi River Improvements, 156; Bust- andria, and Proclamation, 804; Khedives Decree giving ness of the Session, 318, 804; Adjournment, 804. Elec- Permission to Occupy Isthmus of Suez, 804; Conference tions: Rhode Island, 156; Oregon, 419; Tennessee, 804; of Powers, 804; Seizure of the Suez Canal, 96?; March Alabama, 804; Arkansas,961; Vermont, 96?; Maine,961. from Ismailia, 96?; Battles at Magfar and Kassasin State Conventions: Rhode Island Democratic, 156; Ore- Lock, 961; Capture of Tel-el-Kebir and Zagazig, 961; gon Hepublh-an, 318; Tennessee Republican, 318; Penn- Occupation of Cairo and Capture of Arabi, 961. sylvania Republican, 318: Pennsylvania Greenback, 318; DIsAsTERs: 15?, 318, 479, 642, 805, 961Emod, Hunga- Alabama Democratic, 419; Arkansas Democratic, 419; ry, burned, 151; Collision on Northern Pacific Railroad, Kansas Greenback, 419; Maine Greenback, 479; Maine 151; Barks wrecked on Algerian Coast, 157; Life-Boat Republican,419; North Carolina Liberal andRepublican, capsized, 151; Coasting Steamer sunk, 151; Explosion 419; Ohio Republican and Greenback, 419; Peunsylva- Vulcan Powder-Works, 157; Steamer Thomas Cornell nia Independent Republican, 419; Vermont Republican, wrecked, 151; Flood in Louisiana, 151; Blizzard in 641; California Democratic, 641; Tennessee Democrat- Dakota, 151; Steamer Golden City burned, 15?; Colli- ic, 641; Maine Democratic, 641; Illinois Republican, sion Steamers Douro and Yrurac Bat, 151; Tornado in 641; Pennsylvania Democratic, 641; Vermont Demo- West, 151; Bella Mac Explosion, 151; Black Horse Col- cratic, 641; New York Greenback-Labor, 804; Texas liery Explosion, 151; Steamer Rodgers burned, 151; Democratic, 804; Georgia Democratic, 804; Delaware Colliery Explosion near Leeds, 318; Lieutenant De Long Republican, 804; South Carolina Democratic, 804; Geor- and Party found, 318; Fire-damp Explosion, Wesipha- gia Republican, 804; Massachusetts Prohibition, 804; ha, 319; Turkish Soldiers drowned, 319; Sail-Boat cap- KansasRepublican, 804; Vermont Greenback, 804; Mas- sized, Lake Calumet 319; Cyclone, Indian Territory, sachusetts Greenback, 961; Delaware Democratic, 961; 319; Coal Mine Explosion, Shenandoah, 419; Railroad Maine Republican, 961; Kansas Greenback, 967; Michi- Collision near Heidelberg, 419; Swedish Paupers burn- gan Republican, 961; Kansas Democratic, 961; Nevada ed to Death, 419; Schooner Industry capsized, 419; Fe- Republican and Democratic, 961; Colorado Greenback, tal Hail-Storm, Indian Territory, 419; Steamer Pare 967; New Hampshire Democratic and Greenback, 961; foundered, 419; Drowning by Flood, 419; Cyclone, Nebraska Democratic, 961; Colorado Republican, 961. Iowa, 419; Fatal Storms in West, 642; Cyclone, Penn- Massachusetts Prohibitory Bill defeated, 156. Apache sylvania, 642; Central Railroad of New Jersey, Acci- Indian Outbreak, 318. Utah asks to become a State, dent, 642; Life-Boat Accident, England, 642; Steamer 419. IowaProhibition Amendmentpassed, 641. Charles Scioto sunk, 642; Crushed by a Wall, Arkansas, 642; J. Guitean hanged, 642. United States Postal Service Explosion, Paris, 642; Railroad Accident, Russia, 642; self-sustaining, 642. Fire in Smyrna, 805; Floods in Bohemia, 805; Explo- Euuorz, ASIA, AND AE1nOA.Great Britain: Agrarian sion of Steamer Gold Dust, 805; School-Children, Rus CONTENTS. V EDITORS HISTORICAL RECORDContinued. sia, killed, 805; Hail-Storm near Pesth, 967; Railroad Accident in Germany, 967; Bark Canoina foundered, 967; Steamer Asia lost, 967. OBITUARY: 157, 319, 479, 642, 805, 967H. W. Long- fellow, 157; Rear-Admiral Gustavus H. Scott, U.S.N., 157; General S. A. Hurlbut, 157; Dante Gabriel Roset- ti, 157; Charles Robert Darwin, 519; General W. L. Bnrt, 319; Ralph Waldo Emerson, 319; Horace May- nard, 319; Dr. J. R. Wood, 319; Rear-Admiral John Rodgers, 319; Ex-Governor C. C. Washburn, 319; Gen- EDITORS L1TERARY RECORD. Thomsons Land and the Book, 150. Dorothy, 150. Morses Memoir of John Quincy Adams, 151. Aingers Sketch of Charles Lamb, 152. Journals and Letters of Caroline Fox, 152. The Life and Works of Hugh Miller, 153. Darwins Formation of Vegetable Mould, 153. Dos Passoss Treatise on the Law of Slock-Brokers and Stock Exchan~es, 154. Newcombs Popular Astronomy, 155. Mrs. Lillies Prudence, 155. Anerbachs Spinoza, 155. Gerards Beggar my Neighbor, 155. Mrs. Alexanders The Freres, 155. Her Picture, 155. A Tallahassee Girl, 156. AgnesGibernes ThrouTh tile Liun, 156. Mrs. Spen- ders Till Death us do Part,156. Trollopes Tile Fixed Period, 156. Mrs. Beiham-Edwardss Exchan~e no Rob- bery, 156. Tom Browns School Days, 156. Woolseys Divorce and Divorce Legislation, 156. Dykess The Man- ifesto of the King, 156. Porters Books and 11eadin~, 156. Huxleys Science and CuLure, and Other Essays, 156. Froudes Life of Carlyle, 312. Amorys Life of John Singleton Copley, 313. Jebbs Sketch of Bentley, 313. Barbons Life and Timec of Victor lingo, 313. Rawlinsons Origin of Nations, 314. Badeans Military Bistory of U. S. Grant, 314. Maclends Elements of Economics, 315. Sullys Illusions, 316. Morsellis Sui- cide, 316. Youngs The Sun, 317. Judds Volcanoes, 317. Stallos Modern Physics, 317. Rosenthals Pilysi- ology of Muscles and Nerves, 317. Payns For Cash Only, 317. Lysters Doctor LEstrange, 317. Agnes Gi- bernes Sweethriar, 317. Onesi inns, 317. Bjornsons Fisher Maiden, 317. Horns Count Silvins, 317. lIolts At Ye Grene Griffin, 317. Trollopes Why Frau Frob- mann Raised her Prices, and Other Stories, 317. Win- chesters Under the Shield, 317. Dorothea, 317. Drakes Heart of the XVhite Mountains, 318. Bownes Meta- physics, 471. Bancrofts history of ttin Constitntion, 472. 1he Peninsular Campai~n of General McClel- lan, 474. Forces From Fort henry to Corinth, 474. Webbs Tile Peninsula, 474. Cists The Army of the Cutoberland, 474. Ropess The Army Under Pope, 475. Nicolays Tile Outbreak of the Rebellion, 475. Paltreys The Antietam and Fredericksburg, 475. Doubledays Cllancellorsville and Gettysbur~, 475. Skeats Etymo- logical Dictionary of the English Language, 475. Car- lyles Irish Journey, 476. Underwoods Sketch of Long- fellow, 476. Kennedys Memoir of Longfellow, 476. Nordhoffs California, 476. Lanmans Recollections of Curious Characters and Pleasant Places, 477. Daytons Last Days of Knickerbocker Life in New York, 477. Darhys Brushland, 477. Flaggs Halcyon Days, 477. Bacons A Parisian Year, 477. Rose Porters Summer eral J. G. Barnard, 319; General Kaufmann, 319; Moses Taylor, 479; General G. D. Ramsay, 479; General Gari- baldi, 479; Dr. J. F. Gray, 479; E x-Goveruor William Denuison, 479; General E. L. 0. C. de Cissey, 479; Gen- eral Skobeleff, 642; H. K. Brown, 642; Rev. J. C. Rob- ertson, 642; Bishop Levi Scott, 642; Mrs. Abraham Lin- coIll, 642; Hon. G. P. Marsh, 805; Hon. Artemus Hale, 805; General G. K. Warren, 805; Jesse Hoyt, 805; United States Senator B. H. Hill, 805; General A. A. Ducrot, 967; Rev. Dr. E. B. Pusey, 967. Gleanings, 477. Miss Woolsons Anne, 478. Trollopes Marion Fay, 478. Miss Braddons Mount Royal, 478. Miss Jollusons Two Old Cats, 478. Annie Tilomass Our Set, 478. The Revolt of Man, 478. Sturgiss Dicks Wandering, 478. A Reverend Idol, 478. Aschenbr del, 478. Guerudale, 478. Barrili~ The Eleventh Command- inent, 478. Roes Barriers Burned Away, 478. Kenneys Gypsie, 478. Stanleys Sermons on Special Occasions, 478. Pattisons Sketch of Milton, 478. Stephens Sketch of Pope, 478. Goldwin Suliths Sketell of Cowper, 478. Gorringes Egyptian Obelisks, 635. Leckys History of England in tile Eighteenth Century, 636. Lod~es Mem- oir of Alexander Hamilton, 636. Wards Sketch of Dickens, 637. De Kays Vision of Esther, 637. Rebers History of Ancient Art, 638. Essays from The Critic, 639. Weekss Among the Aaores, 639. Bakers A Sum- mer in the Azores, 639. Coxs Arctic Sunbeams, 639. Coxs Orient Sunbeams, 639. Guess Human Life in Sllakspeare, 640. Knoxs The Young Nimrods Around tile World, 640. Marjory, 640. Mrs. Oliphauts Lady Jane, 640. Miss Johnsons An English Daisy Miller, 640. The Desmoud hundred, 640. Tyndalls Essays on the Floating Matter of the Air, 799. Gosses Skelcil of Gray, 801. Underwoods Biographical Sketell of James Rus- sell Lowell, 801. Longfellows In the Harbor, 801. My- erss Outlines of Ancient History, 802. 1he Greelc-Eng- lish Revised New Testament, 802. Miss Yonges Un- known to History, 803. Rice and Besauts So Tiley Were Married, 803. Russells Tile Lady Maud, 803. Russells My Watch Below, 803. Stirlings Tile Minis- ters Son, 803. Leone, 804. HaLvys Abbd Constantine, 804. Muirs Lady Beauty, 804. Cravens Eliane, 804. Edwardess At tile Eleventh Hour, 804. Mrs. Suoffords Marquis of Carabas, 804. Murrays A Model Father, 804. Stebbinss Annals of a Baby, 804. Mullers Polit- ical History of Recent Times, 962. McCarthys Epoch of Reform, 962. Roosevelts Naval War of 1812, 963. De Leons Egypt Under its Khedives, 964. Von Hoists Constitutional and Political History of the United States; 964. Marion Harlands Eves Daugilters, 965. Dewings Beauty in the Household, 966. Bartletts New Gaines for Parlor and Lawn, 966. A Transplanted Rose, 966. Cralics Fortunes Marriage, 967. Gaborians Slaves of Paris, 967. Hollisters Kinley Hollow, 967. Mrs. Al- exanders Look Before You Leap, 967. Charles Reades Singlelleart and Donbieface, 967. Carutherss Knigilts of tile Horseshoe, 967. Norriss heaps of Money, 967. Stoddards Talkin~ Leaves, 967. EGYPTIAN MUMMIES.See Cairo, Lying in State in. ELEVATORS.See Railway. EMERSON, RALPH WALDO, SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF Edwht P. Wh~pple 576 EMERSON, RALPH WALDO. With a Frontispiece Portrait Julian Hawthorne 278 ENGLAND AND PENNSYLVANIA, THE EARLY QUAKERS IN. Iflustrated.Howard Pyle 811 ENGLAND.See Norwich. ENGLISH PARLIAMENTARY LEADERSSee Great Britons. ENGRAVING, WOOD-, THE HISTORY OF.PART II U. E. Woodberry 257 ILLUSTRATiONS. From Kervers Psalterium Virginis Maria... 257 Nathan rebuking David 261 The Nun 259 Poliphilo meets Polia 262 The Preaciler 260 Landscape l~y William Blake 264 The Ploughman 260 FLOWERSSee In the Pines. Illnstr ted Mary Treat 65 FOG, ICEBERGS AND, IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC J. W. ShacAford 426 FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA, OVERTHROW OF THE John Fiske 99 GATES OF PARADISE, THE James Jackson Jas-ves 91 ILLUITIIATIONs. The Gates of Ghiberti 93 The first Panel 96 GHIBERTI.See Gates of Paradise. GLADIS ROY Marie Howland 248 CONTENTS. Vi GREAT BRITONS, GLIMPSES OF Henry TJ~ Lucy 163 ILLUSTUATIOaS. itt. Hon. John Bright, M.P 163 The Ministerial Bench: A Night Debate 173 itt. Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, M.P 163 The House of Commons 175 Rt. Hon. W. E. Forster, M.P 163 IRt. Hon. Henry Fawcett, M.P 176 itt. Hon. Hugh Culling Eardley Childers, M.P.. 163 The Marquis of Salisbury 177 itt. Hon. Marquis of Hartingtou, M.P 163 Lord Randolph Churchill, M.P 178 The Right Honorable the Speaker 165 Rt. Hon. Sir R. A. Cross, M.P 178 The Duke of Argyll 167 itt. Hon. Sir Stafford Northcote, M.P 178 Earl Granville 167 The Earl of Derby 179 The House of Lords 169 Lord Selborne 181 Last Visit of Lord Beaconsfield to the house.. 170 Charles S. Parnell, M.P 183 Viscount Sherbrooke 171 The Leaders of the Opposition 184 HAIDAS, THE George H. Dawson 401 ILLU5TaATION5. A Haida Village 401 Haida Girl 404 Echo Harbor, Queen Charlotte Islands 402 Carved Wooden Dish 404 Chiefs of the Baida Indians 403 HOUSES, CERTAIN NEW YORK. Illustrated ALE. W. Sherwood 680 HOW ALUMINIUM WON THE GRAND PRIX William B. Greene 932 ICEBERGS AND FOG IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC J. W. Sliackford 426 INDIANS.See Haidas and Pueblos. JOURNAL OF A SOCIAL WRECK, PASSAGES FROM THE Margaret Floyd 757 KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES With an Illustration Richard Al. Johnston 47 LADIES, MONEY-MAKING FOR Ella Rodman Church 112 LAQUELLE ? Zadel Barnes Gustafson 418 LISZT, FRANZ. With a Portrait Octavia Hensel 242 LONGFELLOW. With a Portrait George William Curtis 123 LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY Elizabeth D. B. Stoddard 567 LULUS DOLL DID IT Edward Everett Hale 286 MAID OF ATHENS Josephine Harper Fiske 267 MAINE.See York. MAJOR, FOR THE. With an Illustration Constance Fenimore Woolson 907 MARSHALLS, CHIEF JUSTICE, EULOGY 1~PON HIS WIFE Rev. D. Stevenson 771 MEDICAL EDUCATION IN NEW YORK William H. Rideing 668 ILLUsTRATIONs. An interrupted Dissection 668 Alexander B. Mott 675 William A. Hammond 669 Stephen Smith 676 Austin Flint Sen 669 William Van Buren. 676 A Clinique at the University 671 Alfred L. Loomis 677 J. C. Draper 672 Willard Parker 677 Alouzo Clark 672 At Play 678 Mrs. C. S. Lozier 673 Lecture in the Womens Medical College 679 Out-of-door Patients 674 MEXICO, THE RAILWAY INVASION OF John Bigelow 745 MISSISSIPPI RIVER PROBLEM, THE David A. Curtis 608 MRS. WINTERROWDS MUSICALE George P. Lathrop 55 MUMMIES.See Cairo, Lying in State in. MUSICALE, MRS. WINTERROWDS George P. Lathrop 55 NAMELESS, THE CRUISE OF THE. Illustrated Barnet Phillips 356 NEW YORK HOUSES, CERTAIN H. E. W. Sherwood 680 ILLUsTRATIONs. The Artistic Young Lady 680 In a Dining-Room in Fifty-seventh Street 686 Dining-Room with Japanese Carvings 682 Hall with Whitewood Staircase 687 Detail of Japanese Carving 683 Staircase in House at I ifty-seveuth Street and Chimney-Piece in Ebonized Wood 685 Fifth Avenue 689 NEW-YORK, THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF.Illnstrated G. W. Sheldon 223 NEW YORK, THE PROBLEM OF LIVING IN Junius Henri Brotcne 918 NORTHWEST, THE NEW, CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY AND F. E. Prendergast 414 With a Map. NORWICH, SOME WORTHIES OF OLD Alice B. Hobbins 393 ILLU5TitATION5. Norwich Cathedral 393 John Opie 397 The Gulidhall and Market-Place 394 Mrs. Barbauld 398 Lord Nelson 395 Sir William Beechey 398 Sir Thomas Browne 396 Elizabeth Fry 399 Mrs. Opie 397 John Crome 400 ODD MISS TODD Rose Terry Cooke 701 OREGON, IN THE WAHLAMET VALLEY OF. With a Map Ernest Ingersoll 764 ~ PARADISE, THE GATES OF. Illustrated James Jackson Jarves 91 PARLIAMENT, BRITISH.See Great Britons. PENNSYLVANIA, THE EARLY QUAKERS IN ENGLAND AND. Illastrated..Howard Pyle 811 PINES, IN THE Mary Treat 65 ILLUsTRATIONs. Pyxidauthera Barbulata 65 Magnolia 69 Helonias Bullata 66 Xerophyllum Setifolinin 70 Golden-Club lOrontium Aquaticum) 67 Iris 71 Drosera Fiiformis 68 Orchid 71 CONTENTS vi PUEBLOS, THE FATHER OF THE Sylve8ter Baxter 72 ILLUSTliATIOaS. Around the Council Fire ~2 A Zufil Chief 85 Fraiik H. Cushhig ~4 The herald 86 Portal and Plume of the Goddess of Salt T8 Chief on Horschack 8T T~-ai-ii-lo-ne, or Thunder Mountain 80 Baking ild-per-lo-ki on the House-Tops 89 Making Pottery 83 QUAKERS IN ENGLAND AND PENNSYLVANIA, THE EARLY Howard Pyle 511 ILLUSTRATIONS. The Tile House, New Castle, Delaware 812 quaker and King at Whitehall, 1681 823 I often took my Bible and sat in hollow Trees 814 1 ac-Simile of the Deed conveying New Castle to Cry, Woe to the bloody City of Lichfield!.. 818 William Penn 825 I sat in a Hay-Stack, and said nothing 816 The Departure of the Welcome 826 They led me by my Arms 81h A Burial at Sea on hoard the Welcome 82r The Admiral, in a Rage 821 Penn in the Cabin of the Welcome 828 RAILWAY, THE VERTICAL W. Sloane Kennedy 588 ILLUsTRATIONS. The Elevator in the Convent of St. Catherine on New York before the Introduction of Elevators 890 Mount Sinai 888 New York, 1882 890 Otis Tof Is 889 The Vertical Screw Railway 891 Watermans Elevator 889 The first Passenger Elevator 891 REBEL, A Julian Hawthorne 408 REVERIE. Drawn by W. Hamilton Gibson 810 ROSSETTI, DANTE GABRIEL. Illustrated Mary Robinson 691 SAILOR SONGS. With Music William L. Alden 281 ST. AUGUSTINE EPISODE, A Annie Bobert8on Macfarlane 438 SHAKSPEARE OFF THE STAGE, USES OF A. A. Lipscomb 431 SHANDON BELLS. With Six Illustrations William Black 129, 291, 453, 615, 777, 939 SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK, THE OLD G. IV. Sheldon 223 ILLUSTRATIONS. An Old-time Ship Launch 223 Jacob Bell 230 Henry Eckford 224 The Old Mechanics Bell Tower 231 William H. Webbs old Office 228 William H. Webb 233 David Brown 226 Henry Steerss Model-Room 235 Jacob A. Westervelt 226 The Yacht America 231 The Great Western 221 The General Admiral 239 George and James It. Steers 229 The Dunderberg 241 SIERRAS, AN EDELWEISS OF THE Constance tJary Harrison 116 SPANISH DISCOVERERS, THE Illustrated Thomas Wentworth Higginson 729 SPANISh VISTAS.Concluded George P. Lathrop 205, 371, 546 ILLU5TRATiON5. head-Piece 205 A Calle 381 Coffee at Castillejo 206 All the Day I am happy 383 Whetstone 206 A Waler-Carrier 385 Primitive Threshing 201 The Moorish Gate, Seville 386 While the Women are at Mass 208 Bit of Arch iu a Court of the Aihambra 388 Water Stand in Cordova 209 The Toilet Tower 389 The gay Coater-mongers of Andalusia 210 GypSies 392 The Mezquita 211 Head-Piece 546 Relic Peddlers 212 Gypsy Dance 541 The Garden of the Alcazar 213 A Spanish Monk 559 Priest and Purveyor 214 Transportation of Pottery 551 Flowers for the Market 214 Garlic Vender 552 Travellers to Cordova 215 Diving for Coppers 554 Arrd Burr-r-rico I 211 A modern Sancho Pauza 555 The Fruit of the Desierta 219 Street Barber 556 Memento Mon 221 Bibles versus Melons 551 Difficult for Foreigners 222 Customs Officers 558 A Girls Head 222 Post Inn, Alicante 559 Head-Piece 311 Alicante Fruit Seller 560 Main Entrance to the Cathedral, Seville 312 Method of Irrigaliomi near Valencia 561 The Giralda Tower 313 Church of Santa Catalina, Valencia 562 A little Transaction 315 A Valencia Cab 563 A Street Corner 311 Valencia Fishermen 564 Figaro 318 Tail-Piece 566 SURREY, IN Mrs. John Lillie 527, 649 ILLUSTRATIONS. A Sunday Mornin~ in Surrey 486 Budding Blackthorn 545 Head-Piece 521 Ockley Green 649 Time Town-Hall, Gnildford 529 From a June Hedge-Row 651 Abbots Hospital, over the Garden Wall 530 The little Church of Wotton 653 The Refectory 531 Time Romany Girl 654 Corner of Abbots Hospital 532 Paddinglon Mill-Pond 655 Staircase in an old House, Guildford 533 Between Cranleigh and Gmiildford 651 Sluere 531 The Constamut Maids of Ockley 659 Tea in Juniper Hall 541 The Path to Oakwood Church 661 Sunset on the Downs 544 Corner of an old Garden 663 SYMMES AND HIS THEORY Illustrated E. F. Madden 740 TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS Allan D. Brown 36 Iu~USrRATiON5. Bushnells Torpedo Boat 36 Boat used by Lieutenant Cusluing 41 Fultons Torpedo aiid Gun 31 Section of Torpedo uSed by Cushluing 41 Frame and Pile Torpedoes 38 Tue Herresehoff Boiler 42 Barrel Torpedo 39 The Lightning 42 Floatimig Spar Torpedo and Devil Circuinventor 39 Lay Torpedo Boat. 44 Confederate David 40 Six hundred andfifty:fou;rPouifldsofGuulpowder 46 viii CONTENTS. VIKINGS, THE VISIT OF TIlE. Illustrated Thomas TVeutworth Higginson 515 VIRGINIA IN THE COLONIAL PERIOD John Fiske 895 WARLAMET VALLEY OF OREGON, lN THE. With a Map Ernest Ingersoll 764 WEIBERTREUE, THE Eli.se Allen 499 ILLU5TP.ATIONS. The Noble Wives of Weinsberg 499 Weinsberg 509 The Procession of the Weibertreee 501 Justinus Kerner 511 The Bridge at Heilbrona 503 Spirit Face 512 The Round Tower 505 Old Roman Door in Weinsberg Church 513 The Kerner Tower, 1879 507 WESTERN RESORTS, SOME John A Butler 325 ILTAISTUATION5. About Nashotab 325 The Bowider, Devils Lake 334 A Summer Villa, Oconomowoc 327 Navy-Yard in the Dells 334 Black Hamburgs in June, Oconomowoc 328 A startled Deer 335 Stand Rock, in the Dells 329 The Penokee Gap 336 The old Dells Tavern 330 A Lumbermans Bridge 337 Steamboat Rock, in the Dells 330 A View on Bad River 337 Bracket Rock, at the Mouth of Witches Gulch. 331 On the Way to Ashland 338 Entrance to Phantom Chamber 332 Indian Maiden, Marquette 339 Rafts in the Dells 333 Chippewa Medicine-Man 340 Black Monument, Devils Lake 334 Way-side Gems 341 YANKEE JIM, THE HISTORY OF Samuel Adams Drake 773 YARMOUTH, QUAINT OLD William H Ilideing 1 ILLUsTRATIONa. Head-Piece 1 A Yarmouth Row 12 Salt Marshes 2 Fish Wharf in the Herring Season 13 Shrimp and Shrimper 5 Cabin of Smack 14 Mending Herring Nets 6 Yarmouth Wherries 15 Seat made from a Whales Vertebra 7 Bringing Home the Cutter is An ingenious Reading-Desk 7 U1) among Ihe Loves 17 Tower on the Wall 9 Hauling in Herrin~ Net9 15 The Toll-House 10 Fishermans hospital 19 Coffee-Room in an old Yarmouth Inn 11 YORK, A SUMMER AT . Sarah D Clark 487 ILLU5TIIATION5. Boon Island and its Beacon 487 The Month of York River 493 For Evil-Doers 488 Low Water on the Rier 494 Our Lane 489 Eastern Point 495 The Black-Art in York 490 The Nubble 496 Home of the Seeress 491 Yorks Pile Bridge 497 By Short Sands Beach 491 The Junkins Garrison House 498 York River 492 Bald-head Cliff 498 ZUNIS, THESee Pueblos. POEThY. BIRCHINGTON REVISITED Williant Sharp 776 BRIDES TOILETTE, THE. With alt Illustration Ellen Mackay Hutehinson 883 CAVALIER, HIS. With an Illustration Robert Herrick 862 CITY DAYS, SOME Edgar Fawcett 355 DEATH, THE POLE OF. (In Memory of Sydney Lanier) Paul Hamilton Hayne 98 EXEAT Elizabeth Stuart Pltelps 276 FLASH.THE FIREMANS STORY. With Three Illustrations Will ~arleton 665 GARDEN SECRET, A Philip Bourke Marston 614 hARBOR, IN Paul flamilton Hayne 290 KINGS GATE, AT THE Juliet C. Marsh 931 LANIER, SYDNEY, IN MEMORY CF Paul Hamiltoe Hayne 98 LOVE SONG Herbert E. Clarke 744 MARIT AND I Hjalntar H. Boyesen 607 NIGHT-PIECE TO JULIA, THE. With an Illustration Robert Herrick 887 OPAL, THE MEANING OF AN Henri D ugd 64 PERSPECTIVES Harrison Robertson 924 POETS GRAVE, THE A. T. L. 276 PORDENONE. With an Illustration If. D. iliowells 829 SANCTUARY, IN William Winter 452 SIMILIA James Burke 845 SKIES, CHANGING Annie Fields 728 SUB LUNA Horatio Nelson Powers 938 TOUR, HER Will Carleton 882 TROPIC SUNSET, A Tracy Robinson 277 UPON MISTRESS SUSANNA SOUTHWELL. With an Illustration Robert Herriak 324 j~ej~}~ XL Th1~l~Ae~ c~ V IIARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. No. CCCLXXXV.JUNE, 1882. VoL. LXV. QUAINT OLE) YARMOUTH. A FIRST view of Yarmouth, Eng- land, is not especially pleasing. It is reached through a Dutch landscape of watery green levels, with many wind- mills flinging their arms iii the great opens, where the horizon is distant and the sky seems unusually high. These marshes are unable to hold their own against the sea, and the windmills are placed among them to pump the inun- dating water into dikes, which return the unwelcome floods to the great reser- voir from which the tides bring them. The adjacent coast has no height within several miles. Its only defense against the water is in yellow-green dunes, and it seems more than half inclined to sur- render to the sea, from which this part of it has been recovered within seven or eight hundred years. The recovery has not been speedy, and it is not complete; when the gales 1)10w over the German Ocean and strike Norfolk, which juts into it with Yarmouth on its farthest point, the pallid and low-lying sands threaten Eoterel according to Act of Congress, in the year 1882, by Harper and Brothers, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at washhigtoii. Voi.. LXV.No. 385.i 2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to dissolve, and let the sea regain the boundaries which it once had some twen- ty miles farther inland. Yarmouth is built on one of these banks, a strip of beach stretching north and south along the coast, less than half a milewide at one end, and more than a mile at the other. The Yare, flowing along nearly the whole of the length of its western bor- ders, and emptying at its southern extrem- ity, gives it the form of a peninsula. At one time this river, from which its name is derived, also cut it off from the main- land at the northern end, and in finding the sea by two channels, made an island of it; but the northern passage was grad- ually choked up by the sand, and was finally closed in 1336, when the south channel became, as it is now, the only outlet to the sea. Perhaps the reader remembers that young David Copperfield went on a visit to Yarmouth with his mothers hand- maiden, who bore the name of Peggotty, and that he has recorded his impressions of the place with some humor: It looked rather spongy and soppy, I thought, as I carried my eye over the great dull waste that lay across the river, and I could not help wondering, if the world were really as round as my geography book said, how any part of it came to be so flat. But I reflected that Yarmouth might be situated at one of the poles, which would account for it. As we drew a little ucarer, and saw the whole adjacent prospect lying a straight low line under the sky, I hinted to Peggotty that a mound or so might have improved it, and also that if the land had been a little more separated from the sea, and the town and the tide had not been quite so munch mixed up, like toast and water, it would have been nicer. But Peggotty said, with greater emphasis than usual, that we must take things as we fou mmd them, and that for her part she was proud to call herself a Yarmouth bloater. Geologically speaking, Yarmouth is an infant in arms, not having been called up from the depths until the time of William the Conqueror, when the capricious tides left it an insular sand-bank, visible along the edge of the mainland. Its chances of survival seemed very small, and its re- sources were so meagre that it was said the sands had set up business for them- selves. Barren as it was, however, there were good reasons for its existence, as we shall see by-and-by, and though from time to time the sea endeavored to cancel its gift, the people who came to live on it successfully resisted the assaults by which the original possessor sought restitution. As the sand upon which Yarmouth is built did grow to be drye, and was not overfiowen by the sea, but waxed in height, and also in greatnes, much store of people from the counties of Norfolk and Suffolk did resorte thither, and did pitche tabernacles and boothes for the enterteyn- enge of such sea-faring men and fisher- men and merchants as would resorte unto that place, eyther to sell their herriuges- fish, or other comodoties, and for provid- enge such things as those seamen neede and wante. This account of an old writer is supple- mented by another, in which the orthog- raphy is more fantastic. In the tyme of Kinge William Rufus, Kinge of this Realm, one Herertus, Bisshop of the Sea of Norwiche, perceyvenge greate resorte and concourse of people to be daylie and yearlie uppon the said Sande, and intend- inge to provide for there sowles healthe, did founde and buylde uppon said Sande a certen Chappell for the devotion of the people resortiuge thither, and therein did place a Chappelayne of his owne to saye and read divin service and to receyve SALT MARSHES. QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 3 such oblations and offerings as the people wolde give and bestowe upon him, and this continewed aboute the space of fourtye years at the leaste. Afterwardes, in the tymes of the Reignes of Kinge Henrye the Firste, Kinge Steven, Kinge Henrye the Second, and Kinge Richard the Firste, Kinges of this lande, the saide Sand did grow into firme grounde by the provi- dence of Almightie God, and was conjoin- ed to the mayne contynent of the yland of Est Flegge on the north parte. The which thinge caused muche people as well of the Citye of Norwiche, as of the Coun- ties of Norif. and Suff., to repaier unto said place, who being soe gathered togeth- er beganne to buylde howses and dwell- inge places there. And the foresaid Xinges being enformed of the resorte of people there, by there comniission did ap- poynte a Ruler and Gouvernour by the name of there Provost of Jernemouth. And the Bisshop of Norwiche seeing such IBuyldengs made, and stur of people re- sortinge thither, buylded by himselfe and by devotion of good people a fayer and goodlie church, for the honor of God and St. Nicholas. To the whiche Churche, be- inge buylded, were given many offeringes and tythes by the seamen thither resort- inge. Though the sand was at length made permanent, the sea was grudging, and kept the occupiers busy for centuries in preserving it. Without a harbor it was worth no more than any half-submerged knoll which adds to the difficulties of mariners; and though when formed it had a snug haven along the whole of its inner ~boundary, with two seaward outlets one of the latter was soon filled up, and the other was only kept open by constant labor. The sands, having set up in business for themselves, proved to be distressingly shift- ing and irresolute. Having been choked up five times, the harbor was nearly rebuilt for a sixth time, when it was destroyed by ~rebels, and then followed a disastrous in- undation, when men could row up and down the unfortunate little streets. It was several years before the people shook off the despair which this brought upon them; but when they did, the men were helped in building the seventh harbor by women and children, and they were re- warded with success, the seventh harbor being the one which still exists and shel- ters many thousand vessels in a year. Those built before it, had only lasted thir- ty years on an average, while the present one has now been in use three hundred and twenty-one years. Some credit is due, no doubt, to a Dutch engineer who was invited to come from Holland to take part in the work, and who brought with him an experience in the erection of the dikes which save his country from the flood. Had the work not succeeded, the fate of Yarmouth would have been sealed, and Robinson Crusoe would not have had it for a shelter in the gale which struck the ship of that luckless mariner soon after he left the port of Hull. The inhabitants had little patience left, and their money was exhausted. They had sold the church ornaments, the com- munion plate, and the bells in the steeple to secure money for the preservation of their harbor; another failure wo~ild have dispersed them, and the pirates hanging out on the dunes, as a warning to others of their kind who were still at large, would have had the sands to themselves. Taking things as we find them, accord- ing to Peggottys advice, let us see what sort of a town has grown out of the strug- gles of these early inhabitants. A cursory view of it, as we have said, is not pleas- ing. It is not smart and new, nor old and sedate. It appears, in a hasty survey, to be much younger than it is, for many of its ancient buildings have been modern- ized out of all recognition. The houses of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries with their fa9ades of cut flint or moulded brick, high - pitched roofs, round chim- neys, ample porches, and latticed case- ments, have disappeared in sweeping al- terations; and though the walls of some of them are standing, the fronts have been sheathed with white. brick, and the ornaments removed; useless parapets have been run up to hide the high-pitched roofs and dormer windows; fashionable porti- coes have been substituted for the former porches; and in the intericr wainscoting and tapestry have been torn down, and carved panels and sumptuous chimney- pieces painted white. The aim of these changes has been to make the houses look new, and they have been so general that the town has not the old-time air which a stranger expects it to have; indeed, it must be confessed that on first acquaint- ance Yarmouth seems absolutely com- monplace and uninteresting. The streets are fairly straight, and the ground is 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. level and sandy. Most of the houses in the older part of the town are white- washed, a few are of original red brick, and a still smaller number are of cold, steely-gray flint. There is scarcely any variety of form among them, and their similarity is wearisome. Above the cor- nice line of what seems to be a building of recent date, a sagging roof of fluted tiles, a curious gable, or a quaint chimney shows that only the front is new, and that behind is an old house. Unless the stranger is observant, the picturesque nooks and corners escape him, however, and he may cross the town from the western limit to the fine Parade, three miles long, on which Yarmouth faces the German Ocean, without finding anything striking. The Parade is very fine, after the fash- ion of English watering-places: it is quite straight, and has hotels and lodging-houses on one side, and a white sandy beach, with the wheeled sentry-boxes called bath- ing - machines, and gayly painted plea- sure-boats, on the other. It has a sea- wall of masonry and three piers project- ing into the sea. The houses and hotels, with bay-windows and little gardens be- fore them, are of a good class, clean and inviting, and the fronts of some of them are draped with vines. Nearly all the traffic which passes along the English coast from Leith, Hull, Sunderland, and Newcastle to London and other southern ports can be seen from the Parade, and so many vessels are in sight at all hours that it seems like the estuary of a great river rather than the open sea. The shapeless colliers, with their funnels far astern, are more numerous than any other steamers, and the horizon is often laced with the brown cords of their smoke. The endless procession in the water also includes some handsomer steamers belonging to the Medi- terranean trade, and fleets of brigs, barks, and schooners, which in unfavorable wea- ther cast their anchors in the Yarmouth roads. When the water is smooth and the wind in a suitable quarter, Yarmouth itself sends out two hundred or more shrimp boats, which mottle the sea with their dun-colored sails, and several times a day a cutter as smart as any yacht may be seen beating up to that haven with a load of fish on board, and her agents en- sign and a pennant as long as her mast flying from her peak. A Yarmouth cutter is as handy, as swift, and as pretty as almost any craft afloat. If the wind is not against her, she is inde- pendent of the tug-boat which is sent out to meet her, and only accepts the escort near the mouth of the harbor; where the channel is not easily managed under sail. The fishing-boats themselves, to which the cutters are tenders, collecting the fish from the fleet in the North Sea and carrying it to port, are graceful and swift vessels, and one of them is usually in sight of the Parade, coming home from an eight weeks cruise, or going out to rejoin the fleet, which may be two or three hundred miles off. Thus the summer visitors to Yarmouth, who are numbered by thousands, have a picture full of life always before them; and as a holiday ground the old town is increasing in favor every year. The open- ness of the sea is a disadvantage in winter. The houses on the Parade are not more than sixty yards from the low-water mark, and the easterly gales heapup the sands against their doors, and even carry the spray over their roofs. The wrecks also are brought to their very doors, and the tenants draw their blinds upon many a pitiful sight in the gray mornings. Our comfortable landlady told us how she looked out of the window and saw seven bodies cast up lifeless by the remorseless sea in one day of January lastan experience which has many parallels in Yarmouth. Just here let us modify our assertion that it is possible to walk from end to end of the town without, in a cursory observa- tion, seeing anything striking. The ex- tent to which the people are interested in the fisheries is visible in many ways and in every direction. A sort of conscription seems to have attached nearly all the in- habitants tothis industry, from the freckled and tanned urchin who wears a big oil- skin souwester with a fan-shaped brim that reaches over his shoulders to hi~ waist, to the merchant who, though in another line of business, owns a smack or has some shares in a curing-house. The fisheries have been the raison ddre of Yarmouth from the beginning, and coals are not a more evident staple in Newcastle than the produce of the sea is in this old Norfolk town. The dark- blue guernsey shirt is a uniform among a large number of the inhabitants, and col- ors every gathering. The oil-silk suit, spread out like a scarecrow, dangles in the windows and over the doors of many shops, in which jackknives, high boots, QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 5 tin plates, very small mirrors, and the miscellaneous articles of seamens ward- robes are also displayed. The scant vegetation of the dunes outside the town is darkened by the nets spread out to dry, and it is impossible to go far in any direction without seeing a black coil sluggishly issuing from a loft into a cart, which receives it on the street below, this also being a net. Within the loft are many tarry-fin- gered Penelopes mending old nets and meshing new ones, and men in can- vas attire who are soaking their nets in oil and pitch to make them stronger. The nets are hung over fences, hauled up on poles, and drawn out in neat squares wherever there is an unincum- SHRIMP AND SHRLMPER. 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. bered and convenient space. The odor of them is pungent in the air. The fish carts, of a light two-wheeled pattern, rattle along the streets with impressive speed and ur- gency; and one of the features of the beach and the harbor mouth is the number of l9okout boxes perched on the roofs of houses, and on props of their own, in which blue-jacketed and oracular men with copper-bronzed faces are constantly aiming telescopes at shadowy specks against the horizon. Yarmouth is pisca- tory beyond comparison and beyond de- scription. The conversation on the quays has fish for its burden. A sby-looking man with a brown face, far-looking eyes, and a guernsey is accosted by another person with an amphibious exterior. Hello, my boy! hello, old shipmet! how many fish ? cries the latter, and the per- son addressed shrugs his shoulders and looks at the sky as he gives the inquirer the particulars of his last catch. Then we meet a young fisherman coming home, with a soft yellow beard, grown during lAs absence, and his canvas ba, thrown over his shoul- dersan open-faced young Saxon, marching happily between two friends who are welcoming him; and there are few places in the world where there are more such fair, win- some Saxon faces as his than in Yarmouth honest brown faces with flaxen beards and glistening blue and gray eyes or where the speech is more courteous or les servile, and the manners so independently bluff without a touch of incivility. On the borders of the town the red brick curing- houses, which look like arsenal stores, are conspicuous; and though the old boat in which the Peggottys lived has disappeared from the spot on the south dunes where it stood up to a year ago, the obsolete vessels of the fishing fleet are utilized in many ways for which they were never intended, and sections of their bulwarks may be seen filling up the gaps in the fences on the western meadows. Some of these vet- erans are laid up in ordinary on the Suf- folk side of the Yare, dismasted and al- together unequipped, but more beautiful MENDING HERRING NETS. QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 7 than ever they were when prepared for sea, and their successive coats of paint have melted into one another, and the sea and the sun have refined them into the softest tints. Even the parish church is dedicated to Nicholas, patron saint of fish- ermen, and the municipal arms are three demi-lions impaling three herrings tails. Anciently there were three herrings ar- gent on a field azure, but Edward the Third, in acknowledgment of the services done for him by the town in his wars with France, demidiated them with his own, and the herrings are now anomalous beasts, half appetizing bloater and half royal lion. From the Lizard to Cape Wrath there is not a fishier town than Yarmouth, and thus it will be seen how much our as- sertion that at a first glance it contains nothing striking needed revision. As soon as we begin to know it, more- over, it turns out to be one of the quaint- est old towns in England. Its pictur- esqueness is not abundant on the surface, but if any one has patience to dig for the gold, as he must do in England to find its old-time life, he will not go unrewarded. The old Church of St. Nicholas, which, seen from the sea, looms up spleiididly above the low-lying town, a bulk of sad gray, with a spire serving as a landmark, is the largest parish church in the coun- try, and exceeds the dimensions of eight- een of the cathedrals. Much increased and altered, of course, it is the same church which was founded by the Bisshop of Nor- wiche in 1101 for the souls salvation of the fishermen who built their huts on the tide- given spit of sand; and in these centuries it has been wrought upon in many differ- ent styles of architecture without the liar- mony of purpose which was necessary to SEAT MADE FROM A WHALE 5 VERTEBRA. make it as beautiful as it is bulky; and the weather, too, the unsparing chisel of time, has done its work on the gray walls, and left many fractures and ragged aper- tures. The roof of the nave and aisles is so low that the full proportions of the in- terior are lost. The congregation often exceeds three thousand persons, and if the seats were removed, there would be stand- in~,,-room for over ten thousand persons. The oaken pews are sufficiently uncom- fortable, and the atmosphere is warmed by the distillations of many stained-glass windows, one of the richest of which was inserted by a general subscription of the towns-people to the memory of Sarah Mar- tin, a poor sewing-woman who devoted all her leisure and her small means to the re- clamation of the prisoners in the borough jail. The church library contains many treasures, and the key is always in the not-inaccessible depths of the parish clerks pocket. Perhaps the best of them is an old black- letter Bible, which is interesting for its laborious orthography, and also for its proof that Bible revision is not a ~uaran- tee of invariable improvement, though this, after all, is a matter of opinion. Thus the present version of Deuteronomy, xxvi. 13, I have not transgressed thy commandments, reads in the black-let- ter, I have not overskypped thy com- mandinents; and Numbers, xi. 18, Ye have wept in the ears of the Lord, reads, Your whynynge is in the ears of the AN INGENIOUS READiNG-DESK. 8 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Lorde; while Joshua, x. 25, Be strong and of good courage, reads in the black- letter far more idiomatically, Be stronge and plucke up your hearts. In I. Samu- el, xix. 10, of the accepted version, And Saul sought to smite David even to the wall with the javelin, reads, And Saul entended to nayle David to the wall with the iavelin. Proverbs, xx. 14, It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer; but when he is gone his way, then he boast- eth, is rendered in the old version It is naught, it is naught (sayeth he that byeth anyethynge); but when he cometh to hys owne house, then he boasteth of his penyworth. If some of the changes are unaccountable, a few of them are for the better, however. The same blaud, accommodating sacris- tan shows us an illuminated manuscript on vellum which contains the whole of the Book of Esther in Hebrew, illustrated with many droll little figures in the mar- gin, and mounted on a carved ivory han- dle upon which it rolls, making a parcel not a fifth the circumference of this Mag- azine; but better than anything else which he has in his collectionbetter than the seat near the western door formed of the skull and first vertebra of a whale which drif ted ashore and was captured at Caistor, hard byis a readin~desk of the Middle Ages, which is so superior to anything we have in this nineteenth century that we wish some ingenious and adaptive per- son would find out the secret of its mech- anism and give it to the world. It is ap- parently as simple as possible, consisting of a series of rotary shelves placed between two uprights. The shelves are ample to hold a score or more of quarto volumes, and on them a student could put every book he needed in a days work, and by a touch of a crank bring any one before him in an instant without upsetting the others. The shelves are something like the paddle-wheels of a steamer, but they keep at one angle while they are revolv- ing. That is the beauty of them, and therein is the secret. On each upright is a cylinder, and in this cylinder is the con- trolling mechanism. Who that has had twenty books of reference before him and has had to take each one up and put it down and take it up again at least twenty times, reaching across his table and up- setting his ink-pot, or stumbling off a lad- der while groping at the ordinary shelves against the walls, losing his composure and his inspiration, all to verify some petty but arbitrary and requisite factwho that knows these mishaps and vexations of a library would not give much to pos- sess such a boon? It was made about the end of the sixteenth century, and is there- fore far beyond the reach of the priority clalins of modern inventors. Having shown this to us, the parish clerk says to us, Now, gentlemen, you have seen all I have, with the fine suav- ity which the Duke of Devonshire might display in relieving himself of a guest at Chatsworth, and a strong suggestion of personal ownership, which we recognize by tipping him what Mr. Junius Henri Browne has called the omnipotent shil- ling. Yarmouth was a walled town, and a good part of the ancient inclosure has been preserved, with the old towers which stood at the gates. The veneration in which it has been held is remarkable, in contrast with the desecrating spirit which has ~ntted so many of the old houses; and when the new board schools were built near the north gate, a large section of it which stood in the way was not sacrificed, but embrasures were made in it to give ac- cess to the shiningacademic buildings, and the raggedness of the openings was smooth- ed with the flaring scarlet brick of the schools, which blazes in contrast with the mottled gray and grass-tufted walls. The antiquities of Yarmouth especially recommend it. Where else in the United Kingdom can the British traveller eat his chop in such a public room as that of its old tavern with the cut flint front? The old-fashioned tavern is one of the greatest of modern hiumbugs in most things: it is dear, inconvenient, and mismanaged. An uncovered beani in the ceiling, or a win- dow with diamond panes, is looked upon by some foolish people as compensation for no end of deficiencies in more vital mat- ters, and the toughness of the winking landlords mutton is excused on account of the shape of the fire-place, or because the roof has a certain number of gables. But this old tavern of which we speak is old in the best sense in the generosity of its space and the worthiness of its decorations. The coffee-room has the substantial mag- nificence of a hall at Chatsworth or Kneb- worth. The fire -place is a very cavern of warmth, with a blue and white back- ground of shining Dutch tiles, and a mass- ive wainscot of oak, which has been ebon QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 9 ized by the smoke of centuries, reaches as the Toll-house, because in the old times almost up to the high moulded ceiling, the bailiffs were accustomed to receive On Middlegate Street, not more than a their tolls in the great chamber on the stones-throw from this tavern, is the bor- first floor; and tbere are few buildings in ough jail, which has been known for ages England of more interest from an archi TOWER ON THE WALL. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tectural point of view than this, which has an external balustered staircase and gallery, and has been untouched by the indiscriminate hands of modern improvers. The staircase leads to an Early English stone door- way, with good mouldings and shafts, and at the side are two unglazed Early English win- dows with cinque - foil beads. The building has been nsed as a jail for over six hundred years, and that seems but a moderate span in so old and quaint a place as Yarmouth, where no effort is required to put ones self back into the Middle Ages. At one time the inhabitants of this old borough took to living on a plan almost entirely their own, and the Rows in which they built their houses remain to this day the most curious of all the features of the ancient town. The Rows are narrow (7 streets leading to and from the quaynot narrow in the ordi- nary sense, but narrower, per- haps, than any other streets in the world, their average width THE TOLL-HOUSE. QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 11 being six feet. They are not isolated, in- frequent lanes left between more commo- dious thoroughfares by the incomplete modification of early plans, but they form system, and their aggregate length is about eight miles. Six feet is their aver- age width, but some of them are scarcely more than three feet, and two persons can not pass one another without contracting themselves and painfully sidling in the opposite directions. The pavement is of rough cobble - stones, with sometimes a strip of flags down the middle to ease the way of the pedestrian. The houses tower up with smooth perpendicular walls, like cliffs, on both sides, and shut out the light, the upper stories projecting in many cases beyond the lower, and forming an arch over the narrow passage below. Most of these houses are very old, and the materi- al of Which they are built is flint or stone, often whitewashed, though occasionally left in its natural condition, with open timbering in the fronts; in one or two the masonry is of the herring-bone pattern; but huddled up as they are, without re- gard to privacy or ventilation, staring into one anothe s faces with undesirable inti- macy, they are of a good class, and are in good condition, and some of them have court-yards before them, with nasturtiums and scarlet - runners dragging a tende green web over their white walls. The narrowest of the Rows is only two feet three inches in width. There are in all on hundred and fifty-six of them, each known by its number. The object of the frugal plan in which they originated is a mys- tery. One of the guesses at it is this: The fishermen spread their nets out to dry very carefully, and leave on the four sides of each net a clear passage four, five, or six feet wide. It is suggested that the ground on which the Rows stand was once used for this purpose, and that the passages became so well defined from con- stant traffic that eventually they were perpetuated as streets. However this be, it is certain that some of the houses in th Rows were among the first bnilt in the town, and certain also that, leading from the main street, they give easy access to the quay, whereon Yarmouth finds its chief interest. When the moon is full, COFFEE-ROOM IN AN OLD YARMOUTH INN. 12 HARPERS NEW MONTIflILY MAGAZINE. A YARMOUTH ROW. and throws black beams of shadow across these alleys, and opens seeming pitfalls in their rugged pavement, a stranger hes- itates to enter them. At all times they seem to properly belong to cbnspirators; but they are quite safe and reputable. In olden times the watchmen patrolled them crying the wind for sleepless merchants and anxious skippers; and the bellmen of the Church of St. Nicholas prayed in them for the souls of those who had bequeathed money for the purpose. The wind holds pretty well to one quarter in Yarmouth, and it is said that the watchmen seldom had occasion to vary their announcements: East is th~ wind; east-northeast; past two, and a cloudy morning. Having invented the narrowest streets in the world, the inhabitants had to de- vise an original vehicle for their locomo- tion, as no ordinary cart could enter them, and this necessity was relieved by the trollya peculiar cart about twelve feet long, with two wheels revolving on a low axle placed underneath the sledge, the ex- treme width of the vehicle being about three feet six inches. Even in the dead of night the Rows are not quite still. All of them lead toward the river, and some of them reveal the black lines of clustered masts and rigging. Many of the houses are occupied by fish- ermen, who are astir at all hours. The shrimpers go out to meet the tide at elev- en or twelve oclock, and though the river has some traffic with distant ports, the most frequent vessels on it are the dan- dy-rigged boats and the rakish cutters which beloub to the great industry of the town. The industry is great in every sense of the word. Over three million dollars, or six hundred thousand pounds, is invest- ed in it; it employs more than one thou- sand vessels and eight thousand men, and the late Frank Buckland computed that the herrings caught in one year would be sufflcie~t to make fourteen meals for ev- ery man, woman, and child in the United Kingdom. The herring is the mainstay of the towns prosperity: it was the abun- dance of this palatable and wholesome fish that attracted the early settlers to the sands. Statistically it is nearly as inter- esting as it is upon the breakfast table. Yarmouth and the adjacent town of Lowestoft catch four hundred and fifty million a year, and the gross yearly pro- duce of the North Sea and East Atlantic QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 13 fisheries is said by Mr. William Watt, of Aberdeen (the author of an exceedingly interesting essay on the subject), to be not less than twenty - four hundred million, or two herrings to every man, woman, and child in the world. The cod, hug, and hake destroy twelve times as many her- rings as all the fishermen of Europe catch, and the shoals are also preyed upon by other fish and great flocks of birds. Near- ly all the fish that swim prey upon the herring at one stage or another of its ex- istence. The spawning grounds are ray- ductive power which enables the species to hold its place. The North Sea is the principal home of the herring, and the shoals come and go from the shore t deep water and back again, influenced by temperature, spawning, and the location of their food. In the north of Scotland they are most abnndant by the 1st of Au- gust, while in the vicinity of Yarmouth the principal fishing does not begin until September. No herrings are caught in January. Toward the end of February the fishermen begin to catch spring her- rings, and continue to do so during March, April~ and May. In June and July the midsummer herrings are caught, and lit- tle is done in August preliminary to the FISH WHARF IN TIlE IIKIlEING SEASON. aged by crabs and lobsters, and by all opening of the autumn or home fishing, sorts of flat-fish, and the fry is consumed which lasts from September until about by the haddock, the whiting, and the her- Christmas. Two or three days before the ring itself. The shoals are sometimes great festival, all the boats come in, and four miles long and two broad, and the are moored along the wharf, bow on, fish are so densely packed that those in from the Southtown Bridge to the estuary the rear have been known to push the where the Yare empties between two pic- front ranks ashore. The nets used by the turesque wooden piers into the sea. Scotch and Yarmouth fisheries together The boats are too new and too shapely are long enough to reach from Liverpool to be picturesque. They are not like the to New York more than four times; and broad - beamed, red - sailed luggers of the yet some commissioners who were ap- south coast, which are so effective in wa- pointed to investigate the subject have ter-color pictures, and the artist sighs de- reported that nothing which man has spairingly over their slender proportions done has diminished the stock of herrings and yacht-like neatness and grace. They in the sea, and nothing which man is like- are decked vessels of from twenty-five to ly to do can diminish it. The fecundity forty-five tons, narrow and low in the wa- of the fish is so great that the progeny of ter, with a slope from stem and stern to a single female would at one spawning, if the centre, and they have the speed as all the ova were hatched, be sufficient to well as the appearance of yachts. Their fill about forty barrels, and it is this repro- rig is what is known as the dandy pat- 14 HAIIPEIRS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tern, probably from its trimness. But their resemblance to a yacht is only ex- ternal. The greater part of the interior is taken up by the hold, in which the fish is packed, and far astern is the small cabin in which the captain and his crew take what little rest they can get. Cabin! Let the reader picture to himself a sm 11 coal cellar, and consider that this is better ven- tilated and quite as light as the quarters given in many of the boats to eight men. The whole space is about seven feet square and six feet high from deck to deck, and it is utilized with the ingenious economy of a portable kitchen in which pot fits within pot and the grate compasses the whole paraphernalia. Let into the sides are two bunks, each about thirty inches high, for the accommodation of four men, and a bench is fixed to three sides, with mysteri- ous lockers under it; the fourth side gives way to an infirm ladder leading to the upper deck, and a stove about ten inches square, across the front of which a chain is drawn to keep the kettle from rolling off in the lurching of the boat. The sleep- ing and eating of the crew and the ~cook- ing are all accomplished in this close and dusky kennel. Out of the herring season, the boats are at sea for eight weeks, trawl- ing for mackerel, whiting, cod, and soles, and they often get as far away from home as two hundred miles, and are out in the heaviest gales. It is nothing but work and wet and cold for the men during these eight winter weeks, and they have no rec- reation but sleep, and little food in addi- tion to their own fish. Perhaps, if they have money, they get boozy on the grog supplied to them by the floating dram- shops which are sent out by the Dutch; perhaps, if they have not money, and are dishonest, which is rarely the case, they still attain this felicity by giving some part of the boats tackle in exchange for the illicit spirit. At the end of eight weeks, the captain, whose knowledge of navigation is very small, gropes his way home, depending on soundings and the look of things rather than on any exact observations for his guidance, and not sleeping until the gray spire of the old CABIN OF SMACK. QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 15 ~. YARMOUTH WHERRIES. parish church and the immense column erected to the memory of Nelson on the South Dunes are in sight, and he has - - safely passed the narrow mouth of the Yare, from which many maritime wise- off. The captain receives for his cease- acres have heen watchin~ him for hours. less toil ahout eighteen shillings a week, A week ashore is allowed for refitting and a small percentage of the value of his between cruises, and the crew is then paid cargo, which does not average more than 16 HAIIPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. eight shillings a week extra, and the men are paid from eighteen to ten shillings a week. While the boats are in the trawling grounds they are divided into fleets, each fleet being under an admiralone of the most experienced of the masters, who receives a small sum for directing them in sailing and trawling, and in conveying their fish to the carrying cutters. The boats do not bring their fish into port, but deliver it to fast cutters, which go among them to collect it, and take it to Yarmouth, or sometimes, when the wind is favorable, to Billingsgate. The coming in of the cut- ters is one of the prettiest and most famil- iar sights in Yarmouth. With a fair breeze, they travel at the rate of ten or eleven knots an hour, and are as fast as almost any tug-boat, and make the harbor without assistance; but when the wind is aoainst them, and they are expected, all eyes are strained in the lookout boxes at the harbor mouth, and a steamer is sent out to help them in. Although the steam- er is hired at a guinea an hour, and her connection with them ends as soon as she has brought them up to the wharf, her crew take a personal interest in the search, and speak of the particular cutter for which they are sent as our cutter, and the pen- nant which she carries as our pennant. There was a poor coal-blackened fellow, who bore the triple labor of stoker, deck hand, and cabin-boy, on board the steam- er in which we went out, whose zeal in this every-day business of looking for a cutter knew no bounds. It was evident- ly a passion with him. When the cutter is found, she is tri- umphantly towed over the bar and up the narrow river to the commodious new BRINGING HOME THE cUTTER. QI~AINT OLD YARMOUTH. 17 fish wharf if her load is for the Yarmouth market, and soon there is a clanging of bells and a crowding of men, who gather bout the auctioneer in response to the urgent invitations of his clerk. Now, you mackerel-buyers ! This way for soles 1 Now, you haddockers, this way! this way ! If the load is for London, it is taken to the railway wharf farther up the river, and shot along smooth planks from the deck into the truck. The fish is packed on board the boats in small wood- en crates, each bearing a tag with the name of the vessel to which it belongs, and they are covered with ice as they are piled up in the truck. In the herring season, instead of being out eight weeks at a time, the boats are only away for a day or two. The best fishing is on dark nights, for the herring knows a net when he sees it, and the moonlight enables him to avoid it. Drift- nets are used, each from eighteen to twen- ty yards long; and while the boat is fish- ing, her mast is lowered to ease her roll- ing. There are few brisker sights than the fish wharf on a sunny morning in season, when hundreds of boats are moor- ed alongside, and the fish, o erfiowing the baskets, lie in silvery heaps on the stones. The glory of Yarmouth is its bloater, but the highest qualities of the bloater are so fleeting that only those who live in or near the town can know how deserved the ,glory is. Take one of the primest of these herrings, spit it, and smoke it for be- tween eighteen and twenty-four hours; thus the common herring is transmuted into the delicate and incomparable bloater. The arsenal-like red brick buildings seen in many parts of the town are used for this purpose. The choicest of the herrings, technically bloater stuff, are selected, and threaded through the gills on sticks or spits about a yard long, and placed in racks, one above the other, to a height of thirty feet or more, in a building called the smoke-house. One man stands in the racks with his legs astraddle, and puts spit after spit in position, about twenty-five herrings being on each spit,, until thousands of the fish are hanging like stalactites under the high roof. We ~call these loves, an old man told us as he climbed up the racks: Im up among he loves.? Loves ? we repeated, incredulously. Yes, l-o-v-e with a hes, he replied, voL. Lxv.No. 3552 ur AMONG THE LOVES. 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. positively, though we afterward found out that he was mistaken, and that the proper but inexplicable name of the racks is louvres. When they are filled, a log of oak is lighted and left to smoulder, and in about eighteen hours the herrings have ab- sorbed a certain proportion of the smoke, and become perfect bloaters with an un- matched delicacy of flavor. They have so little salt in them and are so finely cured that they are too perishable to be sent any distance, and thus it is that in this condi- tion the bloater is only known to those who are in or near Yarmouth. Smoked for a longer period, and salted, they are prepared for the foreign markets, and an exposure of twelve or thirteen days to the fumes of the oak produces the vulgar red herring. The stale fish, and those which have lost their heads or are in any way disfigured, are packed in barrels and com- pressed by a machine like a cheese-press, in which form they are sent to Italy, where they may often be seen in the shop win- dows adding a shining disk to the glitter of a Venetian day. After the herrings the things caught in ~reatest abundance by the Yarmouth fish- ermen are shrimps, and one of the com- monest signs in the town is this: Shrimps Boiled and Alive, Sold by the Catcher. The catcher is usually out all night in a~ small open boat. He uses a small trawl- ing net, which drags along the bottom of the sea, and receives all the things it dis- turbs. When he hauls it in, it contains~ many strange creatures besides the frisky, grasshopper-like decapod crustacean for which he is seeking, but when the weather is fair and the tide favorable, he gets a fair load of the latter, which he brings home alive in the morning. Considering how much they have done for it, and the arduousness of their lives, the town has done little for its fishermen. In a corner of the market-place is a low building of dusky red brick, with a steep red-tiled roof, and dormer windows with diamond panes. It is nearly two centu- ries old. It forms a hollow square, and is divided into twenty cottages, each con- taining a bedroom and a sitting - room. Here twenty poor fishermen, all of them over sixty years of age, are provided with HAULING IN HERRING NETS. QUAINT OLD YARMOUTH. 19 fairly co~~fo~~table lodgings, one of the cot- tages being allowed to each man and his wife, or, if he is unmarried, another is quartered with him. By the railing which incloses the old building from the street are two benches, one opposite the other, and on these, in fine weather, one may see the pensioners, very old and feeble men indeed, who cough and chat among them- selves, and wait with dreamy resignation for the end of their days. Many of them wear blue guernsey shirts with canvas trousers, but among them are all sorts of make - shift costumes, and on Sundays all of them reach the dignity of a chimney- pot hat. In honor of this day and all fes- tivals they hoist up any old flags they can get hold of-the discarded streamers of a circus, or the advertising banner of a shop-keeperand when sunset comes, they bring this shabby old bunting down, and after a quiet pipe, steal off silently to their rooms. They seem to be content. Their grandchildren and great - grandchildren, going to the parish school near by, come in and chat with them, and they have vis- its from dutiful daughters who help them in keeping their rooms in order. The last we saw of them was in leaving the parish church one Sunday evening, when they were punctiliously lowering their flags as the sun went down, and it seemed to us to be their sun that was setting.

Eugene L. Didier Didier, Eugene L. The Social Athens of America 20-36

THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. the classic beauties of Greece, the dark-eyed girls of Naples, the sparkling dames of Paris, the brown-haired girls of Eng- land, and the soft, voluptuous women of the Eastbut for all those qualities of mind and body that make the lovely sex irresistible I have seen no wo- men that equal the fair daugh- ters of the Monumental City. They make Baltimore the so- cial Athens of America. In 1730, the site of the South- ern metropolis was half swamp, half farm. The domain upon which the city was built was sold by Mr. Carroll for forty shillings an acre. Twenty txvo years later, only twenty- five houses marked the spot which now numbers nearly four hundred thousand peo- ple, and one brig and one sloop formed the entire shipping of a port which is now the second in importance on the Atlaiitic coast. The destruction of Acadia, whose story has been told with such sweet pathos in Longfel- lows Evangeline, drove to Baltimore many French exiles from their once happy home. In 1756 occurred this first un- migration, which was destined NE bright autumn evening, about a to give a distinctive character to the busi- quarter of a century ago, the late ness and social aspects of the city. John P. Kennedy gave a small dinner Friendless, homeless, hopeless, wandered they from ~)arty at his pleasant home on North Cal- city to city, vert Street, Baltimore. The entertain- From the cold lakes of the North to sultry South- ment was in honor of Washington Irving ens savannahs. and N. P. Willis, who always made Mr. The band of refugees that settled in Bal- Kennedys house their house during their timore were frugal, industrious, and re- frequent visits to Washington. Upon fined. They established themselves in this occasion the table was graced by the South Charles Street, which was for many presence of several of the most beautiful years known as Frenebtown, and where women of Baltimorethe only women souse of their quaint old houses are still that, in his later years, made Irving regret standii~g, iii striking contrast to the im- that he was no longer young. After the posing warehouses of modern times erect- ladies had retired, and the gentlemen ed in the immediate neighborhood. The were sitting over the wine, N. P. Willis, French Revolution and the insurrection who, whatever else may be said about him, of San Domingo drove thousands of exiles certainly possessed an exquisite apprecia- to Baltimore; these, with the English tion of the graces and refinements of so- Quakers, Scotch rrserchants, Irish iinmi- cml life, said grants, and German refugees during the I have seen the womeii of many lands Napoleonic wars, conibined to form the ELLIN NORTH MOALE. THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. 21 cosmopolitan character which has always distinguished Baltimore society, and made it so attractive to strangers. Mr. John Moale, a native of Devonshire, England, owned that portion of land, in- cluded within the present corporate limits of the city of Baltimore, known as Moales Point. This tract was originally selected as the site of the future city, but Mr. Moale, who believed there were iron mines on his land, availed himself of his position as a member of the Colonial Legislature to de- feat the plan, and the northwestern instead of the south branch of the Patapsco was chosen. We know not whether Mr. Moale realized his expectations from the iron mine, but we know his want of foresight deprived his descendants of a gold mine which might have been realized from the sale of city lots. The son of this prudent merchant, Mr. John Moale, Jun., became a prominent citizen of Baltimore: he served as one of the Town Commissioners for many years; was one of the original Sons of Libertyan association organized in Baltimore in 1766 for the purpose of pro- testing against the encroachments of the British government; he took an active part in the stirring events in Baltimore that preceded the American Revolution, and was a member of the Correspondence Committee, and a delegate to the Provin- cial Convention of 1774. After the war he was for many years one of the judges of the Criminal Court for Baltimore city. He married Ellin North, daughter of Cap- tain Robert North, an English gentleman, who was one of the first settlers of Balti- more, and one of the commissioners ap- pointed by the Maryland Legislature to lay out the town. Ellin North was the first white child born in Baltimore; this event took place in 1741, when the place did iot contain one hundred inhabitants. She lived to see it a city containing a pop- ulation of seventy thousand. In 1824, when Lafayette visited Baltimore, he call- ed to see this venerable lady, then in her eighty-fourth year. She died in March, 1825, having survived her husband more than a quarter of a century. Their de- scendants have always held the highest social position in the city which their an- cestors helped to make prosperous. On the walls of the Maryland Historical Society is a rough but interesting map of Baltimore town in 1752. It is in ink, and is supposed to have been drawn by John Moale, Jun., in his youth. Every mdi- vidual house (there were twenty-five in all) which the place then contained can be counted on this map, including two taverns, one church (St. Pauls), and one school, but no newspaper, for Baltimore advertisements then, and for some years afterward, appeared in the Maryland Ga- zette, published at Annapolis. What a change has taken place since that old map was made! In October, 1880, Baltimore cel- ebrated its sesquicentennial. The twenty- five houses of 1752 had increased to ninety thousand in one hundred and twenty-eight years; three hundred thousand strangers joined the resident population in viewing the novel and brilliant street pageants, which continued for a week. So early as 1770 there was an aristo- cratic class in Baltimore, educated and wealthy, who lived in splendor, and dress- ed in velvet and laces. The lines were very strictly drawn between the aristocracy and the lower classes. The manners of the ladies and gentlemen were elegant and courteous, but rather stately and ceremoni- ous. Hospitality was general and bound- less. The ladies wore pyramids of pasted hair surmounted by turbans, and their jewelled stomachers and tight-laced stays held their bodies as in a vise. Their trains were fifteen feet long. A favorite dress of the ladies was a blue satin gown and white satin petticoat; the shoes were celes- tial blue, with rose-colored rosettes. The ladies rouged, and indulged in all kinds of extravagance, sometimes paying their coif- feur a salary of one thousand crowns a year. The gentlemen wore elaborately powdered wigs, with b]ue or maroon vel- vet coats, the skirts of which were stiffen- ed with buckram so as to make them stand out; their heads were covered with three- cornered hats, elaborately laced with gold or silver galloon; the neck was encircled by a white cravat with long lace ends; the coat sleeves were trimmed around the wrist with ruffles of deep lace; their breeches were of black satin or red cloth, tight and plain, and buckled at the knee. They carried a gold or ivory headed cane, five feet long, in addition to a sword, and wore square-toed, low-quartered shoes, with sil- ver or gold buckles, while their stockings were tightly strapped over their calves, and carefully gartered at the knee. One of the finest representatives of Maryland women at this period, and a lit- tle earlier, was Elizabeth Calvert, daugh- ter of Benedict Calvert, the son of Charles, 22 HAIIPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the fifth Lord Baltimore. isiting Eng- land, she was seen at a court ball by Ben- amin West, who, struck by her beauty, requested permission to paint her portrait. She complied, and the result was an ex- quisite miniature, now in the possession of her grandson, Dr. William Frederick Steu- art, of Catonsville, Maryland. It is said to be the only miniature ever painted by West. A copy of it accompanies this ar- ticle. Miss Calvert returned to Maryland, and married Dr. Charles Steuart: from them some of the most distinguished fam- ilies in the State are descended. She died in 1814. One of the most prominent of the French 6mig ~s that settled in Baltimore was Louis Pascault, whose beautiful daugh- ter Henrietta was a reid fling belle at the time Elizabeth Patterson captivated Je- rome Bonaparte. Among the French naval officers who accompanied Jerome on that visit to Baltimore, which was to result so remarkably, was Lieutenant Ru- bell. While the false and fickle Jerome was vowing eternal fidelity to Miss Pat- terson, Rubell fell in love with her inti- mate friend Miss Pascault. They were both married about the same time; but how different their future destinies! Eliz- abeth Patterson played at high stakes. She aimed at a crown, and reacheddis grace from an imperial despot, but attain- ed a social position in Europe which few American women have ever enjoyed. The fastidious Baron Bonstetten said of Ma- dame Bonaparte: Si elle nest pas reine de Westphalie, dIe est an moms reine des cceurs Rubell was older than Jerome, and Na- poleon held him partially responsible fo his brothers m~salliancc in. Baltimore. The Emperor vented some of his wrath upon this occasion upon Lieutenant Ru- bell, who deemed it the better part of valor to absent himself from France for the pre- sent, and for some time after his marriage he resided in a small house belonging to and adjoining the residence of his father- in - law. Eleonora, another daughter of Mr. Pascault, married Columbus ODon- nell, one of the merchant princes of Bal- timore. This lady seemed to possess the spring of youth and beauty which Ponce de Leon vainly sought to discover. When past threescore and ten, she retained the vivacity, fascination, and loveliness of twenty-five, and was a belle every season at Saratoga. Josephine, the youngest of these Baltimore beauties, mar ied the son of Albert Gallatin, the distinguished states- man and diplomatist. Mrs. Gallatin is still living at Paris, the last survivor of this beautiful trio of sisters. Mrs. Columbus ODonnells eldest daugh- ter, Josephine, married Mr. Thomas S. Lee, the grandson of Governor Lee, of Mary- land. Their summer residence is Need- wood, Frederick County, Maryland. Ele- onora, the second daughter, marrie Mr. Adrian Iselin, of New York; Emily, the youngest daughter, married Colonel Sol Hillen, formerly Mayor of Baltimore. By the death of her father, in 1873, Mrs. Hillen acquired a fortune of $500,000, be- ing previously in very moderate circum- stances; this acquisition of wealth was the occasion of a splendid ball, which was one of the leading social events in Baltimore during the winter of 1877. C. Oliver ODonnell, the eldest brother of Mrs. Hil- len, married Miss Helen Carroll, the great- granddaughter of Charles Carroll of Car- rollton, and sister of the late Governor of Maryland. For more than a hundred ye rs the Howards have occupied a distinguished position in the social, political, and mili- tary annals of Maryland. Bra e in the field, wise in the Senate, and polished in society, they have always maintained a ELIZABETH CALVERT. THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. 23 -reputation which has made them the peers of the proud aristocracy of England, from which they are descended. The most dis- tinguished of this family was Colonel -John Eager Howard. He was born at the seat of his ancestorsin what was then Baltimore County, but which has long been absorbed by the rapidly growing city on the 4th of June, 1752. When the war of the Revolution commenced he joined the Continental army, with the rank of captain, in the old Maryland Line. At Monmouth, at Camden, at Cowpens, and at Eutaw he displayed a courage which won for him the warmest recognition from Congress, from Washington, and from Maryland. It was Colonel Howard who first led the American troops to a bayonet charge against British veterans. At Cowpens he charged with his brave Marylanders against Tarletons famous legion, and swept them from the field. At the close of the day he held the swords ~ -of seven British officers whom he had tak- en prisoners, including General OHara, who had clung to his stirrups asking quar- ter. At Eutaw a portion of the American army showed signs of weakness, and were about to retreat, when General Greene or- dered Colonel Howard to reserve his fire -and charge with the bayonet. He did so in the face of a close and murderous fire, which was poured into them as they ad- vanced. Howards regiment was met by the Buffs, a brave Irish corps. A hand to hand fight took place, the ranks min- gled together, bayonets were crossed, and -a terrible death-struggle ensued; but the Buffs were at last obliged to give way, and the battle was won. At the close of this splendid charge General Greene rode up and complimented Colonel Howard and his men in the highest terms, and in his -dispatch to Congress said: Nothing could exceed the gallantry of the Maryland Line. -Colonel Howard and all his officers dis- played the most uncommon bravery, and the free use of the bayonet by this corps gave us the victory. Howard deserves a statue of gold no less than Roman and Grecian heroes. On every field where he was engaged Colonel Howard won the title which was afterward conferred by Napoleon on Marshal Neythe bravest -of the brave. At the close of the Revolution, Maryland showed her appreciation of his gallant services by three times electing him Gov -ernor of the State, and afterward sending him twice to the United States Senate. He was also invited by Washington to a seat in his cabinet as Secretary of War, which he declined. Washington, in sev- eral letters still in possession of the fam- ily, deplored his refusal to accept the posi- tion as a loss to himself and to his country. The President endeavored, through the interposition of a friend, to induce Colonel Howard to change his resolution, but find- ing all efforts vain, he finally wrote: The reasons you have assigned carry convic- tion with them, and must, however reluc- tantly, be submitted to. In 1814, when the British army, flushed with their easy victory of Bladensburg, advanced on Baltimore, some of the more timid citizens proposed to secure their property by a cowardly capitulation. The veteran Howard answered this proposition in a manner worthy of his heroic charac- ter: I have as much property at stake as most persons, and I have four sons in the field, but sooner would I see my sons wel- teriug in their blood, and my property re- duced to ashes, than so far disgrace the country. Happily such brave counsel prevailed, and the Baltimore militia drove the invaders back to their ships. Colonel Howard gave to the city of Baltimore the JOHN EAGER HOWARD. 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ground upon which the Washington mon- ument stands, the corner-stone of which was laid with imposing ceremonies on the 4th of July, 1815. This was the first mon- ument erected to Washington; hence the title of the Monumental City. John Eager Howard inherited from his father the splendid estate of Belvidere, and after the Revolutionary war he built there the beautiful mansion which was recently pulled down to make way for the exten- sion of Calvert Street. In the rear of the house there was a colonnade which com- manded a fine view of the river and bay to the southeast, while from the front of the house lovely vistas of park scenery met the eye in every direction. Howards Park was indeed a princely estate, in- cluding all that portion of Baltimore ex- tending from Joness Falls on the east to Eutaw Street on the west, and from Pratt Street on the south to the extreme north- ern limits of the city. These boundaries now include all the most beautiful and fashionable streets of Baltimore, and had the Howards retained their original es- tate, the family would have derived, from ground-rents alone, an income surpassing that which the Duke of Westminster de rives from the land which he owns in the city of London. Colonel Howard married Margaret Chew, daughter of Benjamin Chew, who was Chief Justice of Pennsylvania under George III. Miss Chew was the lady in whose honor Major Andrd rode in the tourney of the Mischianza fete. The marriage was celebrated at Judge Chews seat, Clifden, near Germantown, in 1787. Washington and other distinguished per~ sons graced the occasion by their presence. Colonel Howards first sight of the home of his bride was during the battle of Ger-~ mantown, when Chews house, which was~ occupied by the British, welcomed the Maryland Line with a shower of balls. Very few houses in this country have been the scene of so many brilliant social gatherings as Belvidere. Here came the old Revolutionary soldiers to fight their battles oer againGenerals Smith, Small- wood, and Williams of the old Maryland Line; Charles Carroll and the brilliant or- naments of the Baltimore bar, when that bar was the first in the countryPinkney, Harper, Winder, and Taney were frequent visitors. Here also came the Adamses, Winthrops, and Quincys from the North~ BELVIDERE, THE HOME OF THE HOWARDS. THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. the Middletons, Pinckneys, and Hugers from the South, and distinguished stran- gers from France and England. In 1824, when Lafayette visited the United States for the last time, Colonel floward gave him a princely entertainment at Belvi- dere, which was one of the most brilliant affairs given to our illustrious guest dur- ing his triumphant progress through the country. Many hearts were lost and won in the beautiful groves of Belvidere. Many a lover s vow was whispered in the shady woody places where now are heard the busy hum of trade and the ceaseless noise of city cars. Many a stately minuet has been danced where baggage wagons hurry to and fro from the Union Ddp6t. In How- ards Park were held the encampments of the city militia, Fourth of July celebra- tions, political gatherings, barbecues, etc.; but all its glory has now passed away, and lives only in the memory of the few who are old enough to recollect the former splendor of Belvidere. Benjamin C. Howard, the third son of Colonel Howard, married Jane Grant Gil- mor, the eldest daughter of William Gil- mor. The bride had not completed her eighteenth year at the time of her marriage. The early married life of the young couple was passed at Belvidere, and Mrs. Howard, who is now an interesting lady past f our- score, has a very agreeable recollection of the gayety that reigned there when Col- onel John Eager Howard was the head of the house. Benjamin C. Howard was for several years a member of Congress from Maryland, and afterward for a long time the reporter of the Supreme Court of the United States. At the commencement of the civil war he resigned this position, and in 1861 was nominated, as the most popular man in the State, the Democratic candidate for Governor of Maryland, but withdrew, on the day of the election, to pervent a civil commotion in Baltimore. Charles Howard, the youngest son of the hero of Cowpens, married Miss Key, the daughter of the author of the Star-span- gled Banner. Mrs. William George Read was the last surviving child of Colonel Howard. She died last November a year, in the eightieth year of her age, within sight of the place where once stood the stately home of the Howards. Four generations of the Gilmor family have been prominent in the business and social circles of Baltimore. Robert Gil- mor, the founder of the family in this country, was born at Paisley, Scotland, on the 10th of November, 1748, and christen- ed the same day by the Rev. Dr. John Witherspoon, who was afterward presi- dent of Princeton College, and one of the signers of the Declaration of Independ- ence. John Gilmor, the father of Robert, was a wealthy manufacturer. At the early age of seventeen his son displayed so great an aptitude for business that his father took him into partnership. Within a year, however, from this time, Robert, who had previously made several successful busi- ness trips to London, now determined to further extend his commercial enterprises, and with an assortment of goods suitable for the American market, he embarked on the 15t1~ of July, 1767, for this country, and landed at Oxford, Maryland, toward the end of September. This little place was then much resorted to by British ves- sels to obtain the products of the coun- try. The young man realized fifteen hun- dred dollars from his venture, and being pleased with the country, determined to settle there. While on a visit to Dorches- ter County he made the acquaintance of his future wife, Miss Louisa Airey, daugh- ter of the Rev. Thomas Airey, with whose brother he formed a partnership before he had been in the country one year. On MRS. B. c. HOWARD. 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the 25th of September, 1771, he married, ing more largely the staple products of and after being engaged in business on the Maryland and Virginia, and deeming Mr. Eastern Shore of Maryland for over ten Gilmor a suitable person to represent the years, he removed to Baltimore, believing concern in Holland, they offered him a co- it offered a wider field for his business, partnership, Which was accepted. In ac- I\Ir. Gilmor soon developed a character cordance with this arrangement, Mr. Gil- of great prudence and industry, and show- mor sailed with his family on the 27th of ed a decided talent for making money. November, 1782, and arrived safely on the 12th of January, 1783, at his destination, where they met Captain Joshua Barney, on his way to America with the preliminary treaty of peace be- tween Great Britain, France, and the United States. At Paris Mr. Gilmor met John Adams, one of the negotiators of the treaty of peace, who gave him a letter addressed to Messrs. Wilhem and Jan Wil- link, the bankers of the United States in Holland, and one of the richest houses in Europe. This was the beginning of a commercial connection be- tween the Gihnors and the Willinks which continued from father to son for upward of fifty years, during which transactions took place to the amount of many millions of dollars. The house in Amsterdam under the management of Mr. Gilmor soon commanded an extensive business, extending all over Europe, and to the West Indies and the United States. Among the corre- spondents were the Barings, the Hopes, and other leading European houses. Eventual- ly the firm thus constituted was broken up by the death of Mr. Samuel Inglis, one of the Philadelphia partners. Mr. Among Mr. Gilmors business corre- Bingham, who was at that time living in spondents at this date were Messrs. Thomas London, wrote to Mr. Gilnior to come Willing and Robert Morris, of Philadel- there, with a view of arranging a partner- phia, both of whom were members of the ship with him. He did so, and the result Continental Congress, and the latter one was the establishment of the firm of Rob- of the signers of the Declaration of Inde- ert Gilmor and Co., of Baltimore, in which pendence. They traded under the firm of Mr. Bingham was the other member. By Willing and Morris. These gentlemen, his successful enterprises to all parts of the together with Mr. William Bingham, Mr. world, Mr. Gilmor, in the course of fifteen Willings son-in-law, anticipating a treaty years, became one of the merchant princes of peace after the surrender of Cornwallis, of Baltimore. were desirous of forming an establishment In 1799 the business connection with at Amsterdam for the purpose of export- Mr. Biugham was dissolved, and Mr. Gil- ROBERT GILMOR, JUN. THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. 27 mor associated his two sons, Robert and William, with him, under the firm name of Robert Gilmor and Sons. The corre- spondents of the old firm were continued to the new, and many years of commercial prosperity followed. Robert Gilmor, Jun., did most of the travelling for the firm, and was thus enabled to combine pleasure with profit. His fine personal appearance, at- tractive manners, and cultivated tastes made him a favorite guest in the first so- ciety of America and Europe. When a young man of twenty-two he visited Mount Vernon, and was entertained by Mrs. Washington, and shortly afterward he attended a grand ball given to General Washington in Philadelphia a few days before his retirement from office, and the next day was presented to him by Mr. Biugham. In speaking of this afterward, Mr. Gilmor said: I never shall forget the dignity and kindness of Washingtons manners. The Society of the Cincinnati cutered while I was there, and I had an opportunity of seeing him receive in the most affectionate manner those brothers in arms. Mr. Robert Gilmor, Jun., visited Europe four or five times, and travelled extensively. On one of these visits he spent a week at the seat of the Marquis of Londonderry on Loch Strangford, near Belfast, and in Dublin was entertained at dinner by Tom Moore, especially to meet Lady Morgan. In London, the Earl and Countess of Pembroke entertained him, and secured him desirable invitations else- where. At Paris, the Duke of Wellington gave Mr. Gilmor a dinner. He became acquainted with the Iron Duke through Mrs. Robert Patterson, of Baltimore, who afterward married the Marquis of Welles- ley, and whose sister was Lady Harvey, the wife of Sir Felton Harvey, the favor- ite aide and confidential secretary of Wel- lington. In the spring of 1818, Mr. Robert Gil- mor, Jun., sat to Sir Thomas Lawrence for his portrait. When finished, the art- ist pronounced it one of his best portraits. This portrait, a copy of which embellishes the present article, is now in the collection of Judge Robert Gilmor, a great-nephew of the original. For many years it has been regarded as among the finest speci- mens of portrait painting in the United States. When Lafayette visited Baltimore in 1824, Mr. Gilmor was chairman of the committee of arrangements of the grand ball given in honor of the distinguished guest. On the 28th of December, Lafay- ette dined with Mr. Gilmor, in company with a number of old Revolutionary of- ficers, including General Samuel Smith, Colonel John Eager Howard, and Colonel Paul Bentalon, in whose arms Pulaski died. In October, 1825, the Duke of Saxe- Weimar visited Baltimore, bringing letters of introduction to Mr. Gilmor, and was hospitably received. A daughter of William Cooke, president of the Bank of Maryland, was Mr. Gil- mor s first wife. She died in May, 1803. He spent the winter of 1806 in Charleston, South Carolina. Among his friends there was General Charles Cotesworth Pinck- ney, president of the Cincinnati Society, having succeeded General Washington. Another friend was John Rutledge, Jun., son of John Rutledge of the Revolution- ary army. During this visit Mr. Gil- mor had frequent opportunities of enjoy- ing the Southern hospitality for which Charleston was famous. The house of Major James Ladson was at that time one of the gayest in the city. Mr. Gilmor was a frequent visitor there, and became en- gaged to Sarah, one of Major Ladsons daughters. They were married on the 9th of April, 1807. Mr. and Mrs. Robert Gilmor, Jun., nev- er had any children, and both being hos- pitably inclined, their house became the centre of social life in Baltimore. Every distinguished stranger who visited the city was entertained by them. Mr. Gilmor at an early age showed a taste for art, and he formed one of the finest collections of pic- tures in the United States. He was a lib- eral patron of American artists. He in- duced Gilbert Stuart to visit Baltimore, and secured many sittings for him. In April, 1826, Mr. and Mrs. Gilmor went to New York to attend the Italian opera, then for the first time introduced in the United States, by Signor Garcia, whose charming daughter Signorina Garcia (aft- erward the celebrated Malibran) was the chief attraction. It was an unusual thing in those days for persons to go so far to attend a public amusement, and the visit of the Gilmors was noticed in the news- papers. Much attention was paid to them in New York. The fortune of this gentle- man being ample, it was within his means to accumulate many valuable works, and take a generous part in public improve- ments. He continued to take the deepest 28 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. interest in the prosperity of Baltimore to the last, and died in 1849, universally la- mented. His younger brother, William, was married at an early age to Mrs. Marianne Drysdaie, a young widow of nineteen. She was a daughter of Isaac Smith, of Northampton County, Virginia. Mr. and Mrs. Gilmor had twelve children. Their eldest son, Robert, graduated at Harvard in 1828, and afterward went to Europe as attachd to the legation 4th Mr. Hives, our Minister to France. After remaining abro d, isiting places of interest, and meeting with a great deal of attention, he returned in the autumn of 1829. It was his good fortune during this trip to spend several days at Abbotsford with Sir Wal- ter Scott, and often referred to it with plea- sure. Mr. Gilmors country-seat was Glen- Ellen, in Baltimore County. He married Ellen Ward, daughter of Judge Ward, of Baltimore, whose memory is cherished as one of the most admired ladies that ever graced Baltimore society. Besides great beauty, she was rarely endowed with en- gaging manners, and a disposition so good, so gentle, and so sweet as to win friends on every side and amongst all classes. The Hon. Robert Gilmor, who has been for more than twelve yea s one of the judges of the Supreme Bench of Baltimore, is a son of this lady. He possesses the love of art which is hereditary in his family, and owns a number of fine paintings and en~ gravings formerly possessed by his rela- tive. Mr. William Gilmor, who married Miss Key, a descendant of Francis S. Key, and Colonel Harry Gilmor, who won dis- tinction as a dashing cavalry officer in the Confederate service during the late war are brothers of Judge Gilmor. Other branches of the family are represented, and in its links, by intermarriage, it has connections with many well-known Balti- more families. During the first quarter of this century Baltimore was a happy little town, with its social aspects more scrupulously de-- fined and determined than now. The as- semblies were aristocratically exclusive Almacks in its best days was not more so. The belles arid beaux danced and flirted with dignity and elegance, and supped on tea, chocolate, and sweet rusk perhaps with more satisfaction than the present belles and beaux derived from Mrs. Browns magnificent reception last winter. Greater deference was shown to ladies than in these busy and bustling days. A gallant of that time, says the late John P. Kennedy in his lecture on Baltimore Long Ago, accosted a lady on the street with a bow that required the whole side of the pavement to make it in, with a scrape of his foot, his cane thrust under his left arm till it projected behind along with his queue like the palisades of a cheval dc frise; and nothing could be more piquant than the lady as she re- ciprocated the salutation with a courtesy which seemed to carry her into the earth, with her chin bridled to her breast, and such a volume of dignity. From these same interesting reminiscences we learn that Baltimore Street in those days was enlivened by apparitions of grave matrons and stirring demoiselles moving erect like wooden and pasteboard figures of a pup- pet show. These were the grandmothers of the present generation, arrayed in gor- geous brocade and taffeta, luxuriously dis- played over hoops, with comely bodices laced around that ancient armor the stay, disclosing most perilous waists, and with sleeves that clung to the arm as far as the elbow, where they took a graceful leave ELLEN WARD GILMOR. THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. 29 in ruffles that stood off like the feathers of a bantam. And such faces as they bore along with tbem so rosy, so spirit- ed, with their hair all drawn back over cnshions till it elevated the eyebrows, giv- ing an amazing fierce and supercilious tone to the countenance, and falling in cataracts npon the shonlders. Then they stepped away with such mincing gait, un- conscious of many glances, with formida- ble points to the toes, and high tottering heels fancifully cut in wood, their tower- built hats crowned with tall feathers that waved aristocratically upward with each step, as if they took a pride in the slow paces of the wearer. Toward the close of the period thus humorously described, and when tbe se- vere arrangement of the hair had been greatly modified, one of the chief orna- ments of Baltimore society was Miss Isa- bella Pinkney, daughter of the famous orator William Pinkney. The position acquired by her father as the leader of the American bar, minister to half the courts of Enrope, and Attorney-General of the United States, opened to his danghter the best society of the time. At an early age she married Joseph White, whose fatber, Dr. John Campbell White, was one of the leaders of the Irish rebellion of 1798. Foreseeing the disastrous termination of that ill-advised outbreak, he escaped to America, and settled in Baltimore, where he became one of the leading physicians. One of Isabellas brothers was Edward C. Pinkney, who was pronounced by Edgar A. Poe to be the finest of American lyric poets. At an early age he entered the navy, where he passed six years, resigning in 1822 in order to challenge his superior officer, Commodore Ridgeley, who had un- wittingly given some offense to the junior officer. The commodore having declined the challenge, the fiery yonng midshipman posted him in the streets of Baltimore. After leaving the navy, Edward Pinkney stndied law, and in 1824 was admitted as a member of the Baltimore bar. At that time one of the most beantiful and accom- plished ladies in the city was Georgiana, daughter of Marcus McCansland, an Irish gentleman who settled in Baltimore to- ward the close of the last century. He had a large family of daughters, all of whom were beautifnl, bnt Georgiana sur- passed the rest. Her eyes were of a deep violet color; her glossy black hair fell over a forehead exquisitely shaped and as pure and white as polished marble, while on her cheek the rose and lily were equally blended. She played the harp, and sang di- vinely. Her beauty and accomplishments made her a much-admired belle. A lady now living in Baltimore remembers seeing one evening Edward Pinkney, Charles Carroll Harper, and Charles Carroll, the grandson of the signer, surrounding Miss McCausland, who was singing some favor- ite ballad while accompanying herself on the harp. These gentlemen were all by- ers of the fair Georgiana, but young Pink- ney carried the day by his manly beauty, his dashing manners, and the sweetness of his love songs. It was this lady to whom was addressed his beautiful serenade: Look out upon the stars, my love, And shame them with thine eyes, On which than on the lights ahove There hang more destinies. Nights heauty is the harmony Of hiending shades and lights; Then, lady, uplook out, and he A sister to the night! Sleep not: thy image wakes for aye Within any watching hreast. Sleep not: from her soft sleep should fly, Who rohs all hearts of rest. N~ y, lady, from thy slumhers hreak, And make this darkness gay With looks whose hri~htness ~vehl might make Of darker nights a day. ISABELLA PINENEY WHITE. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Mrs. Somerville, another Baltimore lady, inspired his grateful Health, beginning: I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone A woman of her gentle sex The seeming paragon; To whom the hetter elements And kindly stars have given A form so fair that, like the air, Tis less of earth than heaven. Edward Pinkney and Georgiana Mc- Causland were married on the 12th Octo- ber, 1824, a few days after the groom had completed his twenty-second year. In 1825, Pinkneys poems were published in a thin volume, which is now so scarce that it has become one of the rare books iu American literature. Although these poems were mostly written when the poet was only twenty years old, they show no evidence of immaturity. They possess an original- ity, a beauty of rhythm, and a delicacy of imagination which seemed to proclaim to the world the advent of a master of song in the young Baltimore poet. Having shown what he could do, he did not con- tinue a poetical career, but accepted the Vosition of Professor of Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres in the University of Mary- land. In December, 1827, he was chosen editor of the Marylandcr, a powerful po- litical journal, at that time published in Baltimore. In this new position the ver- satility of his talents was displayed in a new field. Those who had admired his poetical genius and his legal ability were astonished to find a young man of twenty- five successfully coping with trained vet- erans in journalism. The independence and dignity with which he defended the truth and the boldness with which he ex- posed falsehood attracted the attention of the country, and a brilliant career seemed opening before him. But his days were already numbered. Early in the spring of 1828 a cruel malady obliged him to relinquish his editorial duties, and on the 11th of April, while his relatives were weeping for the loss of one so young, so beautiful, and so gifted, he begged them not to weep for him, for his death was a blessing, and expired without a sigh or a. struggle. His remains now lie in Green- mount Cemetery, where so many of the honored dead of Baltimore are buried. In 1816, Henry Didier, a young Balti- more merchant, met, in the studio of Sir Thomas Lawrence, John N. DArcy, an Irish gentleman, who, like himself, came to sit to the most celebrated portrait paint- er of his age. Meeting there daily, their acquaintance soon ripened into intimacy, and the result was the formation of a busi- ness partnership in Baltimore, and the marriage of Mr. DArcy to Amelia Didier, his partners sister. The transactions of the firm were large and extensive, iuclud- ing the West Indies and South America. In 1819, in the midst of the South Ameri- can struggle for independence, the Balti- more house sent two vessels with arms. and provisions to the assistance of the Chilians, who contracted to pay Messrs. DArcy and Didier $800,000 upon the de- livery of the cargoes in Chili. One of the vessels arrived safely; the other entered the port of Buenos Ayres, where the ves- sel was seized; but the valuable cargo was soon released, and taken across the Andes to Chili, where the arms contributed to securing the final independence of the Republic. The heirs of Messrs. DArcy and Didier have filed a claim against Chili in the State Department at Wash- ington for $800,000, and interest for sixty- two years, amounting in all to four mill- ions of dollars. Mr. DArcy was the HENRIETTA D ARCY WILSON. THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. 31 father of six daughters. who in the course personal beauty, possessed a vivacity of of time became leading ladies in Baltimore manner, a sprightliness in conversation, society. Henrietta, who was considered and a brilliant variety of accomplishments the most faultlessly beautiful woman in which made her the most famous belle of Baltimore between 1840 and 1850, in 1845 her time. After having half the young married Dr. William T. Wilson, a gentle- men of Baltimore at her feet, and refusing man of refined taste, and an intelligent a hundred offers, she niarried Mr. George patron of art. A younger sister, Ellen, Pendleton, of Winchester, Virginia, who who was also a great beauty, married The- odore Wetmore, of New York; Virginia D Xrcy married Hermann Von Kapif, a Baltimore merchant of German birth; Maria and Amelia married respectively Thomas J. Wilson and Rev. L. Van Bok- kelan; Margaret, the eldest of these charm- ing sisters, died unmarried. Mrs. Van Bok- kelan, the youngest, is the only survivor. Contemporary with the Misses DArcy was Miss Charlotte Robinson, daughter of Alexander C. Robinson, one of the mer- chant princes of Baltimore. Her mother was Miss Peale, daughter of Charles Wil- son Peale, the painter. Mrs. Robinsons beauty was remarkable even in a city so famous for its beautiful women as Balti- more. Her daughter, in addition to great was afterward for several years the pre- siding judge of Berkeley County, Vir- ginia. An English traveller who visited Balti- more described one of the belles of the city as possessing a supreme perfection of form and feature. He said he spoke of her as reverently as if he were drawing the portrait of the Austrian Empress or any other crowned beauty. He looked on that face as a wonderful picture, and so re- membered it. He confessed, Englishman as he was, that he had never beheld a countenance more faultlessly lovely. The pose of the small head, the sweep of the neck, resembled the miniatures of Giulia~ Grisi in her youth, but the lines were more delicately drawn, and the contour more re AMELIA DIDIER D ARCY. 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fined; the broad open forehead, the brows firmly arched, without an approach to heaviness, the thin chiselled nostril and perfect mouth, cast in the softest feminine mould, reminded you of the first Napo- leon. Quick mobility of expression would have been inharmonious there. With all its purity of outline, the face was not se- vere or coldly statuesqueonly superbly serene, not lightly to be ruffled by any sudden revulsion of feeling: a face of which you never realized the perfect glo- ry till the pink-coral tint flushed faintly through the clear pale cheeks, while the lift of the long trailing lashes revealed the magnificent eyes, lighting up surely and slowly to the full of their stormy splendor. This language will not be considered exaggeration by those who remember Miss Mary Grafton Dulany in the prime of her youth and beauty. She is the daughter of Grafton L. Dulany, who ranked high at the Baltimore bar when it was graced by such men as Taney, Johnson, Mere- dith, Wirt, McMahon, and others. This lady married Mr. Gardiner G. Howland, of New York, whose father, bearing the same name, married Miss Louisa Mere- dith, also a Baltimore belle. Miss Mary Dulany was a particular favorite of Wash- ington Irving in his latter years. He fre quently met her at John P. Kennedys. One of the greatest attractions for him in Baltimore was the society of this charm- ing girl. She was married a year or two before his death, and a magnificent recep- tion was given to her in New York at the residence of Mr. Howland senior. Mr. Irving came down from Sunnyside to be present, although he was then in the sev- enty-fifth year of his age, and took great pleasure in speaking of the beauty of the bride, who was also, as he said, such a good girl. This was his last appearance in society. Of late years Mrs. Howland has almost retired entirely from the gay world, in order to devote herself to works of charity. We regret that photogra- phers both in this country and in Europe have failed to produce a correct likeness of Mrs. Howland; but judging from what those say who knew her well, she must have been the most beautiful bride that Baltimore has ever given to New York. I-Icr face recalled that of the Madonna di San Sisto, in which heaven and earth are said to meet upon Raphaels canvas. Baltimore has never been a clubable city. With three or four hundred thou- sand inhabitants, there are only three or four clubs, and the majority of these, in accordance with the peculiar spirit of the people, are of a social character. The Maryland Club is the oldest, the most pre- tentious, and the most conservative, and enjoys a wide reputation for its cuisine, although a fastidious English visitor once declared that it was pitilessly monoto- nous in its carte. Nowhere are terra- ROBERT GOODLOE RARrER. HARRIET LANE JOHNSON. THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. 33 pins, canvas-back ducks, and other delica- the tempting delicacies of the table, so cies of the Chesapeake prepared more de- lavishly supplied by the waters of the liciously than by the chef of the Mary- Chesapeake, and suggested that Balti- land. Most of the members are bons-vi- mores chief monument should be crown- vants. The cellars of the club are stocked ed by a canvas-back duck. Although this with wines of a fabulous age, including club is not so exclusive as formerly, it the famous Glenn, Hoffman, and Noble still prides itself upon having for its pre- Madeira, bottled in 1810, 1819, and 1826. siding officer a gentleman of long de- A supper at the Maryland is something scent. This position, which was once to remember, and worth a trip across the held by the son of a king, is now occu- Atlantic to the man who considers a good pied by the grandson of a Revolutionary meal the summum bonum of human cx- hero. istence. The Autocrat of the Breakfast A little less than a quarter of a century Table humorously attributed the want of ago a number of Baltimore artists and ppreciation of literature in Baltimore to others were in the habit of meeting one Voi.. Lxv.No. 355..3 EMILY MCTAVJSIL 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. evening in the week at the studio of Frank B. Mayer. Gradually, as the number in- creased, it was determined to organize a regular club, and in the winter of 18589 they established themselves at No. 40 St. Paul Street, the former residence of Dr. John Buckler, and adopted the name of the Allston Association. As the mem- bership continued to grow larger, the rooms were found inadequate, and in Feb- ruary, 1863, they removed to 64 Mount Vernon Place, known as the Oliver man- sion. Owing to the pronounced Southern sentiments of its members, the club-house was closed by order of General Schenck, commandant of the Middle Department, on the 30th of June, 1863, the first day of the battle of Gettysburg, when the result of the battle was uncertain, and the Con- federate army was hourly expected in Bal- timore. The club-house remained closed during the continuance of the war. Gen- eral Schenek advised his successor not to allow it to be re-opened, as it had been a nest of secessionists. Wednesday was the musical evening at the Allston, when string instruments ac- companied quartettes, quintettes, glees, and choruses. Among the prominent of the musical members were the late William Prescott Smith, Dr. A. J. Volck, Henry C. Wagner, Professor Otto Sutro, and others. When the Allston Association was suppressed, these and other music- loving members continued to meet at the rooms of Mr. Sutro, No. 67 North Charles Street. In the autumn of 1869 it was pro- posed to form a club, devoted strictly to music and the drama, and on the 13th of November, 1869, the Wednesday Club was organized, and continued its separate ex- istence until June 8, 187p, when it was merged into the Allston, which had been reorganized the previous winter. Finding the Allston was becoming merely a social club, cards and billiards taking the place of music and art, the former members of the Wednesday Club determined to sepa- rate from the Allston, and in the winter of 1876 it resumed its separate existence. The people of Baltimore are devoted to music, and the Wednesday Club became so popular in a few years that it was found necessary to build a club-house on North Charles Street, of which they took posses- sion on December 15, 1879. The first en- tertainment given there was on the 30th of December, 1879, when Gades En Kings Daughter was rendered by members of the club. Mr. Edward Reuling was Sir Oluf, Miss Bessie Mcllvaine was the Ed Kings Daughter, and Mrs. J. E. Lindsay was the mother. During the same winter, Handels Alexanders Feast, the May Queen, etc., were produced, and more re- cently Mendelssohns oratorio of Elijah. One of the most honored ladies now liv- ing in Baltimore is Miss Emily L. Harper, who, since the death of her cousin the Duchess of Leeds, on the 8th of April, 1874, has been the sole surviving grand- child of Charles Carroll of Carrollton. Miss Harper is the daughter of General Robert Goodloe Harper, who was a con- temporary of William Pinkney at the Maryland bar, and pronounced a splendid eulogy on the great orator when he was suddenly cut off in the midst of his brill- iant career. The best society of this coun- try and Europe has been graced by the presence of Miss Harper; but in the homes of the poor she is as well known as in the gilded saloons of fashion. Some years ago, when no Catholic princess in Europe was deemed worthy of the Golden Rose, which is annually presented by the Pope, Miss Ifliarper, as the most distinguished Catholic lady in the United States, was mentioned as a proper person to receive it. Few ladies have presided over the White House with more distinction than Miss Harriet Lane, the niece of President Bu- chanan. Educated at the Visitation Con- vent, Georgetown, while her uncle was Secretary of State under the Polk admin- istration, she spent Saturday and Sunday every month in Washington with him. At his house she was early introduced to all that was best, brightest, and distin- guished in the nation. In this society she acquired the ease and grace of manner which afterward made her remarkable in Queen Victorias drawing- room. After leaving the convent school, Miss Lane re- turned to her uncles home at Wheatland, where she saw much company, and occa- sionally visited New York, Philadelphia, and Washington. In 1852, Mr. Buchanan was sent to England as United States min- ister, and Miss Lane accompanied him. Her many charms of mind and person made a decided impression upon the Queen, and the fair young American was honored by distinguished marks of royal favor. The most interesting social event con- nected with the Presidency of Mr. Bu- chanan was the visit of the Prince of Wales and suite to Washington in the THE SOCIAL ATHENS OF AMERICA. autumn of 1860. Miss Lane contributed greatly to the pleasure of the Prince by the admirable manner in which everything was ordered at the White House for the accommodation and entertainment of the royal party. This was the first occasion that an heir - apparent to the English throne had vThited the capital of the lost colonies. The most interesting circum- stance of the visit was the presence of the great - grandson of George III. standing with bowed head before the tomb of George Washington. As a mark of his apprecia- tion of the cordial hospitality extended to him at the White House, the Prince, upon his return to England, sent Mr. Buchanan a portrait of himself, and Miss Lane a set of engravings of the royal family, with an autograph letter, in which he said, The cordial welcome vouchsafed to me can never be effaced from my memory. At the close of his administration Mr. Buchanan and his niece retired to Wheat- land. Here Miss Lane remained until January 11, 1866, when she was married to Mr. Henry E. Johnston, a prominent Ba] timore banker. The two had first met at Bedford Springs, Pennsylvania, in the golden days of youth. The acquaintance thus early begun contiaued to increase in warmth during all the dazzling career of Miss Lane at home and abroad until it culminated in a happy marriage. After a trip to Cuba, Mr. Johnston took his wife to Baltimore, where he had fitted up a luxurious home for the lady of his love. For fifteen years Mrs. Harriet Lane John- ston has been one of the brilliant orna- ments of Baltimore society. Their beau- tiful house on Park Avenue has been the centre of a refined and graceful hospitali- ty, where all that is most attractive and winning in the Monumental City gather. Here the stately lady whose grace and dig- nity adorned the most elegant of European courts appears in the less brilliant but not less charming character of the queen of the domestic circle. In the winter of 1863, George Lawrence who is so well known as the author of Guy Livimgstonc, arrived in Baltimore on his Quixotic expedition to the South. With the proverbial hospitality of the city, he was dined and entertained by the most fashionable people. He showed his ap- preciation of their cordiality in his book, Border and Bastile, which described his adventures in this country. We quote: The freedom and independent self-reli ance of the Baltimorean demoiselles is very remarkable. At home they receive and. entertain their own friends of either sex quite naturally, and taking their walks abroad, or returning from an evening par- ty, trust themselves unhesitatingly to the escort of a single cavalier. It speaks well for the tone of society where such a state of things can prevail without fear and without reproach. I never heard a slan- der or a suspicion levelled against the most intrepid of those innocent Unas. On the appearance of a d~butantc in Balti- more, the first question asked is, Is she beautiful? For many years past com- mon report has conceded the golden apple to the Monumental City. I think the dis- tinction has been fairly won. The small, delicate features, the long, liquid, irides- cent eyes, the sweet, indolent morbidezza, that make Southern beauty so perilously fascinating, are not uncommon here, and are often united to a clearness and brill- iancy of complexion scarcely to be found nearer the tropics. At the hour of dress parade you can not walk five steps with- out encountering a face :ell worthy of a second look. There are at this time many fair Balti- moreans to whom this enthusiastic de- scription might apply. We are not guilty of a want of delicacy when we mention Mrs. John Carroll, who, a few years since, as Miss Mary Thomas, was one of the brightest ornaments of society. Miss Em- ily McTavish belongs to a family in which beauty is hereditary. She is on her fa- ther~s side the great-granddaughter of Mrs. Richard Caton, whose three daughters were known at the court of George IV. as the American Graces, and whose mar- riage to English noblemen created so great a sensation in the fashionable society of Great Britain. On her mothers side Miss McTavish is the granddaughter of Gen- eral Winfield Scott. The wealth and high social position of the family place this lady in the front rank of Baltimore soci- ety. Stately in her bearing as Tenny- son s Maud, and calm in her manners as her grandaunt the Duchess of Leeds whom she is said to resemble in personal appearance, Miss MeTavish possesses that conscious repose and high - born grace which we see in Vandycks female por- traits, representing as they do the trans- mitted beauty and refinement of a dozen generations. Among the beauties who have been 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. taken from Baltimore to adorn the society of other cities, besides those already men- tioned, were Miss Judith Moale, who mar- ried Mr. Robert Cutting, Jun., of New York; Miss Lillie Dulany, who married Mr. Robert Cushing, of Boston; Miss Flor- ence McPheeters, who married a Mr. Pad- elford, of Savannah, Georgia. This lady possesses in perfection the blonde type of beauty which is peculiar to Baltimore, and which has distinguished so many of its lovely wonien. One of the most attract- ive ladies in the society of the Monument- al City thirty years ago was Miss Ellen Swan, who married Philip Barton Key, of Washington. Their son, James Scott Key, after figuring in Baltimore society for a few years, abandoned the profession of the law, which has been hereditary in his fam- ily for three generations, and went on the stage. Previous to doing that, he deliver- ed an address at the Academy of Music on the Origin of the Star-spangled Banner, which his grandfather, Francis Scott Key, wrote while a prisoner on board a British man-of-war during the bombardment of Fort McHenry on the 13th of September, 1814. An evening party in Baltimore is some- thing to be enjoyed and remembered. Gentlemen from other cities have con- fessed themselves astonished at the bat- talions of beautiful women to be seen on such occasions. Along the wooded ave- nues of Druid Hill Park faces glance from carriages, and fi ures are seen strolling along the green alleys, which might have inspired Tennysons DreaTh of Fair Wo- men. A peculiar charm of the Balti- more girl is her gentleness; she is exqui- sitely feminine. There is nothing about her of the girl of the period; she is not a husbandhunting woman; she is not one of the grim females; not one of the shrieking sisterhood; there is nothing fast, aggressive, or advanced about her; she is the very reverse of anything offen- sive in the term strong-minded. Her reading is more sweet than strong; on her boudoir table you will not find the last French novel or the last poem of Swin- burne, but you will find the works of Jean Ingelow and Adelaide Procter. Free from the wear and tear of the fashionable life of other cities, Baltimore women often retain their youthful freshness of complex- ion and grace of form until threescore, thus illustrating the lines of the poet: How lightly falls the foot of time That only treads on flowers TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS. THE history of the adoption of the tor- the cry, Inhuman, barbarous, unchival- pedo as a recognized implement of rous. But the genius of modern war re- warfare is not unlike that of gunpowder quires the use of those weapons which or of shells. Each in its turn was met by shall inflict the greatest possible damage upon an enemy in the shortest possi- ble time, and hence the once despised torpedo now occupies a place in the front rank. In the short space of a magazine ar- ticle it is impossible to take more than a mere cursory glance at our subject; but so complete in its details was the first recorded torpedo boat that it mer- its more than passing notice. Mr. David Bushnell, of Connecticut, who well earned the title of the father of torpedo warfare, built in 1775 a boat intended for submarine attack upon an enemys vessel. This craft con- tained sufficient air to enable the op- erator to remain half an hour under water, and it was so arranged as to be sunk to any desired depth by the flow of water into the hold; rising was effected by pumping this water out. BU5HNELL 5 TORPEDO BOAT.

Allan D. Brown Brown, Allan D. Torpedoes and Torpedo Boats 36-47

36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. taken from Baltimore to adorn the society of other cities, besides those already men- tioned, were Miss Judith Moale, who mar- ried Mr. Robert Cutting, Jun., of New York; Miss Lillie Dulany, who married Mr. Robert Cushing, of Boston; Miss Flor- ence McPheeters, who married a Mr. Pad- elford, of Savannah, Georgia. This lady possesses in perfection the blonde type of beauty which is peculiar to Baltimore, and which has distinguished so many of its lovely wonien. One of the most attract- ive ladies in the society of the Monument- al City thirty years ago was Miss Ellen Swan, who married Philip Barton Key, of Washington. Their son, James Scott Key, after figuring in Baltimore society for a few years, abandoned the profession of the law, which has been hereditary in his fam- ily for three generations, and went on the stage. Previous to doing that, he deliver- ed an address at the Academy of Music on the Origin of the Star-spangled Banner, which his grandfather, Francis Scott Key, wrote while a prisoner on board a British man-of-war during the bombardment of Fort McHenry on the 13th of September, 1814. An evening party in Baltimore is some- thing to be enjoyed and remembered. Gentlemen from other cities have con- fessed themselves astonished at the bat- talions of beautiful women to be seen on such occasions. Along the wooded ave- nues of Druid Hill Park faces glance from carriages, and fi ures are seen strolling along the green alleys, which might have inspired Tennysons DreaTh of Fair Wo- men. A peculiar charm of the Balti- more girl is her gentleness; she is exqui- sitely feminine. There is nothing about her of the girl of the period; she is not a husbandhunting woman; she is not one of the grim females; not one of the shrieking sisterhood; there is nothing fast, aggressive, or advanced about her; she is the very reverse of anything offen- sive in the term strong-minded. Her reading is more sweet than strong; on her boudoir table you will not find the last French novel or the last poem of Swin- burne, but you will find the works of Jean Ingelow and Adelaide Procter. Free from the wear and tear of the fashionable life of other cities, Baltimore women often retain their youthful freshness of complex- ion and grace of form until threescore, thus illustrating the lines of the poet: How lightly falls the foot of time That only treads on flowers TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS. THE history of the adoption of the tor- the cry, Inhuman, barbarous, unchival- pedo as a recognized implement of rous. But the genius of modern war re- warfare is not unlike that of gunpowder quires the use of those weapons which or of shells. Each in its turn was met by shall inflict the greatest possible damage upon an enemy in the shortest possi- ble time, and hence the once despised torpedo now occupies a place in the front rank. In the short space of a magazine ar- ticle it is impossible to take more than a mere cursory glance at our subject; but so complete in its details was the first recorded torpedo boat that it mer- its more than passing notice. Mr. David Bushnell, of Connecticut, who well earned the title of the father of torpedo warfare, built in 1775 a boat intended for submarine attack upon an enemys vessel. This craft con- tained sufficient air to enable the op- erator to remain half an hour under water, and it was so arranged as to be sunk to any desired depth by the flow of water into the hold; rising was effected by pumping this water out. BU5HNELL 5 TORPEDO BOAT. TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS. 37 The depth was indicated by a glass water gauge illuminated by a piece of phospho- rus. A screw-propeller, worked by hand or foot, afforded the means of moving through the water, while a similar screw assisted in the descent and ascent. There was carried upon the outside of the boat a tin case, containing one hundred and fifty pounds of powder, so constructed as to be lighter than the bulk of water it displaced. To this case was attached a rope, the oth- er end of which was fast to a wood-screw; this latter was turned by a rod ~vhich pass- ed through a tube in the top of the boat. The operator was supposed to make his way under the bottom of the vessel select- ed. Here he was to turn this rod, causing the screw to enter the plankin~,. This be- ing done, the rod was to be removed, and the magazine cast off, when it would float the length of the rope, and thus remain In contact with the bottom. The detaching of the magazine set in operation a train of clock-work, arranged to run any desired length of time, at the expiration of which a strong flint and steel gun - lock was sprung, and fire thus communicated to the powder. A boat constructed after Bush- nells plan was used in 1776 in an unsuc- cessful attempt upon the Eagle in New York Harbor. A year later, Bushnell made an attempt to destroy the Cerberus in New London by using two floating tor pedoes connected by a long B line. These were set adrift on the ebb-tide, his idea be- ing that the line would foul the chain of the frigate, and G n upon being discovered would be hauled in. As this was done the torpedo would strike the side of the vessel, and explosion would ensue, the mechanism being not unlike that just described. Fortunately for the Cerbe- russ people, a captured schooner was lying near. A The line fouled her chain, and an explosion destroyed her entirely. Bushnell also arranged the barrel torpedoes which FULTON 5 TORPEDO AND GUN. were floated down the Del- aware at Philadelphia, giving rise to the cork float; C, a box containing clock-work much-talked-of Battle of the Kegs. and gun-lock, the train being set in motion Fulton next appears upon the scene by pulling out the pin, D; E, a float buoy- with his invention of the Nautilus, in- ing up the torpedo; F, a line connecting tended for the same purpose as Bushnells with a harpoon, G, fired from a gun, H, to earlier essay: this one, however, was of the familiar cigar shape. In it Fulton re- mained over four hours under water, he having arranged a tank with a supply of compressed air which enabled him to do this. He blew up a small vessel in the har- bor of Brest with a twenty-pound torpedo which he had attached to her bottom. The French government gave him little en- couragement; consequently he transferred his stock in trade to England, where Pitt, then Premier, assisted him in various ways. His plans included not only his submarine vessel, but also torpedoes which, floating at or near the surface, should be brought by the tide in contact with a ves- sel; with one of these last he blew up a brig in presence of Pitt and various naval officers. The Earl St. Vincent remarked that Pitt was the greatest fool that ever existed, to encourage a mode of war which they who commanded the seas did not want, and which, if successful, would de- prive them of it. Herein the noble earl was unquestionably correct, for a weak na- tion can now defend itself more easily than ever before. His views prevailed, for Fulton was dismissed with a gratuity, and returned to this country to lay his plans before the government. He seems to have dropped the Nautilus altogether, as his proposals took the shape shown in the il- lustration, in which A is the torpedo; B, a 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. be carried in a launch or other row-boat. The gun being fired at the bow of a vessel, the harpoon would stick in the plank, the torpedo would float against the side, and explosion would ensue. After a number of trials, he succeeded in destroying a ves- sel at New York, and finally Congress ap- propriated five thousand dollars to enable him to make experiments against a naval vessel. A commission was appointed by the Secretary of the Navy to witness them, of which Comniodore Rodgers was a mem- ber. The commodore so surrounded the Argus with nets and other obstructions that Fulton was foiled, and the attack was FRAME ARD FILE TORFEDOEs. unsuccessful. Although Chancellor Liv- ingston thought it one of the most un- portant military discoveries, and though Morgan Lewis deemed the torpedo enti- tled to rank among the best and cheapest defenses of ports, yet Commodore rod- gerss report was so utterly condemnatory that nothing further was done, and Fulton in disgust dropped the subject forever. In 1842, Samuel Colt, best known to the world as the inventor of the revolver, brought to the notice of the government his scheme for torpedo warfare. He first employed electricity as an igniting agent, and by this means destroyed a schooner at anchor in the Potomac, while five miles distant from her: later he destroyed a ves- sel under way, a few minutes after her abandonment by the crew. Notwith- standing these successes, he received no encouragement, the general sentiment of both the military and naval authorities being averse to this mode of warfare. Colts methods were secret, but to him un- questionably belongs the honor of being the pioneer in the use of the electric cur- rent by means of an insulated cable. Torpedoes were employed to some ex- tent by the Russians in the Crimean war, but without any great effect, save to give the enemy a wholesome horror of them. It remained for our own civil war to bring them into prominence, and natural- ly they first appeared upon the Southern side, being first found by our forces in the Savannah River in February, 1862. These were rather crude affairs, it being intend- ed that passing vessels should entangle lines, which, on being pulled, should cause a friction primer to explode. These were not successful, being quite easily found and removed, so that there was but little delay caused in the movements of the be- sieging force. About this time, however, a regular Torpedo Corps was organized at Richmond, and much attention was paid by them to the perfection of this very important wea- pon. Naturally the first use was for defensive pur- poses, and frame or pile torpedoes were very suc- ______ cessfully used to close vari- ous water-courses. It was nearly impossible to re- move them, and hence our vessels never attempted to penetrate channels where they were known to be planted. The shell was secured to the timber by heavy bolts, and explosion en- sued whenever a passing vessel struck one of the fuses. These were so sensi- tive that a blow of ten pounds was quite sufficient to explode them. They were protected from the water by a very thin cap of soft copper, which yielded readily to a slight pressure. Another device for a fuse was a leaden tube containing a mixture of chlorate of potash and sugar, inclosing in turn a glass tube in which was sulphuric acid; upon the lead being struck, the glass was broken, and the contact between the acid and the mixture resulted in a fierce flame, which was com- municated to the powder. A most easily constructed and much- dreaded affair was the barrel torpedo, made of a lager-beer keg rendered water- tight by being pitched, and given flotation by the addition of conical pieces of pine. They were provided with several of the sensitive primers already described. They were easily made and readily placed, but required to be most securely anchored, for if once adrift, they were as dangerous to friend as to foe. A more elaborate affair was the buoy- ant spar torpedo, with its accompanying devils circumventor. Owing to its TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS. 39 form and mode of anchoring, it was quite unlikely to be discovered; but if such an event should occur, a line attached to the primer of the circumventor would in all probability cause its explosion, to the great damage if not destruction of those engaged in the work. Various devices were used to carry the war into Africa. The most formidable were in the shape of a lump of coal. They were made of cast iron, and when covered with a mixture of tar and coal dust, would readily be taken as pieces of the indis- pensable fuel. They were intended to be placed in the coal piles whence our vessels were supplied. A number of explosions, otherwise en~ tirely unaccountable, are at- tributed to the use of this pe- culiarly wicked and treach- erous device. A tremendous explosion was caused at City Point by the use of a plain case of wood, having clock- work and a percussion ar- rangement in one corner. This was placed near the powder which was being un- loaded, by a man in the guise of a laborer, who belonged to the secret service corps upon the other side. All these and many other inventions were left, how- ever, altogether to circum- stances, and hence the chance of the ex- plosion of any given torpedo was but very slight. The electric fuse, however, obvi- ated this difficulty, and placed the control of the weapon in the hands of an operator on shore. These weapons were generally of boiler iron, the fuse being in the centre of the charge; the fuse was simply a small section of goose-quill filled with fulminate of mercury, through which passed a small platinum wire connected to the copper wires leading from the bat- tery; upon the passage of the cur- rent this platinum became heated, exploding the fulminate, which, in turn, set fire to the powder. Briefly stated, this is the princi- ple upon which electric fuses are still constructed, though other forms are in use. Possessing con- trol of the torpedo, it became eco- nomically possible to construct them of huge dimensions, some holding nearly a ton of powder. They were generally placed in narrow chan- nels, where a vessel passing would be obliged to go directly over them, or nearly so, and they were exploded when the op- erator considered the proper time to have arrived. A defect in the connections of course rendered the torpedo perfectly harmlessa circumstance which proved of infinite importance to the New Ironsides during the siege of Charleston. On one occasion this vessel was directly over one of these huge mines for more than an hour, but it could not be fired. It was afterward ascertained that the ca- ble had been injured by a passing cart upon the beach. It was one of these large mines which was the means of destroying the gun- boat Commodore Jones, in the James River, in May, 1864. This vessel was in the van of the fleet engaged in searching for evidences of torpedoes, when suddenly, with- out any premonition whatever, her whole fabric was lifted bodily from the water, followed imme- diately by a column of water, which tore through her hull, carrying great pieces of her frame-work, mingled with a confused mass of guns, stores, and human beings, high into the air. When the water, with its unaccustomed freight, had subsided, only some small fragments of the Jones were found floating in the river, together with a few struggling wretches, who were quickly picked up by the boats of the fleet. BARREL TORPEDO. FLOATING SPAR TORPEDO AND DEVIL cIRCUMVENTOR. 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. A similar occurrence took place at Mo- bile, where the iron-clad Tecumseh was sunk almost instantaneously. No nob]er instance of heroisni adorns the page of history than that exhibited by the chival- rous Craven, her commander, who, hav- ing given orders for the abandonment of the ship, and finding himself and his pilot at the foot of the ladder leading to the top of the turret and to safety, gallantly stepped to one side, saying, with a polite wave of the hand, After you, sir, thus (so short was the time) going down with his ill-fated craft, while the pilot, the wa- ter following close upon his heels, reach- ed the roof of the turret, and was saved saved to tell the story how the gallant Craven gave to his subordinate the one chance for life which remained between the two. One of the inexpensive barrel torpedoes was the cause of the Tecumsehs loss; a similar one sunk the Patapsco at Charleston in less than a minute after the explosion. Many other successful cases of torpedo explosions induced the Torpe- do Corps to make attempts at using the new weapon offensively, and torpedo boats were planned after many ingenious de- vices. The diminutive proportions of these little craft, as compared with the huge bulk of their antagonists, rendered the compari- son of the shepherd boy of Israel and the giant of Gath not an inapt one, and they were known to our forces by the generic The first attack ever made by a steam torpedo - boat upon an enemys vessel would seem to merit some attention. The vessel whose destruction was attempted was the frigate New Ironsides, whose ap- pearance in action was always viewed. with dismay by the enemy, so extremely rapid and accurate was her fire, driving the gunners to their bomb-proofs, and permitting the work of the army to go on unmolested. Naturally her continued presence was a source of pride to one side and of mortification to the other. Short- ly after nine oclock one evening in Oc- tober, 1863, the lookouts of the Ironsides discovered something which looked like a boat approaching; the only answer to the hail, Boat, ahoy ! was a musket-shot, followed instantly by an explosion close alongside, which shook the vessel to her centre,~thro~vin g a great quantity of wa- ter into the air. A perfect hail-storm of bullets was sent after the adventurous lit- tle craft as she drifted into the darkness, and a boat was sent in search of her. Two of her crew were found floating by the aid of life-preservers, but no vestige of the Da- vid. After the war had closed, it was as- certained that two of the crew, finding their vessel not sunk, swam to her, and once more kindling her fires, steamed back to Charleston. Not long after this the Housatonic, a wooden sloop of war, was destroyed by a David. The little H CONFEDERATE DAVID. term of Davids. The illustration shows very clearly the salient points of these vessels; the torpedo was carried on the end of the protruding spar, and was exploded on contact, being provided with the sensi- tive primer. A number were built, and had the war lasted longer, much damage would doubtless have been inflicted upon our fleet. They were propelled by steam, having a speed of seven or eight miles an hour. A vessel at anchor on the block- ade, seeing one of the Davids, found her only safety in instant flight; but they were so low in the water that they could read- ily approach very close before being de- tected. craft which accomplished this feat had quite a tragic history, having during her experimental trials been thrice sunk, each time with the loss of her crew, and finally going down, for the last time, with all on board, when she had finished her mission. While the Southern naval men were thus active, they were building in nearly every blockaded port one or more iron- dads as well. One of these, the Albe- marie, had been successful in a battle with our vessels in the sounds of North Caro- lina, and her continued existence greatly endangered our naval supremacy in thcse waters. About this time Messrs. Wood and Lay, of the Engineer Corps of the TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS. 41 navy, had invented a torpedo to be used in steam-launches, the method of oper- ating which will readily be understood from the illustration. It was constructed so as to be lighter than its bulk of water. The air-chamber at the top was supposed to give direction to the effect of the charge. Through the centre of the torpedo was a tube, at the bottom of which, communi- cating with the powder, was an ordinary percussion-cap. A small grape-shot was held by a pin at the upper end of this tube, and to the pin was attached a lanyard, which was controlled by the operator in the boat. The whole affair rested in a scoop at the end of the spar which pro- jected from the boat, and was kept in its position by a second pin, the lanyard of which was also worked by the operator. A third rope, fastened on one side of the scoop, passed round the base of the torpe- do, and when hauled upon in the boat, after the pin had been drawn out, threw it clear of the scoop, when it immediately assumed an upright position, and rose until it touched the bottom of the vessel attacked. Whenever in the judgment of the operator this contact had taken place, he pulled the remaining lanyard and drew out the pin, allowing the grape-shot to fall upon the cap, when explosion en- sued. This weapon, of so complicated a character that it would seem almost im- practicable to have everything work suc- cessfully, has been so fully described be of lieutenant-commander when but twen- ty-one years of age. In such enterprises as this Cushing was in his element. He had secured to his person the three ropes. necessary to be pulled in order to successfully attack his foe; and in addition he held cords leading to the engineer and helmsman, by which he could transmit his orders without speak- ing. With all this com- plicated system of cords to manage, he never for an instant became confused but worked everything to a cnarm. Having slowly approached the Albernarle lie was hailed by her look- outs; then, as he dashed at SECTION OF her with the full speed of TORPEDO USEL~ which his little craft was BY CUSHING. capable, the light of a fire on shore permitted him to observe that she was surrounded by a cordon of logs, some thirty feet from her side; at the same time a hail - storm of bullets was poured around the devoted little band, so that, to use Cushings own words, the air seemed full of them. Several were wounded; but Cushings luck stood him in good stead, and he remained unhurt, though three bullets pierced his clothing. A less cool head than his would havc rigged out the spar at first sight of the BOAT USED BY LIEUTENANT GUSHING. cause with one like it was the launch armed with which the dauntless Cushing suiik the vessel which threatened to change the existing state of affairs in a manner not pleasant for us to contem- plate. Of this feat a high English au- thority said that it equalled the best deeds of the time of Nelson, and for it the youthful hero received the thanks of Congress, and was promoted to the grade enemy; but Cushing took in the situation quickly, and knew that he must put the spar over the boom, if he would be suc- cessful. He therefore waited until his. boat struck it and pushed it in some dis- tance toward the enemy; then, with the bow half out of the water, still in the face of the musketry fire, and in momentary expectation of being opened upon with the great guns which lie could hear being 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. worked, he coolly launched his spar, and pulled his three lanyards in succession. This was accomplished just as the Albe- maries first gun was fired, simultaneous- ly with which the torpedo exploded, tear- ing a great bole in the ships side, and causing her to sink quickly. The column of water thrown up, in its descent filled the launch, and as she sunk beneath his feet, he told his comrades to save them- selves as best they could. His adventures on his return to the fleet rcad like a fairy tale; but the charmed existence which he ever seemed to bear took him through this, as through all other of his perils, in safety. Only a very small number of the many different sorts of torpedoes invented dur- ing the continuance of the war have been noticed, but enough has been detailed to show how much damage the comparative- ly inferior weapons of that day could ac- complish. Since the close of that strug- gle, which established the torpedo as an authorized weapon, much time and talent have been devoted to its improvement. Still the main reliance of a torpedo attack is upon a bag of powder on the end of a pole, as it has been called; it is chiefly in the speed of the launches and in the meth- od of firing the torpedo that the greatest gain has been made. Much has been done in the way of increased speed. In this country we build launches of the Herre- schoff type. The Lightning, one of this kind, has niade a speed of twenty-four miles an hour. The great peculiarity of these boats is their boiler, in which steam can be raised to working pressure in five minutes or less, and can be kept there without diffi- culty. The illustration shows the salient features of the boilers, the water being con- tained in the coil of iron pipe, and passing to the separator in the form of steam. The propeller and rudder are also peculiarly arranged, and the whole boat (which is built of wood) is so light that she can be stopped in her own length when going at full speed, and she steers just as well when going astern as when going ahead. Un- fortunately she is not well adapted for war purposes, save in an emergency; still, in smooth water and under favorable circum- stances, she might make a successful attack, provided she escaped in safety from the shower of balls and bullets which machine guns and revolving cannon would be cast- ing at her. In England, Farrow and Thor- nycroft have built boats of great speed; these are constructed of steel, and hence are very light. They have several water-tight compartments, and afford a protection for the crew from musketry fire, as they are covered over with a whales-back, through which man-holes are cut to the different compartments; they are also nearly noise- less, and some of them are smoke-consum- ing. Some of them are quite capable of service in a seaway, having proved this by steaming across the Bay of Biscay, one even venturing to cross the Atlantic to the South American coast, where she was wrecked. These boats are of course in- tended for torpedo service alone, and pre THE HERRESOHOFF BOILER. THE LIGHTNING.~~ TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS. 43 sent great contrasts to the dull craft used in Cushings exploit. Their torpedo gear, however, does not differ in principle from that used by him; strong, light, hollow steel spars carry the torpedo, which is fitted generally to explode either on con- tact or by electricity, and is not dependent upon the clumsy, complicated method upon which he was obliged to rely. Smaller boats are also built, which, like the Light- ning, can be carried on board a man-of- war, so that few foreign vessels of any size are unprovided with these additions to their armament. A very peculiar form of torpedo is the invention of Commander Harvey, R.N. This is towed from a ship, or from a large tug specially constructed for the purpose, and being hung similarly to a boys kite, it diverges from the vessels wake at quite a large angle. It is somewhat heavier than water, and is supported by a buoy of cork, which prevents it from sinking when placed in the water. So soon as a strain is brought upon the tow - rope it darts quickly to its place, remaining at the sur- face until the line is slacked, which is done as it approaches an enemy. The torpedo then dives, and upon contact with the bottom of the vessel is exploded. This was thought to be so excellent a weapon that it was adopted in the English navy, and largely in other services. Later de- velopments have caused it to be dropped as a practical weapon. A boat large enough and of sufficient speed for its use can be more effectively employed, and as an addition to the outfit of an ordinary cruiser, Harveys invention is, to say the least, of but doubtful utility. The cruising vessels of our own and of several other navies are provided with spars which project some forty feet from the side, and carry torpedoes containing about a hundred pounds of explosive. It remains to be shown in practice whether this plan will prove of utility in action. England has built one or two quite large vessels solely for torpedo purposes, and her example has been followed by other nations. In our navy we have the Alarm and Intrepid, the former designed by Ad- miral Porter. She is of iron, with double bottom and water - tight compartments. She carries one heavy gun in the bow, and is provided also with a ram and tor- pedo spars, the latter projecting through the side some feet under water. She has also an additional spar extending, directly in line with the keel, some thirty feet be- yond the point of the ram. Facility of man ceuvre is gained by the use of the Mallory steering propeller, which may be briefly defined as rudder and propeller in one. The four inches of armor at the bow is intended to deflect any shot that might strike her. Unquestionably, if the great desideratum, speed, can be obtained, she will prove a most formidable vessel; and she seems to combine in an advantageous manner the elements of the coming gun- boat fleet. The Intrepid can not be said to be a success; almost any large tug will be as serviceable as she, for she has at pre- sent no special torpedo appliances thal~ can not be used by other vessels. The latest vessel designed solely for tor- pedo warfare is the production of the gen- ius of John Ericsson. If the accounts which have reached the public are trust- worthy, the Destroyer is not excelled by any torpedo vessel now afloat. She is re- ported to have great speed, and to be so constructed as to be practically invulner- able to ordinary shot. Her chief point of merit lies, however, in the armament. This consists of a gun submerged several feet below the water-line, which discharges through the bows a shell or torpedo con- taining two hundred and fifty pounds of explosive material to be fired upon con- tact. This new weapon is forced from the gun by a comparatively small charge of gunpowder, its extreme range being about two hundred and fifty yards. Contrary to the ordinarily received ideas, Mr. Erics- son has succeeded in demonstrating that this shell can be so fired, and we may look for great efficiency from this new triumph of his genius. All these craft which we have been con- sideriiig require the presence of human agency on board in order that they may l)erform their work. We come now to the more ingenious and more formidable type, which is propelled by machinery contain- ed within itself, and which is only large enough to carry the explosive in addition to the engines. This type is divided into two classes: those which, once launched and their machinery set in motion, act au- tomatically, and those of which the control is retained by an operator on shore. Of the first, the most successful, and in fact the only one ever practically perfected, is the celebrated Whitehead. This is built of thin, iron or steel, being in its general form not unlike the Lay, though not quite so 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. large as the latter; its motive power is sociated with Chief-Engineer Wood in the compressed air, contained in one of the invention of the torpedo used by Cushing. compartments into which it is divided. It As excellent as the Lay undoubtedly is, it is provided with a most ingenious system still has the same defect as others, namely, of steering and diving rudders, the latter want of sufficient speed; this, however, being adjustable so that the torpedo will re- does not seem to be an insuperable obsta- main at any desired depth during its flight. cle, and with each successive construction It is launched either from a gun or tube a greater speed is obtained. This boat is by means of compressed air, or it may be started by hand; tubes for firing it (quite similar to those of the Destroyer) have been fitted to many foreign vessels, and the inventor has reaped a great harvest, nearly every European government hav- ing purchased the secret at a heavy price. Our own government, however, has not yet deemed it advisable to make any pur- chase, though it has been pressed upon the naval authorities at various times. The explosive is carried in the bow com- partment, being fired on contact; its speed for a short distance is at the rate of more than twenty miles per hour. It is believed to be, on the whole, too compli- cated and costly, and has not yet met with any great success in the trials it has had in actual warfare. One of the earliest controllable torpedoes was devised by Ericsson; its motive pow- er was compressed air, furnished to the engines from a pump on shore, through a tubular cable paid out as it progressed. An increase or diminution of the normal press- ure caused a movement of the helm; it was also provided with an ingenious div- ing apparatus. Its great and apparently insurmountable defect was want of speed. The most successful type of the mov- able torpedo is found in the invention of Mr. John L. Lay, of Buffalo, New York, who has heretofore been mentioned as as- always under the control of the operator, who can stop or start it, steer to either one side or the other, or fire the charge whenever he pleases. All these things are of course extremely advantageous, and greatly enhance the value of the weapon. The motive power is carbonic acid gas. This gas (as is well known) becomes lique- fied under a pressure of forty atmospheres,. and in this state it is stored in a flask in the boat. When the valve closing this flask is open, vaporization ensues, and the gas is taken to the engine, first passing an automatically acting reducing valve, s& that the pressure will not be too great. As the liquid expands, great cold is pro- duced, and trouble is experienced from its use as a motor; this, however, is not a~ serious difficulty, and some remedy will doubtless be found. The explosive chani- her, containing five hundred pounds of material, is at the bow, and is so construct- ed that on contact with a vessel it is dis- engaged from its resting-place, and drops several feet, the idea being that an explo- sion in that position will do more damage than at the water-line. In one compart- ment of the boat is a drum, from which is paid out the cable through which the electric current passes. A suitable ar- rangement of magnets opens a valve which allows gas to enter a cylinder, the piston in which causes the helm to be put in the LAY TORPEDO BOAT. TORPEDOES AND TORPEDO BOATS. 45 desired direction; and a similar arrange- ment causes the throttle of the engine to open or close. The explosion is caused on contact if it is desired, or it may always be kept under the operators control. Some of these boats have but one wire in the ca- ble, over which the various functions are caused to operate; others have a multiple cable, with a wire for each thing required to be done. Over a mile and a half of wire is carried, so that the effective range becomes very much greater that that of any of its rivals. Mr. Lay is constantly at work introducing improvements, all of which are protected by numerous patents. His system has been definitely adopted by Russia after a satisfactory trial of ten of the boats built for her. A factory has been established, and it is proposed to use them very extensively in any future war. The sensation is by no means a pleasant one that this fish-like monster causes when seen pursuing its way through the water as if endowed with life, obedient to the will of the operator, who controls its mo- tions by the simple pressure of a key. To aid him in directing the course of the boat, there are two guide-rods elevated some five or six feet above its top, which is just awash. These rods bear different-colored flags by day and lanterns by night; these are screened from view except from aft, so that the approach of the boat is entirely hidden. So noiseless is the advance, and so little opportunity is there for discovery, that at an experimental trial before the Belgian authorities one was sent, upon a dark night, between two boats anchored about twenty feet apart, without the slight- est intimation of the fact to the officers who were on the lookout for it; it was not until after the torpedo had passed them that they saw the lights. This feat was accomplished by an operator more than half a mile distant. So far as the question of controllability is concerned, the Lay is far in advance of any other; it now remains only to devise some means by which the speed can be raised to sixteen miles an hour to render it the most formi- dable of all torpedoes. A boat driven by an electro-motor has been invented by Mr. Simms, which pro- mises very well, having attained a very reasonable degree of speed. With the re- cent advances in electrical practice, there is not much doubt that in the near future an efficient craft of this kind will be built, the aid of steam being called in to turn a dynamo-electric machine on shore, from which the current will be transmitted over a cable, paid out like that of the Lay, to the electro - motor which will drive the boat. Both the Lay and the electric tor- pedoes, however, have some disadvantages: the former requires to be used near some place at which the gas may be liquefied; the latter necessitates the use of a steam- engine. The Whitehead has the advan- tage over these that it can be carried in sea-going vessels, as suitable machinery for compressing the air necessary to drive it can readily be accommodated. In this respect the electric boat is superior to the Lay, for it also can be carried to sea, space for its dynamo machine being readi- ly attainable. When we have such a tor- pedo with a speed of twenty miles an hour (and it can be built), we shall possess a weapon which will be able to sink the stoutest iron-clad that floats. The latest wars have shown a few ex- amples of the use of the torpedo. The very latest device used by the Peruvians was the setting adrift of a launch loaded with vegetables, fruits, etc.; underneath them was stowed a large amount of explosive. This boat was picked up by a Chilian ves- sel, and hauled alongside to be discharged. As the articles were removed, the weight upon a spring was lessened, and finally the mine was fired, causing the destruc- tion of the vessel and the loss of many lives. In the Franco-Prussian war the fear of the torpedoes with which the Prussians were reported to have stocked their wa- ters was quite sufficient to deter the French from making any serious attempts to an- noy their enemy: this is a good example of their moral effect. An eminent officer of our own navy once very truly said that it would require an extreme amount of moral courage for a commander to expose one of the costly iron-dads of the present day to the chance of destruction by tor- pedoes: the amount at stake was too great to enable one to use his ship as of old, when she was exposed only to the fire of artillery. ~ In the Russo-Turkish war a number of attacks were made by the Russians. With launches armed with the spar torpedo, of five attacks but one was successful, a don- ble-turreted Monitor being destroyed. At another time the Russian boat got along- side a Turkish iron-clad without being dis- covered, but the torpedo did not explode, 46 HAIRPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. owing to defects in the connecting wires from the battery, caused by the cable hay- ing been chafed by the screw. On anoth- er occasion the torpedo was exploded just an instant too soon, before contact was fully made, the only result being to del- uge both the assailant and the assailed with the column of water. With the Whitehead but one vessel (a revenue-cut- ter) was destroyed, though several at- tempts were made. In the case of the torpedo launches, the attacks were always made by three or more in company. A device likely to be employed in future wars was the use of a large merchant steamer to carry a number of small boats fitted with spar torpedoes, thus enabling a descent to be made upon a blockading fleet from seaward. The moral effect of these weapons was again shown, and the truth of the remark referred to above proven, in the fact that the Turkish fleet kept at a safe distance from the iRus- sian ports during the entire war. No allusion has been made either to the explosives used or to the various ways from time to time brought forward for their ignition, as these matters alone would fill quite as much space as is allotted to the whole of this article. Suffice it to say, however, that in lieu of gunpowder there have been employed the higher explosives, gun-cotton and nitro-glycerine in its va- rious forms. Doubtless these will in the future entirely replace the more bulky and weaker powder. Torpedoes for offensive purposes are generally provided with both automatic and controllable electric fuses the current being generated either from a battery or a small dynamo machine. The subject of the defense of harbors by torpedoes or mines is one that can not fully be entered into here. For our own coast, the accomplished head of the engineer- ing school at Willets Point, General Ab- bott, has devised plans which are of the most comprehensive character. General- ly speaking, mines of this description are provided with outlying buoys, in which is some sort of an arrangement by which on being struck by a vessel the circuit of the battery is closed, and the mine fired. This is in addition to the control which is pos- sessed on shore, whence explosion can be caused whenever it is desired. Should a friendly vessel wish to pass, the battery can be switched off, and the passage made with safety. Methods are devised by which, with a chart of the harbor, upon which is indicated the location of each mine, the course of an entering vessel can be followed, and when she is in the correct H EFFECT OF six HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR POUNDS OF GUNPOWDER ON A TARGET (THE BOTTOM OF AN iRON-CLAD) AT A DiSTANCE OF TWENTY-THREE AND A HALF FEET. KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES. 47 position any given mine can be exploded. The mines are planted in rows, and they must be at such a distance from each oth- er as to prevent the explosion of one caus- ing that of others. Those in one row are opposite the passages in the next, and in this way access to a port is rendered very dangerous. If to these mines we add an Alarm or two, and several of the Lay or Simms boats, it would go hard with any fleet which attempted to enter a port thus defended. The torpedo, once regarded with such horror, has now fully taken its place among those legitimate weapons by which hostility is made so expensive that nations will be forced to think whether arbitra- tion may not solve their difficulties, and to hasten slowly at declaring war. That nation which is the most fully prepared for war is the most certain to be able to maintain its peace. KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES. I. I THINK it well to announce, right in the beginning of this story, that Miles Bunkly is not properly its hero, though some preliminary things must be told con- cerning him. Although Miles had loved Miss Caroline Thigpeu long before Mr. Bill Williams courted her, yet he never had told her so in set words, until-well, you may say it was too late. Yet everybody was surprised. Miles was a most excel- ]ent young man, industrious, sober, thrifty, fond of laying up, and had a right good deal laid up already. Then he was quite passable as to looks. Mr. Bill could not have been said, even by Miss Thigpen, to have any advantage of Miles as to looks. As for the rest, all except Miss Thigpen and his own mother considered him the inferior. Yet Dukesborough manners, or something else, put him in the lead on his first entry upon the field. It was then, and not till then, that Miles Bunkly made one, and but one, avowed effort, and fail- ing, gave up the contest, and resigned him- self to what he called molloncholy. He had never beenat least he had nev- er seemed to bea cheerful-minded person anyway. His courtship even had been a rather solemn piece of business, and the final declaration sounded somewhat as if he had invited Miss Thigpen to go with him to the grave-yard instead of taking charge of his domestic affairs. The lady, after gently declining his suit, and claim- ing the privilege of regarding him as a friendnay, a brotherannounced her in- tention of ever keeping his proposal a se- cret, and requested him to do the same. No, maam, said Miles; no, Miss Carlin& I shall not deny it, nor I shall not deny it. Im much obleeged to you, and I shall be a friend to you and to yourn. The waound is in my heart, and it 11 stay thar, and it 11 be obleeged to stay thar, but Ill be a friend to you and yourn. On his way home he called to his neigh- bor and friend Abram Grice, who was standing in his door: Mawnin, Abom. Mawnin, Miles. Light and come in. Step out here a minute, Abom, ef you please. Mr. Grice came out to the gate. Kicked, Abom. Kicked, Miles? Who ? Kicked bad, Miles ? Powerful. Your horse, Miles, or a mule, or a steer ? Nary one. Its here, Abom. Then he laid his hand broadly on his breast. In the stomach, Miles? Bad place to git kicked. What in the thunder kicked you way up thar? Git down; come in and take a drink, and tell nie about it aft- erward. Its not my stomach, Abom; its my bres. The waounds insideway inside. Sperrits wouldnt do it any good; it wouldnt retch it. My goodness gracious! Miles Bunkly, what in the dickens is the matter with you ? Ive been yonder, Abom, and he pointed mournfully toward the Thigpens, and my desires is to tell no lies. I got it from a human person over thar, and that not of the sect of a man person. ~ATho ?Miss Carline ? Ef I was to name the name, Abom, that were the name I should name. Mr. Grice shouted with laughter. Miles Bunkly, you skeered me out of a years growth. I thought you been kicked by a team o mules, or at least a yoke o steers. Well, look here, you aint a-goin to stay kicked ? Its done done, Abom. Yes, but, Miles, Ive knowed sich as that ondone. Why, Saraun kicked me three

Richard M. Johnston Johnston, Richard M. King William and His Armies 47-55

KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES. 47 position any given mine can be exploded. The mines are planted in rows, and they must be at such a distance from each oth- er as to prevent the explosion of one caus- ing that of others. Those in one row are opposite the passages in the next, and in this way access to a port is rendered very dangerous. If to these mines we add an Alarm or two, and several of the Lay or Simms boats, it would go hard with any fleet which attempted to enter a port thus defended. The torpedo, once regarded with such horror, has now fully taken its place among those legitimate weapons by which hostility is made so expensive that nations will be forced to think whether arbitra- tion may not solve their difficulties, and to hasten slowly at declaring war. That nation which is the most fully prepared for war is the most certain to be able to maintain its peace. KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES. I. I THINK it well to announce, right in the beginning of this story, that Miles Bunkly is not properly its hero, though some preliminary things must be told con- cerning him. Although Miles had loved Miss Caroline Thigpeu long before Mr. Bill Williams courted her, yet he never had told her so in set words, until-well, you may say it was too late. Yet everybody was surprised. Miles was a most excel- ]ent young man, industrious, sober, thrifty, fond of laying up, and had a right good deal laid up already. Then he was quite passable as to looks. Mr. Bill could not have been said, even by Miss Thigpen, to have any advantage of Miles as to looks. As for the rest, all except Miss Thigpen and his own mother considered him the inferior. Yet Dukesborough manners, or something else, put him in the lead on his first entry upon the field. It was then, and not till then, that Miles Bunkly made one, and but one, avowed effort, and fail- ing, gave up the contest, and resigned him- self to what he called molloncholy. He had never beenat least he had nev- er seemed to bea cheerful-minded person anyway. His courtship even had been a rather solemn piece of business, and the final declaration sounded somewhat as if he had invited Miss Thigpen to go with him to the grave-yard instead of taking charge of his domestic affairs. The lady, after gently declining his suit, and claim- ing the privilege of regarding him as a friendnay, a brotherannounced her in- tention of ever keeping his proposal a se- cret, and requested him to do the same. No, maam, said Miles; no, Miss Carlin& I shall not deny it, nor I shall not deny it. Im much obleeged to you, and I shall be a friend to you and to yourn. The waound is in my heart, and it 11 stay thar, and it 11 be obleeged to stay thar, but Ill be a friend to you and yourn. On his way home he called to his neigh- bor and friend Abram Grice, who was standing in his door: Mawnin, Abom. Mawnin, Miles. Light and come in. Step out here a minute, Abom, ef you please. Mr. Grice came out to the gate. Kicked, Abom. Kicked, Miles? Who ? Kicked bad, Miles ? Powerful. Your horse, Miles, or a mule, or a steer ? Nary one. Its here, Abom. Then he laid his hand broadly on his breast. In the stomach, Miles? Bad place to git kicked. What in the thunder kicked you way up thar? Git down; come in and take a drink, and tell nie about it aft- erward. Its not my stomach, Abom; its my bres. The waounds insideway inside. Sperrits wouldnt do it any good; it wouldnt retch it. My goodness gracious! Miles Bunkly, what in the dickens is the matter with you ? Ive been yonder, Abom, and he pointed mournfully toward the Thigpens, and my desires is to tell no lies. I got it from a human person over thar, and that not of the sect of a man person. ~ATho ?Miss Carline ? Ef I was to name the name, Abom, that were the name I should name. Mr. Grice shouted with laughter. Miles Bunkly, you skeered me out of a years growth. I thought you been kicked by a team o mules, or at least a yoke o steers. Well, look here, you aint a-goin to stay kicked ? Its done done, Abom. Yes, but, Miles, Ive knowed sich as that ondone. Why, Saraun kicked me three 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. times han runnin; but I told her every time she done it that sich talk a.s that didnt phaze me. Thats women, Miles. Thems their ways. They aint a-goin to let a fellow know, not at the first off-start, that they goin to have him. I dont know what its for, ithout its jes natchelly to try to git the whip-hand of him at the start. Its the natchel instinc of the wo- man sect. You go back to Carline Thig- en, and dont let on that you member anything about her kickin of you, and that you aint even phazed by it. Youre sorter slow, old fellowthat is, in sich mo- tionsbut Carline Thigpen got too much sense to give up sich a chance. Nother person, Abom, replied Miles, most mournfully nother person, of the male sect. Whos he? William Williams. Who? Bill Williams ? exclaimed Mr. ~rice, in astonishment and disgust. Thats the name of the name, Abom. Well, Miles Bunkly, ef you cant whip out Bill Williams, even with his Dukes- borough ways he got by livin in town six months, all I got to say is you omght to git kicked by a yoke o steers, and run over by the keart in the bargain. Such and similar remonstrances were ineffectual to make Mr. Bunkly continue the contest. He retired at once, leaving the field to his rival. At the wedding, though he did not join in the dance, nor even in the plays, yet he partook suf- ficiently, it was thought, of meats, cakes, and syllabub. Mr. Bill and Miss Caro- line, her brother Allen and his young bride Betsann, were specially attentive to his wants. He yielded with profound sadness to their persistent offerings of good things, and the more syllabub he took, the mournfuler grew his deport- ment. To several persons, mainly elder- ly, he said during the evening that it was the molloncholiest of all days to him. Yit, furthersomemore he w6uld add, with touching unselfishness, ef her who is now Missis Carline Williams, and who THE CHALLENGE.[5EE PAGE 51.] KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES. 49 were Miss Carline Thigpen, be it her or be it hem, ef her or them might ever want for anything which it might be her and their good rights or their desires, and ef then Im a-livinproviding, you under- stand, Im a-livinthey shall have it, ef its in my retch. II. Some four years passed. Mr. Bunkly, though plunged in his dear melancholy, yet attended punctually to his business in a gloomy, slow, sure way, made good crops, sold at good times, added to his land and plantation stock, and claiming to despise wealth, heaped it up more and more, as if to show, evidently, how vain are earthly goods for the happiness of a man in whose breast is an incurable wound. Mr. Bill Williams was getting along too, better than had been expected and prophesied. Much of the exuberant vi- vacity contracted by several months re- sidence in town had subsided in these four years of living with a wife (a settled oman, he styled her) who was probably the most industrious woman in the neigh- borhood. He well knew that everybody believed Miss Thigpen to have made a mistake in preferring himself to Miles Bunkly, and he had said to himself at the beginning of his conjugal career that he should take it upon himself to convince the world that it was mistaken. When his twin sons, iRomerlus and IRemerlus, were born and named, he felt that he was making reasonable headway on that am- bitious road. Then he too had added somewhat to his estate, and his wife, a fa- mous weaver, had picked up many a dol- lar by her extra work. They did not rise as rapidly as Miles, but Miles remained but one, while Mr. Bill, so to speak, had been two, and now he was four. People can not ignore figures in such calculations, especially when they represent mouths. Never mind, thought Mr. Bill never mind. Thus the contemplation of a for- mer rival, with whom, however, he was on the friendliest of terms, spurred a na- ture that otherwise might have been want- ing in the energy becoming the head of a family. The coming of the twins length- ened, strengthened, and sharpened this spur wonderfully. Only one thing interfered with the hap- piness of that rising family, and that was becoming serious. It would sting the wife VOL. Lxv.No. 385.4 painfully sometimes when she would hear of the practical jokes put upon her hus- band, who had become rather liable there- to by what had been considered in the neighborhood his too great forwardness of speech and other deportment. Too great a talker, as from the very first she had told him he was, she would tell him further that a man who got into scrapes ought to get out of them. In these four years he had sobered much under that be- nign influence. Yet when a man has once been the butt of neighborhood ridi- cule, it requires time to release him even when he has ceased to deserve it. Some- times it seems that the only way to obtain such release is to fight for it. That exi- gency, in the opinion of Mrs. Williams, had now arrived. One night, when the children had been put to bed, she said, William, youve got to whip somebody. She spoke pointedly. Mr. Bill looked behind him at the trun- dle-bed, and asked himself, Is it IRom, or is it Reme ? Nary one, was the audible answer. Its somebody biggern them, harder to whip, and a more deservin of it. Then Mr. Bill peered through the win- dow into the outer darkness, and specula- ted if there were insubordination among his little lot of negroes. Nor them neither. Its white folks; its MOSE GRIcE, thats who it is, and its nobody elsethat is, to start with. Mr. Bill was startled. Colonel Moses Grice had indeed been extremely rough with Mr. Bill on several occasions, and (being a childless married man, and thought to be sore on that point) had especially and repeatedly ridiculed the fa- ther of the twins. Yet he was a man of means, a considerable fighter, and colonel of the regiment. So Mr. Bill was obliged to be startled, and he looked at his wife. Youve been joked by Mose Grice, William, and poked fun at, and made game of by him, until I dont feel like standin of it no longer, nor I dont think Rom and Reme would feel like standin of it, not if they were big enough and had sense enough to understan his impu- dence. Why, Carline remonstrated Mr. Bill. Oh, you neednt be a-Carlinin o me 1 she said. And never before had Mrs.WIIl- iams addressed her husband in precisely 50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. that language. But her feelings had been hurt, and allowance ought to be made. She cried somewhat, but tears did not serve at once to produce the softening in- fluence that is their legitimate result. Theres brother Allen, she continued, and which Betsann told me herself that Allen told her that the fact of the busi- ness was, if you didnt make Mose Grice keep his mouth shet, specially about Rom and Reme, he would; and then theres Miles Bunkly Oh, Lordie ! exclaimed Mr. Bill. Theres Miles Bunkly, and which Bet- sann say is about as mad as brother, and which, ef he aint any fighter, yit, when Mose Grice was one day a-makin game of him about his molloncholy, Miles told him that his molloncholy was his business and not hisn, and that if he kept on meddlin with it, he mout ketch the disease, and Mose Grice let Miles Bunklys mollon- choly alone, he did. And then, Mr. Bill said afterward, Carline sot up a cry, she did, and it woke up Rom and Reme, and they sot up a howl apiece, and I says to myself, Ill stand a whippin from Mose Grice rathern run agin sich as this. III. After that night Mrs. Williams did not again allude to its matter of conversation, and was as affectionate to her husband as always. Mr. Bill gloried in the possession of her, and he had good reason. He brooded and brooded. The allusion to Miles Bunkly stung him deeply, usually imperturbable as his temper was, though not a jot of jealousy was in the pang. He would have known himself to be the great- est of fools to feel that. Yet, easy-going, self-satisfied as he was, he knew that other people, including his brother-in-law, still regarded his wife less fortunate than she might have been. The more Mr. Bill brooded, the more serious appeared to him the relation of his case to that of several others, especially Colonel Grice. Superadded to a general disposition to impose upon whomsoever would endure him, Colonel Grice had a spite against Mr. Bill on account of the friendship that, since the intermarriage with Miss Thig- pen, had grown up between him and Abram Grice, the Colonels younger bro- ther, whose relations with himself were not only not fraternal, but hostile. The col- onel was a fighter, and had managed some- how always to come victorious out of com- bat; for he was a man of powerful build, and of great vigor and activity. Some, in- deed, had often said that he knew whom to encounter and whom not. His position of head of the regiment had been obtained at a time when military ardor, after a long peace, had subsided, and leading citizens cared not for the 4clat of the office. He had sought it eagerly, and obtained it be- cause there was no strong competitor, and especially because his election was ex- pected and intended to ridicule and dis- courage regimental parades. He was greatly exalted by his election, and be- came yet more overbearing whenever lie could do so with safety. Thats Mose, said his brother Abram one day to Miles Bunkly thats jest him. Hell impose on anybody that 11 let him, and hell try it with anybody that he thinks likes me. Hes been so from a boy. He imposed on me till I got big enough to whip him, which I done a time or two, and then he quit it. But he took his revenge on me by cheatin me out of part o the propty, and he done that the quicker because he knowed I, hem of his brother, wouldnt prosecute him for it. Thats Mosethats jest him. I hate the case, Abom, answered Miles, because I has that respects of Carhine Williams that it mortify me, and make me, so to speak, git molloncholier than what I natchelly am, to see a man thats her husbaud, and the father, as it were, o them two far pinks of boys, runned over in the kiud o style that Mose run over him, nigh and in and about every time he come up along of William Will- iams. I never keered no great deal about him, with them town ways o hisn, untell lie were married to Miss Carline, and then I knowed that there were obleeged to be that in William Williams which people in general never supposened. Ah, Miles, old fellow, said Abram, you ought to took that prize, and youd a done it ef youd a listened to me, and been perter in your motions, and hilt on longer. ~ No, no, Abom, answered Miles, his arm giving a mournful deprecatory wave. It were not my lot. I tried, and I tried honest and far. I were not worth of Miss Carhine, Abom. I didnt know it, but she did. And yit I could see it hurt her to put the waound where she knowed it were obleeged to stay. I wasnt a supposenen, KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES. 51 though, as to that, that William were worth of Miss Carline neither. But Car- line ThigpenI aint a-speakin o your wife now, Abom, and a-leavin of her out o the caseCarline Thigpen, but which she is now Missis Carline Williams, is the smartest woman, and got the best jedg- ment, I ever saw. And sence she have choosed William Williams, I been certain in my mind that there were that in Will- iam Williams that the balance of us nev- er supposened. and which 11 show itself some day if William can ever git farly fotch to a right pint. Thus that nature, upright, unselfish, simple, fond to persuade itself that it was unhappy, took its chief solace in contem- plating and magnifying its own disap- pointments, and in sympathizing with those who had been their chief occasion. TV. It was muster day for the battalion. Cofonel Grice always felt it his duty to be at these occasions, preparatory to the great regimental parade. The exercises, after many hours, were coming to an end, as the companies marched, with short in- tervals between, down the one street of the village, preparatory to disbandment. Alternately had the colonel been compli- mentary and censorious, as he rode, some- times in a walk, other times at full gal- lop, up and down the lines. Peerter, peerter, major, he remon- strated with Major Pounds, respectfully indeed, but with a warmth that seemed difficult to repress peerter; make them captains peerten up them lines. My blood and thunder! my Juberter and Julus Ce- sar! if the enemy was to come upon us with fixted bannets Oh, youve done your part admarrably, major. Its them cap- tains. It was just before the final halt that the colonel addressed Captain Collins, whose company was in the centre, and then im- mediately in front of Blands store. Ah, Capn Collins, look to your rar. Its so fur behind that it look like two compa- nies stid o one. That sergeant o yourn youll have to talk to and drill in private. Hes arfter makin twins out o your com- pany. Sergeant Williams is a great man for twins, you know, capn. But you bet- ter tell him to make em keep his cubs at honie. We want solid columns when we come to the field of battle. The warrior enjoyed his jest, that had been heard by all in the company, and others besides. But he did not allow him- self even to smile when at the head of the military forces of his country, in order to keep himself ever on the alert against sud- den attacks of her enemies. His gloomy brow indicated indignation at the thought that a petty subaltern, from some vain no- tion of making his own domestic status the model of the nations principal means of defense, sought to demoralize it, and actually invite invasion. My Lord ! said Allen Thigpen, when they told him, if Bill dont fight him for that, I will! To think that sister Carlines feelins is to be hurt by hearin of sich as that 1 I dont think, Abom, said Miles (who overheard the remark), that it can be put off any longer. Ef theres that in Will- iam Williams which I been a-supposen is obleeged to be thar, hell fetch it out now. Now you go right on home, Abom. Miles said, afterward, My respects of Abom was that as he wouldnt stand up to his brother, it wouldnt look right to be agin him. When the battalion was dismissed, Allen walked rapidly to Mr. Bill. The latter was wiping the tears from his eyes with his handkerchief. Having finished this oper- ation, he went with a resolute step toward Blands piazza, whither Colonel Grice, aft- er dismounting and giving his horse to a servant to hold, had repaired. Ah, Mr. Bland, said the colonel, about to light a cigar, you peaceful men, you who follow in the peaceable waysdepart- ments, I might ruther sayof dry-goods, and hardwar, and molasses, and blankets, and trace chains, and other sich depart- ments, so to call all o the warious wane- ties of a sto-keepers businessyou dont knowI may say you don~t dreamMr. Bland, of the responsuability of a military man whose countrys enemies may be at the very gates Colonel Grice ! said Mr. Bill Will- iams, in a tone nobody had ever heard from him before. The colonel turned to see who called. Mr. Bill was standing on the ground, Allen Thigpen and Miles Bunkly by his side. Hello! Bill, said the colonel, with careless cordiality. What 11 you have, my dear fellow ? Ill have satisfaction, Mose Grice. Im not a fightin man, and I know I have sometimes been keerless in my talk, yit I 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. never went to hurt peoples feelings a-pur- pose, and I always helt myself more of a gentleman than to insult women and lit- tle childern, and which you cant say for yourself without tellin of a lie, and a fight- in lie at that. Those words operated the greatest sur- prise that ever befell Colonel Moses Grice. Partly in astonishment, partly in wrath, and partly in deprecation, he exclaimed: What in this wide omnipotent world! Is the Colonel of the Fourteenth Regi- ment got to study his langwidges Come, Mose Grice, said Miles, slow- ly but distinctly, the musters over now, and William Willians is your ekal, and he is liable to have his satisfaction, onlest you apologizes for your langwidges. I dont want his apologies, said Mr. Bill. I wont have his apologies. Hes got to fight, ithout he gits on his horse and runs away.~~ I cant stand that,~~ said the colonel. Throwing off his coat, he came rapidly down the steps to where Mr. Bill, similar- ly stripped, awaited him. V. Whoever has not seen a combat be- tween two powerful, irate men, with no weapons other than those supplied by na- ture, has missed the sight, though he may not regret it, of a thrilling scene. The blows, the grapplings, the struggles of every kind, are as if each combatant had staked every dear thing upon the result, and set in to save it or die. The advan- tages on this occasion, except the right, were with the colonel. Taller by an inch, though perhaps not heavier, agile, prac- ticed, and in the full maturity of his phys- ical powers, he had, besides, a contempt for his adversary, and expected to prevail speedily. Mr. Bill himself rather counted upon this result; but he had made up his mind that such was preferable to what he would endure without an attempt to pun- ish this persistent insulting raillery. He had never been a participant in a fight of any sort; but he had labored habitually at the heaviest work upon his farm, and he had broken, unassisted, many a colt, horse and mule, of his famous Molly Sparksthe most willful and indocile of dams. He had now the special disadvan- tage of having been upon his feet during several hours of tiresome exercises. Hell try to ride you, Bill, said Allen, hastily, but you keep him off. He can fling you, I expect; but you can outlast him in licks. Dont let him ride you. As the colonel advanced, Mr. Bill- But, alas! I am not an epic bard, nor even a Pindaric, nor is there one whom I can command to duly celebrate this combat. Mr. Bowden, the village post- master, was a person somewhat addict- ed to poetry (reading it, I mean), and he was heard to say several times afterward that it reminded him, he thought, more than any fight he had ever witnessed, of the famous one between Diomede and Mars on the plain of Troy. But the school-mas- ter, who was a Homeric scholar, rather in- timated to some of the advanced pupils that Mr. Bowden did not seem to him quite clear in his mind which was Mars and which Diomede. For a first fight, and that with an experienced antagonist, Mr. Bill conducted himself with surprising dexterity in the giving and evasion of blows, and when evasion was not success- ful, with becoming fortitude. It was however, a tiresome business. He showed that, and once, after putting in one of his best, when he was attempting to withdraw himself from the return, he had the mis- fortune to tread upon a corn-cob that hap- pened to be lying in his rear. This turn- ing beneath him, he lost his balance, and the colonel rushing upon him, he fell to the ground upon his left side. There, now ! said Miles Bunkly. Hadnt been for that confounded corn- cob Unable to finish what he would have said, he raised his hands on high, and clasped them in intense grief. Whisper- ing to Allen a few words, he took out his handkerchief and covered his eyes for several moments. Bill, said Allen, Miles says, hold on as long as you can. If you git too badly used up, hell help you take care o IRom and IReme. Then Mr. Bill Williams was worth see- ing, though prostrate on the field. These words fell upon his ear with a force irre- sistible. But for Mr. Bowdens incertitude as to the impersonation of those combat- ants of the heroic age, he might have coni- pared these words of Miles to those of Pallas, when Raged Tydides, boundless in his ire: Pallas commands, and Pallas lends thee force. As it was, Mr. Bill pronounced the names Rom and Reme once, and then he KING WILLIAM AND HIS ARMIES. 53 gave a groan that sounded less a groan than a roar. And then, in spite of the su- perincumbent weight, he suddenly reach- ed his arm around the colonels neck, and drew his head to the ground. It was said of Miles Bunkly by people of veracity, and those.who had known him longest and most intimately, that this was the only occasion during life whereon he was known to have shouted. Then, with the mildness yet the solemnity of an ex- perienced good man whose admonitions thereto have gone unheeded, he remarked to the colonel, as the latters body was slowly but inevitably following his head beneath Mr. Bill, like the stag in the ana- condas mouth, You see how it is, Mose; I told you, if you didnt mind, youd ketch the molloncholy yourself some day. The colonel, apparently concluding that the time had come, said, as distinctly as he could, Stop it, Bill; I give it up. Let him up, Bill, said Allen; you got his word. No, sir, not till hes apologized. Hes jest acknowledged hisself whipped; he haint apologized. Im sorry, Bill, for havin hurted your feelins and your wifes, said the colonel. So fur so good, answered Mr. Bill, leisurely stretching himself at ease on his foe, as if he would repose after his fatigue so fur so good; but what about Rom- erlus Williams and Remerlus Williams ? He never called the full names of his boys except on impressive occasions. Come, Bill, said Allen, taking him by the arm, enoughs enough. Mr. Bill rose with the reluctant air of a man roused from a luxurious couch where- on he had been indulging, though not to the full, in sweet sleep and sweeter dreams. The colonel arose, and, unpitied of all, slunk limping away. Miles Bunkly, the tears in his eyes, laid his hands on Mr. Bills shoulders, and said: I knowed it were obleeged to be in you, William, ef it could be fotch out; and my respects of a certain person was that, that I knowed shed fetch it out in time. Its done fotch out, and from this time forrards you and yo~nrn may go long your gayly way down the hill o life, and all I got to say to you and them, William, is, Go IT! And now go wash your face and hands, and go long home to happiness and bliss. I dont say you never deserved em before, but I do say you deserves em now. VI. My! said Mr. Bill, when he had wash- ed, and was feeling the knots and bruises on his face, and trying to open his eyes my! but aint it tiresome? I ruther maul rails all day ithout my dinner, or break two o old Mollys colts, mules at that, than to have to go through sich as that agin. Thanky, Miles, and come and see a fellow. He bade all adieu, and went on home, where something in the bosom of his family awaited him that is worth relating. The news having pre- ceded him, his wife, a pious woman, was a little troubled in her mind at first for hav- ing given to her husband the spur to a feeling that was not entirely consistent with duty; yet when they had told her the whole story, she rose, laid aside her work, went to her chest, got out her very best frock, and every thread Gf her chil- drens Sunday clothes, including many a ribbon that had survived its ancient use, and arrayed herself and them to greet the hcro upon his return. The whicker of old Molly at the foot of the lane, and the answer of the colt in the lot, announced the joyous moment. Dismounting at his gate, Mr. Bill would fain have indulged his eyes with that goodly sight; but one of them was entirely and the other partially closed. He became aware of the rushing into his arms of a person of about the size of his wife, and justly guessed to be her, and the cries of two children which he rather thought were familiar to his ears. For the boys, when they saw their father all battered and bruised, set up a yelling, and retreated. You Rom! you Reme ! cried the in- dignant mother, laughing the while, if you dont stop that crying and making out like you dont know your father, Ill skin you both alive! Come back here, and if you as much as whimper, Ill pull off them ribbons, strip you to your shirts, and put you to bed without a mouthful for your supper I They came back, did those boys. Look at him,sirs. Dont tell me you dont know him. Who is it ? Pappy, said Rom, on a venture, fol- lowed by Reme. And aint he the grandest man thats a-living ? Eth in, said Rom. Eth in, said Reme. Now git behind thar, and les all march in. 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. And we did march in, said Mr. Bill, afterward me, and Carline, and Rom, and Reme; and as we was a-marchin along, I feltblamed if I didntlike King William at the heads of his armies. Miles Bunkly had become too fond of his molloncholy to let it depart entire- ly; but its severest pains subsided in spite of him, now that the rival who had been preferred to him had justified the prefer- ence. My respects of William Williams, he would often say, is that, that it nc- oncile me and do my molloncholy good that hes the husband and the protector, as it were, ofwell, ef I should name the name, it would be Carline Thigpen that were. For some weeks immediately following the day of the fight he had been observed, from time to time, in the intervals of other business, engaged with a work seeming to require much painstaking, the result of which will immediately appear. One morning Mr. Bill, standing in his door, called to his wife: Come here, Carline, quick! Who and what can them be yonder a-comm up to the gate? Somebody, pear like, a-leadin of a par o dogs hitched to a little waggin. Mrs. Williams, looking intently at the comers cried: Its brother, leading of a par o calves yoked to a little cart. She was right. Good gracious, brother But Allen paid not the slightest atten- tion to his sister, not even saying good- morning. Here, Roni; here, Reme (his business being with them), heres a present for you from Miles Bunkly; and he in par- ticklar charge me to tell you, and which ef you werent old enough yit to have sense enough, twouldnt be long before you would be to understan sich lang- widges, that his respects of your father was that, that he sent you the follerin keart and steers, and which he made the keart with his own hands, the paintin and all, and likewise broke the steers, and which theyre jest six months old to-day, and which you moutnt believe it, but they are twin calves, them steers is, of his old cow Speckle-face, and which he say is the best and walliblest cow lie ever pos- sessioned, and which them was the very words he said. Then turning to his sister and brother- in-law, he said, Mawnin, sister Carline; mawnin, Bill. Mr. Bill roared with laughter; Mrs. Bill shed tears in silence, both in their abound- ing gratitude. And twins at that ! said Mr. Bill, jes like Rom and iReme I An idea struck him as with the suddenness of inspiration. Allen, he asked, vaguely, does you know the names o them steers I No, Bill; Miles didnt Makes no odds ef he did. I names them steers; and you see theyre adzactly alike, exceptin that that one in the lead got the roundesta leetle the roundest blaze in the forrard. Going slowly to the latter, and laying his hand upon his head, he said, This here steer here is name Mierlus. Then walking slowly down around the cart and up to the oth- er, he laid his hand upon his head, saying, This here steer here is name Bunkerlus. Then he took his boys, lifted them into the cart, contemplated all with a satisfaction that had no bottom to it, then waved his hand in preparation for a harangue that few other things could have prevented than that which immediately transpired. Miles Bunkly himself appeared at the gate, and walked in, his face wreathed in melancholy smiles. Why, Miles, you blessed everlastin old fellow ! exclaimed Mr. Bill. They were people too honest and plain to feel any embarrassment. The generous donor at once took the cart lines into his hands, and led the procession several times about the yard and the lot, as innocent and in many respects as much a child as those on whom he had bestowed his gift. The ardor of Mr. Bill could not be subdued as he looked upon the scene. Tears like those in his wifes eyes came into his own, and he said, softly, to her and to Allen: I never spected to live to see sich a skene and sich a ewent. Thar they goes, Romerlus Williams, and Remerlus Will- iams, and Mierlusahem Williams, and Bunkerlus Williams, and Miles Bunkly hisself, and the keart and all; and Ill channelge, I dont s~y this county, but this whole State o Georgie, to pejuce a skene and pejuce a ewent as lovely as the present skene and the present ewent on this lovely mawnin like. It do look like, Allenit do look like the families is unit- ed and jinded together. Mr. Bills throat choked up with just enough space left to MRS. WINTERROWDS MUSICALE. 55 allow of breathing, but of not another word. Allen, said Miles, when, the visit be- ing over, they were on their way home, to think of William a - couplin of my name along with them lovely boys! Well, Allen, I never expects to git intirely over my molloncholy, but I tell you, Allen, I were never as nigh of bein of riconciled to it. MRS. WINTERROWDS MUSICALE. XITHOS Mrs. Winterrowd ? VVThere is a question that shocks me as I write it down. Nevertheless, it is what my friend McAloon (who had the misfortune to be graduated from a West- ern college) asked me when I told him we had an invitation to her musical affair of Wednesday evening, January 18. Of course nobody else needs to be told about her; but I had to explain to McAloon that Mrs. Winterrowd, though not herself famous, knew many famous people, and that, although she was not the mother of her great-grandfather, nor in any way re- sponsible for him, she had done the best she could for that gentleman and for her- self by being descended from him, and was fully aware of her meritorious conduct. He, you remember, was no other than General Killamy Matchett, an early com- mander of the Valiant Horse Fencibles (one of the first military troops formed in the province of the Massachusetts), who won great distinction by having predicted the revolt of the colonies, and then dying corn- fortably at home before the outbreak of hostilities. Mrs. Winterrowd has, among other heirlooms, General Killamys sword, with which he would probably have slain many British oppressors had he lived. The Matchetts were very good at inher- iting or marrying property. They were distinguished, and it took all their time and energy to supply the distinction therefore those who married them had to furnish the funds. Mrs. Winterrowds husband is descended from a fine old typ- ical Boston merchant, and is wealthy, of course. When I had finished enlightening poor McAloon on these points, I feel a great deal better, he announced, for, however insignificant I myself may be, I am now sure that there is somebody in the world for whom it is worth while that it should go on. But will you explain why it is called a musicale instead of a music par- ty, or simply a musical ? That is Mrs. Winterrowds style, my dear fellow, said I. Dont you appre- ciate it? It is like the mark of nobility implied in saying invalide, instead of in- valid. That single letter e added to the word musical marks all the difference be- tween your hopeless Western crudity and the refinement of centuries. I see, said my friend, meekly; and I think he was prepared after that for the felicity in store for him. When the evening arrived~ we repaired to the dignified mansion on Common- wealth Avenue where this delightful party was to take place. One of the very first persons I met in the drawing-rooms was Sophia Morne, a very lovely girl of great attractiveness, whom I had promised my companion much pleasure in seeing. She is a little white, but not enough so to de- tract from her peculiar beauty, like that of an old portrait, always young. Her dress also was white, with many clever lines breaking up the surface, and giving a chance for artistic trimming, puffs, folds, and soft shadows. Her hair is unlike al- most anything I have ever seen in others, being brown, yet with a kind of bright- ness about it that makes it look as if some beam of light were playing upon it, and just about to vary its hue a trifle. She wore it drawn up from the forehead that evening, and at the lower tips of her ears you saw the gleam of very small topaz gems. All this added power to the sweet, thoughtful eyes, the plaintive repose of her mouth, and the grace of those delicate cheeks, which I never can help fancying are made thin by some unknown sadness, until I see her smile, and then the notion takes flight. I wonder what Planetsure, the eminent scientist, thought of her as he stood there talking to her, with his hands, like relics of the Stone Age, tightly clasped across the very recent deposit of dress-coat that covered his back? The two were very deep in some severe discussion, but Miss Morne bowed to me. I confess I should have been unhappy if she had not done so. Our hostess, to whom we had said good- evening, passed me just then, beariry McAloon to the large room at the rear, where the two pianos stood. I soon saw that she was going to present him to Miss Fetters, the brilliant authoress, whose

George P. Lathrop Lathrop, George P. Mrs. Winterrowd's "Musicale" 55-64

MRS. WINTERROWDS MUSICALE. 55 allow of breathing, but of not another word. Allen, said Miles, when, the visit be- ing over, they were on their way home, to think of William a - couplin of my name along with them lovely boys! Well, Allen, I never expects to git intirely over my molloncholy, but I tell you, Allen, I were never as nigh of bein of riconciled to it. MRS. WINTERROWDS MUSICALE. XITHOS Mrs. Winterrowd ? VVThere is a question that shocks me as I write it down. Nevertheless, it is what my friend McAloon (who had the misfortune to be graduated from a West- ern college) asked me when I told him we had an invitation to her musical affair of Wednesday evening, January 18. Of course nobody else needs to be told about her; but I had to explain to McAloon that Mrs. Winterrowd, though not herself famous, knew many famous people, and that, although she was not the mother of her great-grandfather, nor in any way re- sponsible for him, she had done the best she could for that gentleman and for her- self by being descended from him, and was fully aware of her meritorious conduct. He, you remember, was no other than General Killamy Matchett, an early com- mander of the Valiant Horse Fencibles (one of the first military troops formed in the province of the Massachusetts), who won great distinction by having predicted the revolt of the colonies, and then dying corn- fortably at home before the outbreak of hostilities. Mrs. Winterrowd has, among other heirlooms, General Killamys sword, with which he would probably have slain many British oppressors had he lived. The Matchetts were very good at inher- iting or marrying property. They were distinguished, and it took all their time and energy to supply the distinction therefore those who married them had to furnish the funds. Mrs. Winterrowds husband is descended from a fine old typ- ical Boston merchant, and is wealthy, of course. When I had finished enlightening poor McAloon on these points, I feel a great deal better, he announced, for, however insignificant I myself may be, I am now sure that there is somebody in the world for whom it is worth while that it should go on. But will you explain why it is called a musicale instead of a music par- ty, or simply a musical ? That is Mrs. Winterrowds style, my dear fellow, said I. Dont you appre- ciate it? It is like the mark of nobility implied in saying invalide, instead of in- valid. That single letter e added to the word musical marks all the difference be- tween your hopeless Western crudity and the refinement of centuries. I see, said my friend, meekly; and I think he was prepared after that for the felicity in store for him. When the evening arrived~ we repaired to the dignified mansion on Common- wealth Avenue where this delightful party was to take place. One of the very first persons I met in the drawing-rooms was Sophia Morne, a very lovely girl of great attractiveness, whom I had promised my companion much pleasure in seeing. She is a little white, but not enough so to de- tract from her peculiar beauty, like that of an old portrait, always young. Her dress also was white, with many clever lines breaking up the surface, and giving a chance for artistic trimming, puffs, folds, and soft shadows. Her hair is unlike al- most anything I have ever seen in others, being brown, yet with a kind of bright- ness about it that makes it look as if some beam of light were playing upon it, and just about to vary its hue a trifle. She wore it drawn up from the forehead that evening, and at the lower tips of her ears you saw the gleam of very small topaz gems. All this added power to the sweet, thoughtful eyes, the plaintive repose of her mouth, and the grace of those delicate cheeks, which I never can help fancying are made thin by some unknown sadness, until I see her smile, and then the notion takes flight. I wonder what Planetsure, the eminent scientist, thought of her as he stood there talking to her, with his hands, like relics of the Stone Age, tightly clasped across the very recent deposit of dress-coat that covered his back? The two were very deep in some severe discussion, but Miss Morne bowed to me. I confess I should have been unhappy if she had not done so. Our hostess, to whom we had said good- evening, passed me just then, beariry McAloon to the large room at the rear, where the two pianos stood. I soon saw that she was going to present him to Miss Fetters, the brilliant authoress, whose 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. books one ought not to read without stand- ing on glass bottles, to lessen the electric shock. Turning away rapidly to avoid watching him in his perilous position, I came upon the Reverend Griswold Por- beck, with his mild smile and arrogant, spectacled upper face. In fact, the apart- ments were filled with people intellectu- ally, socially, or otherwise notable. There was Mrs. Orton West, at whose house the meetings of the Knotty Point Club are held, and Miss Truesdale, secretary of the Women Engineers Society; Leverett, who published a poem of eight lines in one of the magazines last autumn, and has been so lionized by the ladies ever since that he is afraid to print anything more; also that charming Miss Mignon Stanlow, the heir- ess, who looks so exquisite in her half- mourning. Here too was Miss Yarrow, the poets daughter, who scanned all the young men as if they ~vere very imperfect rhymes for herall except Jim Torringford, who has grown a British beard, and has become a most insufferable snob, since leaving college. But even there, I remember, we used to call him the Bull pup, because of his trotting after English models so subserviently. It is not likely that all these people really knew or cared much about music, but they wished it to be un- derstood that they did. Suddenly there was a stir. Messrs. Rall and Tando (two professionals, who, distin- guished as they are, were nevertheless im- mensely flattered at being invited to per- form here) were seen seated at the upright pianos, like leaders of hostile forces in the transient hush before battle. They were about to begin a duet. With a blind crash the attack opened. Their fingers plunged into the keys in a truly awful manner, as if they were imbruing their hands in human blood. They glared, al- most snorted, dug at the ivory, andas the pianos were placed back to back seemed to threaten ploughing their way straight through the rose - wood breast- work, and engaging in combat at short range. When Rall flung his head back in an agony of feeling, Tando leaned for- ward over his key-board with eager exul- tation. And when Tando bade fair to have everything his own way, and was sweeping the field with a succession of stormy martial chords, Rall watched his opportunity, and pounced down with a sharp volley of high notes which com- pletely routed his opponent. When peace had been restored, I got Mac away from Miss Fetters, and present- ed him to Sophia Morne. And you are very musical in Cincin- nati too ? she half queried, while her to- paz ear-rings gave a quick flash with the swift turn of her head. They even say that you are carrying off the honors in that way now from Boston and New York. I see that they have hardly con- vinced you, at any rate, Miss Morne, said he, noticing the doubt in her voice. I dont know; Ive never been there. Ive heard a great deal about it, though, from some friends. And I should so like, she recommenced, with unforeseen enthusiasm, to see Cincin Should you ? inquired my friend, at once eagerly responsive, leaning forward impulsively. II think so at times, Sophia an- swered, all at once eying him a jittle more distantly. You are fond of music, he resumed, in a rapid, perfunctory tone. What did you think of the duet ? Sophia said, candidly and with a little smile, I dont like it. Hereupon McAloon and I confessed the same. I saw that these two people would soon come to a good understanding, and never before that moment had I been fully aware how handsome my young Western- er was. The situation must have impressed Mrs. Winterrowd too; for had she not her niece Bertha staying with her, for whom a brill- iant match was but a natural destiny? She came up and interrupted. Miss Morne is a veritable protestant in musical matters, she began. She is always trying to reform us; she will never give up to the orthodox opinion if she can help it. I remember you were firmly op- posed to Von Biilow, she added, turning to the charming culprit. My friends eyes lighted again. And you preferred Rubinstein ? he asked. Miss Morne was not afraid to give a quiet assent. Then began the usual patter about Jo- seffy, Marie Krebs, Von Hammer, Van Pummel, and the rest, which I have my- self been through so many times. I es- caped to the neighborhood of Miss Stanlow, observing at the same time that Bertha Matchett had moved nearer the group, with a friend. In a moment or two more her MRS. WINTERROWDS MUSICALE. 57 aunt, accidentally discovering her, had en- trapped McAloon. What an unfortunate name ! exclaim- ed Miss Stanlow, when I mentioned it to her. I was surprised to find that the remark gave me an unaccountable comfort, though I had not known till that instant that I stood in need of any. Could it be that I was the least particle jealous of Mac? Ah, Miss Stanlow, I half sighed to the graceful creature at my elbow, why are we forever talking about something and professing to care for something that is really of secondary moment? Dont you get dreadfully tired of it ? Ill tell you the exact truth, said she. I get tired of almost everything except the Diagonal. I laughed, and yet I believed her. I hope you include your partner, I continued. The last time I danced the Diagonal was with you at Mrs. Shaw Stevensons. Dont you remember ? Was it more than ordinary intention that caused Miss Stanlow to answer, with a full, dark glance, I have not forgotten, Mr. Endicott? There is a species of subtle understanding between two good waltzers who are in the habit of dancing together, unlike any other rapport. It may lead to further sympathies, or it may remain always exactly the same. For a moment I fancied this pleasant waltz sentiment of ours might be budding into something else. (And why not? Mignon had mon- ey enough for us both.) Ah, now we are to have the quar- tette, I heard her saying, in the midst of my transient reverie. The quartette had the effect of waking everybody up. All the distinctively mu- sical people got together in groups and held animated confabulations. The words opus,~~ sequence, high color, po- lyphony, shading, and the like, echoed on every side; and young Stiles went about telling all the people he hadnt said it to before how exploded the Beethoven mania was. One of the new interpretative com- posers, Miss Stanlow murmured to me, with her half-cynical smile, ought to write a Conversation Symphony, de- scriptive of musical criticism in a draw- ing-room, translating it into sound And fury, I threw in. Signifying nothing ? queried mycom- panion. At this point, however, we went down to supper. Mac had succeeded in getting back to Sophia Morne, whom he took down, and Miss Stanlow and I, coming behind, could hear them conversing in a tone of agreeable intimacy, which I didnt altogether relish. No, he was saying, I quite agree with you that this is not the pleasantest way to listen to music. One needs a lit- tle more solitude. In fact, a single sym- pathetic companion is enough. Dont you think so Im not sure, was the answer. But at least that shows you dont demand a great deal. Its well to be moderate, he laughed, quietly. Still, what I ask for is not so easily found. The supper was superb, and the Rever- end Porbeck, warmed with secular wine, entertained a select group by descanting on Greek music and old Church anthems (his favorite theme at these parties), while Hall and Tando cooled their jangling pas- sions in plates of ice-cream. Then we went up stairs again, and had some more music. Last of all on the programme came Virgin, our new composera most lovable fellow, though sad and ill from his long struggle with popular indifference. God pity a genius like Virgin, ex- claimed MeAloon, as we walked home, if lie has to wait for recognition from that whimsical circle 1 Then you didnt enjoy the party ? I inferred. Why not? Tell me what you thought of the people. Well, said he, restraining his usual impetuosity, they were almost enthusi- astic after supper. Go on, I urged him. But at least youll admit they were critical. Frankly, he replied, I thought the company made a merit of their apathy; and when they at last began to feel and en- joy to a slight extent, they flattered them- selves they were giving discriminating praise. Poor Virgin! I wish hed go out to Cincinnati with me. I wouldnt like to be in his shoes. By-the-way, I asked, dont you com- pose at all ? Hardly. I forgot to mention before that Mac was himself a pianist of great endowments; the most brilliant amateur I think I ever heard; but he had forbidden me to let the fact loose upon Boston. 58 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. We were crossing the bridge over the swan pond in the Public Garden,when he burst out, a good deal as if he were strik- ing a full chord on the piano: Great Heaven! that girls eyes were worth all the melodies I ever heard. I was not perfectly ingenuous, I sup- pose, in asking, Whose ?Bertha Match- etts ? No; Miss Mornes. You havent said a word about her since we left Mrs. Win- terrowds, continued my emotional com- rade, almost with petulance. Can you see, think, and feel, and yet keep silence about such a dream of a woman? Do you do this, and profess to be alive ? I profess, but I hope Im not really alive, said I, for in that case Im a mis- take not easily repaired. Thats your Boston way of keeping your sentiments to yourself, I suppose, he retorted. But tell me something about Miss Morne, cant you ? I assured Mac that she was of excellent family, but that family had nearly been her fathers ruin. His father had suddenly lost his money, and the young- er Morne had had an opporturnity to go to the West at a very favorable time, and enter the pork-packing business. But his relatives had all opposed it, ou the ground that poverty and the scraps of a social prestige in Boston were infinitely prefer- able to seeking a new fortune in so ques- tionable a field. What business were the Moines in ? asked MeAloon, rather gravely. It used to be called groceries, but on Mornes account we now call it, in a gen- eral way, importing. Oh! He is doing better at this time than he has heretofore, I went on. He took the advice of his relatives, and has spent his whole life and strength trying to cling to the edge of fashionable society. I think its been a hard position for his daughter, but she has been well treated. He soon saw her again. I took him to call at the house some days later. He didnt seem to mind in the least that the white paint of the old street door was blis- tered all over by age into a fine crackle; nor that Sophias father was a shallow old gentleman in an emaciated coat, who wore a mildly alarmed expression, as if forever fearing that somebody would re- member that one wrong impulse of his youth, and would get the impression that he had gone into pork-packing after all. Very soon Mac began to have ideas that conflicted with mine about the dispo- sition of our evenings, and it ended in his going his way, and my going mine. Of course I knew what this meant. Mean- while I was fortunate enough to have another delightful evening of waltzing with Miss Stanlow. Mac pretended (so I thought) to be very much occupied with some business ven- tures. He was continually running down to Devonshire Street, and looking for the latest reports of sales in the papers. It was hardly possible that these interests should absorb his evenings; but one night when he gave me to understand he was going to talk things over with his broker at the Tremont House, I sauntered out to- ward Bowdoin Street, with some intention of calling on Miss Morne. As I came near the house I paused. Then suddenly from within some penetra- ting notes of a piano rolled forth. No, not rolled; I ought to say stalked, for they came like ghosts to me. I felt my friend~s hand in the touch. He seemed to be working with those sounds a spell of warning and disaster against me. Oddly enough, I felt it impossible to seek ad- mittance at the old crackle door after this. An unfortunate name, Miss Stanlow had said, and I consoled myself with the words. Do what he would at the piano, my friend could never throw any music into Mrs. MeAloon, and I said to my- self persuasively that Sophia would never be induced to accept that title. It took very little time for the secret of Macs musical prowess to get abroad after he had betrayed it. Mrs. Winterrowd be- gan to make a tremendous fuss over the discovery. I shall never have any con- fidence in you again, she declared to me, with playful rage, at Mrs. Orton Wests kettledrum. You knew it all the time, and ought to have told me. But I dont believe you have a bit of music in your soulno, not a bit. But she did what she could by giving a dinner, and chaining him to the piano for exhibition after it. In fine, she made a lion of him, insisted on his accompany- ing Bertha and herself to various enter- tainments, made him perform at a charity matin6e, and assumed the part of having unearthed his genius, and even of having MRS. WINTERROWDS MUSICALE. 59 pointed it out to Mac himself when he was hardly aware of possessing it. Seeing this, certain old ladies of the Back Bay settled it in their minds that he would soon be offered up to Bertha Match- ett. But they were destined to enjoy a greater surprise. One day when I had got back to our rooms from a committee meeting at the club, and was soothing my nerves with Apollinaris and a cigarette, Mac came striding in under great excite- ment. Endicott, he cried, in his nervous, musical manner, closing and stretching his long fingers as he glared at me, you have a great many fine girls in Boston. I dont need to be told that. Some of them are beautiful, he next remarked. I again mildly assented. But only Miss Morne has a soul I he wound up. Here I felt obliged to protest. My dear boy, you are aware that I have a sis- ter here, several cousins, and Oh, yes, yes, he said, hurriedly, I suppose they have souls, some sort of soulsthat isyou know what I mean, dont you ? Im afraid I looked nega- tive; but his eye fell on the piano; he darted at it, sat down, and swept the keys with a wild sunny strain, which he wouldnt take the trouble to finish, and then he whirled around and looked ear- nestly at me. The fact is, he said, she has consented. Im going to marry her. I threw away my cigarette and looked at him seriously. Heaven and earth ! said he, jumping up. Does it affect you so badly? Whats the matter, old fellow? You dont con- gratulate me. I will as soon as Ive taken breath, said I. (I was wondering how Sophia had reconciled herself to the name.) Heres my hand, I continued. Since you have won Miss Mornes, take mine too. Thats a queer form of congratula- tion, he said, presently. I wonder what it means ? Then, in a solemn tone: IL think you cared more for her than you ever told me. You jump at conclusions, Mac. But if you did, he went on, why didnt you take her before I came in your way ? I hardly know what moved me to go on, but I said: Granting your assump tion, if I had asked her to have me, she couldnt have afforded it. MeAloons eyes grew smoky with bat- tle. Do you mean to insult her, Endi- cottor me Neither. Take it andante cantabile. I think Miss Morne is the loveliest creature in the world, but I never offered myself to herno. You know well enough, Mac, that Im a man of expensive habits, with a small and droughty income. My friend still looked displeased. I dont see anything in that, he said. But dont you understand, there are traditionsduties to society? Ive told you what Morne sacrificed; how he has struggled to keep his place in our circle, and so on. You dont imagine I want to put myself in the same position? I dare say Miss Morne has had enough of it too. But with youwhy, the whole affair is very different. Macs face darkened. The mans moods changed as swiftly as those of a sonata. He had entered the room in a whirl of de- light, suffered a disappointment, grown angry with me, and now he fell a prey to suspicion. So you think she is willing to marry me because my father is rich ? he de- manded. I say nothing of the kind. No, I dont think it. It doesnt present itself to me in that way at all. Nevertheless he began, but walked away to the window, and looked out in a threatening manner. This is damnable, Endicott, he muttered, suddenly coming back, and looking contemptuously at the bottle. What is? Pm completely upset. After what youve said, it must be so. At any rate, I shall never feel certain. Ive always thought it foolish to bother myself with such ideas, but it does make a great difference. If Sophia has been influ- enced Listen to me, I interrupted. Why should you inquire? You love Miss Morne. She has accepted you. It is to be presumed that she returns your feeling; and, with- out flattery, I dont see why she shouldnt. There is no obstacle to your union, so In fact, thats the whole story. But, Its not so easily settled, he in- sisted, and went off to his own room. I was still thinking it over, and trying to analyze my own feelings (if I had any), 60 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. when he came in again, and after walk- ing about a little, halted by the fire-place. That was so, was it ? he began. You never proposed to her? If you had, it would have been better. I should feel more confidence. Mac, said I, I have just one thing to say, and that is, drop your doubts. Im not going to discuss this subject with you any further. No, I didnt mean to, he returned, to my surprise, apologetically. I drifted back to it. What I came in to speak about is quite another thing. You men- tioned your income just now. Yes, but Wait a moment; youll see that has nothing to do with it. I am surprised that you dont improve your affairs. How? By speculation. For the last month, while I was uncertain whether Miss Morne would have me, I have found I must have some excitement, besides music, to distract me. So I have been falling back on my business streak. I took flyerscopper, gold, railroads, whatever I could get into. The result is, with what Ive turned in and what I carry, Im ten thousand dollars bet- ter off than I was. Ten thousand ! Yes. And you can do the same. Nonsense. You know I cant risk any money in that sort of thing. You neednt risk your own. Ill lend you what you like. But if I should lose it Never mind. As I tell you, Ive made this profit, and if I lose the whole, it wouldnt matter; so theres no sort of rea- son why you shouldnt take a part, and lose it, if you prefer to do that. The proposition was so abrupt that I hardly knew how to receive it. I could see, however, that he was bent on my ac- cepting it. So I thanked him, and agreed to borrow two thousand. He gave me the sum in a draft on his father, and we went down to the brokers in Devonshire Street, where I invested to that amount; but, from a perversity I couldnt wholly account for, I went very lightly into the mines and railroads Mac had chosen. For the next four days the state of the market was, as Planetsure said when I de- scribed it to him, like a geologic convul- sion. But my luck was astounding. On reviewing my condition, I saw that my gains were very nearly sixteen thousand dollars. At the very moment when I was trying to comprehend such good fortune, the bro- ker received notice from his bank that a telegram had come, saying Macs draft had been dishonored. What can it mean ? I exclaimed. Very extraordinary, said the broker, fingering the note he had just read. A man of Mr. McAloons standing! There must be trouble ahead. And so I lose my investments ? I in- quired. I should be glad to take them, said the broker, who was a club man. But youd better sell off enough to cover the two thousand and commissions, and re- tain the rest. Sell off every pennys worth, then , I besought him, and give me what belongs to ~ The order was carried out at the second board. Your friends stocks have fallen off badly, observed the man of business, meanwhile. And now this dishonored draft He drew in his breath and look- ed puzzled. Yes, so I have observed. Mac has been losing every day while Ive been gaining. It is very queer luck. My rapid sales caused me some loss; but after paying what I owed, I came away with about thirteen thousand. Then I went in search of my friend. He was alone in an upper room at the club, and he too had received a telegram. It was from his father, and ran thus: Wheat combination treacherously bro- ken. Falling market has cleaned me out. Cleaned him out ! I echoed. That means hes ruined, doesnt it? But it cant be. I thought he was worth two or three millions. That doesnt make it any pleasanter, said Mac, rather bitterly. He was worth it, as you say. Well, Ive got a mere atom of a for- tune here in my pocket, said I, drawing out the brokers heavy check. Let me assist you. And then I told him of the dishonored draft. He smiled, with a wan look. You dont owe me anything, then. Its good of you to offer help; but Ive got some- thing left. My stocks have tumbled hor- ribly, buthere he figured rapidly with MRS. WINTERIIOWDS MUSICALE. 61 his pencil on the margin of a newspaper they still leave me something like thir- ty-seven hundred altogether; and perhaps theyll come up again. Its only fair, I insisted, that I should hand you enough to make us even, since Im indebted to you for all I have made. Mac tore off the pencilled margin, twisted and crumpled it, and seemed to be thinking of something else. No, Id rather not, he said, at length, decisively. But have you reflected, Endicott, that I shall now have an opportunity to solve my doubts ? Here was a man wrapped up in his passion! No, I had hardly thought of that, I said. Well, he went on, in an altered tone, but trying to appear cool, I shall release Miss Morne from her engagementsend her a note this very afternoon. He darted, as he spoke, an almost fierce glance at me, as if he held me responsible for this state of things. Possibly youre right about the mon- ey, said I, paying no attention to his manner, but youre utterly wrong about Miss Morne. Why need you give her up ? This he received with a grating laugh. Oh, you advise me not to, do you ? he inquired, incredulously. I could not doubt any longer that he had been smitten with an insane jealousy of me. I dont give you any advice, was my answer. I merely asked you a question. It seemed to me that, as you understand business, and have some capi- tal left, you could go on speculating and recover yourself. But the odd mixture of the artist, the man of fancy, in this keen-witted West- erner promptly negatived the notion. It was an excitement with me, not a trade, he declared. I cant afford it now. I ceased to urge him. Do me a favor, he requested, abrupt ly. But if we had been on the stage, I should have inferred from his aspect that his part required him to stab me the next moment. When I have freed Sophia, go and ask her to marry you.~ Mac, this is very distasteful, I re- monstrated, though it was exactly what I had been thinking of. Surprise sometimes forces a man to be a humbug. Very, he returned, sardonically. Probably it is as much so to me as to you. But I mean it. It will be a great satisfaction to me. I should never think it, to look at you, I observed, with some cruelty. Very well, then, he retorted, in a smothered tone, consider that you would be inflicting a savage wound on me, if that pleases you better. In either case you wont need much urging, I see, he added, with a sneer. Do you agree ? I agree to retain the liberty that be- longs to me, nothing more, said I, now thoroughly angry. And yet I pitied him. When I was alone I began to think he deserved a defeat. The question whether I could administer that defeat next grew to have a dangerous fascination. I fell asleep late at night, brooding over this; and when I woke in the morning I was filled with an ardent desire to test it. Mac appeared at breakfast exhausted and unnerved. I sent the note, he said, shortly, and relapsed into silence. After a while I asked him whether he had any idea what he should do in the future. He held up his long hands. Heres my living, lie said. What? Music ? He nodded. Neither of us wanted to talk. A con- straint almost like that between strangers had come between us, and it was clearly better that we should separate promptly. I therefore took care to spend the day away from him. And a very strange day it was. Finally, when evening came, and I was on my way to the old house with the white door, I knew that I had resolved to offer myself to Miss Morne. It was a point of pride with her, I sup- pose, to receive me, though she did not look in her usual spirits, by any means. Of course you know of the misfor- tune, she said at once that Mac (she had adopted that diminutive) has become a poor man Yes, and that something else has hap- pened also. Her eyelids fell. Then he told you what he meant to do I she responded, al- most in a whisper. If one can pity and admire at the same moment, that was what I did in watching the soft shadowy blush upon her cheek. She was dressed in pale brown silk, judi- ciously trimmed with white lace of a heavy pattern; three rose-buds bloomed at her 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. belt, and the color of the pink ones was darkly repeated by a garnet pin partly hid- den in the lace near her throat. If the costume had been expressly designed to blush in, it could not have been better. Yes, he has confided in me, I answer- ed. Are you willing, Miss Morne, to do the same ? What a very singular question ! said Miss Morne, with something of sternness in her eyes as she lifted them and glanced quickly at me. That would be a differ- ent thing altogether. And what have I to confide ? I am anxious to know what you are going to do. Going to do ? she smiled. Thats more singular than the other question even. I dont know why you should ask me these things. I hope, said I, you understand that I wouldnt ask them without very special reasons. Ah, she returned, dropping into a more easy defense, then he has sent you ? That was very wrong. No, he did not send me, I made an- swer, embarrassed. You are mysterious. And again she smiled. But the sadness I had been wont to fancy in her cheeks was really there now, and these faint smiles did not drive it away. But I will be frank, at any rate. Papa was greatly troubled at first, but I think he is rather relieved now. He appeared to think that Mr. McAloon would insist on the engagement, but now he is convinced it wont be so. What had convinced him, I asked my- self? Evidently his daughters determi- nation to receive no overtures to a new en- gagement. This, then, was in my favor. I resumed: Miss Morne, my reason for those questions Ah, I came here this evening But in the very act of uttering my pur- pose I abandoned it. I can hardly de- scribe the feeling that arrested me. There was something atrocious in taking advan- tage of Macs misfortune, something ab- horrent about having thrown the dice, as it were, for this woman, which I had been too much excited to comprehend un- til then. But it all revealed itself to me at that instant. Ah, yes, do tell me what you came for. It is so mysterious, said Miss Morne, with innocent perplexity. What I want to say, I replied, as if continuing, is that I think you may do Mac an injustice. It was a generous im- pulse, no doubt, that made him write that note, but Im sure he is regretting it at this moment passionately. If you had seen his face at the club She threw out her hand with a brief gesture of pain. I would rather not hear this, she said. Only let me say, I concluded, that he already has a plan in his head for put- ting himself in better circumstances. If you would permit me to encourage him to come and speak with you about it Oh, I know its a great liberty. Its very kind of you, she answered. I understand. The liberty I can for- give, Mr. Endicott. But I have no mes- sage forfor him. P Mortified and rather puzzled, I talked a little of other things, and then got up to go. But as I did so I ventured to say, Those rose-buds are wonderfully fine. If you could forgive two liberties in an evening, I should ask for a bud. The tea-rose ? No, the pink. She disengaged it and gave it me. If Mac has been a trifle insane, I re- flected, as I walked home, I have too ; and I was quite at a loss to understand my own conduct fully. As for Sophia, I likewise began to suspect her. How ac- count for her obdurate unwillingness to have Mac come and make amends for his note, unless she preferred to lose him along with his money? He was playing stormily on the piano as I entered, but stopped and burst into violent laughter on seeing me. Sit down 1 he cried. I have the oddest story to tell you. I have something to tell you too, I in- terposed. But he insisted on my listening first. The constraint that had cramped our in- tercourse for a day or two seemed to have vanished. Where do you suppose I have been ? he demanded. Ive been to see Mrs. Winterrowd. What of it? Well, you shall hear ; and he proceeded to relate how he had called in Commonwealth Avenue, and received Mrs. Winterrowds condolence on his fathers failure. But I hope he will soon get over it, she had said. The inconvenience is only tempora- ry, Mac had assured her. As for me, MRS. WJNTERROWDS MUSICALE. 63 it is a shock, annoying and all that, but nothing more. The patroness of music and lions ex- pressed her delight. He went on to make formal acknow- ledgment of many kindnesses during his stay in Boston. I dont know how to thank you for giving me that opportunity to play at the charity matinee, said Mac; and she took it in good faith. But, aft- er so many favors, I am emboldened to ask one more. Ah ! Mrs. Winterrowd raised her no- ble eyebrows with a very charming ex- pression. Yes, a very important one, a very se- rious one, he explained, in connection with your niece. Here the lady became pleasantly and becomingly grave. You will permit me, Mrs. Winter- rowd, to speak plainly of my admiration for Miss Matchett. She is a very lovely young lady. as to that, we shall agree admira- bly, answered Miss Matchetts aunt. The favor I have to ask may have an important influence on my future, said he. There could no longer be any doubt. Ah, Mr. McAloon, replied Mrs. Winter- rowd, I can easily understand that, and upon hers too. You do me too much honor, said the young man, humbly. But before we talk of this, she con- tinued, in a tone of most tender confi- dence, dont you think it would be well to hear more from your father? It saves so much care to have ones future clear. Ah, but thats precisely what i[ want to settle now, said he. Naturally, said the matron, throw- ing herself lightly into the mood of youth. Young people feel that there is only one question of importance to be settled, and in one sense that is true. Believe me, I fully sympathize with you, and I appre- ciate the import of this one question. It might perhaps be answered now, but my duty to Bertha, you know Your duty, madam! What has that to do with my giving Miss Matchett mu- sic lessons ? Mrs. Wiaterrowd returned his feigned astonishment with a very real equivalent. Music lessons ! she cried, in horror. You, Mr. McAloon ? Undoubtedly. I must make my liv- ing in that way now, and it would have an important influence on my success if you were to give me your patronage. I see I have completely misunder- stood you. Then that is really to be your future! Very odd; very odd. She al- ready began to scrutinize her former lion with a distant, undervaluing air. But there was a vein of Yankee sharpness un- der her superficial grandeur, and a barter- ing scheme had occurred to her. Pos- sibly I can assist you, she began, but of course you did not proposeyou had not thought of compensation? The ad- verI mean, of course, the reputation it would bring you to be giving my niece instruction would repay you for the time, I dare say. Unfortunately, answered Mac, with a touch of indolent magnificence, my prices must be rather high, and I could hardly afford to enter into such an ar- rangement. We shall have to give it up, Im afraid. Theres one city finished off, then, I exclaimed, after hearing this recital. You never can do anything in Boston now. I dont want to, either, he declared, vehemently. I have been to see Miss Morne this evening, said I, lighting a cigar. All his gloom returned in a moment. But she wont have me, I added. She has reEused you ? demanded he, bounding to his feet, and clutching the piano with one hand. I hesitated; then I said: You seem to take a special satisfaction in humiliating me. You heard what I said. Of course it was absurd to expect she would consider me. Are you content to let the thing rest as it is? Mac pulled out his watch. Confound it! its too late. What for ? To go to the Moines. Allegretto finale ! I exclaimed. Arent you rather rushing the thing? Apparently you forget that youre not en- gaged any longer. No, I dont, said my hasty friend, but I want to be. I can show Sophia that everything may still go well if she that is, that I shall make a success of some sort in music. His doubt and jealousy had passed; the transient cloud between himself and me was dissolved; but I cant say I was alto- gether pleased with this business of his re 64 HATIPEIRS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tiring in my favor for a day or two, and then fancying he could resume his ro- mance. You have offended her, I said. It may not be so easy as you imagine to put off and take on this engagement. But Heaven helps fools like me, he asserted, and frustrates wise men like you, Endicott. And Im inclined to think he was right. When he had gone to see Sophia the next day, I occupied his absence with a carefully constructed theory of the impos- sible, to wit, her becoming a music teach- ers wife. When he returned, my theory was nowhere. And is this the end, Mr. Morne la- mentingly asked me one day, for which I have spent all my life trying to keep a position in society ? But his asides to me and his plaints to his daughter were of no avail. Finding opposition useless, he tried to induce his prospective son-in-law at least to stay in Boston. I dont want to stay in a city, declared Mac, where, for all its delightfulness, I have the example of poor neglected Vir- gin before me, and where your best group thinks it a favor to have treated Sophia well, as Endicott says they have. Knowing his irritable genius, I pardon- ed him, for my part. He went off with his bride to Cincinnati, and now Mac writes me that he makes a very good income. I think Morne would like to follow too, but he cant leave his business, nor his place on the edge of society. Miss Yar- row and Jim Torringford, who had at several different times deigned to recog- nize Sophia, can not now endure even the mention of her name; and as for Mrs. Winterrowd, she reproaches me for ever having introduced Mac, who, she inti- mates, was almost an untutored savage. One question still proves extremely puz- zling to me: if I really loved Miss Morne, why did I abstain from testing my chances? But here the habit of a lifetime baffles me; I have been repressing my emotions so long, that I positively cant tell what particular one I repressed on that occasion. Miss Stanlow and I still continue to look forward to dancing the Diagonal; but the satisfaction I take in that is di- vided with the pleasure I have in my pink rose-bud. THE MEANING OF AN OPAL. SEn wiih what vivid and what varicd flame I love you, Aghn, said my love to me. Always so tenderly he breathes my name, The little name seems a caress to be. Clasped in an endless circlet of fair gold, An opalless a jewel than a fire Burned with bright hues whose symbols sweetly told Of deathless love, of truth, and pure desire. We studied this keen opal, he and I, Cheek warm on cheek, hand safe in sheltering hand: Here burned the blue of fair fidelity, There shot the gold of wisdom and command; Here vivid violet, in which red and blue Blent cunningly to tell the truth of love; And then all suddenly loves crimson hue Triumphantly all colors spread above. Next sprang to li~ht the emeralds fairy sheen, Whereat I looked to him; he, whisperingly: Of old, Hopes sacred symbol was this green; Profaned it means, loves tender jealousy. Then glowed an orange light, where red and gold Met in an orifict?m ; and softly he Spoke yet again: This union, sweet, doth hold Sign of eternal wedlock that shall be. Fire-like, this trembling and most vivid light Speaks deepest passionhear you me, my life? Yet purely above flame reigns virgin white, So dares this opal speak of you, my wife!

Henri Dauge Dauge, Henri The Meaning of an Opal 64-65

64 HATIPEIRS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tiring in my favor for a day or two, and then fancying he could resume his ro- mance. You have offended her, I said. It may not be so easy as you imagine to put off and take on this engagement. But Heaven helps fools like me, he asserted, and frustrates wise men like you, Endicott. And Im inclined to think he was right. When he had gone to see Sophia the next day, I occupied his absence with a carefully constructed theory of the impos- sible, to wit, her becoming a music teach- ers wife. When he returned, my theory was nowhere. And is this the end, Mr. Morne la- mentingly asked me one day, for which I have spent all my life trying to keep a position in society ? But his asides to me and his plaints to his daughter were of no avail. Finding opposition useless, he tried to induce his prospective son-in-law at least to stay in Boston. I dont want to stay in a city, declared Mac, where, for all its delightfulness, I have the example of poor neglected Vir- gin before me, and where your best group thinks it a favor to have treated Sophia well, as Endicott says they have. Knowing his irritable genius, I pardon- ed him, for my part. He went off with his bride to Cincinnati, and now Mac writes me that he makes a very good income. I think Morne would like to follow too, but he cant leave his business, nor his place on the edge of society. Miss Yar- row and Jim Torringford, who had at several different times deigned to recog- nize Sophia, can not now endure even the mention of her name; and as for Mrs. Winterrowd, she reproaches me for ever having introduced Mac, who, she inti- mates, was almost an untutored savage. One question still proves extremely puz- zling to me: if I really loved Miss Morne, why did I abstain from testing my chances? But here the habit of a lifetime baffles me; I have been repressing my emotions so long, that I positively cant tell what particular one I repressed on that occasion. Miss Stanlow and I still continue to look forward to dancing the Diagonal; but the satisfaction I take in that is di- vided with the pleasure I have in my pink rose-bud. THE MEANING OF AN OPAL. SEn wiih what vivid and what varicd flame I love you, Aghn, said my love to me. Always so tenderly he breathes my name, The little name seems a caress to be. Clasped in an endless circlet of fair gold, An opalless a jewel than a fire Burned with bright hues whose symbols sweetly told Of deathless love, of truth, and pure desire. We studied this keen opal, he and I, Cheek warm on cheek, hand safe in sheltering hand: Here burned the blue of fair fidelity, There shot the gold of wisdom and command; Here vivid violet, in which red and blue Blent cunningly to tell the truth of love; And then all suddenly loves crimson hue Triumphantly all colors spread above. Next sprang to li~ht the emeralds fairy sheen, Whereat I looked to him; he, whisperingly: Of old, Hopes sacred symbol was this green; Profaned it means, loves tender jealousy. Then glowed an orange light, where red and gold Met in an orifict?m ; and softly he Spoke yet again: This union, sweet, doth hold Sign of eternal wedlock that shall be. Fire-like, this trembling and most vivid light Speaks deepest passionhear you me, my life? Yet purely above flame reigns virgin white, So dares this opal speak of you, my wife! devotees. world. First among her treasures is the (lelicate pyxie (Pyxidanthera barbnlata), a little prostrate trailing evergreen, forming (lense tufts or masses, and among its small 4ark green and reddish leaves are thickly scattered the rose-pink buds and white blossoms. It is strictly a pine-barren plant, and its locality is confined to New Jersey and the Carolinas, yet we may travel over large sections of these States without meeting it; but when we find its haunts, it is often in such profusion that the ground is thickly carpeted with its delicate sprays. The trailing arbutus frequently blends its clusters of pink blossoms and exhales its delicious fraorance with the flowering sprays of pyxie. Nothing can be more \OL. LXV.No 385 .~ IT seems almost like a miracle that in the very heart of civilization, in one of the niost healthful regions in the Union, great tracts of fertile land still remain Natures gardens, where she nourishes the sweet wild flowers in her own mysterious way, refusing to give her secret to her most ardent Here she has planted flowers not to he met with in any other part of the

Mary Treat Treat, Mary In the Pines 65-72

devotees. world. First among her treasures is the (lelicate pyxie (Pyxidanthera barbnlata), a little prostrate trailing evergreen, forming (lense tufts or masses, and among its small 4ark green and reddish leaves are thickly scattered the rose-pink buds and white blossoms. It is strictly a pine-barren plant, and its locality is confined to New Jersey and the Carolinas, yet we may travel over large sections of these States without meeting it; but when we find its haunts, it is often in such profusion that the ground is thickly carpeted with its delicate sprays. The trailing arbutus frequently blends its clusters of pink blossoms and exhales its delicious fraorance with the flowering sprays of pyxie. Nothing can be more \OL. LXV.No 385 .~ IT seems almost like a miracle that in the very heart of civilization, in one of the niost healthful regions in the Union, great tracts of fertile land still remain Natures gardens, where she nourishes the sweet wild flowers in her own mysterious way, refusing to give her secret to her most ardent Here she has planted flowers not to he met with in any other part of the HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. charming than Natures blending of these two lovely plants. The arbutus blossoms. from a month to six weeks earlier in the pines of New Jersey than in New England, where it takes the name of May-flower. It is not unusual to find it in the pines in full bloom by the middle of March. And by this time, or even earlier, we are sure to find the litt]e shrub Cassandra calyculata, with its one-sided racemes of closely set bell-shaped flowers. There is an entrancing influence about these early flowers That come before the swallow dares, and tint The winds of March with beauty, making the first days of early spring in the pines days never to be forgotten. And there is a subtle power in the atmosphere which stimulates the sluggish winter blood, aud sends it coursing through the veins, giving us an exquisite realization of the delights in nature. We listen to the whispering pines and catch their odorous breath, while beneath our feet the spicy aro- matic winter-green, with its dark shining leaves and clusters of scarlet berries, yields its fragrance at every step. The sweet-fern, with its plumy catkins, is redo- lent with perfume, and the wax-myrtle adds its share of grateful aroma. The wax-myrtle, with its crowded clusters of greenish- white waxy berries, takes us back to the early settlers, who, Kalm informs us, used these berries to make candles, and also an agreeable-smelling soap. And Thoreau says that in Beverleys History of Virginia, published in 1705, mention is made of the myrtle, and how tile early settlers made a hard brittle wax from the berries. Of this they make candles, which are never greasy to the touch, nor melt with lying in tile hottest weather; neither does the snuff of them ever offend the smell like that of a tallow candle, but instead of being disagreeable, if an accident puts a candle out, it yields a pleasant fragrancy to all that are in the room insomuch that nice people often put them out on purpose to have the incense of the expiring snuff. So our poet-naturalist tries to emulate tile early settlers, and turn chandler hhn- self, aud gives us his process of making tallow in the following paragraph: I have since made some tallow myself. Holding a basket beneath the bare twigs iu April, I rubbed them together between my hands, and thus gathered a quart in twenty minutes, to which were added enough to make three pints, and I might have gathered them much faster with a suitable rake and a shallow basket. They have little prominences like those of an orange, all creased in tallow, which also 1~ ~ 12-~ p IIELONIAS I3ULLATA. IN THE PINES. 67 fills the interstices down to the stone. The oily part rose to the top, making it look like a savory black broth, which smelled much like balm or other herb tea. You let it cool, then skim off the tallow from the surface, melt this again and strain it. I got about a quarter of a pound weight from my three pints, and more vet remained within the berries. What use he made of his tallow is lost to the world, and we are left to infei~ that time experiment was simply to test the truth of tbe record, which gives us another instance of his accepting nothing upon trust. How many lives have come and gone since the children of the pioneers gathered the berries to light their cabins, and what a change in the lives of their descendants! while extensive tracts of pine-barrens are to this day unchangedprecisely the same as the early settlers found them two centuries ago. But within a few years past it has been found that the pine-barrens of Southern Nexv Jersey are quite fertile, and at no distant day they are destined to become the greatest fruit gardens in the Union. And then farewell to the rare floral treasures which no art can save. Looming in the distance is a long sinuous line of dense cedars, forming a dark background to tbe more open pine-barrens, toward which I direct my steps. I peer among the thickly set trees standing like sentinels, dark and forbiddingthe place for ghouls. Darker and darker it grows as I cautiously advance, with aim oppressive dread of something which I can not define. But the spirit of adven- ture overcomes the fear, and I am wholly occupied in finding secure spots to stand poll. Ample compensation comes at last. Here, hidden among the underbrush, is time rare and local Helo- nias bullafa iii full bloom, standing thickly among the trees. The eoLnEN-cLuB (omioNTmumi AQuAncuM). 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. flower-stalk of this fine plant arises from a mass of large glossy evergreen leaves to the height of a foot or two, with a dense raceme of reddish-purple flowers at the summit. And here too is the golden-club (Orontium aquaticurn), with its large dark velvety leaves and elongated scape of yellow flowers standing above the water. It must not be inferred that the Helonias can he found any- where in the cedars. At this point the plant extends over two or three acres, when it wholly disappears. And now we follow the winding course of the swamp, lured on by many attractive plants near its borders, halting now and then to gather the iuterestin~ sun-dews, especially the rare thread-leaved sun- dew (Droserct fihiformis), which is just beginning to unfold its singular fly-catching leaves. On, on we go, through patches of the (lelicate little wind-flower (Anemone nemo- rosa), interspersed with the pretty trailing vines of the partridge-berry (Mitchella repens), and violets innumerable. Sweeter than the lids of Junos eves, Oi Cvthereas hreath. Some of the shrubs of the Heath family are also coming into bloom. These lovely plants seem to have inspired the ear- ly botanists with poetic fancy. W efindagenus dedicated to Cassiope, and another to her daughter Andromeda. Cassiope. however, belongs wholly to the mountains of the North, but Andromeda and Cassandra and Leucothoe skirt the cedars in profusion. The brig~mt showy piuxter-fiower (Azalea nudiflora) also helps to make up the coterie. And now, parting a thick clump of Ilex. we find the beautiful orchid Arethusa, hid away in the gloom as if guarded by this nymph of night. Still we wander on. Ten miles are passed before we come to another locality of Helonias. Again pene- trating the dense forest, we find the plant extends over several acres, and then suddenly ceases. Great clumps of the royal fern (Osmunda regalis are just beginning to unfold their large fronds. Here it at~ DROSERA FILIFORMIS. IN THE PINES. tains almost gigantic proportions, the magnificent fronds towering above our heads six to seven feet in height. The origin of Linnamss name, Osmunda, seems doubtful. Possibly he intended to dedicate it to tbe deity which presided over the mischievous spirits of the elements, (Jsmunder being the Saxon name of Thor. But what there is about this grand regal fern to have suggested the idea to ded- icate it to the god of thunder is veiled in obscurity. In the gloom and death-like stillness which surround me a mysterious awe steals over my senses, and I ani transported back through the ages, and become one with the ancients, when nymphs peopled the woods and presided over the trees, and had the power to reward or punish those who prolonged or shortened the life of the trees in which they lived. But as I emerge in the broad sun- light the fancy is dissipated, and I bow to tIme higher wisdonm of to-day, which gives only to a Supreme Being the power to rule over mortals, to reward or punish. Lest the reader should accuse me of losing my subject iii the cedars, to ps are simply the I hasten say that these oreat swam bamiks of the rivers and streams which run through the pine-bar- rens; so I have a legitimate right to wander on. The banks some- times extend a mile or two beyond the edge of the stream, and are not very picturesque nor generally attractive. But when it is asserted that there is nothing of interest connected with them, it shows how little people mana~e to see only some can . The streams themselves are not devoid of interest. Their red waters If 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. aic constantly underrojuino the trees, causing them to fall, when they (10 not decay, and the fallino trees are slow]y aud continuously changing the l)e(I of the streams. How far l)elow the surface they extend I do not know, but they are found to a considerable depth in an excellent state of preservation. They are of ten CxtriCate(1, an(l made into shingles and other useful thinos which are sai(l to be much more durable than when made from trees which have been cut for such purposes. If the geologist did not tell us that the structure of the State of New Jersey forbids the possibility of ever finding coal mines witbh~ its borders, we might be disposed to thh~k that we had not wholly emerged from the carboniferons era, and that ages hence coal would be found where these cedars now stand. The coal might even have the imprint of the great ferns which grow amnOno the cedars, and earths inhabitants mniglmt ponder over the impress of these strange ferns. This thouoht was suggested on seeing a log which had been extricated from beneath the i)hack nuid and left to (Iry. The rains had washed oH the surplus mud, and I 5~W a large, well-preserved fermi closely adhering to its surface. But lest I oet beyond my depth in the red waters, I will once more return to the glorious sunlight imi the open pimus. While I have been wandering amid time dark cedars and lost in speculatiomi, the pimies have comne out in May-day attirefimhi gala (Iress. Brilliant clusters of pink and white laurel (Kaimnia iat4olia) as far as the eye can reach, and graceful drooping imanicles of tim pure white blossoms of time IN THE PINES. 71 fringe-tree, add their charms to light np this enchanted garden. The heavy odor of the magnolia tells us of its close proximity. And now we come to another of Natures plants which she has restricted to these gar(lens, the stately Xerophylhon set ifolium. The flowering stem arises from a thick mass of long grass-like leaves to the height of three or four feet, and is snrmounted with a large globular head of showy white flowers. Until recently this fine plant has stood with Nnttalls name (X. asphodeloides), but in the Revision of the North American Silvacece, by Professor Watson, of Harvard, we find he has restored Michauxs name of set ifollium. Of the snialler shrubs jiow in bloom we find the sand-myrtle, with its terminal um- bel-like clusters of small pinkish flowers. And gaylussacia (named in honor of the distiuguished chemist Gay-Lussac), with its lovely racemes of open bell-shaped white and pink flowers. The pitcher-plant and golden-winged iris also add their cliaruis to this May-day attire. As summer advances we find a constant succession of beautiful shrubs and herba- ceous plants, the fragrant clethra, aud azaleas and lovely orchids too numerous to mention. But we can not bid adieu to the pines without mention of the very local lit ~ ( tle fern Sehizeva pusilla This is one of Na- tures rarest treasures, to ix hich she has given l)ut oiie lone spot on eai th in (knup grounds ami(l the pines, where it extends a mile or two, and then is seeii no more. Tbis little fern I have transportedwith ~y the greatest care to similar-looking spots. miles away and oiv- en it to the care of Na- ture, but she refuses to recognize any right to the change, and allows the poorplants to languish and die. Southern New Jer- sey has ever had an ir- resistible fascination to tbe botanist, uric- qualled by any other section in the Union. Picturesque New England, with her charming flowers, can not equal it, iior the great plains of the West. And even Floridathe land of flowersmust yield the palm to the pines of New Jersey. oiicina. THE FATI-IER OF TI-IF PUEBLOS. IJ IGH up on the western slope of the Sierra Madre, in New Mexico, nearly a mile and a half above the sea-level, and l)ut a few miles beyond the divide, where scanty waters begin their timid and un- certain way down toward the Pacific. stands ancient Zufli, the father of the pueblos. When Coronado made his fa- ~OU5 nuarch into the unknown North, the Zufiuis. or Shi-wi-nas. as they call them- selves, were the first, and also the most numerous and powerful of the pueblo j)eople encountered by him. Their towns covered a great territory, almost deserving the name of kingdomterm so lavish- ly and loosely used by Coronado and his contemporary explorers. Oppression and l)estileuce have so diminished their num- hers, and their strict exclusiveness has so nupoverished their physical condition, that the once mighty nation has now been re- duced to a handful of l)eol)le. These in- habit a single pueblo. But the coun- try around is clotted with ruined towns upon whose walls is graven the symbol of the sIP - wi - na. the sacred water- spider, whose fib-are forms the Zulu coat of arms. Here, surrounded by the forsaken homes of their kindred and ancestrycrumnbhn heaps which in antiquity rival the storied stones of the Old World the Zuflis live as their fathers lived, and jealously treasure their proud history. Zufli is still the largest of the pueblos of New Mexico and Arizona. and is looked up to by the others, which differ entirely in language, with the veneration and homage belonging to the elder member of their family, the source whence come their relioion and institutions. By tIme census of 1880, under an accurate count, the pop- ulation of Zufli numbered 1602, nearly 500 more than that of Isleta, the next puebl& in size. Therefore it is still a consider- able town. It is only a few years since the Zuflis numbered several thousand, but aim epidemic of the small-pox decimated them terribly. With the exception of the Moquis and tIme Java Supais, or Kuh-nis, in Arizona the latter an almost unknown pueblo in Cataract Creek CatIon, one of time box canons of the Colorado tIme Zuflis are the most isolated of all the pueblo tribes. They have therefore beemi little influenced by contact either with Spanish or Anolo- American civilization, and to-day live sub- stantially the life they led when Coronado first started out in searclm of the seven cities of Cibola. The river pueblos, as AROUND TIlE COUNCIL. FIRE.

Sylvester Baxter Baxter, Sylvester The Father of the Pueblos 72-91

THE FATI-IER OF TI-IF PUEBLOS. IJ IGH up on the western slope of the Sierra Madre, in New Mexico, nearly a mile and a half above the sea-level, and l)ut a few miles beyond the divide, where scanty waters begin their timid and un- certain way down toward the Pacific. stands ancient Zufli, the father of the pueblos. When Coronado made his fa- ~OU5 nuarch into the unknown North, the Zufiuis. or Shi-wi-nas. as they call them- selves, were the first, and also the most numerous and powerful of the pueblo j)eople encountered by him. Their towns covered a great territory, almost deserving the name of kingdomterm so lavish- ly and loosely used by Coronado and his contemporary explorers. Oppression and l)estileuce have so diminished their num- hers, and their strict exclusiveness has so nupoverished their physical condition, that the once mighty nation has now been re- duced to a handful of l)eol)le. These in- habit a single pueblo. But the coun- try around is clotted with ruined towns upon whose walls is graven the symbol of the sIP - wi - na. the sacred water- spider, whose fib-are forms the Zulu coat of arms. Here, surrounded by the forsaken homes of their kindred and ancestrycrumnbhn heaps which in antiquity rival the storied stones of the Old World the Zuflis live as their fathers lived, and jealously treasure their proud history. Zufli is still the largest of the pueblos of New Mexico and Arizona. and is looked up to by the others, which differ entirely in language, with the veneration and homage belonging to the elder member of their family, the source whence come their relioion and institutions. By tIme census of 1880, under an accurate count, the pop- ulation of Zufli numbered 1602, nearly 500 more than that of Isleta, the next puebl& in size. Therefore it is still a consider- able town. It is only a few years since the Zuflis numbered several thousand, but aim epidemic of the small-pox decimated them terribly. With the exception of the Moquis and tIme Java Supais, or Kuh-nis, in Arizona the latter an almost unknown pueblo in Cataract Creek CatIon, one of time box canons of the Colorado tIme Zuflis are the most isolated of all the pueblo tribes. They have therefore beemi little influenced by contact either with Spanish or Anolo- American civilization, and to-day live sub- stantially the life they led when Coronado first started out in searclm of the seven cities of Cibola. The river pueblos, as AROUND TIlE COUNCIL. FIRE. THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 73 they are calledthose ranging along the Rio Grande from Taos to Isletahave mo- nopolized the attention of travellers and writers, being the most convenient of ac- cess. But these, surrounded by the towns of the Mexicans on every hand, and lat- terly having come in contact with the more pushing American, who leaves his own indelible impress upon all whom he meets, they have naturally been materi- ally influenced by the alien life around them, and their manners have been con- siderably changed thereby. However good a copy may be, however faithful as a reproduction, the most of us have a strong preference for originals. So Zufli, as the oldest of the pueblo fami- lies, as the father of their Kultur, as the Germans would say, and possessing the most distinctive characteristics, is decided- ly the representative pueblo of New Mex- ico. For this reason and because it had been little touched even by the pioneer tourists who have been brought to the new Southwest by the advent of railroads, we decided to visit it. It was well that we did so, for a mind of rare scientific attain- inents had been attracted thither for sini- ilar reasons, and the company of its pos- sessor proved of much profit and pleasure to us. The building of the new Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, with its strong, smooth track designed for heavy transcontinental travel, had just brought Zufii within an easy days wagon journey of one of the worlds great highways, being about thir- ty miles southward from the military post of Fort Wingate, thus saving a fatiguing trip of many days across a forbidding country. The land inhabited by the declining na- tion living on in the twilight of its ancient gloryworn out but not despondent, and lifting its head proudly to receive what- ever fate may yet have to bestow before its life-sands run entirely outthe land also looks old and worn and weary of its prolonged battle of myriad centuries against the united elements: perhaps a foreshadowing of the time when the vital forces of all the globe shall be as spent as in this corner of it, and the great earth- ball swing its way through space as cold and dead and nakedly desolate as the life- less, airless moon. The hoary ruins of the other continent, draped with the verdure of vines, and em- bowered and crowned with arborescent beauty, impress us with the age of man- kind. But here the ruined earth itself, sprinkled with the ruined dwellings of man, tells with awful eloquence of the antiquity of both the world and its domi- nant animal. And it tells that the youth of both is so unspeakably far~ away in the past! Since the ocean rolled over the land and forsook it, and mighty rivers coursed their way across it, the forces of nature have cut far down into the earths surface, have eaten into it, hewn it away, worn it down, and skimmed it off, until now the former level only remains in gi- gantic detached tables, standing mount- ain-like thousands of feet above the arid plains of to-day. And upon the old upper plain of these mesas the ocean has left its shells, and the prehistoric rivers their bowlders and pebbles, their beds still plainly marking the surface of what is left of the structure of a continent before its geography was remodelled. As if in sublime mockery of the insig- nificance of man and his works, time has wrought these ruins of a remote geologi- cal era into curious and fantastic seni- blances of human ruins. The most won- derful and majestically beautiful of archi- tectural forms are here, carven in the rich sandstone which ranges through all the warm hues from brown to red and yellow, with gray and black for sober relief. Cas- tles, halls, temples, with grand gables, terraces, gateways, and porches, turrets and pinnacles, lofty towers and graceful spires, form vast Titanic cities. Though only the theatre of the dusk of a race of man, here well niight be the scene of the Giitterddmmerung. And here the earths ruins only are foliage-garbed and tree-crowned. Nature has kept her funeral wreaths for her own remains alone. Forests deck the roofs of this natural architecture, and their fringes drape the sides, flank the towers, adorn the buttresses, and fill the crevices of the magnificent masonry. These forests are mementos of the time when the life-giv- ing ocean winds swept free across the young continent, and wove a green gar- ment for all its surface. The same winds still touch what is left of their old haunts, and their breath has still the same magic power. But before they sink into the dry depths of the later plains their moisture is wrung away. Meanwhile the ruins of mans buildings crouch pitiably bare at the feet of the mi~hty structures, with 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. no leaves to cover their nakedness, as if Nature denied her consolation to man the desecrater of the forest temples she reared for his protection man, who by his sacrilege is covering the worlds fair- est fields with desolation, and hastening the day of the planets death. May there not be prophecy in the Northern myth that when Iduna with her youth-giving RANK TI. cUsHING. apples is gone, leaving the gods gray and weak in the twilight of their power, then on the last day shall come Surtur from his realm of Muspelheimthe flame-world and destroy the gods and the earth with his fiery sword? For the gods are but the powers of nature, and the last day is Sur- turs day. At Fort Wingate whose clustered buildings of light gray adobe look cheerful- ly out from a mountain-side back~round of dark green pinos across a brown plain to a panorama of this architectural sublimitywhile sitting in the officers club-room one warm afternoon, we saw a striking figure walking across the parade ground: a slender young man in a pic- turesque costume; a high - crowned and broad-brimnied felt hat above long blonde hair and prominent features; face, figure, and gene al aspect looked as if he might have stepped out of the frame of a cava- liers portrait of the time of King Charles. The costume, too, seemed at first glance to belong to the a~e of chivalry, though the materials were evidently of the f ontier. There were knee-breeches, stockings, belt, etc., all of a fashion that would not have an unfamiliar look if given out as a Euro- peai~ costume of two or three centuries ago. But it was a purely aboriginal dress, such as had been worn on that ground for ages. Answering our inquiry, the army of- ficer with whom we were talking said: That is Frank H. Cushing, a young gen- tleman conimissioned by the Smithsonian Institution to investigate the history of the pueblo Indians as it may be traced in their present life and customs. He is liv- ing at Zufli, that being the best field for his researches. It is no streak of eccen- tricity that prompts him to dress that way; no desire to make himself conspicuous. He is one of the most modest fellows I ever knew, and the attention attracted by such a costume is really painful to him. But he bears it without flinching, as brave- ly as he has borne many perils and priva- tions in the cause of science. He has an end in view, and wisely adopts the means best suited to its attainment. That is the course taken by all men successful in whatever may be their chosen pursuits. Stanley would have been a fool to wear the fur clothing of the arctic regions, or even his native starched linen, on his ex- pedition into the heart of Africa. Neither would a miller follow his trade in a suit of black broadcloth. So Cushing, to make a success of his investigations, can not stand contemplating his subjects from the outside, like a spectator at a play. He must go on to the stage, and take his own part in the performance. There are no people more distrustful of the motives of stran- gers than are the North American Indians. One can only learn anything trustworthy from them by gaining their confidence and THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 75 sympathy; so Cushing has adopted the oniy sensible course. He has become one of the Zufiis for the time being, has conform- ed to all their observances, and learned their language thoroughly. He has been made their second chief, and is a recog- nized leader among them. His reward is that the curtain of a mysteriously hidden past and present has been lifted for him. To a primitive people rank and authority are most powerfully indicated by their outward symbols. To maintain his influ- ence, Cushing must out-Zufii the Zufiis, so to speak. A man sent to them from the great father at Washington, and with means and leisure, as he seems to have, must dress according to his station. And it pleases and flatters them to see him al- ways arrayed in the full traditional cos- tume of their nationa dress such as they only wear on formal occasions. He is amply rewarded for all such conformities to their pleasure. As you are intending a trip to Zufli, gentlemen, you ought by all means to meet him. To be there with him will alone make it worth your while to have come across the continent. His companionship will give you an insight into the life of a strange people whose strangeness is passing quickly awaya life which otherwise you could hope to know only by what the uninstructed, and therefore deceiving, vision might tell you.~ We soon met Mr. Cushing, and spent a few pleasant days with him at the fort. The knowledge gained by our intercourse, which developed a warm mutual friend- ship, proved to be the finest preparation for the trip, like reading up before set- ting out on a tour to strange countries. Mr. Cushing was visiting his friend Dr. Washington Matthews, the post surgeon, and was engaged in packing some rare specimens to go to the Smithsonian Insti- tution. Dr. Matthews was in hearty sym- pathy with Mr. Cushings work, being himself an able ethnologist, who has made a reputation by his researches among the Hidatzas of the Northern plains, and is now making similar studies among the Navajos. Another energetic worker in the aboriginal field, whose duty happened to call him to Fort Wingate at the time, was Lieutenant Bourke, of General Crookes staff, detailed to make special studies of the habits of the Indians. Lieutenant Bourke was modestly depreciatory of the value of his own work in comparison with that of Mr. Cushing, whom he termed the ablest American ethnologist. But Lieu- tenant Bourkes investigations, as record- ed in his accurate and remarkably full notes, can not fail to form valuable con- tributions to ethnological science. It was an early June morning,with hot sunshine, but clear, invigorating air, when we started in a four-mule ambulance on our trip of thirty miles to Zufii. There were four of usMr. Cushing, a young lieutenant, the artist, and the writer. We were soon high up on the wooded uplands of the Zuili range, enjoying on the ascent backward views over great plains expand- ing away to the blue distance of Arizona mountains. The forest scenery of the mountain heights was in delightful con- trast to the dusty plains dry waste. The road wound through shady groves of tall and sturdy pines, their trunks marked with clean red bark; also cedars with bark in queer gray scales, like the back of an alligator. The woods stood, not with closed ranks like an Eastern forest, but open and park - like, interspersed with beautiful grassy glades: just the places for grazing deer. Time sped quickly in listening to Mr. Cushings willing replies to our multitu- dinous inquiries. If you are told that any primitive people is ignorant of its history, dont you believe it, said he. They know all about it. And he told with what wonderful accuracy traditions are handed down among the ZuiTiis, the tales, repeated thousands of times, being transmitted from father to son without the change of a single word, for genera- tion after generation. Reliance on writ- ten words seems to impair the retentive power of the memory of lettered races, and the marvellous memorizing capacity of illiterate peoples is illustrated in the handing down of the grand old Northern sagas by the Icelanders, until the acquisi- tion of the alphabet enabled them to be re- corded by that great author Snorri Stur- luson; also the transmission for genera- tions, among the same people, of the most intricate of genealogical details, involving the history of widely branched families for centuries, and covering all the lands of Scandinavia. In the same way the Zuflis have an ex- tensive unwritten literature, if the expres- sion may be permitted. They have a vast accumulation of fables and folk-lore, and the past of the nation is given in what may be termed the Zufii Bible. This sa 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. cred work is publicly recited at rare but regularly recurring intervals. It is in four divisions, corresponding to four books, and each of these is divided into four chapters. Its recitation occupies two long evenings. It is in perfect rhynfe and rhythm, and is highly poetic. When Mr. Cushing first came to Zufli the charge of the Bible was officially intrusted to an aged, white-haired, and blind old man, a veritable native Home?. This was the sole duty of the bard, and he was support- ed by the public. He died, and the suc- cession came to oiie of four whom he had trained up. These four are in turn con- tinually instructing youth qualified for the high trust by birth and lineage. To acquire and record this wonderful work, the Zufii Bible, would be a Homer- ic task. Mr. Cushing has several times had the privilege of listening to its recital it is very often recited informally; but to memorize it and write it down would de- mand the closest application. To get it repeated often enough for such a purpose would need the use of the nicest diplo- macy. The Bible begins with the myth- ical origin of the people, and then enters upon what is evidently ~,enuine history. This is brought down to comparatively re- cent times, but the work ends before the era of the Spanish conquest is reached. The story of the Zuflis is told from the time when their home was on the shore of the great ocean to the westward, probably in Southern California, and the various changes of abode are given during their migration to their present seat in the land of Cibola, as the country of the Zuftis, after much historical controversy, is now fully proven to be by Mr. Cushing. The sites of the seven cities of Cibola, described by Coronado and Friar Niza, have been accurately fixed by Mr. Cushing; they are in the immediate neighborhood of the present pueblo of Zufli, which was estab- lished upon its present site not long after the Spanish conquest, having been re- moved from its location near by. The accuracy of the information pos- sessed by the Zuflis concerning the ruined towns where their ancestry lived is mar- vellous. These towns were successively settled and abandoned for various causes chief among which were the pressure of hostile people, and the choking with sand of the springs upon which they depended. The history of these places, which are al- most innumerable, is mostly back in ob scure antiquity, as is certified by time~ s imprint upon the ruins. The region in which these ruins are found covers a large part of New Mexico and Arizona. Ev- ery investigation of ruins claimed by the Zulus as theirs-their locations often hav- ing been unknown until Mr. Cushing was told that the Zufiis once lived in certain places, to be distinguished by certain marks and featureshas verified their statements, their accuracy always prov- ing unerring. The language of the Zuflis is the reverse of barbarically crude, as might perhaps be expected of an aboriginal tongue. It has a finely ordered structure, and is very ex- pressive, abounding in delicate shadings, and allowing fine distinctions of mean- ing. The order of sentences resembles that of Latin and German rather than English. The Zuflis are fastidious in their require- ments for the correct use of the language, and are intolerant of ungrammatical speech; and, strange to say, they have an ancient or classical language, spoken cen- turies ago, handed down in the many sa- cred songs, and used to-day in their reli- gious observances. This dead language bears a similar relation to their speech of to-day as Anglo-Saxon to English. It is not understood by the common people, but is familiar only to the priests and lead- ing men. So here too is the Church the conservator of ancient erudition. On every hand are met startling resem- blances to the familiar civilizations of the East. The folk-lore, the recital of whose tales and fables begins after the frost comes and fills the long winter evenings at the family firesides, offers many of these par- allels. Some of their fables are, in sub- stance, almost exactly identical with fables of Ah~sop. For spells and incantations the Zufhis use short rhymed couplets, just as did our Saxon ancestors. Their religious ceremonials are strangely like those of the ancient Egyptians and Greeks. A striking analogy between the Zufli and the North- ern mytholo~y is found in the character- ization of the spirit of evil. The Zuflis have two names for the Evil One, mean- ing respectively the maliciously bad and the stupidly bad. In the same way the Northern mythology has two evil spirits Loki, the cunning demon, the spirit of in- telligent wickedness, who often dresses evil in an alluring guise, and the strong but blind Hddur, in whom the evil coming from the possession of power by ignorance THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. is typified, Hddur killing unwittingly his beautiful brother Baldur with the lance of mistletoe placed in his hand by the sly Loki. In view of these many resemblances, the query has been raised if the story of the lost Atlantis, the sunken continent, might not be something more than a myth. Might not this, the older continent, be the ancestral home of the oldest races of the Eastern world? Or do these resemblances simply show that for the mental develop- ment of man there are certain set forms, that these repeat themselves everywhere, and that the human intellect passes through regular stages of progression, of which these similarities are marks? These are questions which ethnology may be able to answer some day when it has become a more positive science. Meanwhile we had begun to ascend the southerly slope of the Zufli range, and the steepness of the way, together with its roughness, was calculated to arouse seri- ous misgivings about arriving safely at the bottom. For a new sensation, driving on the plains and among the mountains of the Southwest may be commended. A team will fearlessly plunge, with brakes firmly set, down the banks of a deep ar- royothe dry bed of a torrentand jaunt- ily storm the almost perpendicular opposite bank. In an Eastern town the existence of such a road would fill the sleep of the selectmen with fearful nightmares of suits for damages to be brought by the owners of injured vehicles. The beautiful valley of Las Nutrias (The Beavers) now lay smiling before us with fertile fields of growing crops, and ringed around by ruggedly picturesque mount- ains, sharp rocks and sombre pines con- trasting with the peaceful beauty of the scene below. Las Nutrias is one of three or four small pueblos which, since the re- duction of the tribe, have in recent years been abandoned as permanent abiding- places, but are used as summer residences, where people live while they tend their fields. The entire population is now con- centrated at Zufli. Crossing a brook whose waters irrigated the broad fields around, we halted at one of these summer villas to rest for lunch. Its structure was rather different from the regular dwellings we afterward became familiar with. Like them, its walls were solidly built of adobe and stone, but in front was a sort of veranda, and a wide space had been cut away in the wall of the principal room, a large apartment, which was thus made into a sort of airy, open hall. The noonday was hot outside, but within there was an agreeable cool- ness, the light, dry air of these altitudes not retaining the heat away from the sun- shine. An old man and a white-haired wife welcomed us cordially, and chatted vivaciously with Kuishy, as they called our friend, while a chubby brown boy of four or five ye~s. with pretty face and black mischievous eyes, romped around us. To the lunch we had brought along, the old woman added by setting before us a basket of parched corn, which proved something like our parched sweet corn. They always slightly parch their corn be- fore grinding it into meal, spreading it out in the dome-shaped ovens which stand outside their doors, and often on their roofs, forming, as in the Orient, promi- nent architectural features of their dwell- ings. Lunch over, we set out again, but a sick mule made our progress tediously slow. Under the circumstances, finding that it would be impossible to reach Zufli that night, we turned toward Pescado, another of the summer suburbs, named for a fine large spring near by, full of little fish. This spring gushes out beautifully from beneath a great lava rock, giving fertility to a large district. Though eating many strange things, as we soon had opportuni- ty to see, the Zuflis, together with other Southwestern Indians, have their own ideas of fastidiousness; and one thing which neither they nor the Navajos will touch is fish, showing the most intense disgust at the idea of eating it. There- fore the finny inhabitants which ~give their name to the Pescado spring remain undiminished in number. The Governor of Zuiji, whom we had already met at the fort a few days before, was at Pescado attending to his farm. He was at work in a field near the road as we approached, and came to meet us. A joy- ful gleam illuminated his dusky face as he recognized his young brother, and as he walked along beside our slowly moving team he humorously responded to Kuishys playful queries. A member of the most powerful family of Zufli, Pe- tricio Pino is a maim of middle age, with a thoughtful, reflective fac~, and a profile that is almost classically Greek. We reached Pescado none too soon, for the 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. moment we stopped, our sick mule fell to dish. There were, of course, no knives the ground, and in a few minutes was and forks, and the meat was taken out dead. with the ~flngers. We learned that we The cloudless sunset was speedily fol- had quite won the hearts of our hosts by lowed by calm moonlight, and the night j doing in Rome as the Romans did; for air had begun to have a touch of chilli- ness in it when we were summoned in to supperclimbing up a ladder, and enter- ing through the roof of a house that pro- bably antedated the Spanish conquest, for Pescado is much older than the present Zufli. A large L-shaped room, with a low ceiling, and dingy walls hung with blankets and weapons, was lit by the flick- ering flame in a corner fire-place, where a large kettle was steaming and sending out an odor of stewing meat grateful to the nostrils of hungry men. Two large bowls of the smoking stew were dished out; one was set before us, and we drew around it, sitting on sheep-skins and blank- ets spread over the earthen floor, while the dusky members of the household formed a circle around the other, close by. The dish was really excellent, a kind of thick mutton broth, with whole grains of wheat to give it body, and agreeably fla- vored with a kind of herb highly prized by the Zuflis. Rolls of the peculiar pa- per bread were given to us. In eating it,it is the custom to dip the end of the roll into the broth. The liquid part was eaten with a sort of spoon made of pot- terya spoon without a handle, but at the upper end of the bowl, where the handle should be, it was curved over backward so that it could be hung on the edge of the they had been accustomed to see white visitors manifest much squeamishness about their food, and not unfrequently gingerly refuse to touch it at all. As an entr~e, a dish of roasted locusts was handed around. The writer did not venture to try them, but his companions did. They are said to be as delicate and delicious as shrimps, with a similar fla- vor. Mr. Cushing coufessed that, although he made it a rule to eat everything that the Zuflis did he never could get over a certain repugnance to the idea of eating these locusts. But as lobsters, crabs, and shrimps are insects as well as locusts, there seems to be no logical reason why the latter should not be as edible as the others. To catch them, the holes where the locust larva~ lie are watched in the early morning. Just as the first rays of the sun strike the ground, they all appear simultaneously, as if at a signal call. The ground is suddenly covered with them, and they are captured by thou- sands, and taken home in baskets and bowls. They are put to soak in cold wa- ter, and left to stand overnight. This fattens them, and in the morning they are roasted in a dish over the fire, the mass beinb continually stirred until of a nice uniform brown. After supper we lay back upon the sheep- PORTAL AND PLUME OF THE GODDESS OF SALT. THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 79 skins, quietly enjoying the novel scene about us. Sticks of pub wood had been placed on end in the corner of the fire- place, and their bright crackling flame sent a ruddy light through the large room, touching up the nearer side of all objects in sharp relief against the intensity of the shadows. Gay-colored clothing and blankets, hung on poles suspended from the ceiling, caught the dancing light; cu- rious pottery was ranged along the floor by the walls; and here and there in the walls were little niches, just as we had seen them in the walls of ruined cliff dwell- ings. In these little niches were conven- iently arranged little articles of domestic use, which had a delightfully bric-a-brac suggestiveness. The scene was just the same now as it had been within those walls hundreds of years before. We were away back in the centuries, and living the life of the remote past. We started late the next morning. In the distance, here and there among the mountains, thin blue smoke curled up in. the calm air. It came from fires which the Zufuis had made to burn over the ground for planting their peach orchards in favorably situated callous, where the trees would be sheltered from the blasting winds. In these places the Zufiis raise an abundance of peaches of a delicious quality. We passed along the base of a mesa whose steep sandstone sides were fantas- tically worn. In one projecting angle there was a large opening in the rock, through which the sky on the other side could plainly be seen. The Goddess of Salt, say the Zulus in one of their myths, was so troubled by the people who lived around her home on the shores of the great ocean that she forsook them, and came to live in this region, where she wedded the God of Turquoise. They lived happily to- gether for a lon, time; but at last the peo- ple here also became troublesome to her, and she left them, and disappeared in this mountain, making this hole by her en- trance. But in passing through, one of her plumes was brushed off, and it re- mains to this day in the shape of the high monument of stone standing in the plain close by. The resting-places of the god- dess are marked by the salt lakes, includ- ing the large one to the south of Zulu- land, from which the Zulis gather their salt. In recognition of the ownership of the ZuiTiis in this lake, other Indian tribes who get salt there have always paid them toll for the privilege, and the lake has thus been a considerable source of revenue for them. The favor of the goddess for the Zufiis was markedly shown in this bequest. The footsteps of the God of Turquoise are marked by the turquoise deposits in the mountains. We reached Zufii at noon. The pueblo lies near the foot of the majestic mesa of Th-ai-ia-lo-nethe sacred thunder mount- ain. Close to the town flows the Zuli River. Whoever knows the stream will smile broadly at the ipstructions given a government exploring expedition sent out soon after the annexation of New Mexico. The commander was charged expressly to examine the Colorado, Chiquito, and the Zuli rivers, with particular reference to their value for steamboat navigation. The stream is generally so shallow that in most places its waters would hardly reach above the ankles, and for considerable stretches in its course it loses itself in the sand altogether. But in the wet season the river often becomes a powerful tor- rent; it was for this reason that the pue- blo, which once stood on the left bank, where it was subject to inundations, was, not long after the conquest, removed to its present site on the right bank, which is somewhat bluff-like at this place. The knoll upon which Zuli stands seems high- er than it really is, owing to the way in which the houses are terraced above each other, giving the place a commanding ap- pearance as it is approached. The pre- vailing tone of the pueblo and the sur- rounding landscape is red. Such is the hue of grand old Th-ai-iii-lo-nes face; the pue)Ao is built chiefly of red sandstone largely excavated from the ruins of the elder Zuli across the river, the thin slabs about the thickness of ancient Roman bricks, being laid in red adobe mortar from the tawny soil; and the wide stretching plain around is red, and worn bare of all vegetation by the thousands of sheep own- ed in Zuli, and kept in the corrals, made of scrawny upright sticks, surrounding the place like a girdle of thorns. Mr. Cusbings room at the house of the Governor was a picturesque niinghing of culture and barbarism. A writing-table, a case of book-shelves with the books ne- cessary to his studies, and the volumes of valuable notes that recorded his investiga- tions, a stool, a student-lamp, and a ham- mock, completed the inventory of the civ- ilized furnishings. But there was the {sU HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. wonderful addition of a telephone which Mr. Cushing and his brother, who was visiting him, constructed out of a couple of old tin cans and several hundred yards of twine, to prove to the Zuflis the truth of what he had told them about the tri- umphs of American invention. The tele- phone was connected with the house of one of the caciques on the opposite side of the pueblo, about a quarter of a mile away. The Zuflis found it the most mar- vellous thing they had ever seen, and an old fogy among them, who had scoffed at it as beyond reason, on satisfying himself of its reality, stood beside it all day when it was first tested, watching its operation with intense interest. The hard earthen floor of the room was covered with Navajo and Pueblo blankets, their bright hues making them admirable for rugsa pur- pose for which they are used with artistic effect in the quarters of the officers at va- rious military posts in New Mexico. The walls were also hung with some choice examples of the blankets, giving a novel tapestry effect. With the photographs of some home friends adorning the wall, the room had a charmingly bright and cozy look. Against the outside wall of the house were built large cages for the eagles, which are kept for the sake of their highly valued plumes. Eagle-farming is carried on among the Zuflis to a considerable ex- tent. The majestic birds had lately been plucked, giving them a comically disrep- utable look, by no means in concert with the piercing, fearless gaze of their bright eyes. They were by no means tame, and even the tormenting spirit of the Zufli children could not tempt those imps of mischief to transgress the bounds of a re- spectful distance from the cages. A blow from those powerful beaks would leave a mark never to be for~,,otten. Time dignity of these eagles was unruffledsomething TA-AL-JA-LO-NE, OR THUNDER MOUNTAIN. THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 81 that could hardly be said of their plumage just thenand a slight turn of the head was all the notice their majesties conde- scended to take of by-standers. The Zufii children sported around the streets in cherubic nakedness. They were as rompingly mischievous as any children can be, and their delight in torment seem- ed abnormally developed, perhaps because their elders saw nothing out of the way in it. Most likely the savage love of tor- ture in warfare may be ascribed to this. The poor dogs fared hard at the childrens hands. Not unfrequently during our vis- it a succession of piercing yelps would be heard, while a poor cur disappeared rapidly around the corner, fleeing from a terror- izing piece of ancient pottery tied to his ruined tail, while a crowd of urchins yell- ing with delight followed at his heels. And the unhappy hogs straggling around in the outskirts, which nobody seemed to feel a proprietary interest inno wonder that they were gaunt and razor-backed and never grew fat! no wonder that the Zulus had no appreciation of the delicacy of pork! The wretched grunters were chased and hectored by the children from morn to night, until they became too ex- hausted to resist, and would submit list- lessly to the wills of their tormentors. With such sharp, bristle-covered backs as characterized these swine, it was a marvel how the naked brats could take such plea- sure in riding them. It was a prettier sight to see the chubby brown bodies of the children as they lay by the dozen dabbling in the tepid wa- ters of the river all through the hot hours, soaking in the pools, or scampering along the alkali-incrusted banks, noisily splash- ing each other. One thing to be said to their credit is that in their disagreements they never came to blows. The admira- ble Indian trait of considering it beneath the dignity of a human being to strike an- other seems to be inherent. The children are tenderly loved by their parents, and their training is carefully looked after. They have the universal child - love of toys, and the little girls cherish maternal- ly rude woollen dolls. A favorite toy for the babies is a little stuffed kid. Outside the line of the corrals for the ponies, sheep, and goats were the queer little gardens of the women. They were divided into small rectangular lots, sepa- rated by stake fences, and often by sub- stantial walls of adobe, with narrow al- VOL. Lxv.No. 3856 leyways running between. These little gardens looked for all the world like col- lections of gigantic waffles, being divided into rectangular beds, each bed cut up by intersecting ridges of earth. The little spaces thus formed appeared to be of al- most mathematical exactness in size, and were planted with onions and herbs. These little squares were thus ridged about to hold the water with which the ground was kept moist, each square re- ceiving the contents of a large water jar. The gardens were carefully tended by the women, and looked wonderfully neat. All around on the plain were the corn fields, where crops were raised without irriga- tion, a remarkable thing for such a dry climate. The corn was planted very deep in holes punched with a sharp stick, and was very low in growth, the ears branch- ing out from the stalk close to the ground. Maize had been raised in this way for ages. There are no irrigating ditches about Zufii itself, but at Pescado, Las Nutrias, and Ojo Caliente the crops are elaborately irri- gated. The labor in the fields is done by the men, who in all the pueblo tribes do not consider, as the savage Indians do, manual labor as something fit only for squaws. The street scenes of Zufii seem thorough- ly Oriental. Narrow winding ways and irregular-shaped plazas, all of which have characteristic names, give the town a quaint picturesqueness. In places the ter- raced buildings tower to a height worthy of metropolitan structures. Low passage- ways carry the thoroughfare under the buildings here and there, giving artistic contrasts of light and shade, while the oddly costumed figures in the streets make a striking picture. The monotony of blank walls is here and there broken by the rude but massive stairways leading to second stories, rows of round projecting roof beams, and the gaunt ladders leaning against the buildings everywhere, each stretching two thin arms skyward. All the inhabitants have a sailor-like agility in the use of the ladders. The women go up and down with water jars on their heads without touching a hand to support or steady themselves; little children, hard- ly out of babyhood, scramble fearlessly up and down; even the dogs have a squirrel- like nimbleness, trotting in a matter-of- course way down the rounds of a steep ladder. If there were any more trees in Zufii than the solitary cottonwood stand- 82 IIARPEiRS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ing in the yard before the ruined Francis- can chapel, it would hardly be surprising to see the dogs climbing them like cats! All through the day there is an unceas- ing carrying of water, the women passing and repassing through the streets on the way to and from the springs with the large ollas, or water jars, so nicely bal- anced on their heads as not to spill a drop, and walking with a fine, erect poise. But toward sunset is the time to visit the great spring on the hill-side just outside the city. It is a Scripture-like scene. De- scending by a path between steep banks of clay, we come upon a large pool in an excavated cavern, a round chamber in the hill-side, and entered by a great arch- like opening. Here in the cool shadow crowds of girls come and go, dipping up the water, and pausing to gossip as they meet in the path or beside the well. Their soft voices fill the air like the chatter of swallows, and their white teeth gleam as they laugh. As they come down the sloping path the slanting sunlight touch- es up the bits of bright color that adorn their dark costumes, and their figures are bathed in a mellow glow, while those fur- ther down between the high banks are dusky in the gathering shadows. Wandering through the place, we en- ter, according to the custom of the na- tives, any of the open doorways at plea- sure, stroll quietly about the house, ex- amine the pottery, blankets, and other household goods, the family meanwhile looking on with courteous curiosity. I-mu (be seated), they say; and if they are at their meals, one is welcome to join them, even though it chance to be their last crust. The woman of the house is perhaps at work baking paper bread. She takes a fresh sheet just off the fire, and making a roll of it, hands it to us. In her work she sits by the fire-place with a dish of the pasty corn-meal dough beside her made rather thin. She has no super- fluous raiment, for the fire is hot. With a quick motion she takes a handful and skillfully spreads it over a large smooth stone slab, underneath which the fire is burning. It is baked almost immediate- ly, being spread so thin. As soon as done, the sheets are laid above each other, until they form a considerable pile. They are in various colors, yellow, blue, green, or red, according to the color of the corn, which is carefully sorted, when shelled, with a view to this effect. In their way the Zuflis are paragons of politeness, and the most polished nation of Europe could hardly excel them in gen- uine courtesy. One of them after shak- ing handsthey are great for hand-shak- ingmay be seen to lift his hand to his lips and reverently breathe upon it, an action designed to breathe into himself whatever superior influence from the oth- er person may have been received by the friendly contact. Here is a dialogue be- tween two Zuflis about to smoke. Says one: Why do you not light your cigarette ? Are you older than I ? asks the other. Yes. Then light yours first, for whoever goes before his elder brother will surely stumble. The Zufii houses have large rooms and real doors, contrasting agreeably with the close little cells of many of the pueblos in the region near Santa Fe, which are en- tered only through the roof. It is not un- common to see a large room with three or four fire-places, each of a different pat- tern, one designed for roasting meat, an- other for baking bread, another for boil- ing, etc. These fire-places have a quaint mediieval look. They are generally built in the corner, with a large square hood flaring out over them from the chimney. A double fire-place may be built against the centre of a long side wall, and an im- mense broad fire-place often takes up the entire end of a room. A style consisting of a little arch in the corner is like those of Mexican houses; the other varieties are native, and are found in the oldest ruins. The houses are owned by the women. The Zuflis are strictly monogamous, while savage Indian tribes are polygamous. This contrast between two branches of the same race, one living a settled and the other a roving life, shows that monogamy is an essential condition of the former, and is an effective argument against one of the cardinal doctrines of Mormonism. The Zufii women are by no means the slaves of the men. They have their rights, and maintain them. When a man mar- ries, he goes to live with his wife, and if dissatisfied with him, she has the right to send him away. Therefore a husband is pretty careful to keep in his wifes good graces. As one of the great annual dances was to come off, we waited a week for the sake of seeing it. Its regular time was at the THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 83 full moon in May, but the two boys whose duty it was to repeat certain long prayers belonging to the ceremonials in the estufa had died, and novices had to be trained up in their places. Since the two prayers had to be committed word for word as they had been said for centuries, it was a long task, and the dance had to be post- poned to the full moon of June. Meanwhile the time passed quickly for us. During the day a mild hum of indus- try pervaded the place. The Zuflis take life easily, and never overwork, therefore they find no necessity for a periodic day of rest, but they are not lazy. Their wants are simple, and their work is ample to sat- isfy them. One of the most interesting things was to see them weave their fabrics on their hand-looms, producing beautiful designs by the nice calculation of the eye, but with no regular measurement. Our principal excitements during the week were the searching out of attractive blank- ets, either Navajo or Pueblo, and the open- lug of kilus of new pottery. Each family makes all its own pottery, as a usual thing, and every day kilns were burning all over the place. The news that a finely deco- rated olict had been seen going into a kiln in a certain street was enough to set us ago~, watching to see it come out freshly burned. One household had a special reputation for making fine ollas, another for small ware, another for figures of ani- mals, and one woman was famed for mak ing very nice turtles. The vessels to be burned were arranged carefully on the ground, and a circular, dome-shaped struc- ture of dried sheeps dung built up around and over them. This fuel is preserved carefully in bard-pressed, fiat blocks, and is kept corded up for use. It gives an in- tense heat, and a kiln is baked in two or three hours. Arch~ologists have been puzzled by the occasional discovery of fragments of hard pottery with glazed decorative lines, and theories have been formed that among the ancient Pueblos the art of glazing their pottery was known. But Mr. Cushing has discovered that this glazing is accidental, occurring only in the broken pieces of old pottery used to cover the articles in the kiln and protect them from the falling of the structure when it has mostly burned away. These fragments are made harder by the second firing, which also glazes cer- tain mineral pigments used in their deco- ration. Another interesting industry was the grinding of meal or flour. A row of girls, sometimes half a dozen or so, is often seen at work. They all kneel beside and over a series of bins, each of which has a bot- tom of smooth stone hollowed in a semi- circular shape. Each girl holds a bar of stone in her hands, and grinds the corn by rubbing it up and down with a motion much like that of a washer-woman at a scrubbing-board. The meal, ground coarse MAKING rOTTERY. 84 HKRPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in one bin, is passed on to the next, where the stone bar is of a finer texture, and so on to the end, when it is often ground as fine as flour. The jet-black hair of the girls, cut off about half-way down their face, forms a short thick veil, which is tossed up and down by the violent mo- tion, their eyes showing brightly through as they regard the strangers. The artists work was a source of won- der to the Zufiis, and they looked upon his spirited portrayals with intense interest. They were, until recently, extremely su- perstitious about portraits, and nothin~ would induce any of them to allow their pictures to be made. They believed that something of their actual personality went with their likeness, and that whoever pos- sessed it would also possess a certain con- trol over themselvesa control which might bring evil upon them. But Mr. Cushing, who has a talent for sketching which has been of great service to him in his notes, banished this superstition. It nearly cost him his life one time. But they saw that no evil came of it, and so they outgrew thei~ objections. There eems to be no Chinese conservatism about them, but when they see the light, they readily accept it. In Mr. Cushings earlier days in Zufii his sketching caused a secret resolve to be made to kill him for practices that might bring disaster to them all. It was to be done at a great dance that was soon to come off. He sat upon a neighboring house-top with sketch-book in hand, when two hideous figures among the dancers, painted a diabolical black, came to the foot of the adjacent ladder and pounded upon it with their war-clubs, shouting out something which caused the multitude to look toward him. He thought it a jocular part of the perform- ance, and smiled good-naturedly. But he understood enough of the lan~,uage at the time to distinguish the cries among the crowd: Kill him ! kill him ! It was part of the performance to kill a sym- bolical Navajo, the Navajos being the an- cient enemies of the Zufiis. Mr. Cushing had no idea that he was cast for the part of that Navajo, and did not comprehend the real gravity of the situation until he heard the women echo the cries, Yes, kill him! kill him 1 The people rose up and looked his way. The assemblage was silent with expectation. He glanced behind; there was a wall of dark figures frowning down upon him, half muffled in their blankets, and standing as immovable as statues. The twin fiends below made ready to come up the ladder. Mr. Cushing now saw that his life was really threatened. A thousand against one! Attempt at escape was hopeless. He thought his last mo- ment had come, and in his heart was ter- ribly frightened. But to give way to fear was useless, and something told him to face the danger coolly. So he leisurely laid down his sketch-book, placed a stone upon the leaves to keep them from blow- ing in the wind, produced a new hunting- knife which he had just brought back with him from Fort Wingate, where he had been on a tripnobody knew he had itand flourished it, at the same time breaking out into a loud, defiant laugh. The evident coolness of the act, his bold- ness in facing them, took his assailants aback; they paused, and uttered a word meaning, a spiritual friend, that is, a friend possessing supernatural character- istics, making him more than a common earthly friend qualities which woul bring good to them as a people. A spiritual friendwe must not kill a spiritual friend ! cried the two; but we must kill a Navajo I they shouted. So out of the court they rushed in search of a Navajo. A few minutes, and a fearful yelping was heard. In they rushed, drag- ging a Navajo, in the shape of a great yellow cur half paralyzed with fright. They stunned him with their clubs; before he was dead they had him disemboweled, and in their frenzy were ravenously eating the smoking vitals. Mr. Cushing looked on in gratitude that he was not just then in the place of that dog, playing the part of a Navajo. But the event turned out to be the most fortunate thing for him; it fixed him in the affections of the whole tribe, and from that day was to be dated his great influence in Zufli. The superstition about portraits now lingered only among some of the old wo- menthose conservators of the ancient order of things with all people. At Pes- cado the artist had made a sketch of a pretty little girl. At Zufli Mr. Cushing showed it to the childs grandmother, a white-haired old crone, who looked at it intently for a moment, then left the room, sobbing wildly, saying, My poor little Lupolita! how could you be so cruel as to let such an evil come upon her 1 One day the artist painted the portrait of Mr. Cushings father by adoption, Lai S THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 85 ni-ai-tsai-lun-kiii, the high-priest, or medi- cine cacique, one of the seven great chiefs of the Zufli. He was the personification of gentleness, and looked the mystic that he was by virtue of his high office: the Zuflis are spiritists, and their religion is in many striking phases identical with modern spir- itism. In his face, which in its strongly individual lines resembled Dantes, there was an indescribably kindly and lovable contemplative expressiona spiritual look like one who walked the earth with thoughts in another sphere. His affec- tion for Kuishy, his adopted son, was touchingly tender. One day when the lieutenant was admiring a handsome sil- ver belt of native manufacture belonging to him, the old cacique said to Mr. Gushing, Remember, my son, that whatever I have is also yours, to do with as you please. And one night in the council, when Mr. Gushing was talking rather excitedly on a matter that caused him some vexation, the old man got up and walked away quietly. Where are you going, mimy father ? Mr. Gushing asked. It grieves me to see my son show his anger, said the old man, gently. While the artist was painting his por- trait, he sat motionless for something like three hours. In this respect the Indians are ideal models. Old Pedro Pino, the Governors father, who for many years was himself Governor, sat and watched the work of painting with the keenest interest, announcing his intention not to go away until the thing was finished. Old Pedro was gray and wrinkled, and must have been over eighty years of age. He was in his prime when the Americans took possession of New Mexico, and was Gov- ernor of Zufii at the time. He was full of reminiscences of those days, and was nev- er tired of telling the lieutenant about the A ZUNI CHIEF. 86 HAlIPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. officers he knew, especially about Major still were looking dowfi upon their chil- Kendrick, who, old Pedro was delighted to dren from the walls. hear, was one of the lieutenants instruct- The Zuflis delight in a council. These ors at West Point. Old Pedro had much councils are frequently held, there being of the garrulity of age, but his talk plainly no specified intervals of time for their ses- showed the native eloquence which mark- sions. They are called whenever occasion ed the days of his power, when he used it arises, and all affairs of the nation are dis- with the skill of a trained diplomate, keep- cussed and regulated by them. They are ing his nation absolute followers of his legislatures and courts in one, and furnish will. When the portrait was completed, an extremely interesting picture of parlia- he talked long and earnestly to the yen- nientarism in its primitive form. When erable cacique. He told him: Though a council is deemed necessary, the Govern- your body perish, nevertheless you shall or orders his herald to summon it. At continue to live on upon the earth. Your sunset, when the air is quiet, the herald face will not be forgotten now; though stands upon the highest house-top in Zufli your hair turn gray, it will never turn a statuesque figure against the clear sky gray here. I know tbis to be so, for I and utters the call in a loud, nieasured, have seen, in the quarters of the officers and resonant voice. The women all hear at the fort, the faces of their fathers, who it, and the tidings quickly spread, so that have long since passed from the earth, but in the evening there is sure to be a good THE HERALD. THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 87 attendance. The herald answers for the ai-tsai-lun-kiii said, Though it is our newspaper in Zufli, for all proclamations place to elect your Governor, it is not for and items of news deemed of general im- us to say anything that may influence his portance are announced in this way. judgment. Would that all public men After dusk on the evening of the coun- had as nice an idea of the proprieties of cil d rk figures with blankets wrapped politics! It is not the voice of the people about themfor the evening air is always coolenter the Governors house silently as shadows. A grave salutation and a grasp of the hand, and they seat themselves in the large room used for the coun- cils. One evening about a hundred of the leading men were thus assembled, sitting on a sort of bench running along the side of the room or s uatting on their haunches in a circle. On the floor in the midst of the circle, the Governor had strewn a lot of corn husks, and a bag of fine- cut being set out, cigarettes were rolled, and a constant smoking was kept up. The air would have been thick enough had not the large fire- places given such excellent ventilation. The women and the young men gathered re- spectfully around the doors and windows and listened. As the evening wore on, the room grew warm, and the men gradually shed their gar- ments, until about half the assemblage sat with naked bodies of a ruddy bronze hue. As it grew late, some arose and glided silently out of the room. But it was an impor- tant matter they were talking about, and the most of them staid until it was settled at a small hour of the morning. The subject was discussed ear- nestly and gravely, no emo- tion being shown either in the face or in the manner of speaking, although some would occasion- that chooses the Governor of Zufli, but the ally betray their excitement in a trem- caciques. bling voice. It w~s a will case under The pueblo Indians have been repeated- discussion and the Governor sat motion- ly characterized as fire-worshippers. But less and speechless, being the judge from with the Zulus, at least according to Mr. whose decision there could be no appeal. Cushing, the principal object of their wor- Early in the evening the two caciques ship is water, just as was stated by Co- who were present arose to go. In re- ronado. And well may they worship it, spouse to Mr. Cushings question, Lai-ui- living as they do in the midst of a sun- CHIEF ON HORSEBACK. 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. parched land, their life dependent upon the life-reviving element so scantily be- stowed! The writer will never forget how one day, as he was standing in the door of the Governors house, the clear sky became overcast with black clouds. The Indians standing around cast anxious glances at the heavens; with the first drops of rain they all said, with an expression of un- speakable reverence and gratitude, E-la qua! c-la qua ! which are their words for thanks. One day there was a great excitement over a race between two fast ponies. A large crowd was collected, and betting was going on at a lively rate. All sorts of things were staked on the contestcloth, skins, dresses, blankets, jewelry, harness- es, etc. These things were deposited in great heaps on the ground, and then, aft- er all the bets had been arranged, every- body went down on to the plain to see the start. The riders were two lithe, light youths, entirely nude, and with long black tresses flying in the wind. It was a spir- ited, graceful sight as they dashed away at full gallop on their tough little steeds. They were soon out of sight in the dis- tance. It was some time before they came to view again, for the course was a long one of about six miles. At last they ap- peared, two black dots, and coming near- er they were seen to be still neck and neck. The race was close, and there was but little distance between the two horses as they dashed past reeking with sweat. The crowd was intensely excited, and greeted the finish with a tumult of shrill yells. An old fellow, fat and good-na- tured - looking, who had taken an excep- tional interest in the race, perhaps be- cause of large stakes, cantered down to meet the contestants as they came in. But while away it seems that his mare threw him, for she came tearing back riderless and with saddle hanging loose, kicking it off as she neared the crowd. Some time after the old man came run- ning back afoot, and as he came to a stop he said, emphatically, Goddam !an ex- pression which constitutes about all the English known in Zufli. And as they do not know the meaning of that, its use can hardly be said to be sinful. It was the day before the great dance. Everybody was getting ready for the hol- iday. All were to appear in their best clothing and with flowing hair, released from the little queues in which it is usu ally confined. Late in the afternoon we saw a young nian sitting on a house-top with beaming face, while a brown beauty was carefully combing his hair as she stood behind. So the young man was a newly accepted lover! When a youthful Zufli falls in love with a girl, he hints that it would be a real nice thing to have his hair combed. If she takes the hint and proceeds to comb it, it is a token that he has won her favor. The youth of Zufli are just as sentimental, just as spooney in their love affairs, as fond of moonlight rambles and whispered nothings, as any lovers well can be. As dusk deepened into night and the full moon rose over the roof-tops of Zufli, there was a strangely beautiful sight. The narrow river meandered in a bright silver thread over the mysterious indefinite ex- panse of the plain. The stars glinted brightly in the intense blue of the mar- vellously clear sky, and looked down upon a new constellation. Fires gleamed on every house-top, lighting up great wall spaces with ruddy reflections, and sending tall shadows flitting round every- where from the watching groups. The whole town was dotted with the fires, and it looked as if a mild conflagration were in progress, feeding scantily upon such unpromising material as stone and adobe. These fires were kindled for the baking of the h& pcr-lo-lci, or sacred festival bread, baked on the evening of every festival by the young maidens of the pueblo. Ev- erywhere there was a contrast of strong light and deep shadow, the effect modified and softened by the floods of white moon- light. The groups of silent figures stand- ing and sitting around formed composi- tions ready for an artist, and they were touched with Rembrandt lights. H& per-lo-ki looks, and is said to taste, like Boston brown-bread. It is made by a rather peculiar process. The corn meal of which it is composed is chewed up by the young girls. The object of this is to sweeten it, for the acid of the saliva, unit- ing with the starch of the corn, forms sugar. Some of the Zuflis, including the Governors family, who can afford to buy sugar, make their h& per-lo-ki in the way less economical, but more acceptable to civilized palates. The morning of the festival dawned, and we were out early to see everything that was going on. All the town was in holiday dress. Everybody had his hair THE FATHER OF THE PUEBLOS. 89 nicely combed, after washing it with amo- ii the root of the yucca, or soap-plant, which makes the finest shampoo in the world, leaving the hair soft and glossy. The fes- tivities were ushered in by the appearance of the Mudheads, nude men painted a uni- form mud-color from head to foot, and dis- guised with droily hideous masks of the same hue, while several great knobs, like enormous wens, adorned a smooth head with a snouted countenance. The effect was irresistibly mirth-provoking; the char- acters looked like pantomime clowns just coming under the spell of Circe. The Mudheads ran through the streets, cutting queer antics, while they shot arrows into a bunch of feathers which they kept con- tinually throwing on to the ground ahead of them. Then, after a while, the dancers made their first appearance, standing in a line in the street, and dancing and singing much as we had seen at Pescado. But now they were all arrayed in full cos- tumes, and every performer was masked. After dancing solemnly for some time, they broke ranks and went back to the estufa, where the time was passed in their mystic solemnities until they appeared in another part of the town and continued their dance. Thus it went on through the morning, until the dancers had made the round of all the principal places of the town. At noon there appeared on the streets some frightful figures, hideous in the extreme and made diabolical in aspect by the buf- falo horns which they wore on their heads. They ran along armed with great bunches of reeds, and everybody scattered at their approach, for they were privileged to strike any person they met, and could inflict a blow not to be despised. There were shrieks of lau~hter as the crowds dispersed, running up ladders and scrambling over the house-tops. Whoever could get in- doors was safe, for the horned creatures could not pursue them beyond a threshold. Courtesy toward the men-from-where- the-sun-rises would not have permitted them to molest us, had they overtaken us but to please the people we joined in the fun, and pretended great fright, clamber- ing~ ladders and fleeing until we were BAKING HE-PER-LO-KI ON THE HOUSE-TOPS. 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. breathless. The spectators were convulsed with mirth at our apparent dismay. The Zufiis have one annual dance ex- pressly to frighten the children and keep them in good behavior the rest of the year. Characters even more horrible in appear- ance than those with the buffalo horns are the chief actors. They represent fearful goblins who come to devour and carry off the children. They make the round of all the houses in town, and at their ap- proach the parents conceal their little ones, pretending to fight the demons off and defeiid their offspring desperately. This makes a lasting impression on the children, and the mention of these crea- tures has thenceforward the same quieting effect as our nursery bugbears, only the bugbears are made a reality to them. For- merly the Zuiiis had a certain dance which took place once in thirty years. Its cere- monies required the sacrifice of a child. For the victim the worst child in the place was always selected. The mention of this festival was very apt to produce instanta- neous good behavior in a contrary child. The ceremonies of the morning were ended with the disappearance of the horn- ed monsters, and there was a recess of about two hours. At about three oclock began the most imposing part of the exer- cises, which for the rest of the day were held in what is called the Dance Place. This was a large rectangular court; on all sides the houses rose in terraces, forming a picturesque amphitheatre for such a so- lemnity. It was the most gorgeous natu- ral spectacle we had ever seen in real life. Everything was so thoroughly in earnest about it; there was nothing that savored of the stage, nor was there evident any of the tawdry display customary to the pa- rade days of civilization. It was a gen- uine manifestation of the deep religious feeling of the people. The costumes, which were generally highly grotesque, were splendidly elaborate, brilliantly beau- tiful in color, and rich in material. The genuineness of their make and the reali- ty of the properties would put to shame the tinselled pretense of our gala days. There were wonderful varieties of head- gear plumes, crests, beards, fantastic masks checkered off in various colors, ev- ergreen decorations of spruce twigs ar- ranged around the neck in a sort of a syl- van ruffle, or in a girdle around the waist; ingenious devices in the decoration of kilts, sashes, fine skins, while various kinds of antique-looking weapons, such as war-clubs, spears, and bows, ornamented with bunches of reeds, gave the scene a sort of heroically classical aspect. Many of the beards were of a pale Scandinavian blonde, while the hair was of the same color in a number of instances. Perhaps these might have represented mythologi- cal characters who were albinos. But the albinos had no beards. Is it not possible that they may point back to a time when a light haired and bearded race existed in America? The albinos of Zuflithere were several in the placewere droll-look- ing figures; they looked like the Dutch peasants in the paintings of Teniers. Thronging the terraced roofs of the Col- osseum-like Dance Place were the specta- tors, their best apparel with its brilliant colors showing like a gay parterre, while on the upper line figures in brilliant hues stood in intense sunlight against a deep, cloudless sky. All were gazing intently upon the dancers in the arena below, a line of stately rhythmic movement of rich colors, kaleidoscopic in its dazzling effect. From the dancers throats arose a weird swelling song, accompanied by the jan- gling and rattling of rude instruments held in the hands and attached to the heels. This particular dance was called the all- in-one, all the various dances of the Zufii religion being represented in it. Each figure impersonated some character in the Zufii mythology. There were, for in- stance, the God of Water, the God of Fire, the God of Air, the God of the Cactus, the God of Turquoise, the Woman from the Moon, and the Echo God. A dance would last about ten minutes, during which the only motionless figures would be the Mud- heads, who would stand around in groups, or sit upon the ground with a comical open - mouth air, and the priest of the dance, who was the only unmasked par- ticipant. The priest was a handsome youth with flowing hair, dressed in a pic- turesque mediawat - looking costume of black buckskin, touched off with red sash- es and an abundance of silver buttons in rows. He wore knee - breeches and leg- gings, and looked as if he might have come out of the days of the troubadours. He stood statue-like at the head of the line of dancers, his position one of easy grace, and he held a vessel of sacred meal in his hand. From this he would occasionally scatter a pinch of the meal on the ground. At a signal, which seemed something like THE GATES OF PARADISE. 91 that given in a theatre for a change of scene, the dancers would stop and retire for an interval of ceremonies in the estufa. As they were leaving the place, a bit of pan- tomime would always occur. The Wo- man from the Moon, who wore a skirt, and had a crescent-like mask, and long yellow hair streaming down her backher whole aspect very Mother - Goose - like - would have a piece of by-play with the God of the Cactus, whose place in the line was just in front of her. The legend was that she had come down from the moon to gather cactus ; therefore the God of the Cactus was trying to avoid her as she en- deavored to pluck the cactus adornments of his head-dress, and place theni in the large basket she carried on her back. Meanwhile the Echo God, who was the last figure in the line of dancers, and kept invariably half a note and half a step be- hind the singing and dancing of the oth- ers throughout the whole, was at the end of the dance obliged to echo everything that was shouted out to him, lie was thus often kept behind for several min- utes after the others had gone in. The mischievous Mudheads took a leading part iu this diversion. We shouted out to him in English, and although ignorant of the language, he proved himself a remarkably clever imitator. But when one of us whistled, that was beyond his mimicry, and it seemed to disconcert him a little. Each of the impersonators had come into Zufli in the early morning from the direc- tion of the place where the respective gods were supposed to live. The Echo God, for instance, came from his home in the valley near the sacred mountain. The intervals between the dances were filled out by the antics of the Mudheads, whose functions corresponded exactly to those of the clown in a circus. Here was another of those inexplicable resemblances between Zufii customs and those of our race. The Mudhead was an institution with them as far back as their traditions reached, and they had never seen any- thing in the nature of a circus. But, like our clowns, the Mudheads would bur- lesque the performance; they would get together and try to sing and dance like the regular performers, and would make the most awkward blunders, always re- sulting in failure and discomfiture. They would make a deal of clownish fun, show- ing that an acute sense of humor enters into Indian nature, the spectators greeting every sally with shouts of laughter as mer- ry as ever resounded from the benches around a canvas - covered ring; and in their nude bodies, and heads smooth and bald, with the exception of the knobby ex- crescences, they resembled the make-up of the traditional clown. As soon as the dancers appeared again, the Mudheads would subside, but would at once resume their indecorum with the beginning of the next pause. So it went on until the de- clining sun left the Dance Place in shad ow. When its last ray had gone from the arena, the dance was ended. The handsome young priest approached the group of Mudheads, who stood with rev- erently bowed heads, and appeared to give them his benediction, sprinkling them with sacred meal. Performers and public then dispersed. That was our last day in Zufii. THE GATES OF PARADISE. CERTAIN expressions spontaneously uttered by the right men in the right places carry with them such an irresisti- ble conviction of their truth as to he ac- cepted at once by mankind as their uni- versal property and decision, which none venture to criticise or gainsay. Of this character is the memorable saying of Mi- chael Angelo Buonarotti regarding the doors of the Baptistery at Florence, fa- cing the Duomo, executed by Lorenzo Ghi- berti. Standing before them one day, he was asked what he thought of them, and whether they were beautiful; to which he replied, They are so beautiful that they might stand at the gates of paradise. A more beautiful and comprehensive crit- icism was never bestowed on a work of art, and none from a weightier source. The greatest artist of all modern time, perhaps also the greatest who ever exist- ed, in a few words of pregnant meaning stamped the genius of Lorenzo Ghiberti with an inipression which will outlast the bronze itself, arid never die out of the meniory of men. It has never been ques- tioned or misunderstood; for it embodies emphatically, succinctly, and intelligibly to every one capable of appreciating in any measurable degree the aspirations of art and beauty and skill of workmanship, the special ambition and idealism of the maker of these gates. And this was to make a fitting entrance to the oldest church of Florence, built, as tradition

James Jackson Jarves Jarves, James Jackson The Gates of Paradise 91-98

THE GATES OF PARADISE. 91 that given in a theatre for a change of scene, the dancers would stop and retire for an interval of ceremonies in the estufa. As they were leaving the place, a bit of pan- tomime would always occur. The Wo- man from the Moon, who wore a skirt, and had a crescent-like mask, and long yellow hair streaming down her backher whole aspect very Mother - Goose - like - would have a piece of by-play with the God of the Cactus, whose place in the line was just in front of her. The legend was that she had come down from the moon to gather cactus ; therefore the God of the Cactus was trying to avoid her as she en- deavored to pluck the cactus adornments of his head-dress, and place theni in the large basket she carried on her back. Meanwhile the Echo God, who was the last figure in the line of dancers, and kept invariably half a note and half a step be- hind the singing and dancing of the oth- ers throughout the whole, was at the end of the dance obliged to echo everything that was shouted out to him, lie was thus often kept behind for several min- utes after the others had gone in. The mischievous Mudheads took a leading part iu this diversion. We shouted out to him in English, and although ignorant of the language, he proved himself a remarkably clever imitator. But when one of us whistled, that was beyond his mimicry, and it seemed to disconcert him a little. Each of the impersonators had come into Zufli in the early morning from the direc- tion of the place where the respective gods were supposed to live. The Echo God, for instance, came from his home in the valley near the sacred mountain. The intervals between the dances were filled out by the antics of the Mudheads, whose functions corresponded exactly to those of the clown in a circus. Here was another of those inexplicable resemblances between Zufii customs and those of our race. The Mudhead was an institution with them as far back as their traditions reached, and they had never seen any- thing in the nature of a circus. But, like our clowns, the Mudheads would bur- lesque the performance; they would get together and try to sing and dance like the regular performers, and would make the most awkward blunders, always re- sulting in failure and discomfiture. They would make a deal of clownish fun, show- ing that an acute sense of humor enters into Indian nature, the spectators greeting every sally with shouts of laughter as mer- ry as ever resounded from the benches around a canvas - covered ring; and in their nude bodies, and heads smooth and bald, with the exception of the knobby ex- crescences, they resembled the make-up of the traditional clown. As soon as the dancers appeared again, the Mudheads would subside, but would at once resume their indecorum with the beginning of the next pause. So it went on until the de- clining sun left the Dance Place in shad ow. When its last ray had gone from the arena, the dance was ended. The handsome young priest approached the group of Mudheads, who stood with rev- erently bowed heads, and appeared to give them his benediction, sprinkling them with sacred meal. Performers and public then dispersed. That was our last day in Zufii. THE GATES OF PARADISE. CERTAIN expressions spontaneously uttered by the right men in the right places carry with them such an irresisti- ble conviction of their truth as to he ac- cepted at once by mankind as their uni- versal property and decision, which none venture to criticise or gainsay. Of this character is the memorable saying of Mi- chael Angelo Buonarotti regarding the doors of the Baptistery at Florence, fa- cing the Duomo, executed by Lorenzo Ghi- berti. Standing before them one day, he was asked what he thought of them, and whether they were beautiful; to which he replied, They are so beautiful that they might stand at the gates of paradise. A more beautiful and comprehensive crit- icism was never bestowed on a work of art, and none from a weightier source. The greatest artist of all modern time, perhaps also the greatest who ever exist- ed, in a few words of pregnant meaning stamped the genius of Lorenzo Ghiberti with an inipression which will outlast the bronze itself, arid never die out of the meniory of men. It has never been ques- tioned or misunderstood; for it embodies emphatically, succinctly, and intelligibly to every one capable of appreciating in any measurable degree the aspirations of art and beauty and skill of workmanship, the special ambition and idealism of the maker of these gates. And this was to make a fitting entrance to the oldest church of Florence, built, as tradition 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. states, out of the materials of a pagan temple which had occupied its site nearly a thousand years before, and dedicated to the baptism of all the infants of Florence, at their birth, into the fold of Christiani- ty. This quaint, archaic, octagonal build- ing, itself a museum of art of many epochs, having its origin in the slow de- struction of the beliefs of their pagan fore- fathers, erected in part from the spoils of their doomed shrines, was particularly a representative edifice to the Florentines. For it recorded the death and burial of their primitive faith, and the rise and progress of the new and more spiritual, with its loftier hopes and purer doctrines; the resurrection from the dead into an im- mortal life by means of public baptism; the sealing of their children into the Christian fold by passing through its ever- open, inviting gates for their obtaining the new salvation offered freely alike to bond and free. Consequently the Bap- tistery was associated in the minds of all citizens with the first saving rites of the new Church for themselves and their off- spring, symbolizing their becoming thence- forth the heirs of the heavenly Jerusalem, whose golden gates it opened to them as soon as they first breathed the atmos- phere of the earth; recording both their spiritual and material citizenship in its ancient records and the solemn vows of their sponsors. They might thencefor- ward worship in other edifices, but it was an imperative duty to make their first confession and adoption of their religious belief here, in a building which recalled the memories of other times and faith, whilst pointing out the new way of life. None other, therefore, has ever been or can be dearer or more instructive to the souls of the Florentines than this histori- cal record of their religion from its earliest dawn to the latest hour, generation on generation for twelve hundred years now having passed through its portals, moved by one common purpose and love. It was therefore no conimon ecclesiasti- cal temple that LorenzoGhiberti was called upon to decorate as a sculptor and bronzist, and for no common purpose. Besides making his gates worthy of their special destination and symbolism, he was also called on to make them do equal artistic justice to the great cathedral they were to face, which aspired to be the grandest re- ligious structure of Christendom. The general history of Ghibertis gates doubtless is familiar to every reader. But the details will bear repeating, especially as America has now become possessed of a reduced bronze copy of those praised by Michael Angelo, gilded as were the origi- nals, which are to be set up in the house of Mr. William H. Vanderbilt, in New Yorka destination for the creations of his brain and hands of which Ghiberti in his wildest fancies could never have dreamed, for Columbus was not born when he began his labors. These copies are one- half the size of the original, arid were made by Barbedienne, of Paris. They were exhibited at the London Universal Exhi- bition of 1851, where they were purchased for one hundred thousand francs, and placed by Prince Demidoff in his palace of San Donato, near Florence, forming the entrance to his chapel, but latterly changed to a music-room. At the great sale of his collections last year they were purchased on American account, and sent to New York to be used as above indicated. Before giving a detailed account of these last gates of Ghiberti, it is necessary to state that the Baptistery was intended to have four sets, one on each fa~ade. Andrea Pisano was employed to execute the cen- tral one on the northern side, for which Giotto had prepared a design. He began his work in 1331, assisted by his even more skillful son, Nino, and completed it in 1339. The style of execution is somewhat eman- cipated from the Byzantine type, showing the influence of the Pisan school. On the cessation of the plague in 1400, the Guild of Cloth Merchants and the city government of Florence decided to have made two other bronze doors for the Church of San Giovanni, to correspond with that of Andrea Pisano, and thins complete the edifice, walling up the fourth space toward the west to accommodate the high altar. Artists throughout Italy were invited to present specimens of their work in bronze, to be submitted to the judgment of a jury of thirty-four individuals, includ- ing painters, sculptors, workers in metals, and others experienced in art, not merely of Florence, but other countries. Lorenzo Ghiberti, who was born in 1381, was then in his twentieth year, residing in Rimini, where he had gone to escape the plague, and had been honorably and profitably employed by Pandolfo Malatesta, the lord of that city. Bartoluccio, his step-father, no sooner heard of the intended work than he wrote Loreuzo, urging him to return to THE GATES OF PAHADISE. 93 TIlE GATES OF GIIIBERTI. 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Florence and take part in the coming trial, telling him that the doors were to be made with the greatest magnificence and rich- ness, as was proper for the dignity of a city like theirsto nse his own words, Con qnella maggior magnificenza e richezza che alla dignit~ di un popolo come ii nos- tro si convengono, and adding, Ora torna, tu pure Lorenzo, a dar saggio di te. L occasione ~ bella per mostrare I ingegno tuo. Now come back imme- diately, Lorenzo, and give a sample of your capacity; the opportunity is a fine one to show your talents. Although Malatesta urged him to re- main at his court, he lost no time in re- turning to his native city to join the great concourse of artists who had assembled from various parts of Italy to compete, not for the doors at first, but for the privi- lege of becoming competitors for the final designs, after giving proofs of their gener- al ability in this direction. Out of their whole number the city and guild selected only six as competent to the trial, but in what manner and on what ground this selection was made we do not know. Of the six, two were Florentines and the oth- ers natives of Tuscany, but by the usage of the time considered as foreignersi. e., not city-born, although of the province. Even within my recollection, before the unity of Italy, Florentines spoke of the Li- vornese, or inhabitants of Leghorn, as for- eigners, and in no friendly spirit. From the artists thus chosen it would appear that the best that offered, without regard to local prejudices, were named, each receiving a sum of money, with the injunction to produce within one year a story or panel in bronze, all of equal size, from the subject furnished by the of- ficials, which was the Sacrifice of Abra- ham, and was intended to be one of the compartments of the first door. This composition was to be treated in a natu- ralistic manner, to include landscape in detail, with animals and human figures, nude and clothed, some in full relief, oth- ers in half and low relief, according to the rules of scientific perspective, which was then becoming a favorite study with the Florentine school. It would seem from these conditions that the rival artists had no other option than to neglect the severer classical rules of sculpture, and adapt their work to the new taste, which imposed on it a practice as regards picturesque compo- sition that belongs legitimately to paint- ing rather than its sister art, as strict- ly recognized and obeyed by the Grecian artists. The names of the six candidates chosen were Filippo Brunellesci, the celebrated architect of the dome of the cathedral; Lorenzo Bartoluccio (Ghiberti); Jacopo della Quercia of Siena; Niccolo of Arez- zo one of his scholars; Francesco of Val- dambrina; and Simone of Colle, renown- ed for his bronzes. Vasari makes the number seven, adding Donatello to this list. There is, however, no authentic ev- idence that he took an official part in the competition, even if he was not too young; nor is there any bronze or design of his existing to show that he tried his skill pri- vately, although he might have attempt- ed something without entering into the public competition. Those who did work- ed secretly, so as not to borrow anything from each other, keeping their designs also from the public, with the exception of Ghiberti. Assisted and counselled by his shrewd step-father, Bartoluccio, he began many models before fixing on one, invit- ing citizens and strangers continually to examine and criticise them, putting no privacy on his work. Vasari says he profited greatly by this course, as well he might, for Florence at this epoch was full of excellent judges of art, besides distin- guished artists, whose comments could not fail to be useful to a youth not yet twenty, whatever his native ability. The result showed the wisdom of his action. When the year had expired, the jury, the consuls of the guild, and many emi- nent citizens and strangers of all classes assembled in great state and seriousness to examine the six panels and discuss their merits. Although at first there was con- siderable diversity of opinion regarding four of them, each possessing some excel- lent points, but having also noticeable de- fects, all agreed that the designs of Bin- nellesco and Ghiberti were superior to the others; not excepting a model offered by Donatello, Vasari writes, which, however, is now supposed to be one of his many er- rors of fact, as he does not himself allude to it in his life of Donatello. Neither does Ghiberti in his commentaries, al- though he names all the other competi- tors, speak of Donatello. And his silence is followed by the contemporary writer of the life of Brunellesco. I am sorry to con- vict Vasari of an error in his statement, and tobe obliged to exclude the gifted sculp THE GATES OF PAIRADISE. 95 tor of the St. George from this amiable rivalry of genius, but it must be done, the more especially, as before remarked, as there is absolutely nothing existing of Do- natellos work to confirm the idea that he actually competed. It is true, also, that no- thing has come down to us of the models of the four Tuscan artists; perhaps because, after being rejected, no special care was tak- en of them, whilst those of Brunellesco and Ghiberti in perfect condition are now to be seen in the National Museum of Florence. We have therefore in material evidence the distinctive merits of these two famous panels, and can determine for ourselves how far the judges were right in ascribing to Brunellescos model greater vigor of ex- ecution and strength of composition, and to Ghibertis more grace, elegance, and picturesque variety of detail and expres- sion. Both displayed a striking advance in naturalistic truth and artistic design over the previous work in bronze of their school. Indeed, the judges were so divided in opinion, first inclining to the one and then to the other, as their best points were brought into contrast, that it became very uncertain who would win. Some pro- posed that the execution of the gates should be divided between Brunellesco and Ghiberti as the better way of termi- nating the question; others advocated the postponement of any decision. But the consuls insisted on an immediate judg- ment. During this discussion Donatello had taken Brunellesco apart, and was con- versing earnestly with him. Suddenly Brunellesco turned toward the judges to speak, and all became silent to hear what he had to say. With a firm voice he ex- claimed: Adjudge, adjudge the work to Lorenzo Ghiberti! He alone deserves it. I am certain that the public can not better be served, or with more distinction ; both adding that Ghibertis model excelled all the others, and it would be more a proof of envy to deprive him of the commission than of justice to give it to him, and to allow him the opportunity of producing the noble fruits of which he gave such fair promise. His words were electric. Yes, yes ! exclaimed all the judges and the crowd present, breaking out into fran- tic applause, waving their caps, clapping their hands, and, with genuine Italian im- pulse, embracing and kissing each other after a fashion that astonishes the less demonstrative Northern peoples. This scene is a bright jewel in the an- nais of art, which has to narrate so often the contrary passions of envy, jealousy, and even criminal attempts on the lives or works of successful artists. Domenichino had to fly for his life from Naples because of the rage his talents excited among his rivals in that city; and even in Florence, where the above memorable act trans- pired, a century later, a guard had to be set over Michael Angelos David, when first completed, to prevent its being muti- lated by his professional enemies. Hence we must regard the disinterested action of Donatello and Brunellesco as one of the most magnanimous deeds that history has ever recorded, where so much was at stake that sensitive artists hold dearer even than any material honors or emoluments. Well might Michael Angelo, in gazing a hundred years afterward on the second and more beautiful set of doors made by Ghiberti for the eastern fa9ade, and which may justly be called the result of the award of the first set to Ghiberti, inspired by the feeling that led to their production, enthusiastically exclaim, They are wor- thy to be the gates of paradise itself, for certainly the fraternal spirit of self-denial, in honor preferring one another, so dif- ficult to feel and practice in this hard-fist- ed, treacherous world, baptized them from their very beginning into the fold of celes- tial things, spreading a heavenly glow over them. These remarks refer more particularly to the second door, executed long after the first by Ghiberti. This was composed in its general features very much on the plan of the small compartments and stories of that of Andrea Pisano, and was only removed from the archaic Byzantine type by the superior action and modelling of its fig- ures and chief details. The full develop- ment of the picturesque element in sculp- ture in its best phase was not made by Ghiberti until, in the maturity of his genius, he had completely freed himself from the influences of his predecessors and formed an entirely independent style, of which he is still the greatest master. But of this I shall speak more at large when we come to the second door. The first contains twenty compositions representing the life of the Saviour. Be- neath them are others with figures of the four Evangelists and four Doctors of the Church, varied in action and idea, all in- closed in an elaborate, rich frame-work of foliage and ornaments of an appropriate 96 HAIRPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. character, borrowed from nature, with male and female heads of prophets and sibyls symmetrically disposed at each an- gle. By itself this door would have con- ferred great distinction on Ghiberti, but it is so much eclipsed in every respect by his subsequent one that I fear few travellers bestow on it the attention it deserves. Cambi and Ricci assert it was completed and put into place in April, 1424. But later investigation speaks of it as not finished until three years afterward. Possibly the main parts were done at the first date, and the borders or frame added later. It weighs 34,000 pounds, and cost, by one statement, 16,594 golden forms; Vasari gives the sum at 22,000. The form of the Florentine republic corresponded to elev- en lire of the present currency of Italy, and had a relative purchasing value four times greater so that we may estimate each form as worth forty - four lire or francs on tbeir present monetary basis. The cost of this door, therefore, taking it at the larger sum, which probably includes all the incidental expenses of finishing and setting up, would e nal ~195,000. These old cloth merchants of Florence were no nigrgards when art and the honor of thcii city and religion were concerned. The guild were so much pleased with it that they gave Ghiberti full permission to consult his own tastes in the design of the third door without other restriction on their part than that it should be the rich- est, most highly adorned, most beautiful, and most perfect that he could possibly contrive, or that could be imagined. Nor TIlE FIRST PANELTHE CREATION OF ADAM AND EVE, AND ThEIR EXPULSION FROM PARADISE. THE GATES OF PARADISE. 97 would they have him spare either time or labor, to the end that as he had previous- ly surpassed all other sculptors, so lie might now eclipse and surpass all his own earlier works. Verily this is indeed a commission after an artists own heart, an ideal commission such as every gen- ~uine artist longs for at least once in his life. But it implies two conditions not often to be found in harmony. First, a tried, conscientious, high-minded artist; and secondly, a confiding, intelligent client with a long purse, or one disposed to put into enduring art form the desires of a noble spirit without regard to cost. Ghiberti and the guild were fortunate in each other. In the first door he was re- stricted to the forms prescribed or suggest- ed by the consuls and the subjects they selected from the Bible histories. Now they gave him complete freedom of choice and action in ten subjects selected from the Old Testament by Leonardo Aretino in their behalf. He well repaid their con- fidence. For this second door, so pre- eminently beautiful, and surpassing im- measurably the former, was executed at somewhat less cost Richa says 14,594 formsand was finished about 1450, only five years before his death. On both sets of the doors he had labored forty years in all. As is seen, they are divided into ten compartments, five on either side, embody- ing the following stories: 1st, the creation of Adam and Eve; 2d, Adam and Eve with Cain and Abel; 3d, Noah and the ark; 4th, the story of Abraham and Isaac; 5th, the story of Jacob and Rebekah; 6th, the story of Joseph and his brethren; 7th, Moses on Mount Sinai; 8th, the fall of Jer- icho; 9th, David and Goliath; 10th, Solo- mon and the Queen of Sheba. Of the manner of treating these varied and rich themes, Ghiberti writes himself: I have done my best in all respects to imitate na- ture; some of the histories represented contain more than a hundred figures, all done with my best diligence. And this in a few words, is the key to his whole style and execution, viz., to imitate na- ture, and do his best. But it does not award him sufficient credit; for the man- ner in which he has composed these his- tories is his own invention. In pictur- esque, graceful variety of combination and pertinent details, condensing much in little space, giving each separate fea- ture its proper relative position and im- voL. Lxv.No. 385.7 portance as regards the others, bringing all together in harmonious, beautiful unity and balance of parts, eachpanel is a dis- tinct masterpiece. It goes as far in this form of sculpture as it can possibly go with safety to its own inherent, ~esthetic, and artistic qualities and limitations, doing nothing which we can not legitimately admire, and avoiding all those tours de force, pettinesses, and inanities into which picturesque or rococo sculpture subse- quently fell. When we examine the great number of figures and animals, the variety of individual action and expres- sion, the broad simplicity of treatment of the landscape and architecture, the grace- ful draperies, his fine embodiments of spir- itual beingschaste, subdued, yet poetical idealisms, all kept within the limits of nat- ural trutha fecund imagination balanced by a keen eye for the harmonies of nature, and as keen a taste for what is truly se- lect and beautifulwhen we see and ap- preciate all these points in his work, as we must if we carefully observe it, then we can not fail to confirm the verdict of his contemporaries on his wonderful genius, and pronounce him unique of his kind. To get at all this in its perfection the original work must be attentively studied. It displays a happy balance between clas- sical freedom and idealism in the treat- ment of the human figure more or less nude, and medkeval rigidity and asceti- cism, with an a~sthetic conception of cos- tume and drapery, sufficiently indicating the forms and movement beneath. Whilst animated by the beauty of antique art, Ghiberti adhered closely in the most es- sential points to his maxim of strictly fol- lowing nature, so as to exhibit effects produced in actual life to the utmost ex- tent his material permits. His work, in consequence, has a rare aspect of natural truth both in general grouping and the modelling of minutest detail, and of ut- most sincerity of treatment. There are no extravagances or tours deforce; no exag- gerations or straining after sensational ef- fects. The histories are simply and graph- ically told. His feeling for elegant and dignified form is remarkably keen, as also his command of forcible action. For he is equally at home in dramatic and idyllic expression. As regards spiritual moye- ment and form, few conceptions of Chris- tian art in airy ease and gracefulness of action, with a sense of supernal power, surpass his delivery of the ten command- 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ments on Mount Sinai by the Almighty to Moses, or the three angels in the valley of Mamre appear~ng to Abraham. The sub- tle distinctions between human and spirit- ual forces are admirably personified. It is difficult to say which of these pan- els surpass the others, their merits are so uniform throughout. Every part is com- posed and executed with equal diligence and care. All are a veritable labor of love on the part of the artist. If choice there be, my owa preference would be first for No. 1, the creation of Adam and Eve, and their expulsion from paradise. Next, perhaps, the stories of Noah and Joseph, Nos. 3 and 6. After these, Nos. 8 and 10, the fall of Jericho and the vis- it of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon. Al- though all are diversified in subject and treatment, any one by itself embodies the best artistic points of the whole, and col- lectively they form an illustrated Old Tes- tament of the highest character. Nowhere, however, does Lorenzo Ghi- berti show himself more a consummate master in bronze than in his management of the borders, and the frame-work into which the historical panels are placed. In this second door he carried out exclusive- ly his own ideas of composition. At reg- ular intervals between the varied scroll- work, he placed, above and below, four finely modelled recumbent allegorical fig- ures, male and female, and on the sides, twenty upright ones in niches, with inter- vening ideal or portrait heads in full re- lief at each angle of the several panels, making as beautiful and appropriate a set- ting as may be conceived. Near the cen- tre, where his name is engraved, Ghiberti placed his own portrait, then a bald-head- ed old man, and by its side, to the left of the spectator, that of his faithful step-fa- ther, Bartoluccioa well-deserved tribute to his tried friendship and aid. The massive bronze frames of all the doors are ornamented in low and high re- lief with festoons or courses of foliage, fruit, flowers, springing from jirns, and in- terspersed with birds, squirrels, and other natural objects. Each one is a most care- ful study of nature, and modelled with a delicacy and life-like resemblance that have never been surpassed. The birds seem to sing, chirp, and peck, the squirrels to nib- ble, and the leaves to stir in the air, so light ~and flexible and characteristic in form and action is each individual por- tion. In his earliest work there is just a touch of timidity, as if feeling his way and trying his power. But the latest, that which he did just before his death, to sur- round the door by Andrea Pisano, displays the advanced boldness and freedom of ex- ecution. They are far more in relief and larger than the others, and nevertheless of corresponding fineness and delicate touch. Indeed, they are a miracle of cast- ing, and yet he had passed his seventieth year, and was engaged in modelling a third door, which was to take the place of Andreas, which it would seem by Vasaris account was to have been reconstruct- ed, by which must be meant recast and remade. The model for this new door was seen by Yasari half a century and more later, but the descendants of Ghiberti let it be destroyed. Heaven was kind alike to Andrea and Lorenzo, for it took away the latter to join the former in those regions where time is unknown, leaving the work of Andrea in the same condition in which the old Pisan sculptor had left it, now five hundred and more years gone by, but in a lovely frame- work executed by his great successors hands. These doors are a striking con- trast to the more developed but not more sincere art of Ghiberti. Both sculptors alike do honor to the ancient church, which, let us hope, will stand piously erect still another thousand years on its pagan foundations, sacred to the memories of Christianity and of art. THE POLE OF DEATh. ~o t~e ~cuorl~ of ~~bne~ ilanfer. lIow solemnly on mournful eyes The mystic warning rose! But oer the Singers forehead lies A twilight of repose. The twilight deepens into night That night of Arctic breath, The rigor of whose awful blight We recognize as Death. Yet, since beyond the Polar ice Afay shine bright baths of balm, Past its grim barriers last device A crystal-hearted Calm; Thus ice-bound Death, that guards so well His far-off secret goal, May clasp a Peace ineffable For some who reach his Pole. My Poet, is it thus with thee, Beyond this twilight gray, This frozen blight, this sombre sea Ah! hast thou found the Day?

Paul Hamilton Hayne Hayne, Paul Hamilton The Pole of Death 98

98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ments on Mount Sinai by the Almighty to Moses, or the three angels in the valley of Mamre appear~ng to Abraham. The sub- tle distinctions between human and spirit- ual forces are admirably personified. It is difficult to say which of these pan- els surpass the others, their merits are so uniform throughout. Every part is com- posed and executed with equal diligence and care. All are a veritable labor of love on the part of the artist. If choice there be, my owa preference would be first for No. 1, the creation of Adam and Eve, and their expulsion from paradise. Next, perhaps, the stories of Noah and Joseph, Nos. 3 and 6. After these, Nos. 8 and 10, the fall of Jericho and the vis- it of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon. Al- though all are diversified in subject and treatment, any one by itself embodies the best artistic points of the whole, and col- lectively they form an illustrated Old Tes- tament of the highest character. Nowhere, however, does Lorenzo Ghi- berti show himself more a consummate master in bronze than in his management of the borders, and the frame-work into which the historical panels are placed. In this second door he carried out exclusive- ly his own ideas of composition. At reg- ular intervals between the varied scroll- work, he placed, above and below, four finely modelled recumbent allegorical fig- ures, male and female, and on the sides, twenty upright ones in niches, with inter- vening ideal or portrait heads in full re- lief at each angle of the several panels, making as beautiful and appropriate a set- ting as may be conceived. Near the cen- tre, where his name is engraved, Ghiberti placed his own portrait, then a bald-head- ed old man, and by its side, to the left of the spectator, that of his faithful step-fa- ther, Bartoluccioa well-deserved tribute to his tried friendship and aid. The massive bronze frames of all the doors are ornamented in low and high re- lief with festoons or courses of foliage, fruit, flowers, springing from jirns, and in- terspersed with birds, squirrels, and other natural objects. Each one is a most care- ful study of nature, and modelled with a delicacy and life-like resemblance that have never been surpassed. The birds seem to sing, chirp, and peck, the squirrels to nib- ble, and the leaves to stir in the air, so light ~and flexible and characteristic in form and action is each individual por- tion. In his earliest work there is just a touch of timidity, as if feeling his way and trying his power. But the latest, that which he did just before his death, to sur- round the door by Andrea Pisano, displays the advanced boldness and freedom of ex- ecution. They are far more in relief and larger than the others, and nevertheless of corresponding fineness and delicate touch. Indeed, they are a miracle of cast- ing, and yet he had passed his seventieth year, and was engaged in modelling a third door, which was to take the place of Andreas, which it would seem by Vasaris account was to have been reconstruct- ed, by which must be meant recast and remade. The model for this new door was seen by Yasari half a century and more later, but the descendants of Ghiberti let it be destroyed. Heaven was kind alike to Andrea and Lorenzo, for it took away the latter to join the former in those regions where time is unknown, leaving the work of Andrea in the same condition in which the old Pisan sculptor had left it, now five hundred and more years gone by, but in a lovely frame- work executed by his great successors hands. These doors are a striking con- trast to the more developed but not more sincere art of Ghiberti. Both sculptors alike do honor to the ancient church, which, let us hope, will stand piously erect still another thousand years on its pagan foundations, sacred to the memories of Christianity and of art. THE POLE OF DEATh. ~o t~e ~cuorl~ of ~~bne~ ilanfer. lIow solemnly on mournful eyes The mystic warning rose! But oer the Singers forehead lies A twilight of repose. The twilight deepens into night That night of Arctic breath, The rigor of whose awful blight We recognize as Death. Yet, since beyond the Polar ice Afay shine bright baths of balm, Past its grim barriers last device A crystal-hearted Calm; Thus ice-bound Death, that guards so well His far-off secret goal, May clasp a Peace ineffable For some who reach his Pole. My Poet, is it thus with thee, Beyond this twilight gray, This frozen blight, this sombre sea Ah! hast thou found the Day?

Paul Hamilton Hayne Hayne, Paul Hamilton In Memory of Sydney Lanier 98-99

98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ments on Mount Sinai by the Almighty to Moses, or the three angels in the valley of Mamre appear~ng to Abraham. The sub- tle distinctions between human and spirit- ual forces are admirably personified. It is difficult to say which of these pan- els surpass the others, their merits are so uniform throughout. Every part is com- posed and executed with equal diligence and care. All are a veritable labor of love on the part of the artist. If choice there be, my owa preference would be first for No. 1, the creation of Adam and Eve, and their expulsion from paradise. Next, perhaps, the stories of Noah and Joseph, Nos. 3 and 6. After these, Nos. 8 and 10, the fall of Jericho and the vis- it of the Queen of Sheba to Solomon. Al- though all are diversified in subject and treatment, any one by itself embodies the best artistic points of the whole, and col- lectively they form an illustrated Old Tes- tament of the highest character. Nowhere, however, does Lorenzo Ghi- berti show himself more a consummate master in bronze than in his management of the borders, and the frame-work into which the historical panels are placed. In this second door he carried out exclusive- ly his own ideas of composition. At reg- ular intervals between the varied scroll- work, he placed, above and below, four finely modelled recumbent allegorical fig- ures, male and female, and on the sides, twenty upright ones in niches, with inter- vening ideal or portrait heads in full re- lief at each angle of the several panels, making as beautiful and appropriate a set- ting as may be conceived. Near the cen- tre, where his name is engraved, Ghiberti placed his own portrait, then a bald-head- ed old man, and by its side, to the left of the spectator, that of his faithful step-fa- ther, Bartoluccioa well-deserved tribute to his tried friendship and aid. The massive bronze frames of all the doors are ornamented in low and high re- lief with festoons or courses of foliage, fruit, flowers, springing from jirns, and in- terspersed with birds, squirrels, and other natural objects. Each one is a most care- ful study of nature, and modelled with a delicacy and life-like resemblance that have never been surpassed. The birds seem to sing, chirp, and peck, the squirrels to nib- ble, and the leaves to stir in the air, so light ~and flexible and characteristic in form and action is each individual por- tion. In his earliest work there is just a touch of timidity, as if feeling his way and trying his power. But the latest, that which he did just before his death, to sur- round the door by Andrea Pisano, displays the advanced boldness and freedom of ex- ecution. They are far more in relief and larger than the others, and nevertheless of corresponding fineness and delicate touch. Indeed, they are a miracle of cast- ing, and yet he had passed his seventieth year, and was engaged in modelling a third door, which was to take the place of Andreas, which it would seem by Vasaris account was to have been reconstruct- ed, by which must be meant recast and remade. The model for this new door was seen by Yasari half a century and more later, but the descendants of Ghiberti let it be destroyed. Heaven was kind alike to Andrea and Lorenzo, for it took away the latter to join the former in those regions where time is unknown, leaving the work of Andrea in the same condition in which the old Pisan sculptor had left it, now five hundred and more years gone by, but in a lovely frame- work executed by his great successors hands. These doors are a striking con- trast to the more developed but not more sincere art of Ghiberti. Both sculptors alike do honor to the ancient church, which, let us hope, will stand piously erect still another thousand years on its pagan foundations, sacred to the memories of Christianity and of art. THE POLE OF DEATh. ~o t~e ~cuorl~ of ~~bne~ ilanfer. lIow solemnly on mournful eyes The mystic warning rose! But oer the Singers forehead lies A twilight of repose. The twilight deepens into night That night of Arctic breath, The rigor of whose awful blight We recognize as Death. Yet, since beyond the Polar ice Afay shine bright baths of balm, Past its grim barriers last device A crystal-hearted Calm; Thus ice-bound Death, that guards so well His far-off secret goal, May clasp a Peace ineffable For some who reach his Pole. My Poet, is it thus with thee, Beyond this twilight gray, This frozen blight, this sombre sea Ah! hast thou found the Day? THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. TO any one looking superficially at a map of North America, one hundred and thirty years ago, it might well have seemed that, of the three great nations which had competed for the possession of the continent, the foremost position had been firmly secured by France. Certainly in geographical extent the French domain held the first place. From the St. Law- rence to the Great Lakes, and northward to Hudson Bay, stretched the French province of Canada. From Lake Cham- plain slanting through Central New York to where Pittsburgh now stands, then fol- lowing the Alleghanies down to Eastern Tennessee, and slanting again in a some- what arbitrary line to Mobile Bay, ran the eastern boundary of French Louisiana. The western limits of this huge province were ill defined, but they extended in the- ory to the sources of the Missouri; and in a north and south line Louisiana compre- hended everything from Lake Superior to the Gulf of Mexico. Nor was the control of France over this territory merely nomi- nal, at least so far as the portion east of the Mississippi is concerned. Though the set- tlements of the French were but few and far between, they were placed with admi- rable skill, both for comiimercial and for stra- tegic purposes. Each settlement, besides forming tbe nucleus of a lucrative trade, was a strong military centre from which the allegiance of surrounding Indian tribes might be enforced, and at that time the power of the Indians had not yet ceased to be formidable. In contrast with this immense domain, the strip of English settlements along the Atlantic coast would have seemed quite narrow and insignificant. In New York the frontier was at Johnson Hall, not far from Schenectady; in Pennsylvania it was at Carlisle; farther south the advance from the coast toward the interior had been ev~n less considerable. Moreover, as far as military purposes were concerned, these colonies would seem to have been as badly organized as possible. Divided into thirteen distinct and independent govern- ments, owning a varying and ill-defined allegiance to the British crown, it was next to impossible to secure concerted mil- itary action among them. Even in any single colony the raising of troops required so much discussion in the legislature, and so much wrangling over local or sectarian interests, that the assailanf was as likely as not to have delivered his blow and got off scot-free before any force was in read- iness to thwart or punish him. Besides this, the English colonists were pre-em- inently a peace-loving people, occupied almost entirely with their own domestic affairs; they had as little as possible to do with the Indians, and for the present, at least, had no far-reaching designs upon the interior of the continent; whereas the French, on the other hand, had a perfectly well-defined military policy, and bent all their energies toward maintaining and consolidating the supremacy over the country which they seemed already to have acquired. Nevertheless, within thirteen years from the time we have taken for our survey, the French did not possess a single rood of land in the whole of North America; and except for a few months at the beginning of the present century, they have never since held any territory here. Moreover, the fall of the French power was at once admitted to be as irretrievable as it was sudden; and since the first fatal catastro- phe it has never shown even so much vi- tality as would have been implied in a serious attempt to recover its lost prestige. The causes of this striking phenomenon are worthy of consideration. Of all the modern nations which have sought to reproduce and perpetuate their social and political institutions by coloniz- ing the savage regions of the earth, Eng- land is the only one which has achieved signal and lasting success. For this re- markable fact various causes may be as- signed; but on careful reflection I think we shall find the principal cause to lie in the circumstance that in England alone, among the great European nations, both individual liberty and local self-govern- ment have always been preserved; where- as elsewhereand notably in the France of the Old R6gime, with which our com- parison is here chiefly concernedthese indispensable elements of national vitali- ty had been, by the seventeenth century, almost completely lost. To understand this point fully, we must go back far into the past, and inquire for a moment into the origin of despotic government. The great problem of civilization is how to secure sufficient uniformity of belief and action among men without going so far

John Fiske Fiske, John The Overthrow of the French Power in America 99-112

THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. TO any one looking superficially at a map of North America, one hundred and thirty years ago, it might well have seemed that, of the three great nations which had competed for the possession of the continent, the foremost position had been firmly secured by France. Certainly in geographical extent the French domain held the first place. From the St. Law- rence to the Great Lakes, and northward to Hudson Bay, stretched the French province of Canada. From Lake Cham- plain slanting through Central New York to where Pittsburgh now stands, then fol- lowing the Alleghanies down to Eastern Tennessee, and slanting again in a some- what arbitrary line to Mobile Bay, ran the eastern boundary of French Louisiana. The western limits of this huge province were ill defined, but they extended in the- ory to the sources of the Missouri; and in a north and south line Louisiana compre- hended everything from Lake Superior to the Gulf of Mexico. Nor was the control of France over this territory merely nomi- nal, at least so far as the portion east of the Mississippi is concerned. Though the set- tlements of the French were but few and far between, they were placed with admi- rable skill, both for comiimercial and for stra- tegic purposes. Each settlement, besides forming tbe nucleus of a lucrative trade, was a strong military centre from which the allegiance of surrounding Indian tribes might be enforced, and at that time the power of the Indians had not yet ceased to be formidable. In contrast with this immense domain, the strip of English settlements along the Atlantic coast would have seemed quite narrow and insignificant. In New York the frontier was at Johnson Hall, not far from Schenectady; in Pennsylvania it was at Carlisle; farther south the advance from the coast toward the interior had been ev~n less considerable. Moreover, as far as military purposes were concerned, these colonies would seem to have been as badly organized as possible. Divided into thirteen distinct and independent govern- ments, owning a varying and ill-defined allegiance to the British crown, it was next to impossible to secure concerted mil- itary action among them. Even in any single colony the raising of troops required so much discussion in the legislature, and so much wrangling over local or sectarian interests, that the assailanf was as likely as not to have delivered his blow and got off scot-free before any force was in read- iness to thwart or punish him. Besides this, the English colonists were pre-em- inently a peace-loving people, occupied almost entirely with their own domestic affairs; they had as little as possible to do with the Indians, and for the present, at least, had no far-reaching designs upon the interior of the continent; whereas the French, on the other hand, had a perfectly well-defined military policy, and bent all their energies toward maintaining and consolidating the supremacy over the country which they seemed already to have acquired. Nevertheless, within thirteen years from the time we have taken for our survey, the French did not possess a single rood of land in the whole of North America; and except for a few months at the beginning of the present century, they have never since held any territory here. Moreover, the fall of the French power was at once admitted to be as irretrievable as it was sudden; and since the first fatal catastro- phe it has never shown even so much vi- tality as would have been implied in a serious attempt to recover its lost prestige. The causes of this striking phenomenon are worthy of consideration. Of all the modern nations which have sought to reproduce and perpetuate their social and political institutions by coloniz- ing the savage regions of the earth, Eng- land is the only one which has achieved signal and lasting success. For this re- markable fact various causes may be as- signed; but on careful reflection I think we shall find the principal cause to lie in the circumstance that in England alone, among the great European nations, both individual liberty and local self-govern- ment have always been preserved; where- as elsewhereand notably in the France of the Old R6gime, with which our com- parison is here chiefly concernedthese indispensable elements of national vitali- ty had been, by the seventeenth century, almost completely lost. To understand this point fully, we must go back far into the past, and inquire for a moment into the origin of despotic government. The great problem of civilization is how to secure sufficient uniformity of belief and action among men without going so far 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. as to destroy variety of belief and action. A world peopled with savages, like ancient North America, is incapable of much pro- gress, because it is impossible to secure concerted action on a large scale, and so the powers of men are frittered away in labors which tend toward no common re- sult. The initial difficulty in civilizing a savage world is to get a large number of its savages to work together, for generation after generation, in accordance with some general system, for the subjugation of sur- rounding savages and the establishment of a permanent community. Unless some such long-enduring concert of action can be secured, a settled form of civilization can not be attained; but the history of such a countryas in the case of ancient North Americawill be an endless series of trivial and useless wars. The nations which in early times have become civilized and peaceful have become so through the military superiority which the power of permanently concerted action entails; but this great advantage has generally been attended by a disadvantage. In most of these early civilized nations the forces which tend to make the whole community think and act alike have been so far en- couraged that the result has been absolute despotism. Not political and ecclesiastical despotism simply, but underlying these a social despotism which in course of time moulds all the members of the community upon the same model, so that their char- acters become monotonously alike. The chief types of this kind of civilization are China and ancient Egypt, but all the civ- ilized nations of Asia have been character- ized by this sort of despotism. The result, of course, is immobility. When the whole community lias come to think and feel and behave in the same way, every expression of dissent, every attempt at innovation, is at once crushed out; or rather such uni- formity of belief and behavior is attained only after all dissent and innovation have been crushed out; and of course in such a community no further progress is pos- sible. If our principal subject were the phi- losophy of European history, it would be interesting and profitable to inquire into the circumstances which have en- abled the nations of Europe to get over the initial difficulty of civilization and secure the benefits of concerted action without going so far as to crush out vari- ation in belief and conduct. As it is, we must content ourselves with observing tbat in this sort of compromise has con- sisted the peculiar progressiveness of Eu- ropean civilization. The different nations of Europe have solved the problem with very differentde~crees of successEngland and Spain affording the two extreme in- stancesbut none have quite failed in it like the nations of Asia. There have been despotisms in Europe, but nothing like the despotism of Assyria or Persia. The pa- pacy never quite became a caliphate, though some of the popes may have done their best to make it so. Neither Philip II. nor Louis XIV. was quite a sultan, however it might have tickled their fancy to be thought so. Nevertheless the tendency toward Asi- atic despotism has asserted itself very strongly at various epochs of European history, usually, perhaps, as the result of prolonged military pressure from without. The tendency increased quite steadily in the Roman Empire from the time of the earliest Germanic invasions until the cul- mination of the Byzantine era; and the traditions of this despotism were inherited by the Roman Church. In Germany, the operation of the tendency has been delayed in great part by the same causes which have retarded the unification of the coun- try. In Spain, it had proceeded so far in the sixteenth century astoproduce a nation- al torpor, from which the Spaniards have not yet succeeded in arousing themselves. In France, a somewhat similar process went on until in the eighteenth century it was checked by the influx of English ideas, which prepared the way for the Great Revolution. In England, the tendency toward absolutism was always much weaker than anywhere else, but it was strong enough in the seventeenth century to bring about the migration of Puritans to America, and afterward the Great Re- bellion, and finally the Revolution of 1688. In these and other instances, however, where it has asserted itself in England, the tendency has been so weak as to be promptly checked. There has never been a time in English history when free think- ing on political and religious subjects has been quite suppressed. Of all the great European nations, England alone has suc- ceeded in reaching a high stage of civiliza- tion without seriously modifying the free institutions which in primitive times were the common possession of the Aryan peo- ple by whom Europe was settled. THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. 101 The consequences of this have been very great. After the initial difficulties of civ- ilization have once been clearly surmount- ed, there can be no question that diversity of opinion and variety of character are of the greatest importance for the develop- ment of a rich and powerful national life. Other things equal, the foremost place in civilization must inevitably be seized and maintained by the nation which most sedulously cherishes and encourages va- riety. Such a nation will be more invent- ive than others, more prompt to meet sudden emergencies, more buoyant in re- covering from calamity; its people will be more easily adaptable to all sorts of cli- mates and situations, more ready to engage in all kinds of activity, more fertile in expedients, and more self-reliant in char- acter. The nation, on the other hand, which systematically seeks to enforce uni- formity of disposition among its members which kills out all non-conformists or drives them beyond its bordersis sure, in proportion to its success, to sink into an inferior position in the world. The establishment of the Inquisition in Spain and the expulsion of the Moriscoes were the two greatest calamities which any na- tion ever inflicted upon itself. In similar wise, by his senseless persecution of the Huguenots, Louis XIV. robbed France of a very rich and important element in na- tional life, and contributed such an ele- ment, in some degree, to England and Germany. These considerations begin to make it apparent why a people like the English, encountering a people like the French in some new part of the world, would natu- rally overcome or supplant it. Another circumstance implied in the same group of considerations will make this still more apparent. I said just now that the English alone have succeeded in working up to a highly complex form of civiliza- tion without essentially departing from the primitive Aryan principle of govern- ment. What we may call the town- meeting principle, with which we are so familiar as the logical basis of our own American political institutions, was essen- tially the principle on which the early Aryan communities governed themselves. The great puzzle of nation-making has al- ways been how to secure concerted action on a grand scale without sacrificing this principle of local self-government. The political failure of ancient Greece was the failure to secure concerted action on a suf- ficiently large scale. Rome succeeded in securing concert of action, but in so do- ing sacrificed to a great extent the princi- ple of local self-government. The Roman government came to be a close corpora- tion, administering the affairs of the em- pire through prefects and sub-prefects; and when we say that the Teutonic inva- sions infused new life into Roman Eu- rope, I suppose what we chiefly mean is that the Germans re-introduced ho some extent the town-meeting principle, and strengthened the sense of local and person- al independence. In England the prin- ciple of local self-government became so deeply rooted that it survived the over- throw of the feudal system; but in France the most thoroughly Romanized coun- try in Europeit never acquired a very firm foot-hold, and the overthrow of the feudal system there resulted in govern- ment by a close corporation and prefects, not altogether unlike that of the Roman Empire. Now it is one characteristic of these highly centralized forms of government by prefects that they are not easily trans- planted. They are highly artificial forms of government, in so far as they are the products of very peculiar combinations of circumstances operating for a long while in a particular country. When taken away from the peculiar sets of circum- stances in which they have originated, and introduced into a new field, they fall into decay, unless kept up by support from with- out. There is no natural principle of life within them. On the other hand, the town meeting, or the assembly of heads of families, is, so to speak, the primordial cell out of which the tissue of political life has been originally woven among all races and nations. The civilized government which has learned how to secure concert- ed action without forsaking this primor- dial principle contains an element of per- manence which is independent of pecul- iar local circumstances. Whithersoever transplanted, it will take root and flour- ish. It has all the reproductive vitality of cellular tissue, whereas the centralized bureaucracy is as rigid and unplastic as cartilage or bone. The force of these considerations is no- where better illustrated than in the con- trasted fortunes of the French and Eng- lish settlements in North America. The French colonies, as we have observed, 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. were planted in accordance with a far- reaching imperial policy, and they were favored by the especial solicitude of the home government, which well understood their value, and was bitterly chagrined when it became necessary to part with them. Louis XIV. in particular, whose long reign covered something like half of the brief history of New France, thought very highly of his American colonies, and labored industriously to promote their wel- fare. One of his pet schemes was to re- produce in the New World the political features of French society in Europe, mod- ifying them only so far as it was necessary in order to secure in the New France a bureaucratic despotism even more ideal- ly complete than that which had grown up in the old country. By a reminiscence of vanquished feudalism the land was par- celled out in seigniories, but the manage- ment of affairs was in the hands of a viceroy or governor-general appointed by the king. The instructions of the governor were pre- pared with extreme prolixity and minute- ness by the king and his ministers; and to insure his carrying them out in every par- ticular another officer was appointed, call- ed the intendant, whose principal business was to keep an eye on the governor, and tell tales about him to the minister of state at home. Another part of the intendants duty was to travel about the colony and pry into the affairs of every household, in order that whatever was wrong might be set right, and the wants of the people pro- vided for. We can imagine the wrath and the hooting which such an official would have provoked in any English colony that ever existed, but in Canada this sort of thing was thought to be quite proper. No enterprise of any sort was undertaken without an appeal to the king for aid. Bounties were attached to all kinds of trades, in order to encourage them, and at the same time it was attempted to pre- scribe, as far as possible, the exact per- centage of profit which might be legally earned. If people got out of work, they were to be supplied with work at the cost of the government. In order to foster a taste for ship-building, the king had ships built at his own expense, yet at the same time the ships which came over from France often went home empty, save those which by royal edict were allowed to car- ry furs or lumber. In order to encourage the raising of hemp, it was proposed that all hemp grown within the colony should be purchased by the king at a high price. To encourage agriculture in general, the king sent over seeds of all sorts to be dis- tributed among the farmers gratis, while the intendant went about to see that the seeds were duly planted. While native industry was thus sedulously fostered, for- eign trade was absolutely prohibited. No mild prohibitory tariff, such as our mod- ern protectionists advocate, was resorted to, but foreign goods were seized wherever found and solemnly burned in the streets. The interests of landed property were also looked after. As it is inconvenient that farms should be too small, no one living in the open country was to build a house on any piece of land less than a certain prescribed size, under penalty of seeing his house torn down at the next visit of the intendant. That the morals of these fa- vored farmers might remain uncorrupted by the splendid vices of great cities, they were forbidden to go to Quebec without permission from the intendant, and any one in the city who should let rooms to them was to be fined a hundred livres, for the benefit of the hospitals. In 1710 the inhabitants of Montreal were prohibited from owning more than two horses or mares and one foal apiece, on the ground that if they raised too many horses they would not raise enough cattle and sheep! With a thousand such arbitrary and foolish though well-meant regulations the people of Canada were hampered and re- stricted, so that, in spite of the natural advantages of the country for agricul- ture, for fisheries, and for the fur trade, there was nothing surprising in the facts that business of every kind languished, and that the population increased but slowly. The slowness of increase of the population early attracted the attention of the French government, which labored earnestly to counteract the evil. No in- habitant of Canada was allowed to visit the English colonies or to come home to France without express permission. Emi- grants for Canada were diligently enlist- ed in France, and sent over in ship-loads every year, being paid bounties for going. Women were sent over in companies of two or three hundred at a time, all care- fully sorted and selected as to social posi- tion, so that nobles, officers, bourgeois, and peasants might each find wives to suit them, and each of these prospective brides brought with her a dowry paid by the be- nevolent king. The arrival of these wo THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. 103 men was generally preceded or accompa- nied by a royal order that all bachelors in the colony must get married within two weeks, nnder penalty of not being allowed to hunt, or catch fish, or trade with the Indians. Every father of a family who had unmarried sons over twenty years of age, or nnmarried daughters over sixteen, was subject to a fine unless he could show good cause for his delinquency. The fa- ther of ten children received a pension of three hundred livres a year for the rest of his life, while he who had twelve received four hundred, and people in the upper ranks of society who had fifteen children were rewarded with twelve hundred livres. Yet, in spite of all these elaborate devices, the white population of Canada, at the end of the reign of Louis XIV., in 1715, and more than a century after the founding of the colony, did not reach a total of twen- ty-five thousand. However absurd such a system of ad- ministration may seem to us, it was, after all, only the unflinching application of a theory of protective government which has had very wide currency in the world, and has found too many defenders even in our own self-governing community. The contemporary administration of af- fairs in France, even under the skillful leadership of Colbert, was characterized by many similar errors, and was fob lowed, indeed, in the course of another century, by military defeat, financial ruin, and social anarchy. Yet there is one important difference between the results of paternal government administered by a centralized bureaucracy in the country where it has grown up and in the country to which it is transplanted. In the native country of the bureaucracy a great many of the affairs of life are conducted in ac- cordance with usages established by im- memorial custom. Such usages have a cer- tain presumption in their favor, as adapted in some degree to the circumstances of the country; the bureaucracy must be to some extent checked or guided by them, and its capacity for mischief is so far limited. But when the same system of government is transplanted to a new coun- try, its course of procedure is largely a matter of experiment in pursuance of some general or a priori theory, and experi- ments of this sort have always failed. No government that has ever yet existed has possessed enough wisdom to found a pros- perous society by any amount of arbitra ry administration. When, therefore, the forms and machinery of a centralized despotism are sought to be reproduced away from their connections with the pe- culiar local traditions amid which they have grown up, it is but the dead husk that is transplanted instead of the living kernel. While the French colonies in America thus thrived so feebly in spite of the anx- ious care of their sovereign, the English colonies, neglected and left to themselves, were full of sturdy life. The settlers had been accustomed to manage their own af- fairs at home, instead of having them managed by prefects and intendants. If their king had ventured to deal with them as the benevolent Louis XIV. dealt with his subjects, they would have cut off his head or driven him into exile, or, failing the power to do this,would have gone into exile themselves. In New England they conducted themselves very much as they would have done in old England, save that they were much freer from interfer- ence. Having gone into voluntary exile themselves, they were relieved from the necessity of beheading the king or driving him into exile, and all they asked was to continue to be let alone. To sundry gen- eral commercial restrictions they submit- ted, especially so long as these restrictions were not enforced, but in all important de- tails each community managed its own af- fairs according to its own ideas of its own interests. Thus, in the words of our great historian, Mr. Parkman, the cement of common interests, hopes, and duties com- pacted the whole people like a rock of con- glomerate, while the people of New France remained in a state of political segregation, like a basket of pebbles held together by the inclosure that surrounds them. ,,~ In ecclesiastical policy the difference~ between the two peoples was as great as in their political and social life. Religion and the Church occupy as prominent a position in the history of Canada as in that of New England. There are few more heroic chapters in the annals of the Catholic Church than that which recounts the labors and the martyrdom of the Jes- uits in North America. Already, before~ the death of Champlain, the Jesuits ha4 acquired full control of the spiritual affairs of Canada. Their policy aimed at nothing less than the consolidation of the aborigi * Old R~gime, p. 3t~7. 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. nal tribes into a Christian state under the direct control of Loyola; and upon this hopelessly impracticable task they entered with an enthusiasm worthy of the noblest of the old Crusaders. The character of Maisonneuve claims a place in our affec- tionate remembrance by the side of Tan- cred and Godfrey de Bouillon. The charming chronicler Le Jeune might be mated with the Sieur de Joinville. Nor was St. Louis himself inspired with a grander fervor than the black - robed priests of the Huron mission. The in- domitable Brebeuf, the delicate Lalemant, the long-suffering Jogues, may be ranked with the ancient martyrs of Christianity, and in their heroic lives and deaths the system of Loyola appeared in its brightest and purest light. Though thrown away upon the Indians, the work of the Jesuits was, after all, the one feature of Canadian polity which possessed sufficient merit to survive the British conquest. Their poli- cy nevertheless involved the rigorous ex- clusion of all freedom of thought from the limits of the colony. No Huguenot was allowed to enter upon any terms. On the other hand, if we consider the Puritans alonewho also came to America for the purpose of realizing a religious ideaif we consider the Puritans alone, and recollect their treatment of the Quakers in Massa- chusetts and the Catholics in Maryland, we may perhaps at first regard their conduct as hardly more politic or conimendable than that of the Jesuits. But in truth the in- tolerance of the Puritans, being defensible only through appeals to individual rea- son, carried with it the promise of better things. Moreover, if we consider the Eng- lish colonies all together, the variety of opinion on religious questions was very great; so great that when they came to constitute themselves into a united nation, the only common ground upon which they could possibly meet in ecclesiastical matters was one of unqualified toleration. The heretic in whose face Canada coldly shut the door might be sure of a welcome in one part of English America if not in another. With all these advantages in their fa- vor, we need not be surprised at the solid and rapid increase of the English colonies. Yet the increase was surprising when com- pared with anything the world had ever seen before. We do not read that the King of England ever set bounties on large families, or provided wives for the settlers at his own expense. Yet by the year 1750 less than a century and a half from the settlement of Jamestownthe white popu- lation of the thirteen colonies had reached a million and a quarter. The contrast, therefore, with which we opened this lecture was but a superficial one. Great as were the territorial acqui- sitions of the French, their actual strength was by no means in proportion, and their project of confining the English behind the Alleghanies was as chimerical as would have been an attempt to stop the flow of the St. Lawrence. In carrying out their grand project the French relied largely upon their alliances with the Indians, and for this there was some show of reason. As a general thing the French were far more successful than the English in winning the favor of the savages. They treated them with a firm- ness and tact very different from the dis- dainful coldness of the English. They humored and cajoled them, even while in- spiring them with wholesome terror. The haughty and fiery Frontenac, most punc- tilious of courtiers, with the bluest blood of France flowing in his veins, at the age of seventy did not think it beneath his dignity to smear his cheeks with vermil- ion and caper madly about in the war- dance, brandishing a tomahawk over his head and yelling like a screech-owl or a cougar. Imagine Governor Winthrop or Governor Endicott acting such a part as this! On the other hand, if an Indian was arrested for murdering a Frenchman, he was hanged in a trice by martial law, and such summary justice the Indians feared and respected. But when an In- dian was arrested for murdering an Eng- lishman, he was put upon his trial, with all the safeguards of the English crimi- nal law, and such conscientious clemency the Indians despised as sentimental weak- ness. Captain Ecuyera Frenchman in the English service at the time of Pon- tiacs wargave an excellent illustration. of the Frenchmans native tact in dealing with his red brother. Ecuyer was in com- mand of Fort Pittwhere Pittsburgh now standsand an attacking force of Dela- wares summoned him to surrender, with sugared words, assuring him that if he would retreat to Carlisle, they would pro- tect him from some bad Indians in the neighborhood who thirsted for his blood; but if he staid, they would not be respon- sible for the consequences. Ecuyer thank- THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. 105 ed them for their truly disinterested ad- vice, but assured them that he did not care a rush for the bad Indians, and meant to remain where he was; but, he added, an army of 6000 pale-faces is now on the way hither, and another of 3000 has just gone up the lakes to annihilate Pon- tiac, so you had better be off. I have told you this in acknowledgment of your friendly counsels to me; but dont whis- per it to those bad Indians, for fear they should run away from our deadly venge- ance ! This story of the English armies was, of course, a lie of the first magni- tude. The poor fellow had but a hand- ful of men wherewith to repel his swarm of assailants, and he knew very well that any re-enforcement was rather to be longed for than expected. But his adroit lie sent the savages a way in a panic without fur- ther provoking their wrath, and so was worth much more than a successful battle. Skillful as the French usually were in their dealings with the savages, their posi- tion in the country was nevertheless such that at an early period they were brought into conflict with the most warlike of all the Indian tribes, and this circumstance interfered materially with the success of the Canadian colony. In the seventeenth century the country east of the Mississippi, from the line of Tennessee and the Caro- linas northward to Hudson Bay, was oc- cupied by two families or races of Indians, differing radically from each other in their speech, and slightly in their physical characteristics. These were called by the French the Algonquin and Iroquois fam- ilies. Our old New England acquaint- ances the Pequods, Narragansetts, Mo- hegans, and Abenakiswere all Algon- quins. The Delawares, who lived in Vir- ginia, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey, were also Algonquin& So were the Shawnees of the Ohio, the Miamis of the Wabash, the Illinois, the Kickapoos of Southern Wisconsin, the Pottawatomies and Ojib- was of Michigan, and the Ottawas of Michigan and Upper Canada. Lower Canada and Acadia were also inhabited by Algonquin tribes. In the central por- tion of this vast country, surrounded on every side by Algonquins, dwelt the Iro- quois. The so-called Five Nations occu- pied the central portion of New York; to the south of them were the Andastes or Susquehannocks; the Eries lived on the southern shore of the lake which bears their name, and the northern shore was occupied by a tribe known as the Neutral Nation. To the north of these came the Hurons. One Iroquois tribethe Tusca- roraslay quite apart from the rest, in North Carolina; but in 1715 this tribe mi- grated to New York, and joined the fa- mous Iroquois league, which was hence- forth known as the Six Nations. The In- dians south of the Tennessee and Caro- lina line, such as the Creeks, Cherokees, Seminoles, Choctaws, and Chickasaws, be- long to a third familythe Mobiliandis tinct from the Algonquins and Iroquois. The Natchez of the Lower Mississippi are supposed by some ethnologists to have been an intruding branch of the Mexican Toltecs. Far north, in Wisconsin, the well-known Winnebagos were also in- truders; they belonged to the Sioux or Dakota stock, whose home was then, as now, west of the great river. Between the Algonquins and the Iro- quois were many important differences. They differed radically, as already ob- served, in their speech. They differed also in their modes of building their wig- wams and fortifying their villages. The mythology of the Algonquins, moreover, was distinct from that of the Iroquois. There were many degrees of barbarism among the Algonquins, from the New England tribes, which cultivated the soil, down to the Ojibwas, who were very de- graded and shiftless savages. But the Iroquois were superior to any of the Al- gonquins. They were somewhat finer in physical appearance, and they were bet- ter fighters. They are said to have had somewhat larger brains; they understood more about agriculture; they were more capable of acting in concert. They were very well aware of their superiority, and looked down with ineffable contempt upon the Algonquins, by whom they were in turn regarded with hatred and fear. Of all the Iroquois the most formidable in numbers, the bravest in war, and the shrewdest in diplomacy were the Five Na- tions of New Yorkthe Mohawks, Onei- das, Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas. The favorite Iroquois name for this mighty league is interesting. It was the custom of all the Iroquois tribes to build their wig- wams very long and narrow. Sometimes an Iroquois house would be two hundred and fifty feet in length by thirty in width, with a door at each end. A narrow open- ing along the whole length of the roof let in the light and let out some of the smoke 106 HARPERS N~W MONTHLY MAGAZINE. from the row of fires kindled on the ground beneath. A rude scaffolding ran along each side some three feet from the ground, and on this the inmates slept, while their fire-wood was piled underneath. In this way from twenty to thirty families might be lodged in a single wigwam. By a very picturesque metaphor the Iroquois of New York called their great confederacy the Long House. The Mohawks, at the Hud- son River, kept the eastern door of the Long House. and the Senecas, at the Genesee, guarded the western door, while the central council fire burned in the valley of Onon- daga, and was flanked to the right by the Oneidas, and to the left by the Cayugas. The ferocity of these New York Indians was as conspicuous as their courage, and their confederated strength made them more than a match for all their rivalsso that at the time of the first French and English settlements they were rapidly be- coming the terror of the whole country. Turning their arms first against their own kindred, in 1649 they overwhelmed and nearly destroyed the tribe of Hurons, put- ting the Jesuit missionaries to death with frightful tortures. Next they extermi- nated the Neutral Nation. In 1655 they massacred most of the Eries, and incorpo- rated the rest among their own numbers; and in 1672, after a terrible war of twen- ty years, they completed the ruin of the Susquehannocks. At the same time they made much easier work of their Algon- quin enemies. They drove the Ottawas from Canada into Michigan. They al- lied themselves with the Miamis, and over- threw the power of the Illinois in 1680, at the time when La Salle was making his adventurous journeys. They then turned upon the Miamis and defeated them, and drove the Shawnees a long way down the Ohio. Some time before this they had conquered the Delawares; and this cir- cumstance should be taken into account in considering the remarkable success of Penn and his followers in keeping clear of Indian troubles. A conciliatory policy had no doubt something to do with this, but it is not quite true that the Quakers were the only settlers who paid for their lands instead of taking them by force, for the Puritans of New England had done so in every case except that of the Pequods. It is worthy of consideration that at the time when Pennsylvania was colonized, the Delawares had been thoroughly hum- bled by the Iroquois, and forced into a treaty by which they submitted to be call- ed women, and to forego the use of arms. The price of the lands sold to Penn was paid twice overto the Delawares, who actually occupied them, and again to the Iroquois, who had obtained them by conquest. Thus the victors were kept in good-humor, and the vanquished Indians did not dare to molest the Quaker settle- ments for fear of Iroquois vengeance. But the Iroquois had a deeper reason for wishing to keep on good terms with i~he English. As early as the time of Champlain they had been brought into deadly collision with the French, who certainly had not yet learned the impor- tance of their friendship, and perhaps were not in a condition to secure it if they had. Settling first among the Algonquin tribes of the St. Lawrence, it was perhaps inevitable that the French should court the friendship of these tribes by defending them against their hereditary enemies. In 1609 Champlain attacked the Mohawks near Ticonderoga, and won an easy vic- tory over savages who had never before beheld a white man or heard the report of a musket. From that time forth the Iroquois hated the French, and after the destruction of the Huron mission the French had good reason for reciprocating the hatred. In 1664 the English sup- planted the Dutch in the control of the Hudson, and thus for the first time came into formidable proximity to Canada; and now began the rivalry between French and English which lasted for ninety-nine years. A sort of alliance naturally grew up between the English and the Five Na- tions, while, on the other hand, the French sought to control the policy of all the Al- gonquin tribes from the Penobscot to the Mississippi, and to bring them into the field against the dreaded warriors of the Long House. But there was a difference between these two alliances. The Eng- lish valued the friendship of the Iroquois partly as a protection against Canada, partly as a means of gaining access to the lakes, and obtaining a share in the fur trade; but in spite of all this, they took very little pains to conciliate their dusky allies, and generally left them to fight their own battles. On the other hand, the far-sighted policy of the French made firm allies of the Algonquin tribes and of the remnant of the Hurons, and taken to- gether they were more than a match for the Iroquois. Yet for a long time the THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. 107 contest was by no means an unequal one. The Five Nations held their ground brave- ly, and at times seemed to be getting the best of it. They inflicted immense dam- age upon the Canadian settlements. From one end of the Long House the Mohawks were perpetually taking the war - path down Lake Champlain, while from the other the Senecas interrupted the fur trade on the western lakes, and the cen- tral tribes infested the Upper St. Law- rence. In the summer of 1689 they pen- etrated as far as Montreal, and shouted defiance to the garrison, while they laid waste the country for miles around, and roasted and devoured their prisoners in full sight of the terror - stricken town. This achievement, however, marked the acme of their success and of their power. The next year they had to reckon with a skillful and indomitable soldier in the person of Count Frontenac, and the fates were no longer propitious to them. Frontenac had already been Governor of New France for ten years, from 1672 to 1682. Court scandal said that he was a rival of Louis XIV. in the affections of Madame De Montespan, and that the jea- lous king had sent him over to America to get him out of the way. He was an able administrator, and a man of large views. He even saw the desirableness of introducing an element of local self-gov- ernment into the Canadian community, and strove to do so, though unsuccessful ly. He sympathized with La Salle in his adventurous schemes, and aided them to the extent of his ability. Had he been properly supported by the king, he might perhaps have carried out the bold sugges- tion of Talon, and wrested from the Eng- lish their lately acquired province of New York, thus isolating New England, and materially strengthening the grasp of France upon the American continent. But he unwisely made enemies of the Jesuits, and his fiery temper and implac- able stubbornness got him into so many quarrels that in 1682 he was ordered home. Now, after seven years of neglect, he was re-instated by the king, and Canada wel- comed him back as the only man who could save the country. No better man could have been chosen for the purpose. Though seventy years of age, he still re- tained something of the buoyancy of youth; in dauntless courage and fertility of resource he was not unlike his friend La Salle; and he was quite unrivalled in his knowledge of the dark and crooked ways of the Indian mind. At Frontenacs arrival the enmities of all the hostile parties, both red and white, encamped upon American soil, were all at once allowed free play. The tyrant James II. had just been driven into exile at Ver- sailles; and Louis XIV., unwilling to give up the check upon English policy which he had so long exercised through his as- cendency over the mean-spirited Stuarts, and enraged beyond measure at the sud- den accession of power now acquired by his arch-enemy William of OrangeLouis XIV., who had but lately revoked the Edict of Nantes, and committed himself to a deadly struggle with all the liberal tenden- cies of the age, now declared war against England. This, of course, meant war in the New World as well as the Old, and left the doughty Frontenac quite unham- pered in his plans for striking terror into the hearts of the foes of Canada. Frontenacs first proceeding was to send scalping parties against the English set- tlements, not merely to annoy the Eng- lish, but also to retrieve in the minds of his Indian allies and enemies the some- what shaken military reputation of the French. In February, 1690, a small party of Frenchmen and Algonquins from Mont- real, after a difficult march of three weeks through the snow, surprised Schenectady at midnight, and slaughtered some sixty of the inhabitants. In the following month a similar barbarous attack was made upon Salmon Falls, in New Hampshire; and shortly after, Fort Loyal, standing where now is the foot of India Street, in the city of Portland, experienced the same sort of treatment. In 1692, York was laid in ash- es, and one-third of the inhabitants mas- sacred. In 1694, two hundred and thirty Algonquins, led by one French officer and one Jesuit priest, surprised the village at Oyster Rivernow Durham, about twelve miles from Portsmouthand murdered one hundred and four persons, mostly women and children. Some of the un- happy victims were burned alive. Em- boldened by this success, the barbarians next attacked Groton, in Massachusetts, where they slew forty people. Similar excursions were made from year to year. In 1697, a raid was made on Haverhill, when the celebrated Hannah Dustin was taken prisoner. The incidents of her bold escape, and the ghastly vengeance which she wreaked upon her captors, are known 108 HALIPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to all school-children, though school-chil- dren are not always taught to associate these incidents with Count Frontenac, or with the expulsion of the Stuart kings from Great Britain. Such barbarous war- fare as this does not redound to the credit of Frontenac, though personally he seems to have been humane and generous ac- cording to the standards of his age and country. The delightful Jesuit historian Charlevoix recounts these massacres of the heretical Puritans with emphatic ap- proval. In New England they awaken- ed intense horror and indignation. It was resolved to attack Canada. In 1690, after the massacres at Salmon Falls and Fort Loyal, two thousand Massachusetts militia, under Sir William Phips, actually sailed up the St. Lawrence and laid siege to Quebec; while Winthrop, of Connecti- cut, started from Albany to create a diver- sion on the side of Montreal. But these amateur generals were no match for Fron- tenac, and both expeditions returned home crest-fallen with disastrous defeat. Massa- chusetts, loaded with a debt of fifty thou- sand pounds, was obliged for a time to is- sue paper money: it is pleasant to be able to add thatas there was no Greenback party in those daysthis scrip was all scrupulously redeemed, without a word of opposition from anybody. In the follow- ing year, Peter Schuyler, with a force of New York militia and Mohawks, descend- ed Lake Champlain, and defeated the French in a fierce and obstinate battle; but nothing came of the victory, and the end of the campaign left Frontenac master of the situation. Having thus successfully defied the Eng- lish, and won a mighty reputation among his Algonquin allies, the veteran govern- or was now prepared to chastise the Iro- quois. In 1693, a small French army un- der Courtemanche overran the Mohawk country and destroyed several towns, re- treating after a drawn battle with Peter Schuyler. In 1696, Frontenac himself, at the head of two battalions of French regu- lars, 800 Canadian militia, and a swarm of screeching Hurons and Ottawas, cross- ed Lake Ontario, and battered down, so to speak, the centre of the Long House. Carried in triumph on the shoulders of the exulting Indians, the old general, now in his seventy-seventh year, advanced boldly into the sacred precincts of the Ononda- gas, whither white men had never yet set foot save as envoys on the most danger- ous of missions, or as prisoners to be burned at the stake. Most of the Onondaga war- riors fled in dismay, but their towns were utterly destroyed, all their winter stores captured, and their whole country laid waste. A similar punishment was then inflicted upon the Oneidas, and the mot- ley army returned to Canada, taking along with them a great number of war chiefs as hostages. In the following year the Iroquois, cowed by defeat and famine, sent an embassy to Quebec to see if they could make a separate peace with the French, without engaging to keep their hands off the Algonquins. But Fronte- nac flung their wampum belt back into their faces, and demanded unconditional submission, under penalty of worse treat- ment than they had yet experienced. In February, 1698, the news of the Peace of Ryswick ended the war, so far as the French and English were concerned. In November of the same year Frontenac died at Quebec, bitterly hated by his rivals and enemies, dreaded and admired by the Indians, idolized by the common people, and respected by all for his probity and his soldierly virtues. His stormy admin- istration had been fruitful of benefits to Canada. By humbling the Iroquois the French ascendency over all the Indian tribes was greatly increased. During the merciless campaigns of the past ten years the Long House had lost more than half of its warriors, and was left in such a state of dilapidation and dejection that Canada had but little to fear from it in future. In 1715, the fighting strength of the confed- eracy was partially repaired by the adop- tion of the kindred tribe of the Tuscaroras, who had just been expelled from North Carolina by the English settlers, and mi- grated to New York. After this accession the Iroquois, henceforth known as the Six Nations, formed a power by no means to be despised. But their haughty spirit was so far broken that they became ac- cessible to the arts of French diplomacy, and at times they were almost persuaded to make common cause with the other Indian tribes against the English. That they did not finally forsake the English alliance was perhaps chiefly due to the extraordi- nary ascendency acquired over them by Sir William Johnson, an Irishman who came over to America in 1734, and set- tled in the Mohawk Valley, building two strongholds there, known as Johnson Cas- tle and Johnson Hall. Acquiring wealth THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. 1o1~ by trade with the Indians of New York, and political importance through his skill in managing them, Johnson was made a major-general in 1755, and defeated the French at Lake George in that year, and at Niagara in 1759. He was made a bar- onet for his services, and died in 1774, as some say through grief at the impending prospect of war between his sovereign and his fellow-citizens. It was his son, Sir John Johnson, who led the Tories of Tryon County against the valiant Herkimer at the obstinate battle of Oriskany in 1777. Freed from the attacks of the Iroquois, Canada, at the beginning of the eighteenth century, entered upon a period of compar- ative prosperity, and during the first half of the century she continued to be a thorn in the side of New England. Before the final conflict began, France and England were at war from 1702 to 1713, and again from 1741 to 1748, a total of eighteen years, and during most of these years the New England frontier was exposed to sav- age inroads. There was an atrocious mas- sacre at Deerfield in 1704, and another at Haverhill in 1708, and at all times there was terror on the frontier. Even in time of peace the Indians did not wholly cease from their incursions, and there is little doubt that their turbulence was secretly fomented by the Canadian government. In 1745, the indignant New - Englanders tasted for a moment the sweets of legiti- mate revenge. The strongest and most important fortress of the French in Amer- ica, next to Quebec, was Louisburg, on Cape Breton Island, which commanded the fisheries aid the approaches to the St. Lawrence. At the instance of Governor Shirley, three thousand volunteers were raised by Massachusetts, three hundred by New Hampshire, three hundred by Rhode Island, and five hundred by Connecticut. The whole force was commanded by Will- iani Pepperell, a merchant of Maine. With the assistance of four English ships of the line, they laid siege to Louisburg on May- day, 1745, and pressed the matter so vig- orously that on the 17th of Junejust thirty years before the battle of Bunker Hillthe French commander was brow- beaten into surrendering his almost im- pregnaUe fortress. The gilt cross over the new entrance to Harvard College Li- brary is a trophy of this memorable ex- ploit, which not only astonished the world, but saved New England from a contemplated French invasion. Greatly to the chagrin of the American colonies, the Treaty of Aix - la - Chapelle restored Louisburg to the French, in exchange for Madras, in Hindostan, which France had taken from England. The men of New England felt that their services were held cheap, and were much irritated at the preference accorded by the British govern- ment to its general imperial interests at the expense of its American colonies. A great war had now become inevita- ble. By the Treaty of Utrecht, in 1713, Acadia had been ceded to England, but neither this treaty nor that of Aix-la- Chapelle, in 1748, defined the boundary between Acadia and Maine, nor did either treaty do anything toward settling the eastern limits of Louisiana. The Penob- scot Valley furnished one ever-burning question, and the New York frontier an- other. The dispute over the Ohio Valley was the fiercest of all, and from this quar- ter at last arose the conflagration which swept away all the hopes of French colo- nial empire in two hemispheres. In 1750, the Ohio Company, formed for the pur- pose of colonizing the valley, had survey- ed the country as far as the present site of Louisville. In 1753, the French, taking the alarm, crossed Lake Erie, and began to fortify themselves at Presque Isle, and at Venango on the Alleghany River. This aroused the ire of Virginia, and George Washington a venturous and hardy youth of twenty-one, but gifted with a sa- gacity beyond his yearswas sent by Gov- ernor Dinwiddie to Venango to order off the trespassers. Washington got scanty comfort from this mission; but the next spring both French and English tried to forestall each other in fortifying the all- important place where the Alleghany and Monongahela rivers join to form the Ohio, the place where the city of Pittsburgh now stands. In the course of these pre- liminary mancnuvres, Washington fought his first battle at Great Meadowsthough as yet war had not been declared between France and Englandand being attacked by an overwhelmingly superior force, was obliged to surrender, with the whole of his little army. So the French got possession of the much-coveted situation, and erected there Fort Duquesne as a menace to all fu- ture English intruders. In 1755, war was at length declared, and it was in attempt- ing to reach Fort Duquesne that the un- wary Braddock was slain, and his army so wofully defeated by swarms of Otta 110 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was, Hurons, and Delawares, which the proaches to the Hudson; and in 1758 he Frenchmens forest diplomacy had skill- defeated the English with heavy loss in fully gathered together. the desperate battle of Ticonderoga. The war thus inauspiciously begun The victory of Ticonderoga was, how- was not confined to American soil. Aft- ever, the last considerable success of the er three-quarters of a century of vague French arms in this war. The stars had skirmishing, England was now prepared begun to fight against them, and with the to measure her strength with France in a exception of this brief gleam of triumph, decisive struggle for colonial empire and their career for the next two years was an for the lordship of the sea. The whole unbroken succession of disasters. In 1758, world was convulsed with the struggle of the French fleets were totally defeated by the Seven Years Wara war more mo- Admiral Osborne off Cartagena, and by inentous in its consequences than any that Admiral Pococke in the Indian Ocean, had ever yet been carried on between rival while their great squadron destined for European powers; a war made illustrious North America was driven ashore in the by the genius of one of the greatest gen- Bay of Biscay by Sir Edward Hawke. In erals, and of perhaps the very greatest Germany, their army was defeated by the war minister, the world has ever seen. It Prince of Brunswick, at Crefeld, in June. was an evil hour for French hopes of co- In July, Sir Jeffrey Amherst captured lonial empire when the invincible prow- Louisburg, and finally relieved New Eng- ess of Frederick the Great was allied with land from its standing menace, besides se- the far-sighted policy of William Pitt. curing the mouth of the St. Lawrence. In the autumn of 1757, shortly after the In August, General Bradstreet, by the de- Great Commoner was intrusted with the struction of Fort Frontenac, broke the direction of the foreign affairs of Eng- communication between Canada and the land, the King of Prussia annihilated the French settlements in the West. In No- French army at Rossbach, and thusto vember, General Forbes, having built a say nothing of the immediate results road over the Alleghanies, and, being as- prepared the way for Waterloo and Se- sisted by Washington and Henry Bouquet, dan, and for the creation of a united and succeeded in capturing Fort Duquesne, independent Germany. Yet, in spite of which then became Fort Pitt, and now as this overwhelming victory, the united Pittsburgh still bears the name of the great strength of France and Austria and IRus- war minister. sia would at last have proved too much The capture of this important post gave for the warlike king, had not England the English the control of the Ohio Val- thrown sword and purse into the scale iii ley; but Pitt had now made up his mind his favor. By his firm and energetic sup- to drive the French from America alto- port of Prussia, Pitt kept the main strength gether, and what had been done was only of France busily occupied in Europe, the prelude to heavier blows. In 1759, while English fleets attacked her on the the French army in Germany was totally ocean, and English armies overran her defeated at Minden by the Prince of Bruns- possessions in America, and wrested from wick; one great fleet was defeated at La- her grasp the control of India, which she gos Bay by Admiral Boscawen, and anoth- was also seeking to acquire. er was annihilated at Quiberon by Sir Ed- At the time of Pitts accession to power, ward Hawke; Havre was bombarded by affairs were not going on prosperously in Admiral Rodney; Guadeloupe, the most America. The crushing defeat of Brad- valuable of the French West Indies, was dock had, indeed, been followed by the taken; and serious reverses were experi- victory of Johnson over Dieskau at Lake enced in India. In America, Niagara was George. But this victory did more harm taken on the 24th of July, Ticonderoga on than good; for Johnson remained inactive the 27th, and Crown Point on the 1st of after it, and Dieskau, having been taken August. And on the 13th of September prisoner, was succeeded by the famous the youthful Wolfe accomplished his won- Marquis of Montcalm, a general of great derful feat of leading five thousand arm- ability, who resumed offensive operations ed men up an almost perpendicular preci- with vigor and success. In 1756 Mont- pice, and won the decisive battle which calm destroyed Oswego; in 1757 he cap- completed the ruin of the French domin- tured Fort William Henry, which John- ion in America. Montreal surrendered in son had built to defend the northern ap- the following year, and thus the whole of THE OVERTHROW OF THE FRENCH POWER IN AMERICA. 111 Canada passed into the hands of the Eng- lish. During the progress of this eventful war, the tribes of the Long House, under the influence of Sir William Johnson, had either remained neutral, or had occasion- ally assisted the English cause. The Al- gonquin tribes, however, from east to westincluding even the Delawares, who, since the decline of the Iroquois power, no longer consented to call themselves womenmade common cause with the French, and in many cases proved very formidable allies. The overthrow of the French power came as a terrible shock to these Indians, who now found themselves quite unprotected from English encroach- ment. At first they refused to believe that the catastrophe was irretrievable, and one great Indian conceived a plan for retriev- ing it. Of all the Indians of whom we have any record, perhaps Pontiac, chief of the Ottawas, was the most remarkable for intellectual power. He was as fierce and treacherous as any of his race, but he was characterized by an intellectual curiosity very rare among barbarians, and he exhibited an amount of fore- thought truly wonderful in an Indian. It seemed to him that if all the tribes in the country could be brought to unite in one grand attack upon the English, they might perhaps succeed in overthrowing them. He did, in fact, succeed in form- ing a powerful combination, comprising all the Algonquin tribes, with some of the Mobilians and the remnant of the Hu- rons; and out of the Iroquois League he secured the most numerous tribe, the Senecas, who were least under English influence. The war began in 1763, just after peace had been signed between France and England, and lasted two years. In the course of it the most terri- ble battle ever fought between white men and Indians occurred at Bushy Run, in the Alleghanies; the frontiers of Pennsyl- vania were made the scene of atrocities which beggar description; and most of the forest garrisons in the West were over- come and massacred, though the stronger places, such as Detroit and Fort Pitt, suc- ceeded with some difficulty in holding out. But the Shawnees and Delawares were completely humbled by Bouquet, the vic- tor of Bushy Bun, the Senecas were brow- beaten by Johnson, the French refused to give any assistance, and finally Pontiac, after suing for peace, was murdered in the woods at Cahokia, near St. Louis. Useless butchery was all that came of this scheme; but it is worthy of mention as a natural se- quel of the great French war, as the most serious attempt ever made by the Indians to assert themselves against white men, and as the theme of one of the most brill- iant and fascinating books that has ever been written by any historian since the days of Herodotus.* The Seven Years~ War did not come to an end until Spain, afraid for her West Indian possessions, had taken up arms on the side of France. She thus invited the catastrophe which she dreaded, for in 1762 England conquered Cuba and the Philip- pine Islands. At the definitive treaty of peace ,,known as the Peace of Paris, and signed in February, 1763, England gave back Cuba and the Philippine Islands to Spain in exchange for Florida. To indem- nify Spain for this loss of Florida, incurred through her alliance with France, the lat- ter power ceded to Spain the town of New Orleans and all of Louisiana west of the Mississippia vast and ill-defined region, as thoroughly unknown at that day as Australia or Central Africa. From 1763 until 1803 New Orleans and St. Louis were accordingly governed by Spaniards. In 1803 this vast region was ceded by Spain to Bonaparte, who sold it to the United States for $15,000,000. Florida, on the other hand, was returned to Spain by England at the close of the Revolutionary war, and was afterward, in 1819, bought from Spain by the United States. All of Louisiana east of the Mississippi except New Orleans, and all of Canada, were at the Peace of Paris surrendered to England, so that not a rood of land in all North America remained to France. France also renounced all claim upon In- dia, and it went without saying that Eng- land and not France was now to be mis- tress of the sea. It may be said of the Treaty of Paris that no other treaty ever transferred such an immense portion of the earths surface from one nation to another. But such a statement, after all, gives no adequate idea of the enormous results which the genius of English liberty had for ages been pre- paring, and which had now found definite expression in the policy of William Pitt. The 10th of February, 1763, might not un * I refer, of course, to Parkmans History of the Conspiracy of Pontiac. 112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fitly be celebrated as the proudest day in the history of England. For on that day it was made clearhad any one had eyes to discern the future, and read between the lines of this portentous treatythat she was destined to become the revered mo- ther of many free and enlightened na- tions, all speaking the matchless language which the English Bible has forever con- secrated, and earnest in carrying out the sacred ideas for which Latimer suffered and Hampden fought. It was proclaimed on that day that the institutions of the Roman Empire, however useful in their time, were at last outgrown and super- seded, and that the guidance of the world was henceforth to be not in the hands of imperial bureaus or papal conclaves, but in the hands of the representatives of hon- est labor, and the preachers of righteous- ness, unhampered by ritual or dogma. The independence of the United States was the first great lesson which was drawn from this solemn proclamation. Our own history is to-day the first extended com- mentary which is gradually unfolding to men~ s minds the latent significance of the compact by which the vanquished Old R& gime of France renounced its pretensions to guide the world. In days to come, the lesson will be taken up and reiterated by other great communities planted by Eng- land, in Africa, in Australia, and the isl- ands of the Pacific, until barbarous sacer- dotalism and despotic privilege shall have vanished from the face of the earth, and the principles of Protestantism, rightly un- derstood, and of English self-government, shall have become forever the undisputed possession of all mankind. MONEY-MAKING FOR LADIES. J WISH I knew how to make some I money, says Ysolte of the white hands. She has possibly painted some marine views on large white clam-shells, and offered them to a shop-keeper on com- mission, under cover of a thick veil, and with a guilty manner that half aroused the mans suspicions as to whether, like the wares of the brush-maker who under- sold his neighbor, they had not been stolen ready-made. Ysolte sympathizes with the crumpet- woman who hoped to goodness no one heard her; but the public do not seem to appreciate works of art on clam - shell backgroundsat least the public who fre quent Mr. Joness stationery store; and the Decorative Art Society is equally un- enlightened, having declined them with a kind letter advising the artist to study Art. What, then, shall Ysolte do? Her case is undoubtedly hard. She lacks a new silk dress, means to purchase Christmas presents, and various comforts and belong- ings of civilized life; but hope may per- haps be found for her and for the rest of that numerous class who, while not obliged to enter the ranks of recognized working- women, yet feel the need of increasing a limited income. How a lady can make money and not lose social caste is a ques- tion of absorbing interest, but one that is seldom answered satisfactorily. People want things to do, said some one lately, and yet there are a hundred things waiting for some one to do them. The difficulty is to get them done properly. Among the money-making occupations pursued by ladies, that of taking boarders affords an illustration. To take boarders for an absolute dependence in the way of support is probably as harassing an occu- pation as can well be found, especially with the risk of hiring a large house and furnishing it for the purpose. A great deal, however, can be said on both sides. The case is not so difficult with the owner or occupant of her own house, who, hav- ing room that can be very well spared, chooses to diminish her household ex- penses by adding to the number of the inmates. It increases her cares also, but money can not be made in any way with- out effort of some kind, and this method seems preferable to ordinary teaching or sewing. To succeed, however, in taking and en- tertaining boarders, either on a large or a small scale, requires good housekeeping, and what may be called a gift of econ- omy, which does not mean providing poor things, but getting the most for ones mon- ey. An economical housekeeper who un- derstands her business will furnish a good table with a sum which, in the hands of one who thinks only of saving money, would produce the most unsatisfactory re- sults. The manner of cooking and serv- ing food has quite as much to do with its attractiveness as the quality of the pur- chases made; half-cooked ~regetables, and meats scorched without and raw within, can never be inviting, whatever the origi- nal cost or quality may have been.

Ella Rodman Church Church, Ella Rodman Money-Making for Ladies 112-116

112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fitly be celebrated as the proudest day in the history of England. For on that day it was made clearhad any one had eyes to discern the future, and read between the lines of this portentous treatythat she was destined to become the revered mo- ther of many free and enlightened na- tions, all speaking the matchless language which the English Bible has forever con- secrated, and earnest in carrying out the sacred ideas for which Latimer suffered and Hampden fought. It was proclaimed on that day that the institutions of the Roman Empire, however useful in their time, were at last outgrown and super- seded, and that the guidance of the world was henceforth to be not in the hands of imperial bureaus or papal conclaves, but in the hands of the representatives of hon- est labor, and the preachers of righteous- ness, unhampered by ritual or dogma. The independence of the United States was the first great lesson which was drawn from this solemn proclamation. Our own history is to-day the first extended com- mentary which is gradually unfolding to men~ s minds the latent significance of the compact by which the vanquished Old R& gime of France renounced its pretensions to guide the world. In days to come, the lesson will be taken up and reiterated by other great communities planted by Eng- land, in Africa, in Australia, and the isl- ands of the Pacific, until barbarous sacer- dotalism and despotic privilege shall have vanished from the face of the earth, and the principles of Protestantism, rightly un- derstood, and of English self-government, shall have become forever the undisputed possession of all mankind. MONEY-MAKING FOR LADIES. J WISH I knew how to make some I money, says Ysolte of the white hands. She has possibly painted some marine views on large white clam-shells, and offered them to a shop-keeper on com- mission, under cover of a thick veil, and with a guilty manner that half aroused the mans suspicions as to whether, like the wares of the brush-maker who under- sold his neighbor, they had not been stolen ready-made. Ysolte sympathizes with the crumpet- woman who hoped to goodness no one heard her; but the public do not seem to appreciate works of art on clam - shell backgroundsat least the public who fre quent Mr. Joness stationery store; and the Decorative Art Society is equally un- enlightened, having declined them with a kind letter advising the artist to study Art. What, then, shall Ysolte do? Her case is undoubtedly hard. She lacks a new silk dress, means to purchase Christmas presents, and various comforts and belong- ings of civilized life; but hope may per- haps be found for her and for the rest of that numerous class who, while not obliged to enter the ranks of recognized working- women, yet feel the need of increasing a limited income. How a lady can make money and not lose social caste is a ques- tion of absorbing interest, but one that is seldom answered satisfactorily. People want things to do, said some one lately, and yet there are a hundred things waiting for some one to do them. The difficulty is to get them done properly. Among the money-making occupations pursued by ladies, that of taking boarders affords an illustration. To take boarders for an absolute dependence in the way of support is probably as harassing an occu- pation as can well be found, especially with the risk of hiring a large house and furnishing it for the purpose. A great deal, however, can be said on both sides. The case is not so difficult with the owner or occupant of her own house, who, hav- ing room that can be very well spared, chooses to diminish her household ex- penses by adding to the number of the inmates. It increases her cares also, but money can not be made in any way with- out effort of some kind, and this method seems preferable to ordinary teaching or sewing. To succeed, however, in taking and en- tertaining boarders, either on a large or a small scale, requires good housekeeping, and what may be called a gift of econ- omy, which does not mean providing poor things, but getting the most for ones mon- ey. An economical housekeeper who un- derstands her business will furnish a good table with a sum which, in the hands of one who thinks only of saving money, would produce the most unsatisfactory re- sults. The manner of cooking and serv- ing food has quite as much to do with its attractiveness as the quality of the pur- chases made; half-cooked ~regetables, and meats scorched without and raw within, can never be inviting, whatever the origi- nal cost or quality may have been. MONEY-MAKING FOR LADIES. 113 As a general thin g, there is a sort of airy unconcern about those who take boarders, in regard to all matters not ab- solutely down in the bond, which is highly exasperating; and considering all things, the wonder is not that so many fail in this calling, but that any succeed. Were it not that there is always an abun- dant supply of homeless people in the world, landladies who trouble themselves only about what is barely necessary, and do even that in an inefficient way, would oftener find that it doesnt pay to take boarders. How often, for instance, does any one looking for board chance to find a room that has a home look about it? Do not the apartments generally shown look as if some one had just died there, and ev- erything had been dismantled in conse- quence? Not a bit of drapery to bed or windows, not a bracket or a table cover, not a cushion or footstool. The four walls are thereoften with an ugly pa- per on themwith the orthodox bedstead and bureau and chairs, possibly a bard lounge, but probably none at all. What possibilities of cheerfulness are there in such a room, if the occupants have no furniture of their own with which to brighten it? But we cant afford to ornament rooms, say the struggling landladies; it wouldnt pay. We can scarcely make both ends meet as it is. This is just where they make a mis- take, because it would pay. It would pay to drape the windows with cheap but tasteful curtainsthose of white muslin, cretonne, nubleached muslin, Canton flan- nel, or low - priced worsted stuffs being particularly serviceable for winter to drape the mantel with the same, and to have a table cover that matches or har- monizes. A lounge improvised from a packing - box, with springs and a small husk mattress over them, could be cover- ed to suit the draperies. A few touches of this kind would completely transform a bare, ugly room into something home- like, and the small outlay required would certainly be returned tenfold. A lady who desires to receive into her family one additional inmate, as a means of increasing her income, will find no dif- ficulty, if she reside in the city, in obtain- ing a desirable lady or gentleman boarder willing to pay liberally for home com- forts. Many such people detest boarding- voL. Lxv.~o. 355.8 houses, and would willingly dispense with a great variety at the table for the sake of having what is put upon it made inviting. Even so simple a thing as the popular breakfast dish of oatmeal is seldom cook- ed so as to be fit to eat. Often placed upon the table half raw, because so few cooks seem to understand the immense amount of moderate boiling or simmering that it requires, it quite deserves the name of chicken feed facetiously bestowed upon it. It can be made, though, a very delicate and nourishing dishbearing in mind the fact that cream or good rich milk is its natural congener. It is not necessary, however, to go into the details of breakfast, dinner, and tea dishes, a passing allusion to the causes of failure on the part of those who attempt to take boarders being sufficient for our purpose. The assertion can easily be proved from facts that more people are looking fruitlessly for home-like quarters than there are people having such quar- ters to offer. It follows, therefore, that any one who will furnish something more attractive than is usually offered will have no reason to complain of want of success. The housekeeper has many advantages in the way of money-making which the occupant of a room in some one elses house does not enjoy. Pickling and pre- serving, pie and cake making, naturally suggest themselves in this connection, and why should not the toothsome deli- cacies so lavishly displayed on the home table for the admiration and enjoyment of friends be also regarded as a source of revenue? Store preserves are apt to be insipid; and canned peaches from the same source invariably require more sugar as well as more cooking before they are fit for the table. Preserves that could be manu- factured at the same cost, and yet be free from these defects, would not fail of find- ing a ready market as soon as their merits were known; and the housekeeper with- out much money to risk could easily try a few jars at first, which she would doubt- less need for home consumption in case of their not being sold. Happy is she who can say, even if it is a travesty, I know a bank where the wild raspberries grow, for the capabilities of this fruit in the way of preserving are infinite, and wild rasp- 114 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. berries have the advantage over those which are cultivated of belonging to any one who will gather them. Raspberry jam affords an inexhaustible fund for tarts, puddings, jelly-cakes, ices, etc., and too much of it can scarcely be made. Raspberry syrup makes a deliciously cool- ing drink, and raspberry jelly is a fine bit of color for the eye, and peculiarly acceptable to the palate. Blackberries, too, are valuable in their way, though somewhat unpleasantly seedy, and they are eminently popular in the shape of jam and jelly and syrup. Strawberry preserves are delicious; peach- es are taken for granted; plums, the dark blue ones, are the most delightful combi- nation of tart and sweet that can be man- ufactured. But does any one ever see them in the shape of preserves for sale? And where, with the fullest of purses, can one buy quince marmalade? You can get guava marmalade, which has to be brought from the tropics, in abundance, and candied limes; but where is quince marmalade, for which the ingredients may be gathered almost at our very doors, to be found? The fruit and the sugar are waiting in separate places for some enter- prising woman to put them together, and superintend them safely to the triumphant conclusion of marmalade. Candied orange peel might also be in- cluded in the list with advantage. In some families it is successfully made for home consumption, and is deservedly pop- ular, but it is not often found for sale, and would probably prove quite profitable. Other things will suggest themselves after making a beginning, and as a little suc- cess is a dangerous thing, the elated ama- teur may find herself disposed to preserve everything she can lay her hands on. It is not for a moment to be supposed that ladies are advised in these pages to enter into competition with the large can- ning and preserving establishments that do their work by machinery, and fill every market with it at very moderate prices, but merely to produce superior home- made articles for a home market. Home-made pies, such as our mothers used to make, are harder to find than four- leaved clovers, and the manufacture of such viands for profit ought to be attend- ed with a fair amount of success. Some years ago a woman bought a farm with the proceeds of pie-making, but she sold her wares herself, and hired no assistants. If a lady has deft fingers with pie-crust, and makes plump, juicy pies of apples in slices, well cooked, and flavored with cin- namon and orange peel, those of pump- kin deep, moist, and good every way, and others in their season, there would be no difficulty, after perhaps a little patient waiting, in finding a ready sale for them. People would flock after Mrs. s home- made pies as they would after Mrs. s home - made preserves, and the change from strong butter in the paste and very little of anything inside to crust of flaky sweetness and liberal filling could scarcely fail of being appreciated. At first, perhaps, the profits might scarcely pay for the trouble; but a little practice would soon teach one how to buy the materials in quantities at a saving, and to use them with discretion. In the city a person could easily be hired to carry the pies about for sale; and there are many business places in which they would be warmly welcomed at lunch-time, especially if made in the form of tarts and turn-overs. An enter- prising lady could really do well, when her pies became popular, and yet no one has tried the experiment, or at least to any extent; that is, good home-made pies have not been offered for sale in this way; and because poor ones have not been particu- larly popular, there is no reason for dis- couragement where good ones are con- cerned. This is the day of cheap restaurants, when pavement boys, venders of news- papers, boot-blacks, and the like, can get a comfortable meal for a few cents; and in far down-town localities, where business men congregate, a dime or two will pro- cure good meat, milk, bread, and some- thing quite praiseworthy in the way of dessert. But for ladies there are no such establishments. The down-town places are too far off; and within a reasonable dis- tance for shopping there are only the con- fectioners, with high prices and unsatisfac- tory food. Would it not be a profitable undertaking to inaugurate a lunching place for ladies on an entirely new basis, the strong point to be coffee, supplement- ed by home-made bread, both white and brown? This coffee, of the best quality, should be made in the best manner, al- ways served fresh and hot. The bread and butter, too, must be essentially differ- ent from those articles as usually found in restaurantshome-made and delicious. MONEY-MAKING FOR LADIES. 115 A small sum of money would suffice to start so modest an establishment, which might at first consist of but one room, with a curtain across the end to conceal the lit- tle stove with its coffee apparatus, the bread being made at home and carried there. It would be an experiment, but not on a very large scale, and the returns would come in daily. The bill of fare could easily be extended if desirable, and the undertaking really seems to offer a promising field for some pioneer to occupy. But, remonstrates Ysolte, helplessly, I am not a housekeeper, and can not set up a restaurant. What is there, then, for me ~ Illustrated shells and china - painting are so common, plaques are multiplying upon the face of the earth with frightful celerity, and panels are decorated in al- most every known and unknown device. Exceptionally beautiful work of this kind is always well paid; but among the quan- tities offered for sale the stamp of genius is not often found. There are remuner- ative prices of work, however, for those who know how to produce pleasing ef- fects with colors, and who are yet un- able, and should not attempt, art work of the highest order; painted buttons, and dinner cards, and squares of silk for fan- cy articles, with other trivialities, being often in demand. Teaching, notwithstanding its cares and anxieties and wearisome routine, has al- ways been a popular employment with the educated, chiefly because it is one of the few employments in which a lady may openly engage without tue least compro- mise of her social standing. Classes and lessons are more desirable than regular employment in a school or family, and a large country town is perhaps the most promising field for such engagements. Music lessons generally afford the best pay, and almost every well-to-do mechan- ic is anxious above all things that his daughter should learn to play on the pi- ano-forte. Designing, drawing, engraving, etc., may be made more or less remunerative, according to the ability of the worker; but of all the decorative arts, there is one for which ladies are peculiarly fitted, but with which they have as yet had very lit- tle to do. When a house, the very cen- tre of a womans kingdom, and the place where she spends most of her time, is to be furnished and decorated, men are call- ed in to decide what hues shall prevail, what hangings and carpets and other be- longings shall meet my ladys eyes day after dayoften what pictures shall hang upon her walls, what books shall come like silent friends to take up their abode with her. This is not a mans business at all, but a womans, and if well conducted it might be made a very remunerative one. Shopping on commission is, for those who succeed in it, highly profitable, and affords a pleasant excitement in receiving letters and selecting pretty things. There is a positive charm in spending money, even if it is other peoples, and the shop- per by proxy enjoys this to its fullest ex- tent. People living in the city, as well as those living in the country, are some- times glad to have their shopping done for them, as it spares them much labor and perplexity, especially those who are conscious of their deficiencies in taste and judgment. The commission charged to purchasers is five per cent., and merchants usually allow a discount of from six to ten per cent. to shoppers on commission. This makes a very handsome return to those who have a satisfactory amount of orders. A lady who attended to this department in connection with a fashion periodical was in the receipt of a hundred dollars a month from this source alone; but she complains that within the last two or three years the business has very materially de- clined, so that small orders and occasion- al ones are the rule now. She attributes this state of things partly to the fact that all the dry-goods houses will now send samples of their wares to the remotest ends of the earth, and the resident of Kam- tchatka or the Philippine Islands has only to send waist and bust measure, length of skirt, etc., to insure a perfectly fitting suit in the latest fashion, as soon as it can be made by steam, and transported to its destination in the same way. Some ladies quietly do shopping for their friends, and receive the same com- mission as if they were regularly in the business. This is much pleasanter if one can obtain enough orders to answer the purpose. No outlay is required for ciren- lars or advertising, and one can feel sure where known of giving satisfaction. Their friends, too, can speak of theni to others, so that by degrees sufficient occu- pation will be found for all leisure hours. In the country, money can always be 116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. made from a small garden by raising ve- getables, flowers, and fruit, which, if of good quality, will invariably command a ready market; and in spite of Mr. War- ners well-known witticism about the ne- cessity of a cast-iron back with a hinge, in agricultural pursuits, there are many wo- men who do all but the very hardest of the garden work without feeling the need of such an apparatus. One energetic lady who went into the business of grafting and fruit-raising, with no back at all to speak of, gained not only wealth, but health also, in her orchard. A worthy couple who own a small house and one acre of ground near a vil- lage are successfully engaged in raising vegetables, strawberries, raspberries, cur- rants, grapes, pears, cherries, plums, flow- ers, plants, bees, poultry, and possibly a few more things, for the market, and the proceeds of that one acre are really sur- prising. Everything raised seems to be the very best of its kind. Flowers, fruit, and vegetables are always put up in the most attractive manner, and bring the highest prices. The little farm yields a very good income, but only because it is worked to the best advantage, and upon the principle of doing everything as well as it possibly can be done. Any woman with a garden, either large or small, who is desirous of increasing her income, has only to study its capabilities, and plant it to the best advantage, to find herself in possession of a certain source of revenue. In connection with a garden, it is a com- paratively easy matter to raise bees. They take up little room, generally find and take care of themselves, and have not, like chickens, a morbid appetite for newly planted seeds and summer vegetables. Bee-raising particularly commends itself to ladies, because there is so little work in it; it is like having a colony of small slaves at work for their owner, while she is busy with other things, or enjoying the sweet do-nothingness that follows accom- plished labor. That bees are a great source of profit, abundant experience proves; and as they do not require private acres for exercise and recreation, they may, under favor- able circumstances, even be kept in the city. But they are seldom found there, and in the country it is rare to see them cared for by a lady to any extent. Yet they have been pronounced the best pay- ing investment in live stock that can pos- sibly be made as an incidental business, which is the subject now under consider- ation, as they yield a large return for a very moderate outlay and trifling expense of keeping. That hens are worth keeping, and keep- ing well, there is no manner of doubt; and besides being profitable, they are a con- stant source of interest. In answer, how- ever, to a remark on their nice, funny ways, hazarded to a practical country- man, he said, meditatively, Well, some of their ways is funny, and some aint. He probably saw no particular humor in their wanting chickens when he wanted eggs, nor in their persistent attentions to the tomato patch. He frankly acknow- ledged, though, that he had sold eggs as low as ten cents a dozen and made money on em at that. Turkeys, ducks, and geese are also sure to yield money returns according to the wisdom with which they are managed; and some one writes of the formerz A flock of well-grown turkeys make such an agreeable addition to the receipts of the farm, and they are often raised with so little trouble, that I wonder at the seeming indifference of so many farmers with reference to them. The rules for breeding are simple and easily understood, and failures are due to two prominent causes: one, the weather, which in some seasons puts at fault the utmost possible care; the other, negligence. Many other suggestions might be offer- ed on the subject of money-making for those who are not accustomed to work; but among the various occupations al- ready mentioned, something will surely be found to answer Ysoltes question. AN EDELWEISS OF THE SIERRAS. I. LUCY BOYNTON lived a solitary life in a gray old minster town in Eng- land. She was an orphan, in charge of a venerable maiden aunt, who, like the cel- ebrated Mrs. F. of Hoods ballad, was so very deaf She might have worn a percussion cap, And he hit on the head without hearing it snap. From spring to autumn, from autumn to spring, Lucy sat and sewed, dusted the tea-cups on the mantel-shelf, read a few dull books, and accompanied her aunt to service, whence the morning and evening

Constance Cary Harrison Harrison, Constance Cary An Edelweiss of the Sierras 116-123

116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. made from a small garden by raising ve- getables, flowers, and fruit, which, if of good quality, will invariably command a ready market; and in spite of Mr. War- ners well-known witticism about the ne- cessity of a cast-iron back with a hinge, in agricultural pursuits, there are many wo- men who do all but the very hardest of the garden work without feeling the need of such an apparatus. One energetic lady who went into the business of grafting and fruit-raising, with no back at all to speak of, gained not only wealth, but health also, in her orchard. A worthy couple who own a small house and one acre of ground near a vil- lage are successfully engaged in raising vegetables, strawberries, raspberries, cur- rants, grapes, pears, cherries, plums, flow- ers, plants, bees, poultry, and possibly a few more things, for the market, and the proceeds of that one acre are really sur- prising. Everything raised seems to be the very best of its kind. Flowers, fruit, and vegetables are always put up in the most attractive manner, and bring the highest prices. The little farm yields a very good income, but only because it is worked to the best advantage, and upon the principle of doing everything as well as it possibly can be done. Any woman with a garden, either large or small, who is desirous of increasing her income, has only to study its capabilities, and plant it to the best advantage, to find herself in possession of a certain source of revenue. In connection with a garden, it is a com- paratively easy matter to raise bees. They take up little room, generally find and take care of themselves, and have not, like chickens, a morbid appetite for newly planted seeds and summer vegetables. Bee-raising particularly commends itself to ladies, because there is so little work in it; it is like having a colony of small slaves at work for their owner, while she is busy with other things, or enjoying the sweet do-nothingness that follows accom- plished labor. That bees are a great source of profit, abundant experience proves; and as they do not require private acres for exercise and recreation, they may, under favor- able circumstances, even be kept in the city. But they are seldom found there, and in the country it is rare to see them cared for by a lady to any extent. Yet they have been pronounced the best pay- ing investment in live stock that can pos- sibly be made as an incidental business, which is the subject now under consider- ation, as they yield a large return for a very moderate outlay and trifling expense of keeping. That hens are worth keeping, and keep- ing well, there is no manner of doubt; and besides being profitable, they are a con- stant source of interest. In answer, how- ever, to a remark on their nice, funny ways, hazarded to a practical country- man, he said, meditatively, Well, some of their ways is funny, and some aint. He probably saw no particular humor in their wanting chickens when he wanted eggs, nor in their persistent attentions to the tomato patch. He frankly acknow- ledged, though, that he had sold eggs as low as ten cents a dozen and made money on em at that. Turkeys, ducks, and geese are also sure to yield money returns according to the wisdom with which they are managed; and some one writes of the formerz A flock of well-grown turkeys make such an agreeable addition to the receipts of the farm, and they are often raised with so little trouble, that I wonder at the seeming indifference of so many farmers with reference to them. The rules for breeding are simple and easily understood, and failures are due to two prominent causes: one, the weather, which in some seasons puts at fault the utmost possible care; the other, negligence. Many other suggestions might be offer- ed on the subject of money-making for those who are not accustomed to work; but among the various occupations al- ready mentioned, something will surely be found to answer Ysoltes question. AN EDELWEISS OF THE SIERRAS. I. LUCY BOYNTON lived a solitary life in a gray old minster town in Eng- land. She was an orphan, in charge of a venerable maiden aunt, who, like the cel- ebrated Mrs. F. of Hoods ballad, was so very deaf She might have worn a percussion cap, And he hit on the head without hearing it snap. From spring to autumn, from autumn to spring, Lucy sat and sewed, dusted the tea-cups on the mantel-shelf, read a few dull books, and accompanied her aunt to service, whence the morning and evening AN EDELWEISS OF THE SIERRAS. 117 chants floated in at the window of their sitting-room close to the cathedral walls. Not so much as the Vicar of Wakefields excitement to migrate from the blue bed to the brown was allotted her; for, ever since she could remember, Lucy had occu- pied the same still white-curtained nest, opening from Miss Boyntons bedroom, where at night she could peep out to su- pervise the removal of a certain glossy, ink-black frontispiece of hair, and the as- sumption of a frilled coif, converting the old ladys strong aquiline profile into a grim silhouette of some warrior of ancient Greece or Rome. Into this colorless existence, when Lucy was about eighteen, there came an influ- ence potent and mysterious, as if a waft of jasmine scent were blown across some meadow nook where homely buttercups are springing in the grass. Miss Boyntons nephew, Tom Boynton, of whom his few scattered kinspeople had heard nothing for several years, arrived from the other side of the Atlantic to look up those of his blood remaining to him in England. He was a handsome, active young fellow, with a jaunty grace of car- riage, and a timbre in his hearty voice, irresistibly compelling a return of cordial- ity, be the recipient ever so guarded in his dignity. Innocent Lucy, herself perhaps not quite up to the standard of dignity at St. Margarets in general, fell in love with him frankly at the outset, while Tom, who began by finding no end of pleasure in telling his travellers tales to this dear lit- tle wide-eyed creature, going white and red alternately with his perils and escapes, ended by picking her up in his arms one day, and vowing he must have her for his wifeher or no woman, present or to come. That rough wooings speed cheer- ily sometimes, witness King Harry the Fifth, or the son of those fierce Vikings out of the dark Northeast, Hereward the Wake. The dewy atmosphere of St. Margarets not having proved favorable to the growth of small feminine coquetries, Lucy, trem- bling a little and blushing a great deal, but strong in trust, plighted him her troth. Unlike the members of his adopted bro- therhood in the New World, Tom Boyn- ton never calculated. He was quite un- prepared for the effect of this news upon poor old Miss Boynton, who received his triumphant announcement with a sort of tearless grief peculiar to age, and most ap- pealing to the stalwart mountaineer. He realized that to take Lucy away from her would be like tearing the ivy from a tottering wall. To remain in England, as his aunt pleadingly suggested, partly dependent upon her slender means, until an opening in business could be found for him, was a thought impossible to enter- tain. Toms heart went out with a mighty yearning toward the wonderful hill coun- try left behind, and the prospect of speedy wealth it held out to a strong, capable fel- low like himself. For a time he was in a pitiful state of ir- resolution. One day in spring, when gold- en laburnums and sweet lilies-of-the-val- ley were coming out in the sunshine of the prim little garden behind the house, Tom strode up and down the walk, con- sumed with restlessness. Catching sight of Lucys brown head at the window of the parlor, where she sat sewing in a frame of ivy leaves, he asked her to put down her seam, and come for a walk with him. They reached a point beyond the town, where Lucy seated herself upon a bank of rich grass with daisies pied, such as only England can produce. Looking down the vista of a bowery lane, they saw the mm- ster tower rise ivy-wreathed against a tran- quil sky, gray chimneys and moss-grown roofs clustering about it, half hidden from sight by venerable trees. A shining riv- er ran through meadows of greenest turf. Everywhere the eye plunged into a mass of unequalled verdure. All was calm, hushed, locked in a deep repose. Here was old England garnering in her cen- turies of well-earned peace. Here, nearer still, was Lucy, her candid eyes fixed trust- fully on his. Just then the sun at setting painted the heavens with a glory unspeakable. It was as if his own Golden Gate had open- ed suddenly before him, and Tom sprang to his feet, the fire of Westward Ho ! thrilling in his veins. Lucy, he cried, crushing her hands in his vigorous grasp dear, darling Lucy, it is an awful thing, but I must go. It is only for a while, never fear; for while grass grows and water runs Ill be true to you, my lass. I am going to work for fortune now as I never did before. God bless your dear little soul, if theres gold to be had, Ill have it. Will you wait for me, Lucy ? 118 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ill wait, Tom, she answered, simply. There is one thing you have never looked at, my dear, Tom said, after a long talk over their plans. It is just possible that you may be left alone in the world at a time when I cant get away to come for you. I am haunted by the fear. It drives me to proposing what I might not have dared to ask for otherwise. As my sweetheart, Lucy, you could not sail around the globe to come to me; but if you love me well enough to marry me now, before I go, and let me leave you the pro- tection of my name, you can take ship at any time for New York, and from there take another to San Francisco, where I will meet my wife, and carry her off to my den in the mountains, like a great ogre as I am. Think twice, Lucy, before you say yes. It will be a long voyage for you, poor little waif, and a wild life after you get there: onlyGod forget me, Lucy, if I ever cease to love and cherish you as the apple of my eye ! I will do what you say, Torn, Lucy said, like the creature of a dream. Two years passed, and all that Lucy had to remind her of the strange vows she had taken were the little gold wedding ring he had squeezed upon her finger in the shadow of the old minster altar, an- other circlet hammered out of virgin California gold, and imprisoning a great sparkling diamond, sent after Toms ar- rival in San Francisco, and the letters glowing with love and pride that came to her by every mail. Tom was now engi- neer in charoe of a famous new mine up under the snow-peaks of the sierras, work- ing hard and cheerily. Miss Boyntons lit- tle house overfiowedwith Indian, Mexican, and Chinese curiosities, quaint souvenirs of the far Pacific coast, and Lucy might have walked in silk attire had she chosen to assume the marrowy shawls of China crape, like wrinkled skins on scalded milk, and their companion rolls of stuff, that Tom showered upon the two ladies from time to time. Thus Lucys even life ebbed on under the ivy-covered walls that bounded it. When the day came that poor old Miss Boynton entered into everlasting rest, Lucy was bewildered by her sudden free- dom, and the stirring change it entail- ed. She was an Englishwoman, however, which means one capable of arising to any emergency; and when the answer to the letter announcing her aunts death to Tom arrived, it found her quite ready to obey its loving behest, and to set forth alone upon the two long voyages. Tom, who was chained to his post just then, awaited her with open arms. Westward she journeyed bravely through Atlantic storms; then southward to the languid torpor of the tropic seas, and across the Isthmus to the calm Pa- cific. When at length the steamer passed through the Golden Gate into the broad land-locked harbor of San Francisco, Lucys heart beat high with expectation. Enough of her story had become known to her fellow-voyagers to create in them a feeling of active sympathy in the expected reunion with her husband. Something very like a groan at his expense arose from Lucys adherents when among all the motley groups of Californians, native and imported, assembled to greet the ar- rival of the ship, no trace appeared of the recreant Tom. Under the inspiration of Californian air, it is barely possible that Mrs. Boyntons zealous friends might at that point have been led to visit with prompt public rebuke the appearance of the missing man. If the quiver of Lucys lip and her blanching cheek thus affected them, what would have been the result of witnessing the bitter, inconsolable burst of tears with which she shut herself in her state-room till the first disappointment was spent! By the captains advice, and under charge of respectable people, Lucy betook herself to a hotel, pending the arrival of tidings from her husband. It was evident that the letter announcing her coming, a date rendered previously uncertain by the settlement of her small business affairs in England, had miscarried. Her good friend the captain found for her a special opportunity to send a letter on to Tom without delay, and Lucys courage rising with renewed hope, she determined, after a day of rest, to take stage for the station nearest the mining camp, and there await his coming. The captain, who saw to all her arrangements, and put her in the stage, watched her departure with glisten- ing eyes. Lucy leaned out to wave her hand to him, with a smile like an an- gels, the old man afterward declared. During the first part of that long jour- ney by stage, Lucy knew not fatigue, so astonished and excited was she by the AN EDELWEISS OF THE SIERRAS. 119 New-World glories. The early spring had broken up the gentle undulations of field and plain with countless flowering plants, whose fragrant breath perfumed the air. Far as the eye could reach in this won- derfully clarified atmosphere were vine- yard - clad slopes, prosperous ranches, meadows dotted with patriarchal flocks and herds, and watered by crystal rivers. Above hung cliffs crowned with a dark continuous zone of pines, cutting off the flower - enamelled paradise below from the snow-shrouded crests of the sierras Toms mountains, the foolish child called those grand untrodden summits. Lucys insular reserve, her fears, her scru- ples, melted into the gladness of a child butterfly-hunting under a summer sun; her heart clothed itself with love. Something of her early exhilaration, but none of her patient courage, had worn away, when the unwonted fatigue of two days and a night of stage-riding took pos- session of Lucys exhausted frame. A rough woman, her comrade during the greater part of the journey, had, to Lucys unqualified despair, been left at the sta- tion before the terminus. She was alone now with a half-dozen men, who survey- ed her with curious but not irreverent eyes. Jerry, the soft-voiced stage-driver, rein- ed in his six magnificent horses with the same professional calm exhibited fre- quently during the journey in driving them at full gallop along the edge of a precipice. The stage halted before the rude veranda of a desolate two-story building, with a lit- tle colony of out-houses to correspond, over which was proudly inscribed the word Hotel. Lucy, almost unable to walk, was half carried across the thresh- old. The other passengers, travel-soiled as they were, rushed by her like so many cannon-balls into the open doorway of a supper-room, before which a stolid China- man promenaded back and forth ringing a resonant bell. Making his obeisance to Lucy in the smoky, oil-reeking atmosphere of this sit- ting-room, bar, and office combined, stood the proprietor, a hopelessly seedy Don Quixote, with a smack of former gentility in his drawling tones. I am the wife of Mr. Boynton, of the Humboldt Mine, Lucy managed to say, with quiet dignity. I have every reason to hope that my husband will meet me here very shortly, and I must beg you to give me a room at once where I may rest until he comes. Although profuse in civilities upon the discovery that his guest was the colonels lady, as he chose, to Lucys amusement, to style her, Don Quixote looked a trifle blank at the mention of a room. Going off for a moment into the supper-room, he quickly re-appeared with the beaming, an- nouncement, made in the style of a pro- vincial theatre manager, that in order to accommodate Mrs. Colonel Boynton, Jedge Tompkins had kindly consented to double up with General Snyder for the night. Lucy~s strength only sufficed her to as- cend to the rude room prepared for that distinguished citizen Jedge Tompkins, and there to request a cup of tea. This awful beverage was served to her presently by the stolid Chinaman, who took that op- portunity to remove a box of paper collars and a package of toothpicks belonging to the Judge, substituting for them Mrs. Boyntons rugs and dressing-case. Lucy waited to see him depart, bolted her door, spread one rug over the straw bed, and drew another upon herself as she literally dropped into the deep sleep of utter phys- ical fatigue. Toward morning Lucy was aroused by a confused sound from the room below. She sprang up in bed, trying to realize her position. Through the thin boards divid- ing them, she distinctly heard the rattle of dice-boxes, voices in dispute, oaths, a scuffle, a pistol-shot, then anothera riot making hideous the night. Overcome with terror, she tottered to her feet. The candle she had left burning flickered in its socket and went out, leaving her in dark- ness. Lucy groped her way to the win- dow, with an absurd impulse to cry aloud for help. At the very moment, when fan- cying that she could detect the noise of a horses hoofs, a wild prayer for Tom to come for her rose to her lips, more shots were heard below, and something whizzed up past her ear, leaving a trail like fire upon her cheek. Tom Boynton, riding hard through the night over rough mountain-roads to seek his wife, reached the tavern just in timeto find its inmates launched into a fierce but not unusual affray at cards. The land- lord, apt at this stage of the game to be overcome by strong libations, and on the present occasion somewhat unnerved by 120 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. what he called the boys hem rayther on- expectedly lively, directed him to Lucys room. Toms knock and call receiving no response, he burst open the door, to find his wife lying senseless on the floor. Out of her trance of terror Lucy slowly came. She felt the warm clasp of loving arms, a strong heart beating close to hers. A mans tears were rained upon her face, and the slight wound upon her cheek was staff ched with tenderest kisses. II. We may look in upon Lucys new home, after the lapse of a peaceful year or two. It was a veritable mountain eyrie, some- what apart from the mining settlement, a roughly built but comfortable cottage, clinging for dear life to the edge of a bat- tlement of cliffs, nestling under the lock- ed arms of giant pine-trees, where they lay down to rest at night lulled by the music of falling waters, in early spring swelling to the roar of a mighty cataract, as the swollen torrent plunged downward through the caflon at their feet. As for the interior, every stick of furniture had been brought up on pack-mules from the station below, and it was not elaborate; but a few months of Lucys reign sufficed to make of it a very bower of bliss, Tom thought. There were warm red curtains to hang before their casements, old Aunt Boyntons blue tea-cups and brass candle- sticks for the dresser shelves, fair English linen and bright English silver adjusted by deftest English fingers upon their mod- est board. For drapery to the little lounge they had the brilliant coloring and fine web of blankets made by the Navajo In- dians. How Lucy had cried for joy when she found blossoming bravely upon her window-sill a pot of old- fashioned red and white balsam, which Tom had raised for her from the seed, in memory of the little garden at St. Margarets. As months went on, Lucy, well trained to the solitude of her New-World life, found a thousand charms surrounding it. In early summer, leaving their mossy fern-hung cliffs, Tom and she would make long expeditions on horseback down into the enchanting region, where, kneeling upon hillocks of emerald turf, waist-deep in scented grass, she might fill her lap with a mass of gaudy wild tulips, of lilies, and syringa lusciously sweet in smell, of tiny unknown flowers in every shade of blue and white and rose. The glorious oaks of the foot-hill sum- mits, spreading afar their layers of lus- trous shade, appealed most strongly to her English heart; but she learned to look with enthusiasm upon the pines clothing with their girdle of everlasting green the granite ribs of the mountain monarchs couched in eternal sleep. At last there came a late October day when Toms baby-girl opened her blue eyes like gentian flowers beneath a fall of snow. Lucy did well, and during two or three weeks purest love and joy reigned under the roof of the little dwelling. Tom walked about on tiptoes, and conversed in awe-stricken whispers even at the dis- tance of a mile from his new treasure. An old Dutchwoman, who had been in- duced to come from a distant settlement to attend upon Lucy, abandoned them when the baby was about three weeks old, Lucy declaring herself quite strong enough to resume her usual duties about the cottage, aided by her quaint factotum, the Chinaman with a blue cotton blouse and a pigtail, who was their cook, laun- derer, and butler combined. A few days after, Tom bounded up the little path lead- ing to his home, and burst in like an au- tumn blast of wind, to find Lucy sitting by the fire, looking pale and weary, hold- ing her hand upon her side. I think I have taken a little cold, Tom, she said, trying to smile up at him in her usual fashion. Perhaps I had better go back to bed. And oh, the pity of it !all too soon, poor little English Lucy lay still and cold upon her couch, the baby wailing at her side. Just before she died, Lucy asked Tom to listenthey were singing the Ju- bilate at St. Margarets: so listening she passed away. They made her a grave at the foot of her favorite treea grand heaven-reaching pine, clothed with a mist of perfumed plumy green. Tom Boynton recrossed his desolate threshold to cast himself down upon Lucys vacant couch, and pray God to take him too. He heard a feeble cry, and felt beneath the clothes a stirring like the flutter of a bird. Lucys baby lay there, forgotten in the might of his despair. He picked up the tiny thing, awkwardly ad- justing its garments, and soothing it against his cheek. The child cried on, and would not suffer him to lay it down; by-and-by it fell asleep in his bosom, and to his heart, that had been like a stone, AN EDELWEISS OF THE SIERRAS. 121 there crept again a semblance of human warmth. Next day storm-clouds hung low upon the peaks of the sierras, and the wind went moaning through the pines. A miner, who was Toms especial friend among his employ& , came up early from the camp to find him making preparations for departure from the cottage. Without proper food or attendance for the child, and with no prospect of securing for it a womans care, short of the kind old nurse whose services at home were claimed by her own newly arrived grand- child, he had made up his mind, in view of the menacing snow blockade, to set out on horseback with the baby in his arms, and striking down the mountain-side by a precipitous trail not often used, make all speed to gain the far-away ranch-house where the old nurse might be found. Toms mare, the noble creature that had borne him so fleetly and so faithfully to meet his bride, was equipped with such provision for the ride as she could carry, and the infant, warmly wrapped, was laid in her fathers breast. Boynton rode forth from his home into the forest gloom, like a spirit driven from paradise, daring not to look behind. With steady riding, under ordinary con- ditions of the weather, he might hope by evening to secure a shelter for the child. A sullen canopy of sky and a peculiar threatening of snow in the atmosphere caused him many an anxious pang of doubt and self-reproach as from time to time he gazed in upon the sleeping baby, nestled under the folds of the great plaid with which she was bound to his body, then loosening rein, let the mare out into a long even stride, carrying them swiftly through the pine-carpeted forest reaches, and across the granite ledges, where her hoofs rang cheerily. A snow-flake, then another, fell like lead upon his heart. They came thick and fast as the short day closed in, bringing the expedition to a sudden halt. The dreaded snow was upon them in good earnest, and he dared not risk the loss of trail. Turn- ing aside under the impervious roofing of a group of firs, Boynton prepared to bivouac. No hardship this for an old campaigner, and in a short time a brisk flame from a pile of storm-driven logs and branches shot up into the blue shadows overhead. Tom would have taken oath that his brave little comrade smiled back at him when, after feeding, he stowed her warmly away, under the peak of an India rubber blank- et, upon a royally fragrant couch of moss and fir boughs. She lay there, uttering a few inarticulate murmurs of sweet con- tent, while he brewed himself a pot of tea, and looked after the comfort of his mare, tethered sociably at his elbow. Through the long watches of the night, while Tom kept vigil by his babys side, taking anxious heed to the progress of the storm, his faithful animal turned on him eyes so full of human sympathy he almost felt that she must speak. With the return of daylight, Boynton determined, at all cost, to take up the aban- doned trail. Cheering him as could no other sound, arose the babys lusty demand for breakfast. Making nervous haste to prepare for her a meal consisting of biscuit- crumbs and sugar, with snow-water warm- ed over the embers, he broke camp, and set forth anew upon his eerie pilgrimage. Amid the spectral tree-forms shivering beneath their weight of snow (his know- ledge of the conformation of the hills, the grouping of the rocks, aiding him in this extremity) he labored on, progress at ev- ery moment becoming more difficult, in the teeth of a growing storm. The mares feet gathered snow, until, sliding forward with a dangerous rush down the incline, then pulling herself up, with panting sides, she would turn her head away from the furious onslaught of wind and snow bear- ing upon them through the forest aisles like a wall of breakers on the shore. Tom Boynton drew rein beneath an over- hanging shelf of rock, not knowing wheth- er he had there found his grave and his childs. Hour after hour, while the sleet drove and the wind raged, he stood with his back against the granite wall, hugging the baby close, wetting her lips with wine, and breathing his warm breath on her face. With all his might he resisted an overmastering sense of drowsines~. The recklessness of life before possessing him was merged into an intense desire to strug- gle for existence for the sake of Lucys little one. Once when the baby cried long and piteously, Tom sang her to rest with the fragment of a nursery song, the big tears running down his cheeks. The storm lulled, and the sleet - fall changed into rain as the afternoon wore on. Bad as the outlook was, the situation left him no alternative but to press for- ward with all the strength remaining to 122 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. man and beast. Down in the valley be- low this ridge was a familiar ford, beyond which he knew the locality to have been a recent camping ground for Indians. Again they set out under clouds closing down in a dense gray curtain, to break ere long into a violent pelting shower of rain. In a moment Boynton was soaking wet, as if he had fallen in a stream. The baby, roused to a new sense of discomfort, uttered a faint moan. Looking in upon her, he saw a strange pallor on the little face, a blue shade settling on her lips. Now, indeed, Tom Boyntons stout heart quailed within him. They had reached the summit of the mountain spur. Below, chafing within its rocky bed, ran the tur- bulent river. Over upon the further bank, curling merrily up among a thicket of firs, arose the unmistakable column of a camp- fire smoke. With a shout to his mare, Tom dashed madly down the hill. For Lucys dear sake he would gain that camp with her child alive! With her fine instinct of never-flagging sympathy, the mare plunged unhesitating- ly into the icy stream. Then ensued a rare struggle, every nerve of horse and rider strained to keep afloat under the fierce resistance of the swollen torrent. About mid-stream the mare was caught in the waves and whirled about like a cork. Tom threw himself into the boiling foam, and supporting his precious freight upon the saddle with one hand, managed to keep up with the other, until, by a splendid effort, the mare recovered her balance and struck out for the shore, plant- ing her hoofs in triumph upon firm ground at last. Tom Boynton rode into the Indian en- campment, where a half-dozen of them were busy around a generous fire of logs. A young woman, tall, impassive, stately, like a Diana done in bronze, looked up from her pappoose at the apparition of this spent and dripping traveller, who could only muster strength to drop from his sad- dle, walk into the red glare of the heaven- ly ring of warmth, and without words hold out to her the burden from his breast. A few years ago some Americans new- ly arrived in Paris were lounging in the court-yard of the Grand H6tel, listening to the idle talk of their compatriots, who dispensed with liberal hand the gossip of their colony. While they were thus chatting, a car- riage drove under the porte-coch& e, from which an elaborate footman proceeded to extract severally a middle-aged gentle- man of distinguished appearance, a lady bountifully handsome, cordial in manner, frankly magnificent in attire, and a young girl dressed in gray velvet with bands of silvery gray fur, the type of whose aristo- cratic beauty would have stamped her as worthy of adorning any court in Europe. As this party passed in, all of the young men doffed their hats. One of them stood as if moon-struck by the vision. Hamersly, you are palpably slain on the spot; or is it the re-opening of some old wound? You have met our American charmer, the rare pale Margaret, before ? I did not know I was a fanatic, said Hamersly, coming out of his maze, but I honestly declare to you that I never in all my life till now saw a girl before whom I felt so madly inclined to throw myself down and be trampled on. You may be saved the sacrifice, my dear fellow, his friend said, with the pleased air of one who has a sensation to communicate. Can it be that the joy is reserved for me of finding one man in Par- is who doesnt know that the young lady you have just seen is in a few days to be- come by her marriage with the Duc de B a member of one of the most illus- trious families in France that he is as romantically in love with her as if he were the poorest and proudest of jeunes pre- miers, which, indeed, he might be from his looks ?that the handsome old fellow yon- der, with the sort of cavalier dash about him, and those ferocious long mustaches and melancholy eyes, is her father, who worships the ground she treads upona father-in-law many a man besides the Due has coveted, let me tell youTom Boyn- ton ,the California millionaire, the well-be- loved hero of the Pacific coast ? And the florid lady is her mother, I suppose ? Nothing of the sort. You are argu- ing yourself unknown not to recognize the famous Queen of Diamonds of our colony, who has a very substantial husband of her own hereabouts. Miss Boynton has had the benefit of her chaperonage off and on since leaving her pensionnat a year ago. Old Tom Boynton married, indeed! Half the women of your acquaintance would tell you how unlikely that event is ever to come to pass. From a Photograph by Sarony. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. LONGFELLOW. IN the school readers of half a century ago there were two poems which every boy and girl read and declaimed and re- membered. How much of that old litera- ture has disappeared! How much that stirred the hearts and touched the fancies of those boys and girls, their children have never heard of! Williss Satur- day Afternoon and Burial of Arnold have floated away, almost out of sight, with Pierponts Bunker Hill and Spragues Fourth - of- July oration. The relentless winds of oblivion incessantly blow. Scraps of verse and rhetoric once so familiar are caught up, wafted noiselessly away, and lodging in neglected books and in the dark corners of fading memories, gradu- ally vanish from familiar knowledge. But the two little poems of which we speak have survived. One of them was Bryants March, and the other was Longfellows April, and the names of the two poets singing of spring were thus associated in the spring-time of our poetry, as the fathers of which they will be always honored. Both poems originally appeared in the United States Literary Gazette, and were included in the modest volume of selections from that journal which was published in Boston in 1826. The chief names in this little book are those of Brv- ant, Longfellow, Percival, Mellen, Dawes, and Jones. Percival has already become a name only; Dawes, and Grenville Mel- len, who, like Longfellow, was a son of Maine, are hardly known to this genera- tion, and Jones does not even appear in Duyckincks Cyclopa~dia. But in turning over the pages it is evident that Time has dealt justly with the youthful bards, and that the laurel rests upon the heads of the singers whose earliest strains fitly pre- luded the music of their prime. Longfel- low was nineteen years old when the book was published. He had graduated at Bow- doin College the year before, and the verses had been written and printed in the Ga- zette while he was still a student. The glimpses of the boy that we catch through the recollections of his old pro- fessor, Packard, and of his college mates, are of the same character as at every pe- riod of his life. They reveal a modest, refined, manly youth, devoted to study, of great personal charm and gentle man- ners. It is the boy that the older man suggested. To look back upon him is to trace the broad and clear and beautiful river far up the green meadows to the limpid rill. His poetic taste and faculty were already apparent, and it is related that a version of an ode of Horace which he wrote in his Sophomore year so im- pressed one of the members of the exam- ining board that when afterward a chair of modern languages was, established in the college, he proposed as its incumbent the young Sophomore whose fluent verse he remembered. The impression made by the young Longfellow is doubtless ac- curately described by one of his famous classmates, Hawthorne, for the class of 25 is a proud tradition of Bowdoin. In P. s Correspondence, one of the Moss- es from~ an Old Manse, a quaint fancy of a letter from my unfortunate friend P., whose wits were a little disordered, there are grotesque hints of the fate of fa- mous persons. P. talks with Burns at eighty-seven; Byron, grown old and fat, wears a wig and spectacles; Shelley is reconciled to the Church of England; Coleridge finishes Christabel ; Keats writes a religious epic on the millennium; and George Canning is a peer. On our side of the sea, Dr. Channing had just pub- lished a volume of verses; Whittier had been lynched ten years before in South Carolina; and, continues P.: I remem- ber, too, a lad just from college, Longfel- low by name, who scattered some delicate verses to the winds, and went to Germany, and perished, I think, of intense applica- tion, at the University of Gdttingen. Longfellow, in turn, recalled his class- mate Hawthorne a shy, dark - haired youth flitting across the college grounds in a coat with bright buttons. Among these delicate verses was the poem to An April Day. As the work of a very young man it is singularly re- strained and finished. It has the charac- teristic elegance and flowing melody of his later verse, and its half-pensive tone is not excessive nor immature. It is not, however, for this that it is most interest- ing, but because, with Bryants March, it is the fresh and simple note of a truly American strain. Perhaps the curious reader, enlightened by the observation of subsequent years, may find in the March a more vigorous love of nature, and in the April a tenderer tone of tranquil senti

George William Curtis Curtis, George William Longfellow 123-129

LONGFELLOW. IN the school readers of half a century ago there were two poems which every boy and girl read and declaimed and re- membered. How much of that old litera- ture has disappeared! How much that stirred the hearts and touched the fancies of those boys and girls, their children have never heard of! Williss Satur- day Afternoon and Burial of Arnold have floated away, almost out of sight, with Pierponts Bunker Hill and Spragues Fourth - of- July oration. The relentless winds of oblivion incessantly blow. Scraps of verse and rhetoric once so familiar are caught up, wafted noiselessly away, and lodging in neglected books and in the dark corners of fading memories, gradu- ally vanish from familiar knowledge. But the two little poems of which we speak have survived. One of them was Bryants March, and the other was Longfellows April, and the names of the two poets singing of spring were thus associated in the spring-time of our poetry, as the fathers of which they will be always honored. Both poems originally appeared in the United States Literary Gazette, and were included in the modest volume of selections from that journal which was published in Boston in 1826. The chief names in this little book are those of Brv- ant, Longfellow, Percival, Mellen, Dawes, and Jones. Percival has already become a name only; Dawes, and Grenville Mel- len, who, like Longfellow, was a son of Maine, are hardly known to this genera- tion, and Jones does not even appear in Duyckincks Cyclopa~dia. But in turning over the pages it is evident that Time has dealt justly with the youthful bards, and that the laurel rests upon the heads of the singers whose earliest strains fitly pre- luded the music of their prime. Longfel- low was nineteen years old when the book was published. He had graduated at Bow- doin College the year before, and the verses had been written and printed in the Ga- zette while he was still a student. The glimpses of the boy that we catch through the recollections of his old pro- fessor, Packard, and of his college mates, are of the same character as at every pe- riod of his life. They reveal a modest, refined, manly youth, devoted to study, of great personal charm and gentle man- ners. It is the boy that the older man suggested. To look back upon him is to trace the broad and clear and beautiful river far up the green meadows to the limpid rill. His poetic taste and faculty were already apparent, and it is related that a version of an ode of Horace which he wrote in his Sophomore year so im- pressed one of the members of the exam- ining board that when afterward a chair of modern languages was, established in the college, he proposed as its incumbent the young Sophomore whose fluent verse he remembered. The impression made by the young Longfellow is doubtless ac- curately described by one of his famous classmates, Hawthorne, for the class of 25 is a proud tradition of Bowdoin. In P. s Correspondence, one of the Moss- es from~ an Old Manse, a quaint fancy of a letter from my unfortunate friend P., whose wits were a little disordered, there are grotesque hints of the fate of fa- mous persons. P. talks with Burns at eighty-seven; Byron, grown old and fat, wears a wig and spectacles; Shelley is reconciled to the Church of England; Coleridge finishes Christabel ; Keats writes a religious epic on the millennium; and George Canning is a peer. On our side of the sea, Dr. Channing had just pub- lished a volume of verses; Whittier had been lynched ten years before in South Carolina; and, continues P.: I remem- ber, too, a lad just from college, Longfel- low by name, who scattered some delicate verses to the winds, and went to Germany, and perished, I think, of intense applica- tion, at the University of Gdttingen. Longfellow, in turn, recalled his class- mate Hawthorne a shy, dark - haired youth flitting across the college grounds in a coat with bright buttons. Among these delicate verses was the poem to An April Day. As the work of a very young man it is singularly re- strained and finished. It has the charac- teristic elegance and flowing melody of his later verse, and its half-pensive tone is not excessive nor immature. It is not, however, for this that it is most interest- ing, but because, with Bryants March, it is the fresh and simple note of a truly American strain. Perhaps the curious reader, enlightened by the observation of subsequent years, may find in the March a more vigorous love of nature, and in the April a tenderer tone of tranquil senti 124 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ment. But neither of the poems is the echo of a foreign music, nor an exercise of remembered reading. They both deal with the sights and sounds and sugges- tions of the American landscape in the early spring. In Longfellows April there are none of the bishops caps and foreign ornament of illustration to which Margaret Fuller afterward objected in his verse. But these early associated po- ems, both of the younger and of the older singer, show an original movement of American literary genius, and, like the months which they celebrate, they fore- told a summer. That summer had been long awaited. In 1809, Buckminster said in his Phi Beta Kappa oration at Harvard College: Our poets and historians, our critics and ora- tors, the men of whom posterity are to stand in awe, and by whom they are to be instructed, are yet to appear among us. Happily, however, the orator thought that he beheld the promise of their coming, al- though he does not say where. But even as he spoke they were at hand. Irvings Knickerbocker was published in 1809, and Bryants Thanatopsis was written in 1812. The North American Review, an enterprise of literary men in Boston and Cambridge, was begun in 1815, and Bry- ant aad Longfellow were both contribu- tors. But it was in the year 1821, the year in which Longfellow entered college, that the beginning of a distinctive Ameri- can literature became most evident. There were signs of an independent intellectual movement both in the choice of subjects and in the character of treatment. This was the year of the publication of Bry- ants first slim volume, and of Coopers Spy, and of Danas Idle Man. Irvings Sketch -Book was already finished, Miss Sedgwicks Hope Le8lie and Percivals first volume had been issued, and Hal- leeks and Drakes Croakers were al- ready popular. In these works, as in all others of that time, there was indeed no evidence of great creative genius. The poet and historian whom Buckminster foresaw, and who were to strike posterity with awe, had not yet appeared, but in the same year the voice of the orator whom he anticipated was heard upon Plymouth rock in cadences massive and sonorous as the voice of the sea. In the year 1821 there was the plain evidence of an awak- ening original literary activity. Longfellow was the youngest of the group in which he first appeared. His work was graceful, tender, pensive, gen- tle, melodious, the strain of a trouba- dour. When he went to Europe in 1826 to fit himself more fully for his professor- ship, he had but scattered some delicate verses to the winds. When he returned, and published in 1833 his translations of Coplas de Manrique and other Spanish poems, he had apparently done no more. There was plainly shown an exquisite lit- erary artist, a very Benvenuto of grace and skill. But he would hardly have been selected as the poet who was to take the strongest hold of the hearts of his coun- trymen, the singer whose sweet and hal- lowing spell was to be so deep and urn- versal that at last it would be said in an- other country that to it also his death was a national loss. The qualities of these early verses, how- ever, were never lost. The genius of the poet steadily and beautifully developed, flowering according to its nature. The most urbane and sympathetic of men, nev~ er aggressive, nor vehement, nor self-assert- ing, he was yet thoroughly independent, and the individuality of his genius held its tranquil way as surely as the river Charles, whose placid beauty he so often sang, wound through the meadows calm and free. When Longfellow came to Cambridge, the impulse of Transcendent- alism in New England was deeply affect- ing scholarship and literature. It was re- presented by the most original of Amer- ican thinkers and the typical American scholar, Emerson, and its elevating, puri- fying, and emancipating influences are memorable in our moral and intellectual history. Longfellow lived in the very heart of the movement. Its leaders were his cherished friends. He too was a scholar and a devoted student of German literature, who had drank deeply also of the romance of German life. Indeed, his first impor- tant works stimulated the taste for Ger- man studies and the enjoyment of its lit- erature more than any other impulse in this country. But he remained without the charmed Transcendental circle, serene and friendly and attentive. There are those whose career was wholly moulded by the intellectual revival of that time. But Longfellow was untouched by it, ex- cept as his sympathies were attracted by the vigor and purity of its influence. His tastes, his interests, his activities, his ca- reer, would have been the same had that LONGFELLOW. 125 great light never shone. If he had been the ductile, echoing, imitative nature that the more ardent disciples of the faith sup- posed him to be, he would have been ab- sorbed and swept away by the flood. But he was as untouched by it as Charles Lamb by the wars of Napoleon. It was in the first flush of the Transcen- dental epoch that Longfellows first im- portant works appeared. In 1839, his prose romance of Hyperiort was published, fol- lowing the sketches of travel called Outre- Mer. He was living in Cambridge, in the famous house in which he died, an~d in which Hyperion and all of his familiar books were written. Under the form of a slight love tale, Hyperiort is the diary of a poets wandering in a storied and pic- turesque land, the hearty, home-like gen- ius of whose life and literature is pecul- iarly akin to his own. The book bubbles and sings with snatches of the songs of the country; it reproduces the tone and feeling of the landscape, the grandeur of Switzerland, the rich romance of the Rhine; it decorates itself with a quaint scholarship, and is so steeped in the spirit of the country, so glowing with the palpi- tating tenderness of passion, that it is still eagerly bought at the chief points which it commemorates, and is cherished by young hearts as no prose romance was ever cher- ished before. Hyperiort, indeed, is a poets and lov- ers romance. It is full of deep feeling, of that intense and delighted appreciation of nature in her grander forms, and of scenes consecrated by poetic tradition, which belongs to a singularly fine, sensi- tive, and receptive nature, when exalted by pure and lofty affection; and it has the fullness and swing of youth, saddened by experience indeed, yet rising with renew- ed hope, like a field of springing grain in May bowed by the west wind, and touch- ed with the shadow of a cloud, but pre- sently lifting itself again to heaven. A clear sweet humor and blitheness of heart blend in this romance. What is called its artificial tone is not insincerity; it is the play of an artist conscious of his skill and revelling in it, even while his hand and his heart are deeply in earnest. Wert her is a romance, Disraelis Wondrous Tale of Airoy is a romance, but they belong to the realm of Beverley and Julia in Sheri- dans Rivals. In Hyperion, with all its elaborate picturesqueness, its spicy literary atmosphere, and imaginative outline, there is a breezy freshness and simplicity and healthiness of feeling which leaves it still unique. In the same year with Ilyperiort came the Voices of the Night, a volume of poems which contained the Coplas de Manrique and the translations, with a se- lection from the verses of the Literary Gazette, which the author playfully re- claims in a note from their vagabond and precarious existence in the corners of newspapersgathering his children from wanderings in lanes and alleys, and intro- ducing them decorously to the world. A few later poems were added, and these, with the Hyperion, showed a new and distinctive literary talent. In both of these volumes there is the purity of spirit, the elegance of form, the romantic tone, the airy grace, which were already associ- ated with Longfellows name. But there are other qualities. The boy of nineteen, the poet of Bowdoin, has become a scholar and a traveller. The teeming hours, the ample opportunities of youth, have not been neglected or squandered, but, like a golden-banded bee, humming as he sails, the young poet has drained all the flowers of literature of their nectar, and has built for himself a hive of sweetness. More than this, he had proved in his own expe- rience the truth of Irvings tender remark, that an early sorrow is often the truest ben- ediction for the poet. Through all the romantic grace and elegance of the Voices of the Night and Hyperiort, however, there is a moral ear- nestness which is even more remarkable in the poems than in the romance. No volume of poems ever published in the country was so popular. Severe critics indeed, while acknowledging its melody and charm, thought it too morally didac- tic, the work of a student too fondly enam- ored of foreign literatures. But while they conceded taste and facility, two of the poems at least, the Psalm of Life and the Footsteps of Angels, penetrated the common heart at once, and have held it ever since. A young Scotchman saw them reprinted in some paper or maga- zine, and meeting a literary lady in Lon- don, repeated them to her, and then to a literary assembly at her house; and the presence of a new poet was at once ac- knowledged. If the Midnight Mass for the Dying Year in its form and phrase and conception recalled a land of cathe- drals and a historic religious ritual, and 126 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. had but a vague and remote charm for the woodman in the pine forests of Maine and the farmer on the Illinois prairie, yet the Psalm of Life was the very heart- beat of the American conscience, and the Footsteps of Angels was a hymn of the fond yearning of every loving heart. During the period of more than forty years from the publication of the Voices of the Night to his death, the fame of Longfellow constantly increased. It was not because his genius, like that of anoth- er scholarly poet, Gray, seldom blossom- ed in song, so that his renown rested upon a few gem-like verses. He was not in- timidated by his own fame. During those forty years he wrote and published con- stantly. Other great fames arose around him. New poets began to sing. Popular historians took their places. But still with Bryant the name of Longfellow was always associated at the head of American singers, and far beyond that of any other American author was his name known through all the reading world. The vol- nine of Voices of the Night was followed by similar collections, then by The Span- ish Student, Evangeline, The Golden Le- gend, Hiawatha, The Courtship of Miles Standish, The Tales of a Way-side Inn, The New England Tragedies, The Masque of Pandora, The Hanging of the Crane, the Morituri Salutamus, the Keramos. But all of these, like stately birds Sailing with supreme dominion Through the upper realms of air, were attended by shorter poems, sonnets, birds of passage, as the poet called his swallow flights of song. In all these larger poems, while the characteristics of the earlier volumes were more amply de- veloped and illustrated, and the subtle beauty of the skill became even more ex- quisite, the essential qualities of the work remain unchanged, and the charm of a poet and his significance in the literature and development of his country were nev- er more readily defined. Child of New England, and trained by her best influences; of a temperament sin- gularly sweet and serene, and with the sturdy rectitude of his race; refined and softened by wide contact with other lands and many men; born in prosperity, ac- complished in all literatures, and himself a literary artist of consummate elegance, he was the fine flower of the Puritan stock under its changed modern conditions. Out of strength had come forth sweetness. The grim iconoclast, humming a surly hymn, had issued in the Christian gen- tleman. Captain Miles Standish had risen into Sir Philip Sidney. The austere mo- rality that relentlessly ruled the elder New England re-appeared in the genius of this singer in the most gracious and captivating form. The grave nature of Bryant in his early secluded life among the solitary hills of Western Massachusetts had been tinged by them with their own sobriety. There was something of the sombre forest, of the gray rocky face of stern New England in his granitic verse. But what delicate wild flowers nodded in the clefts! What scent of the pine-tree, what music of gur- gling water, filled the cool air! What bird high poised upon its solitary way through heaven taught faith to him who pursued his way alone! But while the same moral tone in the poetry both of Bryant and of Longfellow shows them to be children of the same soil and tradition, and shows also that they saw plainly, what poets of the greatest genius have often not seen at all, that in the mo- rality of human life lies its true beauty, the different aspect of Puritan develop- ment which they displayed was due to dif- ference of temperament and circumstance. The foundations of our distinctive litera- ture were largely laid in New England, and they rest upon morality. Literary New England had never a trace of litera- ry Bohemia. The most illustrious group, and the earliest, of American authors and scholars and literary men, the Boston and Cambridge group of the last generation Channing, the two Danas, Sparks, Ev- erett, Bancroft, Ticknor, Prescott, Nor- ton, Ripley, Palfrey, Emerson, Parker, Hawthorne, Longfellow, Holmes, Whit- tier, Agassiz, Lowell, Motleyhave been all sober and industrious citizens of whom Judge Sewall would have approved. Their lives as well as their works have enno- bled literature. They have illustrated the moral sanity of genius. Longfellow shares this trait with them all. It is the moral purity of his verse which at once charms the heart, and in his first most famous poem the Psalm of Life, it is the direct inculcation of a moral purpose. Those who insist that lit- erary art, like all other art, should not concern itself positively with morality, must reflect that the heart of this age has been touched as truly by Longfellow, how- LONGFELLOW. 127 ever differently, as that of any time by its master-poet. This, indeed, is his pe- culiar distinction. Among the great po- etic names of the century in English lit- erature, Burns, in a general way, is the poet of love; Wordsworth, of lofty con- templation of nature; Byron, of passion; Shelley, of aspiration; Keats, of romance; Scott, of heroic legend; and not less, and quite as distinctively, Longfellow, of the domestic affections. He is the poet of the household, of the fireside, of the univer- sal home feeling. The infinite tenderness and patience, the pathos, and the beauty, of daily life, of familiar emotion, and the common scene, these are the significance of that verse whose beautiful and simple melody, softly murmuring for more than forty years, made the singer the most wide- ly beloved of living men. Longfellows genius was not a great creative force. It burst into no tempests of mighty passion. It did not wrestle with the haughtily veiled problems of fate and free - will absolute. It had no dramatic movement and variety, no ec- centricity and grotesqueness and unex- pectedness. It was not Lear, nor Faust, nor Manfred, nor Romeo. A carnation is not a passion-flower. Indeed, no poet of so universal and sincere a popularity ever sang so little of love as a passion. None of his smaller poems are love poems; and Evangelirte is a tale, not of fiery ro- mance, but of affection that hopes and endures and is patient, of the unwasting beauty and strength of womans devo- tion, of the constantly tried and tested virtue that makes up the happiness of dai- ly life. No one has described so well as Longfellow himself the character and in- fluence of his own poetry: Come read to inc some poem, Some simple and heart-felt lay, That shall soothe this restless feeling, And hanish the thoughts of day. Not from the grand old masters, Not from the hards suhllme, Whose distant footsteps echo Through the corridors of Time. * * * * * * Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the henediction That follows after prayer. This was the office of Longfellow in lit- erature, and how perfectly it was fulfifl- ed! It was not a willful purpose, but he carefully guarded the fountain of his song from contamination or diversion, and this was its natural overflow. During the long period of his literary activity there were many schools and styles and fash- ions of poetry. The influence first of Byron, then of Keats, is manifest in the poetry of the last generation, and in later days a voluptuous vagueness and barbar- ic splendor, as of the lower empire in lit- erature, have corroded the vigor of much modern verse. But no perfumed blan- dishment of doubtful goddesses won Long- fellow from his sweet and domestic Muse. The clear thought, the true feeling, the pure aspiration, is expressed with limpid simplicity Strong without rage; without oerflowing, full 2 The most delightful picture in Gold- smiths life is that of the youth wander- ing through rural Europe, stopping at the little villages in the peaceful summer sun- set, and sweetly playing melodies upon his flute for the lads and lasses to dance upon the green. Who that reads The Traveller and The Deserted Village does not hear in their pensive music the far - away fluting of that kind - hearted wanderer, and see the lovely idyl of that simple life? So sings this poet to the young men and maidens in the soft sum- mer air. They follow his measures with fascinated hearts, for they hear in them their own hearts singing; they catch the music of their dearest hope, of their best endeavor; they hear the voices of the peaceful joy that hallows faithful affec- tion, of the benediction that belongs to self - sacrifice and devotion. And now that the singer is gone, and his voice is silent, those hushed hearts recall the words of Father Fehicien, Evangehines pastor: Forty years of my life have I lahored amon0 you, and taught you Not in word alone, hut in deed, to love one an- another. It is this fidelity of his genius to itself, the universal feeling to which he gives ex- pression, and the perfection of his literary workmanship, which is sure to give Long- fellow a permanent place in literature. His poems are apples of gold in pictures of silver. There is nothing in them ex- cessive, nothing overwrought, nothing strained into turgidity, obscurity, and non- sense. There is sometimes, indeed, a fine stateliness, as in the Arsenal at Spring- field, and even a resounding splendor of diction, as in Sandalphon. But when the melody is most delicate it is simple. 128 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The poet throws nothing into the mist to make it large. How purely melodi- ous his verse can be without losing the thought or its most transparent expres- sion is seen in The Evening Star, and Snow-Flakes. The literary decoration of his style, the aroma and color and richness, so to speak, which it derives from his ample accom- plishment in literature, are incomparable. His verse is embroidered with allusions and names and illustrations wrought with a taste so true and a skill so rare that the robe, though it be cloth of gold, is as finely flexible as linen, and still beautifully re- veals, not conceals, the living form. This scholarly allusion and literary tone were at one time criticised as show- ing that Longfellows genius was really an exotic grown under glass, or a smooth- throated mocking-bird warbling a foreign melody. A recent admirable paper in the Evening Post intimates that the kindly poet took the suggestion in good part, and modified his strain. But there was never any interruption or change in the continuity of his work. Evangeline and Hiawatha and The Courtship of Miles Standish blossom as naturally out of his evident and characteristic taste and tend- ency as The Golden Legend, or the Masque of Pandora. In the Tales of a TVay-side Inn the Ride of Paul Re- vere is as natural a play of his power as King Robert of Sicily. The various aspect and character of nature upon the American continent is nowhere so fully, beautifully, and accurately portrayed as in Evangeline. The scenery of the poem is the vast American landscape, boundless prairie and wooded hill, brimming river and green valley, sparkling savannah and broad bayou, city and village, camp and wigwam, peopled with the children of many races, and all the blended panorama seen in the magic light of imagination. So, too, the poetic character of the Indian legend is preserved with conscientious care and fit monotony of rippling music in Hiawatha. But this is an accident and an incident. It is not the theme which determines the poet. All Scotland, indeed, sings and glows in the verse of Burns, but very little of England is seen or heard in that of Byron. In no other conspicuous figure in lit- erary history are the man and the poet more indissolubly blended than in Long- fellow. The poet was the man, and the man the poet. What he was to the stran- ger reading in distant lands, by The long wash of Australasian seas,~ that he was to the most intimate of his friends. His life and character were per- fectly reflected in his books. There is no purity, or grace, or feeling, or spotless charm in his verse which did not belong to the man. There was never an expla- nation to be offered for him; no allow- ance was necessary for the eccentricity, or grotesqueness, or willfulness, or hu- mor of genius. Simple, modest, frank, manly, he was the good citizen, the self- respecting gentleman, the symmetrical man. He lived in an interesting historic house in a venerable university town, itself the suburb of a great city; the highway run- ning by his gate and dividing the smooth grass and modest green terraces about the house from the fields and meadows that sloped gently to the placid Charles, and the low range of distant hills that made the horizon. Through the little gate pass- ed an endless procession of pilgrims of ev- ery degree and from every country to pay homage to their American friend. Every morning came the letters of those who could not come in person, and with infi- nite urbanity and sympathy and patience the master of the house received them all, and his gracious hospitality but deepened the admiration and affection of the guests. His nearer friends sometimes remonstrated at his sweet courtesy to such annoying devastators of the day. But to an ur- gent complaint of his endless favor to a fla- grant offender, Longfellow only answered, good-humoredly, If I did not speak kind- ly to him, there is not a man in the world who would. On the day that he was taken ill, six days only before h~s death, three school-boys came out from Boston on their Saturday holiday to ask his autograph. The benign lover of children welcomed them heartily, showed them a hundred interesting objects in his house, then wrote his name for them, and for the last time. Few men had known deeper sorrow. But no man ever mounted upon his sor- row more surely to higher things. Bless- ed and beloved, the singer is gone, but his song remains, and its pure and imperish- able melody is the song of the lark in the morning of our literature: Type of the wise who soar but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home. SHANDON BELLS. CHAPTER iv- bare-headed red-bearded man, who now came wildly along, was no other than an A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. artist whom he had once or twice observed 12JTZGERALD was just about to pass going into the studio below his bedroom. I) through the archway leading into the Youve got him? he called out, in court-yard, when he heard a sudden scuf- great excitement; youve got one o fling in front of him, and then a mans them? voice call out, Help! help! police ! In- Yes, Ive got him, answered Fitzger- stinctively he paused; for he had no mind ald, and now Ive got him, Id like to toenterintoother peoples squabbles; and, know what to do with him. besides, he could not well see what was go- The scoundrels ! said theother,breatb- ing on. But his appearance on the scene lessly. If ye hadna come up, theyd had no doubt produced some effect; for have taken every penny I had on me. before he had had time to think, a man Eh, man, he added, staring at his rescuer, had dashed past him. Fitzgerald was in did he hit ye? Your face is a bluidy. truth bewildered; he had been dreamiiig Fitzgerald had indeed felt something of Inisheen, not thinking of midnight warm and moist about his cheek and chin; robberies in London. And now he was and when he put his handkerchief up to inclined to let well alone and thank God his face, he could see by the dim gas-light he was rid of a knave, when another dark that he must have been bleeding pretty figure dashed byquite close by, indeed freely. and at the same moment he felt a sharp Yes, he did; and I think I hit him too bloxv on his face. This was too much. unless hes shamming. You go and get This brought him to his senses. He did a policeman, and Ill wait here by this fel- not know exactly where he had been low. If he tries to bolt, Ill give him an- struck; but he knew that his face was other taste of my kipeert. tingling; he knew that he had a stout The wild-haired artist left rapidly, and oak staif in his hand, with a formidable in a few seconds returned not only with knob at the end of it; and the next thing one but two policemen, whom he had found he knew was that he was in full chase talking together, and into whose ears he down the Fulham Road with the most was now pouring the whole story of how unchristian-like determination to give as it had happened. good as he had got, or even better. Just as they caine up, the man on the The first man had disappeared, but this pavement slowly raised himself on his one was just ahead; and Fitzgerald was knees, and began to rub the back of his well aware that his only chance was to head. overtake the fellow before he could dodge Who done that? he muttered, as if he into some by-way or corner. Now the were not quite awake. thief, or burglar, or whoever he was, ran Then he seemed to collect himself some- very well, but his muscles had not had what; he looked up and around; and per- that training over rock and heather that ceiving the approaching policemen, he ut- his pursuers had, and the consequence tered the one word Copped, and resigned was that in a very short space of time himself to his fate. young Fitzgerald had so nearly overtaken Why, its the Cobbler, as Im alive ! his man (and was so fearful of letting him said one of the policemen, getting hold of escape) that he aimed a blow at the back him by the shoulder, and turning the of the fellows head with his stout oak staff. apathetic face round to the gas - light. The next minute Master Willie had near- H& s been wanted ever since that job in ly fallen over the body of his prostrate the Cromwell Road. foe; for down he had come, after that Now look here, my good fellow, said a~undiug whack, prone on the pavement, the Scotchman, Im going to pick up my where he lay without a sign of life, hat. Im no going to the station at this Then a third man came rushing up; time o night. Ye mann take my name and Fitzgerald faced about, feeling now and address, and Ill come in the morning, rather angry, and inclined to have it out and prefer the charge with the rogues of London generally. That 11 do, sir; theres more nor one But he instantly perceived that this little job agin this man. Voi.. Lxv.-No. 355..9

William Black Black, William Shandon Bells 129-145

SHANDON BELLS. CHAPTER iv- bare-headed red-bearded man, who now came wildly along, was no other than an A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. artist whom he had once or twice observed 12JTZGERALD was just about to pass going into the studio below his bedroom. I) through the archway leading into the Youve got him? he called out, in court-yard, when he heard a sudden scuf- great excitement; youve got one o fling in front of him, and then a mans them? voice call out, Help! help! police ! In- Yes, Ive got him, answered Fitzger- stinctively he paused; for he had no mind ald, and now Ive got him, Id like to toenterintoother peoples squabbles; and, know what to do with him. besides, he could not well see what was go- The scoundrels ! said theother,breatb- ing on. But his appearance on the scene lessly. If ye hadna come up, theyd had no doubt produced some effect; for have taken every penny I had on me. before he had had time to think, a man Eh, man, he added, staring at his rescuer, had dashed past him. Fitzgerald was in did he hit ye? Your face is a bluidy. truth bewildered; he had been dreamiiig Fitzgerald had indeed felt something of Inisheen, not thinking of midnight warm and moist about his cheek and chin; robberies in London. And now he was and when he put his handkerchief up to inclined to let well alone and thank God his face, he could see by the dim gas-light he was rid of a knave, when another dark that he must have been bleeding pretty figure dashed byquite close by, indeed freely. and at the same moment he felt a sharp Yes, he did; and I think I hit him too bloxv on his face. This was too much. unless hes shamming. You go and get This brought him to his senses. He did a policeman, and Ill wait here by this fel- not know exactly where he had been low. If he tries to bolt, Ill give him an- struck; but he knew that his face was other taste of my kipeert. tingling; he knew that he had a stout The wild-haired artist left rapidly, and oak staif in his hand, with a formidable in a few seconds returned not only with knob at the end of it; and the next thing one but two policemen, whom he had found he knew was that he was in full chase talking together, and into whose ears he down the Fulham Road with the most was now pouring the whole story of how unchristian-like determination to give as it had happened. good as he had got, or even better. Just as they caine up, the man on the The first man had disappeared, but this pavement slowly raised himself on his one was just ahead; and Fitzgerald was knees, and began to rub the back of his well aware that his only chance was to head. overtake the fellow before he could dodge Who done that? he muttered, as if he into some by-way or corner. Now the were not quite awake. thief, or burglar, or whoever he was, ran Then he seemed to collect himself some- very well, but his muscles had not had what; he looked up and around; and per- that training over rock and heather that ceiving the approaching policemen, he ut- his pursuers had, and the consequence tered the one word Copped, and resigned was that in a very short space of time himself to his fate. young Fitzgerald had so nearly overtaken Why, its the Cobbler, as Im alive ! his man (and was so fearful of letting him said one of the policemen, getting hold of escape) that he aimed a blow at the back him by the shoulder, and turning the of the fellows head with his stout oak staff. apathetic face round to the gas - light. The next minute Master Willie had near- H& s been wanted ever since that job in ly fallen over the body of his prostrate the Cromwell Road. foe; for down he had come, after that Now look here, my good fellow, said a~undiug whack, prone on the pavement, the Scotchman, Im going to pick up my where he lay without a sign of life, hat. Im no going to the station at this Then a third man came rushing up; time o night. Ye mann take my name and Fitzgerald faced about, feeling now and address, and Ill come in the morning, rather angry, and inclined to have it out and prefer the charge with the rogues of London generally. That 11 do, sir; theres more nor one But he instantly perceived that this little job agin this man. Voi.. Lxv.-No. 355..9 130 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. C C C C C k C C SHANDON BELLS. 131 Off to the station, then, wi the scoun- drel; and dont lose your grip of him. If you, sir, he said, turning to Fitzgerald, will walk back as far as my studio, I will give you a basin of water to wash your face inits the only way I can thank ye. Oh, but we are neighbors, said Fitz- gerald. I know you well enough. You are the man who makes such a frightful row with your Scotch songs. Eh! how do you know that? said the other, sharply. Because my room is just over your studio. Bless me !then you are the man that goes tramping up and down all night tramp, tramp tramp, tramp then five minutes restthen tramp, tramptramp, tramp-up and down. Man, Ive always pictured ye as a sort of Eugene Aram, wringing your hands: I felt sure ye had murdered somebody. Or a hyena in a cage. What do ye gang on in that way for ? Its a bad habit, thats all. But whats your business? said the other, bluntly. I write for newspapers. I did not think that was such hard work. It niust cost ye a lot in shoe-lea- ther, said the Scotchman, dryly. How- ever, when Ive got my hat, ye maun come in and have a glass. I was just getting back to my supper, when they scoundrels grippet me. I wish I had a candle. Im thinking the police, now weve handed over to them such a notorious creeininal, might give us another gas-lamp in this in- fernal dark yaird. Without the aid of a candle, however, he soon picked up his hat; then he led the way into a hollow-sounding and apparent- ly spacious room, lit the gas, and forth- with proceeded to get his companion some fresh water with which to wash his face. And while Fitzgerald, who found that the bleeding had proceeded nierely from the nose, and that he was not cut at all was performing that operation, the Scotch- man, with a smartness which showed that he was familiar with the exigencies of camping out, had lit a little gas stove, produced some tinned meat, and put a quite snow-white table-cloth on a small table, with some glasses, plates, knives, and forks. Now well have a bit of supper and a crack, said he, since were neighbors. Will I make ye a dish of hot soup? Five minutes will do it. Oh no, thank you, said young Fitz- gerald. who was much taken with the frankness of this short, broad-shouldered, red - bearded, and wild - haired person. That tinned beef will do capitally for me. But what I should like better than anything, he said, casting his eyes round the big, gaunt, and dusty studio, which had very little furniture beyond the heaps of canvases all ranged with their faces to the wall, would be to have a look at your pictures. My pictures ? said the other. Oh yes. As yere a newspaper man, yere no likely to be a buyer. You would rather not show them to a buyer, then? There is nothing in the wide world I hate so much, said the other, busying himself with the table, little experience as I have of it. I dont mind criticism the sharper, the more likely I am to get something out of it. But the valuation in moneythats what gangs against the grain. Come, sit down, man; yere none the worse for the stroke on the nose. The water is near boiling already: and yell have a glass of toddy. Heres the bottle, and theres the sugar. Thank you; but I dont drink whis- key. Hwhat ! shouted the red-bearded art- ist, nearly lettingthe bottle fall. Hwhat dye say But Ive got some beer overhead. I will fetch some in a minute. Gude preserve us, laddie! but if its ale ye want, theres a bottle or two in the corner. Whats your name, by-the- way? Fitzgerald. Mines Ross. John Ross. Fall to, man; theres no use wasting time over meat when theres a pipe and a glass o toddy to follow. Fitzgerald soon found out that he was excessively hungry, and as the cold beef and the bottled ale were alike excellent, he did ample justice to both, while with equanimity he submitted to be examined and cross-examined by this frankly down- right acquaintance. Youre one o the lucky ones, I can see, said Ross, when Fitzgerald had told him how his literary prospects were. Yeve fallen on your feet just at once. Here have I been in London near six years, 132 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and I have na sold as many pictures as I have sold in two seasons when I was pent- in in the Trossachs in a caravan. But bless ye, what does it matter ? he contin- ued, with cheerful good-humor. I have all the more pictures to sell when I do fall on my feet. I envy nobody, so long as I can get a crust of bread; for I reckon on my time coming. Of course if you were to get into the Academy, your pictures would have a great additional value, I suppose, Fitz- gerald observed. The Academy ? said John Ross, with a stare. Do ye mean me becoming a. member of the Academy ? Of course. Isnt that the natural ambition of every artist I said his new ac- quaintance. Oh, but thats luck beyond anything Im thinking of, said the other, imper- turbably, as he proceeded to pour out some scalding hot water on a couple of lumps of sugar. Just think of all the men there are pentin; and the chances of any one of them getting such a stroke of luck as that! No, no; all I hope for is that they who are in the Academy would be a bit friendly. If theres any one bears them a grudge, its no meif the chance happened my way, wouldnt I take it? and how can I blame them? No, the bit of luck I hope for is to get a good place some day on the walls; and that is no easy, if you think of all the people who want to be hung. They did hang one o mine last year, but it was away at the roof; so you see my line of luck is no clear before me yet, and yours is. But I have only the chance said Fitzgerald. Since I have come to Lon- don I havent earned a penny, as far as I know. Hear till him! Man, yeve everything before ye. Yeve all the train nicely laid; yeve only to light the match, and whaff goes the pouther! By this time they had both lit their pipes; and John Ross went on to talk about his own art in a way that very soon astonished his companion. Whether he could paint or not was still, so far as his companion was concerned, an open ques- tion, but at least he could talk, and that in a manner that was quite surprising. His vague, rambling discourse, warming up now and again into enthusiasm was really eloquent, in a curious, bizarre, hap- py-go-lucky kind of fashion; full of fig- ures, of quick, happy illustrations; scorn- ful at times, as he hit right and left; and occasionally describing an object as if he had flashed a ray of sunshine on it. Fitz- gerald was intensely interested, and could have gone on forever listening; but at the same time he could not help wondering what the actual work was like of a man who was at one moment denouncing the pre-Raphaelites for their worship of sad- ness, their archaic mannerisms, and their cast-iron hardness of form, and at the next denouncing the French landscape artists for their fuzziness of detail, their tricki- ness, their evasion of daylight. It is not what I can do myself, he said at last, observing that Fitzgeralds eyes had strayed once or twice to the can- vases. It is what I know I should try to do. Suppose ye want to paint a field of ripe corn: will ye get at it, do ye think, by sitting down and pentin the stalks and the headsay, if ye were to spend a life- time at it, and paint fifty thousand of them? Ay! and if ye painted a hundred thousand of them as like as could be, yed be no nearer getting at your corn field. For what ye have to paint is what ye see; and when ye look at a corn field ye see nae single stalks at all, but a great mass of gold, as it were, with a touch of orange here, or paler yellow there, and a wash of green where the land is wet, and some- times of warm red even, where the stalks are mixed with weeds; and ye are no go- ing to get that color either by chasing the daylight out of the sky, and taking the thing into a room, and making a clever bit of a fuzzy sketch in gray and green and black. Thats easybut its no the corn field. Ay, and theres more. Yeve got to paint more than ye see. Yeve got to put just that soniething into the corn field that will make peoples hearts warm to it when they see it on your canvas. Suppose that yeve been ill for a month or two; laid on your back, maybe, arid sick tired of the pattern on the walls o your room; and at last the day comes when the doctor thinks you might be lifted into a carriage and taken oot for a drive. And well say its a fine warm afternoon, and your heart is just full of wonder and gladness, like, at the trees and the soft air; and w& ll say that all of a sudden, at the turning o the road, ye come in sicht of this field of ripe corn, just as yellow as yellow can be un- der the afternoon sky. Ay, and what is it when ye see such a wonderful and beau- SHANDON BELLS. 133 tiful thingwhat is it that brings the tears to your een? I say, what is it? For its that yeve got to catch and put in your picture, or yell be a d d mistake as a painter 1 Fitzgerald did not stay to ask him whether this was not demanding that the landscape painter should possess the nerv- ous system of an invalid (though, per- haps, something might be said even for that theory, as applied to all forms of art); he was much too interested to interrupt. But by a singular chance Ross drifted away from painting altogether. He was talking of the instinct for good color that many people had who had no artistic training whatsoever, and by accident he referred to fish and artificial flies, and so forth. Fitzgerald looked up suddenly. Are you a fisherman, too ? he said, quickly. A wee bit. Are you ? I have thrown a fly, said Fitzgerald, modestly, and feeling in his pocket for a certain envelope. As I was saying, thats why I hold the salmon to be the king o fish. He knows good color. Its no use trying him with your aniline dyes; yellow and scar- let and goldthats what he watches for; whereas troutay, and even sea trout, are a mean, depraved, magenta-minded race o creatures. Man, I filled my basket last year in Perthshire wi the most miserable puce things. But what was the color ? Puce. A dirty, drab - lilac kind of thing it was. But that was naething to the fly that was recommended me for sea trout in Argyleshireay, and it took, too. Just think of this: the body, arsenic green worsted, with a bit of white tinsel; the hackle, a purple-blue; and the wings Heaven knows where they came from ex- cept it might have been from a hoodie crowa heedjous gray, like the color of a decayed corpse. Do ye think a salmon would have looked at such a thing? Perhaps, said Master Willie, as he slowly drew out an envelope from his pocket and put it on the table, this would be more to his liking ? Eh, man ! said Ross, drawing out the great flies in all their royal splendor of crimson silk, and yellow tinsel, and gold- en-pheasant feathers. Where got ye them ? I have been amusing myself making them for a friendthe man I told you 9* about; I could not think of any other way of showing him I was sensible of his kind- ness. Ay, did ye make these yoursel? Now that I think of it, ye dinna look as if ye had spent a your life in a newspaper of- fice. I have spent most of it tramping over wild bogs and on hill-sides, said Fitzger- ald, with a laugh. A good deal more than I should have done. Shooting ? Yes. What sort ? Oh, mostly wild fowl, teal, snipe, woodcock, and so on, chiefly in the win- ter. Hard work, then ? But here the conversation went far afield; for there were descriptions of win- ter nights on the bog-land, and winter mornings on the hill, and wild adventures along the shore in snow-time or in the hard black frost. Even to Fitzgerald himselfwho was pleased to see how in- terested his companion was in these remi- niscencesit seemed that they were more picturesque now and here in London than when he had to get up shivering in the dark morning, and dress by candle-light, and sally forth through the silent streets of Inisheen. He forgot the wet clothes in describing the view from the mountain- side outlooking to the sea. He forgot the mortification of misses in the glory of lucky finds. These days of sport that are lived over again in memory generally end with a heavy bag; and however tired and cold and wet and hungry the sportsman may have been in reality, he forgets all that, and remembers only the delight with which that heavy bag is thrown down in the hall, and the warm snug evening afterward, when the dinner things are re- moved, and chairs drawn to the fire, and the friendly tobacco begins to throw a charm over the soul. Only once did Fitzgerald, who, it must be confessed, had enjoyed talking over these things, try to start his companion off again about painting. Are you a sea- painter ? he said. Do you paint sea- pieces as well ? and then he glanced again at the dusty gray canvases. I ? said Ross. No, I should think not! Why, it would break my heart. Other things are difficult enough; but that! Man, I see pictures of the sea at the Academy that just make one laugh. Ev 134 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ery wave as accurately shaped and mod- elled as if it was cast out of melted cannon; every little turn of foam as clean cut as a meerschaum pipe. God! the fellows must be cleverer than Joshua the son of Nun, for they must have got the sea as well as the sun and clouds to stand still. Did ever mans eyes see moving water like that ? moving water, that is a constant distraction of lights and shifting shadows and forms lightning touches, ye might say, so swift were theyall bewildering and glancing round ye; and that is what ye begin to cut and carve and stick on canvas as if it were slices of cream-cheese on the top o green sealing-wax. No, no; its bad enough in- land. Even when ye get perfectly still shadows on a perfectly still loch, theres an oily kind of glisten that no pent - box is likely to get for ye. Eh, and such chances as we had sometimes at the wild fowl when we were camping outthat would have made your month water; ay, and at black game too. Nearly every morning when we went out to wash in the burnthat was when we had the caravan in the Tross- achsIve seen them walking about with- out the least fear o us. Maybe the old black-cock would give a cluck-cluck of warning, but the hen and her brood scarce- ly heeded. Deed, I once hit an old gray hen with a pent-brush, as sure as death. And when, at last, the keeper lent me a gun, and said I might shoot a bird once in a whilefor our own cooking, ye ken, out I went as early as six oclock. So again they were back on the various ad- ventures and experiences of shooting; re- calling vivid rambles in other years, now in Inverness-shire, now on the desolate bog-lands near to Inisheen. And so in- teresting was this talk that when Fitzger- ald definitely rose to depart, at the hour of half past four in the morning, he had almost forgotten he had not seen his hosts pictures. Pictures, said John Ross, with a laugh, toots no, man, ye can see pic- tures any day, and better than mine. But I would like ye to come in whenev- er ye have half an hour, and smoke a pipe, and let us know how ye are get- ting on. All right, I shall be delighted, said Fitzgerald, most heartily. And I may learn something to-morrowthat is to say, if my nose has not become twice its natural si~e,in which case I shall keep in- doors. CHAPTER V. THE BEGINNING OF A cAHEER. HOWEVER, there was no trace of the blow discoverable next day, and so on this fine May morning Fitzgerald set about the accomplishment of his various tasks. First of all, he had to accompany his art- ist friend to the police station, though in- deed he harbored no sentiment of revenge against the luckless Cobbler who had once more fallen into the clutches of the law. Then he proceeded to get the thirty pounds made transferable to Ireland. This, nev- ertheless, he did with some compunction. For, if he was to fight his way in London, was it fair to Kitty, who had intrusted her future to him, that he should thus throw away the sinews of war? Was it not running a tremendous risk to leave himself with only seven pounds before se- curing some definite work? But then, on the other hand, he had fair prospects be- fore him; and he had the courage of two or three and twenty; besides, he was not going to allow that blackguard Maloney to triumph over his father, Coursing Club or no Coursing Club. And so he went and sent off the money, and then made his way to the Albany, where he had an ap- pointmentwith Mr. Hilton Clarke. When Fiammetta showed him into the richly col- ored room, lie found that gentleman re- clining in a low easy-chair in a volumi- nous dressing - gown; a cigarette in one hand, a paper-covered novel in the other, while before him on the little table were the remains of a French breakfast. How are you, Fitzgerald ? he said, throwing aside the book. Sit down and have some coffee and a cigarette. No? Youll find that Chartreuse worth trying. Well, and what did you think of the great Gifford? Was the godlike man up to your expectations ? I was very much interested, said Fitz- gerald, rather timidly; for indeed he did not like the way in which Mr. Hilton Clarke spoke of the literary calling and of its professors, whilst he did not wish to show the presumption of putting himself into antagonism with one who was so much his superior. I have always had a great regard for the Liberal Review, and of course I never thought I should ever meet the editor. I havent seen you to thank you for giving me such a chance. Perhaps you dont quite understand what it is to a young fellow who has only heard SHANDON BELLS. 135 of well-known men. II thought it was a great honor. Oh, you will soon get rid of all that modesty, said the other. It is a use- less commodity in London. We walkedhome together, continued Fitzgerald, as far as Sloane Street; and Mr. Gifford was good enough to say I might try my hand at a notice of that new novel Daphnes Shadow for the Liberal Review. The devil he did! What can have made him so good-natured ? I think I know, put in Fitzgerald, dexterously. His good - nature was caused by your good - nature in recom- mending me. Oh, that was nothing, said the other, carelessly. Well, you must be cautious how you set about it. Bring the book to me. But I have already sent in the review. Already? You havent been wasting time, then. And I have been doing more than that, said Fitzgerald, pulling out a cer- tain envelope. I have been putting to- gether a few salmon flies for you, if you care to have them. I found I could get the materials better in London. Ah, thanksmuch obliged, said Hil- ton Clarke, taking out one or two of the flies with his beautiful white fingers. But about this review. I am afraid the gray-eyed Athene wasnt looking after you when you sent it in in such a hurry. I wish you had come to me first. Young reviewers dont seem to understand that they ought to consider for whom they are writing when they write. It isnt the pub- lic; the public judge for themselves now- adays; dinner tables and clubs do all that. Nor the author; the author is pig-headed; besides, if you dont tell him he is better than Byron or Shakspeare, he will think you are devoured with jealousy and spite. No, continued Hilton Clarke, as he care- fully rolled up another cigarette, you are writing for your editor. He is the audience you ought to consider. He is the person you must impress with a con- viction of your sagacity. Now, to do that, you see, you want experience; you want to know your man. I wish you had come to me. I suppose it never occurred to you to put John Brown into the review you wrote for Gifford ? John Brown ? said Fitzgerald, looking bewildered. What John Brown ? John Brown, of Harpers Ferry. No, you never thought of that. But if you had only come to me, I could have told you that you had only to put John Brown into the reviewanywhere, anyhow and youd have fetched old Gifford to a dead certainty. He cant withstand John Brown. All youve got to do, he contin- ued, contemplating one of the salmon flies and stroking out the soft feathers, is to take John Browns body, without any wings, or hackle, or tinsel, as one might say, and you drop that fly quietly over Giffords nose, and hell rise to it like a grilse just fresh run from the sea. Fitzgerald could not understand why this friend of his lost no opportunity of throwing tauntshowever they might be veiled in a sort of scornful fastidiousness at Mr. Gifford; but for the constraint with which he listened to such speeches there were also other reasons. Among the various articles of young Fitzgeralds creed (he was only three - and - twenty) there were none he clung to more impli- citly than these two: first, that the great majority of womankind were honest and honorable, self-denying, believable, and worthy of all the beautiful things that had been said about them by the poets; and secondly, that literature was one of the noblest callings on the face of the earth, and that he who did good work therein whether it was definitely adding to the worlds possessions in that way, or whether it was merely in teaching men, from week to week, what they ought to valuewas a public benefactor who ought to be regarded with respect and affection and gratitude. Now on both these points Mr. Hilton Clarke discoursed with a complacently open skepticism; and at such times Fitz- gerald wished he could close his ears aoainst this talk, not that it in the slight- est degree affected his beliefs, but that it affected what he wished to regard as the character of his friend. Fitzgerald was naturally a hero worshipper, and he was capable of a warm gratitude. He wished to think the best of his friend. And when Hilton Clarke talked in this fashion which he seemed to enjoy in proportion as Fitzgeralds face fellthe latter did try to close his ears as much as he could. Then, again, when he left he would try to forget all that he had heard. He would remem- ber only Hilton Clarkes best pointsthe charm of his conversation when he hap- pened to light on some literary point that 136 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. interested him; his great kindness shown to a mere stranger met by chance in the south of Ireland; and his personal court- esy (the way in which he had come to the relief of his improperly attired guest was still fresh in Fitzgeralds mind). Besides, perhaps his experience of women had been unfortunate; and perhaps his disparage- ment of contemporary literature, especial- ly of critical literature, was due to a sort of modesty, seeing that he himself held an enviable position in it. Well, now, Fitzgerald, lets get on to this magazine business. Wont you smoke ? No, thank you, I never smoke till night; it takes up too much time. Ah, the eager impetuosity of youth! When you get a dozen years older, youll be glad of something to help you to pass the hours. Well, my friend the capitalist has got some impetuosity too. In one day he has managed to secure a business man- ager for us, and also a publishing office in the Strand. No doubt we should start as soon as possible; for in a short time every one will be in London for the season, and then it is that people begin to talk about their plans for the autumn. Scobell sug- gests the week after next; but that is clear- ly impossible. We must have material to begin with; people wont pay a shilling for a mere programme of our intentions. My private impression is that the capitalist imagines he will find himself a person of importance in society through his con- nection with this magazine; but it will be part of your business, Mr. Sub-Editor, to remember that it is I who am editor of the magazine, and not Dick Scobell. Oh, of course. I know what rows with proprietors are, said Fitzgerald. Proprietors are the most unreasonable of mortals. They dont understand their proper sphere of dutywhich is to pay and look pleasant. If the venture suc- ceeds, they get good interest for their mon- ey. If it doesnt, they dont mend matters by coming in at intervals, like a Greek cho- rus: Oh! oh! oh! Woe! woe! woe! Now, as regards your own position, Fitz- gerald, he said, as he poured out a small glass of Chartreuse, showing as he did so a singular-looking ring on his finger, con- sisting of a little Indian god, in gold, fast- ened on a broad silver hoop. Have you considered the questio~ of remuneration? As regards myself ? Yes. Not in the least, said Fitzgerald, with something of a blush. I dont expect very much at the outset. I think I am very lucky to get a start so early after com- ing to London. There is an artist neigh- bor of mine who thinks I have been very lucky indeed, and he considers everything a matter of luck, even getting elected a member of the Academy. He must have been looking at this years exhibition, said Hilton Clarke, dry- ly. Well, now, this capitalist friend gives me a lump sum, I may explain to you, and he holds me responsible for all the literary matter, and for having the thing properly put together. What you will have to do wont interfere, I hope and think, with any more serious literary work. Very well, what do you think of four pounds a week? Speak frankly, you know, for I may squeeze the good Scobell a little further yet. Four pounds a week? said Fitzgerald, with his face brightening up with surprise. Then my artist friend was right. I had five-and-twenty shillings a week from the Cork Chronicle. It is enough, then ? Yes, indeed. It is far more than I ex- pected. You should never say that. It is not wise. However, as I am dealing with an- other mans money, I am not going to re- duce the offer; and I think myself it is a fair one. And so you had five-and-twen- ty shillings a week on the Cork Chron- icle ~1 said Hilton Clarke, regarding the younger man. Twenty-five shillings a week; youth and health and high ambi- tion; and somebody to write love verses about. I suppose you were not unhappy? Oh yes, I could detect that subtle inspira- tion here and there, in whatever guise the young lady ttirned up. But I have always had a suspicion that when youthful poets gave their sweethearts long and sounding names, the ladies themselves were rather short of stature. Is not that so? It is like calling a musical little verse in Horace a choriambic dimeteracatalectic. The Lady Irmingarde, for example. That is a fine name; but I would wager now that the Lady Irmingarde is not over five feet three. I dont see what that has to do with this new magazine, said Master Willie, striving to be very calm, but with all the quick blood of the Fitzgeralds blazing in his face. SHANDON BELLS. 137 Dont be angry, man, said the other, good-naturedly. I hope it will have a good deal to do with the new magazine. You see, in every well-conducted house- hold you will find two or three people either in love with somebody or other, or else willing to think of the days when they were; and you cant appeal to that sentiment unless you, the writer, have a fresh fount of inspiration to draw from. You dont suppose that the old writers, when they were describing Helen, formed her out of their own head? Of course not. Of course they turned to the pretty Chloe or the laughing Lalage of their acquaint- ance, to see what soft cheeks and pretty eyes could be likened to. Do you remem- ber Symmonss translation of that passage in the Agarnemnon ?well, it is rather a paraphrase than a translation; but listen to this as a piece of English: When first she came to Ilions towers, Oh, what a glorious sight, I ween, was there! The tranquil beauty of the gorgeous queen Hung soft as hreathless summer on her cheeks, Where on the damask sweet the glowing zephyr slept; And like an idol beaming from its shrine So oer the floating gold around her thrown Her peerless face did shine And though sweet softness hung upon their lids, Yet her young eyes still wounded where they looked. Is not that fine? Yet her young eyes still wounded where they looked. And indeed Fitzgerald considered it was so fine, and so nearly suggestive of a pair of soft, black, innocent young eyes that he knew of far away, that he straightway for- got all his wrath, and proposed to his com- panion that, if he had time, they should walk down to the Strand, and have a look at the offices. I cant very Well, said Hilton Clarke, yawning and stretching out his long legs, and stroking his yellow beard. I have got to dress first. Then I am going on to Jermyn Street to the Turkish Baths. Then Ive got one or two calls to make in the afternoon. But you might go down if you like, and introduce yourself to the manager. His name is Silas Earp. And dont forget we must have a touch of sen- timent in the magazine; it is wonderful the interest that grown people take in young peoples love affairs. Look at the eagerness with which they read breach-of- promise casesthe more absurd the better, dont you see? for they are delighted to find other people making just such fools of themselves as they did at the same age. Well, Fitzgerald got away, and was rather glad; for somehow he liked Hilton Clarke better, and was more grateful to him, when he was not listening to him. And now indeed the day was joyful to him a fresh, clear May day, with the pavements of Piccadilly looking quite white; and all he could think of was that Kitty would not know soon enough of the good fortune that had befallen him. Aft- er all, why should he have been angry about the mention of the Lady Irmingarde? It was only good-humored banter. For, indeed, as Andy the Hopper had remark- ed, twas Masther Willie had the ducks back, and annoyances ran clean off his shoulders, so long as you gave him plenty of fresh air and sunlight and a moderate share of pavement for his eager and rapid walking. He went down to the Strand, and saw the offices, which were in a sad state of confusion and dust. Likewise he had a long conversation with Mr. Earp, and a briefer one with the great capitalist him- self, who seemed surprised that Hilton Clarke had not shown up, though Fitz- gerald ventured to point out that an editor could not be of much use about the place until they had provided him with at least a desk and a penny bottle of ink. Then with one hurried and passing glance at the office of the Liberal Reviewwhere, perhaps, that first contribution of his was at this very moment under consideration he set off home as fast as his legs could carry him, anxious to fill up the rest of the day with some work, and also in the secret hope of finding a letter from Kitty, missed by his early outgoing of that morn- ing, awaiting him. Moreover, he was very hungry, after these many hours; and so, on reaching his.spacious if somewhat bare and low - roofed study, he besought his landlady to cook him a chop with all con- venient speed. And indeed that was a right royal banquet that he enjoyed there, all by himself, in the silent big room, made cheerful by the sunlight streaming in at the open window; for if it consisted only of a chop, some bread, and a glass of ale, was there not a letter of Kittys, over a dozen pages long, to serve as a musical and laughing accompaniment? The sun shone warm on the faded rugs on the floor; there was the faintest stirring of the wind among the young plane-trees in the court- 138 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. yard outside; in the silence it almost seem- ed as if he could hear Kitty talking to him. And then, again, he had to imagine an- other picturethat lofty little terrace that looked down on Cork and over to Shan- don steeple; and a small room there; and Kitty bending over these precious leaves, and sometimes raising her head to look at the rain or to think of him far away. ATJDLEY PLACE, Tuesday. My BELOVED AND BONNY COULIN, * What I have done to deserve it I dont know, but since ever I came back to this blessed town there has been nothing but rain, rain, and rain, and the Beautiful City, that you tried to make me believe was like Venice, is nothing but a mass of smoke away down in a hole, and St. Marys steeple over there seems to shiver with cold when it strikes the half-hours; and the only human beings within sight are a lot of rooks in the meadows across the road, and you can tell by the noise they make they are in a frightful temper because of the wet. I do wonder now, more than ever, where, in such a climate, a certain person got all the sunniness thats in his face, and in his eyes, and more par- ticularly his hair. Did he take all there was to get, and leave none? At all events, Master Coulin, its a very good thing for you, and its a very bad thing for me, that you and I did not live in the time when the cold-hearted Saxon made the young Irishmen crop their locks, for then I wouldnt have looked at you, and Id have minded my own proper business. Dear me, the audacity of some people, and the folly of others! Just when a good contralto is worth a mint of money in Ital- ian opera, jealousy steps in and says, No, you shant; you shant even be allowed tosing in England; no more Crystal Palace for you; nothing but concerts in such cen- tres of civilization as Cork and Limerick and Belfast; and just to make sure of bid- ing away such a diamondno, I suppose it should be an emerald in IrelandIll set Don Fierna and his wicked elves to bind you in invisible chains, and something aw- ful will happen to you if you even whisper La Scala in your dreams. Well, whether it was her tremendous good-nature, or whether it was the sunlight that had got into the brown of Mr. Jealousys hair, or * Goulin in Irish means the youth with the flowing hair. Miss Romayne was doubtless famil- jar with Moores songs. whether she got such a fright with the ghosts that she promised anything with- out the slightest notion of keeping her word, I dont know; but the thing was done; and then all of a suddenin return for her extraordinary good-nature and self-sacrifice, she finds herself a forlorn and forsaken damsel; left to pace up and down the sand of Inisheen, which, as Andy the Hopper remarks, is so firm and clean that, Sure, miss, ye might walk on it wid a satin shoe. Oh, Willie, Im sick tired of the rain, and I dont know what Im writing to you. I was wet through last night coming home. What induced me to take these rooms I dont know. I shall never again take lodgings where one can not drive home on a wet night. But Miss Patience says she likes large views: I sup- pose they conform with her great mind. I have been so good, Willie! I have been really so very good that I dont know what to do with myself, and I expect to find wings sprouting some morning when I get up. I havent gone round by the bar- racks once, and the two or three times I have gone round, I have kept my eyes fixed on the gravel the whole way, just in case a young ossifer might come riding out (I can see the frown on your face quite clearly, and perhaps it isnt safe to put jokes in a letter, when one isnt by to be scolded for impertinence, flippancy, un- ladylike manners, and all the pleasant rest of it). So well get back to business, please, and the truth is, you know, Master Willie, although it has been reserved for an English singer to reveal to the Irish people the pathos of The Bells of Shan- don, all the same the English singer cant earn a living by singing that one song, un- less, indeed, she were to sing it through the streets, like Nellie in the Green Bushes. No, nor even when she makes a skillful selection illustrating the wonderful vir- tues of the Irish people, and when she shifts her engagements as much as possi- ble from north to south, and east to west; yes, and even when she makes excuses for pretty long holidaysat Inisheen or else- whereeven the Irish people, though lik- ing to be told of their virtues, may get a little tired of her, and wish to see a little less of her. In that case, managers might begin to hint about reduction of terms; whereas, even at present, its just about all she can do to keep things straight waiting for the glorious time when Prince SHANDON BELLS. 139 Goldenhair is coming to claim her and carry her off. Very well, now this is the point: at the Theatre in Dublin theyre going to put in a panorama between the pieces, and theyve made me an offer (now you neednt jump out of your chair like that; it isnt to go on the stage); I say they have made me a very fair and liberal offer if I will go and sing for themonly one songeachevening, which is light work, and I shall have no expense of dresses or gloves, for I sing in the wings unseen. Dont you see, the panorama is really a series of pictures of Irish scenery, and when they come to the finest of themof course its Killarney in moonlight; thats because they dont know the glen near the Blackwater where Don Fierna lives, and wheremischief is done to the hearts of poor distressed damselsthen the orchestra be- gins to play very softly and sweetly, and then you hear the voice of an angel (thats me) singing away somewhereat Innisfal- len or Killeenalougha. I dont think much of the song they have sent me; but I dare say it will sound very nice in that mysterious way, and the moonlight and the view of the lake will put a charm into my poor singing. Now, Willie, I know you dont want me to go to Dublin; but this isnt like going to Dublin in an ordi- nary kind of way, for my name wont ap- pear in the bills at all, and nobody will know who is singing. It will really be a long holiday for me, and I shall come back to my concert series after a sufficiently long absence; and I promise you that as I shall have no audience visible, I will sing every evening just as if I were sing- ing to you, and think of you all the time; and the management will not have reason to be sorry for that. Now what do you say? My fathers half-pay just about keeps him, you know; but I have always tried to send him some little present about midsummer to induce him to go down to IRamsgate or Margate for a week. Then these long holidays, even with all the good old Patiences economy, have very nearly emptied my purse, and supposing that Prince Goldenhair were suddenly to ap- pear and say, Look sharp, Miss Kitty; Ive found the bag of dianmonds I went for; come along! wouldn~t it be very awkward if I had to say, Oh, but, dear sir, I havent got a farthing to buy my white satin dress with? So be a good boy ~~nd dont make any objections, and uvery night Ill think of you as Im singing the songoh dear me! as if I had anything else to do now but think of you; with a bit of a cry now and again. What is the use of my writing to you? I know what you are doing at this moment. You are not working at all; you are not thinking of me at all; you are walking in Hyde Park with Mr. Supercilious, and ad- miring the fine ladies, and I shouldnt wonder if he had got you to convict-crop your hair, like his own, and wear gloves to get your hands white. Why should I waste my time on you when youre not thinking about me? Perhaps you won t open this letter at all; perhaps you will leave it lying unopened on the table; I shouldnt wonder a bit. I got Miss Patience to drive out on a car to the glen. But it was common day- light, and Don Fierna and his elves had gone away in-doors, and there was nothing but grunibling from the dear old Patience at her having to scramble down the bank and scratch her hand with briers. She couldnt imagine why I wanted to pull her to pieces like that, nor could I get Andy the Hopper that same afternoon to say a word about fairies or Don Fierna. Indeed all the neighborhood became quite com- monplace. Inisheen is a mean-looking, miserable hole; I never saw such dirty streets; and the wretched tubs of vessels are lying not on sand at all, but on mud. I hated itexcept one or two nights when the moon was up, and I looked out on the cliffs beyond the bar, and I said to myself, Well, now, if my bonny boy were coming home from these cliffs carrying with him the wild pigeons he had been after all the day, perhaps Id like the place a little bet- ter, and then, you know, how could I help thinking of the night you rowed me home in the boat, and all Inisheen asleep, and you had wrapped me up so tight in the shawl? I waved my handkerchief to you from the window, but I darent lift the window; so you couldnt see. I watched you go away back to the townthe boat the weest black speck on the silver of the water. Dear me! that I should say any- thing against Inisheen, that is the dearest spot in the world to me, and hallowed by associations that memory will never give up. My dear, dear Inisheen! My beau- tiful Inisheen! And will it be moonlight on that same night seven years hence? Perhaps I shall not be so frightened then. But what I dread most of all, Willie, is next Sunday morning. I know it will 140 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. be a beautiful morning, just to spite me. And I know how I shall wait about the window with all my things on long before the time, and looking over to the clock of St. Annes, and wishing it would push ahead and make the single Shandon bell strike the half-hour. (Why did you quar- rel with Miss Patience, Willie? It was so nice to listen for your ring at the bell.) And then half past ten strikes, and out I go; and I am certain it will be the loveli- est morning, and the hawthorn just com- ing out, and all the fresh air sweet-scent- ed. And no one at the cornerthe place quite emptyno trace of the gamekeeper- ish young Apollo with the shy eyes and the sun-brown locks, who used to say, The top of the morning to ye, Miss Kitty! and be so modest and grateful for her con- descension. Then away she goes, all alone, past the barracksbut really, really and truly, honor bright, keeping her eyes on the ground the whole way until she has passed the wallsand then do you know of a lane about there, Master Willie? iPo you know of a lane about there that you can go along, and twist and turn about, until you get out among hedge-rows, where grown-up children can pull wild flowers and say pretty things to each other? Did you ever go along such a lane? But you are not listening. You are out walking with Mr. Superciliousness, and if theres anybody in the wide world who hates you with her whole heart, its your despised but forgiving KITTY. He looked at the beginning of the letter agaia. Im glad it rained on Tuesday, he said to himself, and he thought that his conscience would perhaps absolve him if he put off his work for a little while to send Kitty just as long a letter as she had sent himcheating the great distance be- tween them, as it were, and imagining him- self talking to her in the little room look- ing over the valley to Shandon tower. CHAPTER VI. A FIRST CHECK. TIME passed, and Fitzgerald grew very anxious about not hearing anything, good, bad, or indifferent, concerning the review he had sent to Mr. Gifford. He ventured to mention the matter to Hilton Clarke. Get it back, he said, laughing, and put John Brown into it. However, if each morning brought its little pang of disappointment, there was no time for balancing hope and fear dur- ing the rest of the day; for now the new magazine was being pushed forward, and everybody had his hands full. Everybody, that is to say, except the editor-in-chief, who, when Fitzgerald called on him and urged him to come down to the Strand to decide some matter or other, seemed much more inclined for a lounge along Picca- dilly, if the morning was fine, accompa- nied by this attentive Telemachus, who willingly listened to his discursive mono- logue. By this time Fitzgerald had got to know something more about Hilton Clarke, and had observed, among other things, that he seemed quite incapable of denying himself any gratification that lay within his reach. No matter what it was having his initials in silver on his ivory- backed hair-brushes, or the purchase of an illuminated missal displayed in a shop windowthe whim of the moment had to be gratified, and he was careful to point out to Fitzgerald that he, Hilton Clarke, had already done a good deal for Mr. Sco- bell in presenting him with the idea of this new magazine, and also to assign as a reason for his carelessness or his idleness the necessity of the business people having all their arrangements completed first. One morning Fitzgerald went up to the Albany, and found his chief, with the ac- customed cigarette in his hand, reading the Contes R~~moisor, more probably, and profitably, looking over the delightful little wood-cuts. He put the book aside as Fitzgerald entered. Mr. Scobell has made a suggestion that I think very good, said the latter, after the usual greetings. He thinks you should have for your opening article a paper written by a lawyer, some well- known Q. C., for example, on the terms of leases and agreements, and the points that should be carefully looked after. Points on which a solicitor should be consulted, he suggests. You know, lots of people enter into agreements about a shooting or a house that look all right and safe, but that may land them anywhere. Now just at the outset wouldnt that be rather ap- propriate ? Hilton Clarke looked at him. The suggestion is Scobells. Yes. SHANDON BELLS. 141 Well, you see, I dont think it is a bad one; but at the outset it is most important for me, and for you, and for Dick Scobell to know precisely where we are. Now I am the editor of this new magazine, and Mr. Scobell is not. Yes, said Fitzgerald, wondering; but surely you may take suggestions from anybody if they happen to be worth anything ? From anybodyexcept my proprie- tor, you understand. No, we will get our own idea for an opening article, Fitzger- ald. Lets talk about something you are more familiar with. And I have some news for you. One of the most charming women in London, one of the wittiest and one of the best-looking, too, has expressed an interest in you. Oh, indeed, said Fitzgerald, profess- ing to be very grateful, as in duty bound. I showed her your Woodland Walk, and she commissioned me to ask you whether the verses were your own Which verses ? said Fitzgerald, for indeed there were several little bits of rhyme cunningly interwoven with that gossip about birds and water-falls. Why, those with the refrain, The lit- tle ringlets round her ears. Ah, I can see they were your own. I thought so my- self. And I was to ask whether the little ringlets were dark or goldengolden, she guessed. Fitzgerald flushed, and said, with an in- different air, I suppose the lines can ap- ply to any colorpink as well as another. You wont tell us, then? Well, it was a pretty notion to bring the refrain in at the end of each verse. The music of it catches you. If I were writing an opera, I should have one particular air running all through it; cropping up here and there, you know, so that people should get quite familiar with it, and be able to whistle it as they go home. You have no idea how consoling it is to some people to whistle an air from a new opera as they are coming out. That is apretty refrain you have in your verses, You hear the secret words she hears, You little ringlets round her ears I Yes, I like it. The repetition is effective. I have been to the lithographers, said Fitzgerald, shortly. The cover looks very well; but I have told him to try red on a white ground. That would be clear- ly seen on the book-stalls. Ah, yes, no doubt. Earp will see to that, I suppose. Now, Fitzgerald, I sup- pose you know very little about women as yet? I suppose not, said the other. I know one thing that will surprise you when you find it out, as I dare say you will. He stretched out his legs, and regarded the tips of his fingersa favor- ite attitude of his when he had got some- thing he liked to talk about. But some- times he regarded his companion. I am quite convinced myself that there is a large number of women who know nothing about, who are incapable of knowing anything about, the romantic sentiment of love. They have never ex- perienced it; they will never experience it; and when they read about it in books they dont believe in it; they think it is only the ridiculous exaggerations of a poet or a playwright. They no more believe what they read about the passion of love than a man with an unmusical ear be- lieves what people say about Mozart, or than a man whose eye is uneducated be- lieves what is written about Titian. But, mind you, these are the women it is safest to make a marriage contract with. They will honorably fulfill their part of it; make good wives and mothers; and be af- fectionate enough in a trustworthy, pa- tient, unimaginative sort of way, without causing any anxiety or bother. Well. now, I believe there are other women who are just as much the other way who have an absolute hunger and thirst for the sentiment of love, for its dram- drinking, as you might saywomen of an unappeasable heart. If it is your bad luck to come across one of these at the moment when her affections are by some extraordinary chance disengaged, she will almost certainly make you fall in love with her; and then, mind you, so long as you are near her, and keep her an~us~d and occupied with fallings out and reconciliations and so forth, I dare say she will remain quite faithful to you. Oh yes, I have no doubt of that. But if you go away, that is dangerous. Her eyes will begin to roam about, and her heart to put out trembling little feelers. Of course if you were to marry her offhand, that might settle it; and certainly if she had children she would probably keep all right, for she would transfer her excess of affection to them. But to be left alone-- to have this warm, generous little heart of 142 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. hers waiting to be kind to somebody, and her young eyes wounding where they lookpoor thing !how can she help go- ing and playing the mischief ? ~Perhaps your experience of women has been unfortunate, said Fitzgerald, as respectfully as possible. It was quite clear to him that Hilton Clarke had, per- liaps in conjunction with the clever lady he had referred to, been speculating about the person who had inspired the verses in the Woodland Walkthat is to say, Kitty; and Fitzgerald resented this harm- less curiosity as a piece of intolerable im- pertinence. They wanted to know wheth- er her hair was dark or golden; they had l)een wondering whether she was a placid, faithful, unsentimental good sort of stu- pid creature, or a dangerous flirteither suggestion seeming to him monstrous; and generally, as it appeared to him, they had been betraying a quite gratuitous in- terest in his private affairs. But Hilton Clarke continued as if he were quite un- aware of the resentment that these gen- eralizations of his had provoked. No, he said, quietly, I think not. And I would call it observation rather than experience. I suppose, now, you have never noticed that a womans eyes are always wandering? You have never sat at a table dh6te, and watched, for the fun of the thing, have you ? No, I should probably be attending to my dinner. Ah, that is it. Tbat is just it. If you look at the married couples, the hus- bands are attending to their dinners. It is the women whose eyes are constantly on the alert. You may look at the man as long as you like, and he wont know anything about it; but look at the woman only for a second, and her eyes will meet yoursof course instantly to turn away again. Indeed, I believe that women can tell when they are being regarded, even when their own eyes are bent upon the table. It is a kind of instinct. You seem to do a good deal of staring when you go abroad, remarked Fitzger- ald. No; I think not. But I have tried the experiment a few times. Oh, by-the- way, my charming friend says I may take you to one of her smoking-parties. Smoking-parties? Are there ladies there ? Yes, of course. And they smoke ? If they are inclined to. Some do; some dont. It is Liberty Hall. And does the charming lady smoke ? said Fitzgerald, timidly. He wanted to know something about her, as she had wanted to know something about Kitty. Well, occasionally. But she is quite as willing to sit in a corner with you, and talk to you; and very soon you will im- agine you are listening to one of the laugh- ing ladies out of Boccaccio. But it is dan- gerous. What is ? Her trying to keep those parties away from Sir Johns ears. Shed much better own up. Some time or other hell come back from Ireland unexpectedly, and there will be a row. Sir John is her husband, I suppose ? Yes. Ive asked her to write an ar- ticle on grass-widows for our magazine, and Ill have to see it doesnt set Clapham in a blazeIslington, rather. But we shant have many subscribers in Isling- ton. I think I must be off now, said Fitz- gerald, rising. You think, then, Mr. Scobell had better not speak about that article to a lawyer ? I think, with Mr. Scobells permission, I will edit the magazine myself. And so I am not to take any message about the lit- tle ringlets round her ears Oh, certainly. I told you, said Fitz- gerald, that pink was a good color. Let them be pink, if you like. Wait a bit, said the other, laughing. You wont be so uncommunicative when a certain bright-eyed lady gets you into a corner and talks to you, and asks to be allowed to light her cigarette at yours. That is coming very near, isnt it? Good- by. Oh, about that review: if you are anxious, why dont you call and ask Gif- ford about it ? I would, said Fitzgerald, hesitating- ly, if I thought I shouldnt be driving him. Oh, bother him! said Hilton Clarke, cheerfully. If he does not want it, we can use it in the magazine. That parting touch took away all Fitz- geralds resentment. The man was real- ly good-natured. And even supposing he had been driving his questions or his sur- mises about Kitty a little too close, might it not have been through a really friendly interest? Then, again, it was something that so great and acknowledged an author- SHANDON BELLS. 143 ity as Hilton Clarke had looked favorably on the little verses. Fitzgerald had placed no great store by them himself. He had, indeed, hidden them away in a rambling sort of gossip, imagining that no one but Kitty and himself would know that he himself had written them. And as they had pleased the great critic, he would write to Kitty and tell her. Had she not a sort of joint ownership in them? Fitzgerald had now to return to the Strand; and as he was walking along that thoroughfare, it suddenly occurred to him that he would take Hilton Clarkes ad- vice, and call at the Liberal Review office, and so put an end to his anxiety. The advice was well meant; but it was inju- dicious; and still more injudicious was Fitzgeralds choice of an opportunity. To go and worry an editor about a neglected manuscript is a mistake at any time; but to do so before luncheon is pure madness. When the morning scramble of corre- spondence is well over, when the frugal chop and pint of claret have moderated the swva indignatio produced by the con- trariety of things, and when, perhaps, the mild Manila and the evening papers may be still further inducing the editorial mind to repose, then, indeed, there may be hope for the anxious inquirer; but not before. Fitzgerald had to wait some twenty min- utes in the office, during which time there was a constant passin~ up and down stairs on the part of strangers, whom he regard- ed with considerable awe. Then a boy brought him a message that Mr. Gifford could see him, and he followed the inky- fingered Mercury. In a minute or two he was standing very much like a culprit in front of a long writing-table; and Mr. Gifford, who was on the other side, and who looked impatient and troubled and hurried, was plunging to and fro in a sea of manuscripts. Ah, here it is, he said at last. Sit down. Glad you have called. I meant to write. Well, you see He looked over a page or two, and an expression of dissatisfaction was very plainly on his face. Why, you seem to have found no- thing in the book, one way or the other I, If Fitzgerald had had his wits about him, he would perhaps have remarked that that was precisely what he had found in the book; but he was far too disturbed and aghast at the querulous fashion in which the editor spoke of the article upon which he had built so many hopes. No, I dont think this will do, con- tinued Mr. Gifford, looking over the pages. I am sorry to have given you the trou- ble; but really you have made nothing out of the book. Surely there must be something in it, good or bad; you have found it nothing but lukewarm, like the Church of the Lacedemonians. There is no flavor in what you have written. Look there ! Fitzgerald was too agitated to think of putting the Laodiceans in their proper his- torical place; he mechanically took from Mr. Gitford a printed slip which the latter pulled off a file. It turned out to be a proof of a booksellers advertisement; and at the head of the column appeared the con- tents of the forth-coming number of a great Quarterly. Do you see ? continued Mr. Gifford. That article about A New Novelist has been called forth by this very book that you see nothing in; and I am told they regard its publication as marking a new departure in modern English literature. Then I say that that is most shame- ful, said Fitzgerald, driven to desperation. There must have been bribery or person- al influence. The book is as weak and feeble as it can be; it is a scandal to Eng- lish journalism that bribery of some kind or another should have got such an article written. How can you tell ? said the other, peevishly. In your opinion the book is bad. Other people may not think so. And even you dont seem to think the book bad enough to call forth any definite disparage- ment. It is merely frivolous. And you are even complimentary here and there. Well, then, perhaps you will excuse me if I point out some things that may be of service to you. You know you ought to be accurate in your quotations: De par le Roi, d~fense d Dien Dojirer miracle en cc lieu. Dop4rer instead of de faire miracle, and that in so familiar a quotation But dop~rer is ri~,ht, said Fitzgerald, hastily interrupting. Gifford stopped and regarded him. Oh, is it? What is your authority? I should have thought the old police dis- tich was well enough known. Fitzgerald was so anxious to justify himself that his memory failed him alto- gether at this critical point. Nothing but 144 HAIRPEIRS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. confusion met him when he tried to re- call where he had met with that luckless couplet. And so Mr. Gifford, turning from him to the manuscript, proceeded: Then you introduce extraneous matter for no sullicient reason. You say here, One might arrive at a sort of negative definition of poetry by saying that it was precisely that quality which is conspicu- ously absent from every page of Pope, and which is conspicuously present in almost every line of Coleridge. Now what is the use of advancing an opinion like that ? One of the characters in the book Yes, yes, said Mr. Gifford, with an impatience that was scarcely civil; though it was most likely he had been worried about something or other that morning; but a reviewer can not be expected to set all the opinions of all the characters in a book right. And when you proceed to remove Pope from the category of English poets, you want more than a single sen- tence if you would justify yourself. It is not enough for you to say that such and such a thing is: you must prove it to be so. You cant go and settle half a hundred dis- puted literary points in the course of a sin- gle book notice I am sorry it wont do, said Fitzger- aid, lifting his hat. I may as well take the manuscript with me, if you dont mind. I am sorry you have had the trouble; but one must learn reviewing as other things; and perhaps I made a mistake in thinking you had had enough practice. There are one or two other points I might show you. Oh no, thank you; no, thank you, said Fitzgerald, with great courtesy; I wouldnt trouble you. I must not take up so much of your time. Good-morning. I am very much obliged to you. And so he got himself out of the office with all his mind aflame. It was not so much disappointment as indignation that consumed himindignation that such a book should be made so great a matter of, simply because it was written by a mem- ber of the government, by a man in polit- ical life. What was the objection, tben, to this review but that he had not made it violent enough either with praise or blame? If hehad made of it a balloon, now, and tied the worthless volumes to it and sent them up into the blue, or if he had made a nether millstone of it and hung it round Spencer Tollemaches neck and plunged him in mid-ocean, no doubt the black- browed editor would have been charmed. But because he had merely told the trutb, the review was lukewarm, like the Lacede- monians. The Lacedemonians! And de faire miracle Ihe knew it was dop~rer miracle! As for Pope, he declared to him- self that the whole Essay on Man, boil- ed down and strained through a cotton rag, would not produce as much poetry as you could find in a single phrase of Her- ricks or Sucklings. And then he devoted the whole art and function of criticisni to the infernal gods; and thenin the mid- dle of the Strand, among the hurrying strangers he laughed lightly. For it suddenly occurred to him that to betray such temper, or to feel so keenly his disappointment, was not beariiig out the character that Andy the Hopper had given of him to Kitty. Was he going to allow this first bit of misfortune to cast him down? He began to regard the mat- ter from a common-sense point of view. After all, his being debarred from further hope of contributing to the Liberal Review (and he had to admit that Mr. Giffords manner seemed conclusive on that point) did not necessarily doom him to starva- tion. And why should he be angry with the great Quarterly, even if it had been unduly influenced? The public would speedily put the matter right by leaving the book, if it was worthless, unread. When lie came to think of it, moreover, there might be some justification for Mr. Giffords harsh censure, regarding the ar- ticle from the editorial point of view. Doubtless he ought to have left Pope alone. He should not have altered a familiar quo- tation without being ready with his au- thority. In fact, by the time that he had reached Charing Cross he had convinced himself that the world was not so much amiss; and this gradual revival from his fit of disappointment did not at all stop there; but quite suddenlyand in a mari- ner that seemed to fill all the dusky sun- light of the Strand with a sort of rose-color it sprang to a wild resolve. What if he were to go away back to Ireland, and spend a day among the hawthorn lanes with Kitty? He could not resist. The rebound from that extreme depression carried him away with it; and only the necessity of having to buy a Bradshaw and get sonme informa- tion out of that distressing volume sue- EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 145 ceeded in calming down this bewildering delight and anticipation that had seized hold of him. Yes, by taking the mail train to Bristol that night, which was a Friday, he could reach Cork on the Sat- urday evening; and then the Sunday morningand his meeting Kittyand clasping her warm white little hand! The whole trip would cost little over two pounds: was it not his only chance before the long drudgery of the new magazine began? A hundred times over he pic- tured to himself Kittys face when she should suddenly see him there waiting for her, and each time the expression was dif- ferent. And as for reviews, and quota- tions, and black-browed editors, and any fifteen dozen of Daphnes Shadows, he let all these things slip entirely away from him, to be lost in the jangle and roar of the mighty town he was leaving. He was not thinking of them at all. He was thinking of Sunday morning and of Kittys tender look of wonder and wel- come. It was about a quarter past eight in the evening when he reached Cork, and they were just beginning to light the lamps. There was still a lurid sort of twilight in the stormy purple-blue sky, and the pave- ments were of a wan gray; but one after another the orange points of the lamps de- clared themselves, and here and there a warm glow shone out from the shop win- dows. The omnibus rattled through the town, past the black groups of idlers; now and again a woman darting out with an angry objurgation to snatch in a vagrant child. He had been looking forward to his passing through the familiar streets as a sort of dream. Now it seemed strangely real. That sense of being at home that he had never experienced in the vast wil- derness of London had possession of him again; the accent of the people had a plea- sant, almost pathetic, touch in it; he seem- ed to know them so well, to have got back among old friends. But he was not going to seek to see Miss Romayne that night, wildly as his heart beat when he thought of her being so near himjust over there in the darknesslit- tle thinking of what was in store for her. No; he would wait for the morning; he would have nothing less than the fresh and clear May morning to show him the sudden, glad love-light leap into Kittys wondering eyes. WE speak of Longfello~v elsewhere. The Life of Ccnlyle was published just after Longfellow died. In the light of the serene life of the poet serenely ended, the life of the other man of letters has a strange aspect. For they were both exclnsivelyli terary men. They lived for literature. Their activities were sole- ly literary. Their influence and power were both literary. Could there be a more striking contrast? Carlyle was the greatest purely lit- erary force of his time; repelling rather than at- tracting sympathy; socially known by report- ed jibes and sarcasms, and a kind of Titanic impatience with pigmy human nature. Long- fellow died the most widely known and be- loved of ~dl contemporary authors. Doubtless there was an immense difference of circumstance and condition. Carlyles youth and middle age were a stormy struggle with poverty and with his own temperament. Long- fellows life was apparently as prosperous as it was blameless, and his temperament so sweet and equable that one who did not know the tragic passages of his career mi~ht well sup- pose it to have been all, like one of Lowells l)erfect June days, a snuny course of calm and cloudless hours from rosy dawn to golden sun- set. No mans desires for his literary position Voa. LXv.No. 355.1O were ever more fully gratified. But this was due to his just and modest appreciation of his own power. Ihe bent of his character and that of his genius were coincident. Therefore I hope to join your sea-side walk, Saddened and mostly silent with emotion, Not interrupting with intrusive talk The grand majestic harmonies of ocean. Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest, At your warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted, To have my place reserved among the rest, Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited. Of such an author there has been naturally a flood of personal reminiscences, and of every kind. He was so accessible and affable that even the organ-grinder knew his kind heart, and played his melancholy tune under the poets window, sure of his reward. But copi- ous as the reminiscence has been, all that has been written about Longfellow has shown a singular unanimity of feeling. There can, in- deed, be little difference of opinion about the first warm, violet-scented day in spring. Even those who once acemed to think that a star could not be a star if it were not imperial Ju- piter with moons or the splendor-belted Saturn, were vanquished at last by that modest radi- ance, and owned the tender spell. He was the

Editor's Easy Chair Editor's Easy Chair 145-156

EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 145 ceeded in calming down this bewildering delight and anticipation that had seized hold of him. Yes, by taking the mail train to Bristol that night, which was a Friday, he could reach Cork on the Sat- urday evening; and then the Sunday morningand his meeting Kittyand clasping her warm white little hand! The whole trip would cost little over two pounds: was it not his only chance before the long drudgery of the new magazine began? A hundred times over he pic- tured to himself Kittys face when she should suddenly see him there waiting for her, and each time the expression was dif- ferent. And as for reviews, and quota- tions, and black-browed editors, and any fifteen dozen of Daphnes Shadows, he let all these things slip entirely away from him, to be lost in the jangle and roar of the mighty town he was leaving. He was not thinking of them at all. He was thinking of Sunday morning and of Kittys tender look of wonder and wel- come. It was about a quarter past eight in the evening when he reached Cork, and they were just beginning to light the lamps. There was still a lurid sort of twilight in the stormy purple-blue sky, and the pave- ments were of a wan gray; but one after another the orange points of the lamps de- clared themselves, and here and there a warm glow shone out from the shop win- dows. The omnibus rattled through the town, past the black groups of idlers; now and again a woman darting out with an angry objurgation to snatch in a vagrant child. He had been looking forward to his passing through the familiar streets as a sort of dream. Now it seemed strangely real. That sense of being at home that he had never experienced in the vast wil- derness of London had possession of him again; the accent of the people had a plea- sant, almost pathetic, touch in it; he seem- ed to know them so well, to have got back among old friends. But he was not going to seek to see Miss Romayne that night, wildly as his heart beat when he thought of her being so near himjust over there in the darknesslit- tle thinking of what was in store for her. No; he would wait for the morning; he would have nothing less than the fresh and clear May morning to show him the sudden, glad love-light leap into Kittys wondering eyes. WE speak of Longfello~v elsewhere. The Life of Ccnlyle was published just after Longfellow died. In the light of the serene life of the poet serenely ended, the life of the other man of letters has a strange aspect. For they were both exclnsivelyli terary men. They lived for literature. Their activities were sole- ly literary. Their influence and power were both literary. Could there be a more striking contrast? Carlyle was the greatest purely lit- erary force of his time; repelling rather than at- tracting sympathy; socially known by report- ed jibes and sarcasms, and a kind of Titanic impatience with pigmy human nature. Long- fellow died the most widely known and be- loved of ~dl contemporary authors. Doubtless there was an immense difference of circumstance and condition. Carlyles youth and middle age were a stormy struggle with poverty and with his own temperament. Long- fellows life was apparently as prosperous as it was blameless, and his temperament so sweet and equable that one who did not know the tragic passages of his career mi~ht well sup- pose it to have been all, like one of Lowells l)erfect June days, a snuny course of calm and cloudless hours from rosy dawn to golden sun- set. No mans desires for his literary position Voa. LXv.No. 355.1O were ever more fully gratified. But this was due to his just and modest appreciation of his own power. Ihe bent of his character and that of his genius were coincident. Therefore I hope to join your sea-side walk, Saddened and mostly silent with emotion, Not interrupting with intrusive talk The grand majestic harmonies of ocean. Therefore I hope, as no unwelcome guest, At your warm fireside, when the lamps are lighted, To have my place reserved among the rest, Nor stand as one unsought and uninvited. Of such an author there has been naturally a flood of personal reminiscences, and of every kind. He was so accessible and affable that even the organ-grinder knew his kind heart, and played his melancholy tune under the poets window, sure of his reward. But copi- ous as the reminiscence has been, all that has been written about Longfellow has shown a singular unanimity of feeling. There can, in- deed, be little difference of opinion about the first warm, violet-scented day in spring. Even those who once acemed to think that a star could not be a star if it were not imperial Ju- piter with moons or the splendor-belted Saturn, were vanquished at last by that modest radi- ance, and owned the tender spell. He was the 146 HARPERS ~EW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. most famous of American authors. Was he ever known to say a word except of sympathy and praise and encouragement to all his breth- ren, young and old? He was singularly pros- lerous as well as famous. Was there any trace of pride in that benignant aspect, or ever a whisper of anything but good amid fair in that generous life? Surely all authors, and the lit- erary life itself, have gained in repute by the career of Longfellow. It is not easy over a mans fresh grave to forecast his fame, and it is an old reproach that Shakespeares contemporaries did not know him. But the long and firm and in- creasing hold of Longfellow upon the public heart, and the want of an excessive enthusi- asm of admiration, which, like a fierce blaze, soon spends itself; seem to foretell a fame calm and beautiful as his life. It is fortunate for remembrance that there was no decline of l)O~ver, aimd that his last song, in full view of the Ultiiua Thule, was still fresh and sweet and characteristic, and that onr poet died sin(rin~ T had not been full ~ for ~. hero aea~uim some mouths, but as lie sat at the Greek play a year ago, and a little later listened to the Phi Beta Kappa oration of Wendell Phillips, it was only the young man grown older, the sil- ver head over the goldemi heart of youth. A life so spotless, a character so unspoiled by universal homage, are in themselves a benedic- tion. Longfellow had outlived many friends, and was doubtless ready to folloiv thcm. He loved life, bat death was not terrible to him. On that gray March afternoon, in the old house of many memories, when the voice of his brother spoke the last fitting words, and Softly now the light of day was tenderly and sweetly sung, his own lines in the sonnet to Sumner lingered beyond the music of the hymn: Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. IT is not a great many years ago that, in the Protestant body of Christians, Easter was mainly the festival of one denomination, and even within that denomination it was cele- brated with comparatively little pomp. But now it is universal, especially in the larger towns and cities, and every church decorates itself with flowers, and observes with annually accumnlating splendor the great feast of the immortal hope. The churches are filled with flowers. The music is elaborate, and it is elab- orately advertised during the precedimig week, and, by one of those odd coincidences which associate the most diverse things, it is on East- er-day that the new spring bonnets of the ladies appear, and there is thus a curions mingling of the most unrelated interests. I have observed, said an elderly gentle- man, as he watched from the windo~v of his club the pretty procession of new clothes winding churchward on Easter muoriming, that some ladies of high fashion dress more and more elaborately as they advance in years, and as the sweet light of youth fades from their eyes, it is replaced by a greater blaze of diamonds upon their persons. It was the venerable Ambassador from Sen- minar who spoke, and who was smiling plea- santly upon the cheerful scene. For myself, he continued, I cami recall nothing more enchanting in human form than the granddaughter of my old friend whom I went to see some years ago in Ne~vport, and who bounded in at the open wiu(low from the garden on a lierfect June morn inghersel f in- carimate Juneclad in a white mnshin dress, her hair simply knotted behind, holding a rose in her liaimd, amid with the loveliest rose in her cheeks. That yoummg woman, a girl not yet twenty, has girls of her oivn more than tiventy now. I wonder if she wears a very elaborate bonnet this Easter morning, and whether her dress is a mass of pleats and puffs amid marvel- lous trinmaiings, which, when profusely extrav- agant upon the form of the elder womami, al- ways remimmd inc of signals of distress hummug out upon a craft which is drifting far away from the enchanted isles of youth. Is it the instinctive effort to prolong f lie brilliancy of youth that induces the advancing woman to decorate herself so brightly? Is it the invol- untary hope that she will really seem to be buoyant and gay of heart if omuly her dress be gay? As they go trooping by I mark that rich- ly caparisommed do~vager, amid I recall the days when I was merely an attacli6 of the enibassy, and when in the modest parlor imi Bond Street she sang: I wadna walk in silk attire, Nor shier hae to spare, Gin I must from my true love part, Nor think on Donald mair. The old gentleman froni Senunar is always peramitted to have his own way, ammd he prat- tles on without interruption. If you douit care to listen, it is always easy to withdraw, amid to look out at another window, amid to make your own comments instead of heeding his. But that was not exactly what I had in umind as I watched this pretty Easter proces- sion, resunied the venerable Ambassador; but the truth is that when I see a crowd of bright- ly dressed women, my mimid scatters, as it were, amid I amn very apt not to hit muy mark. Thie old gentlemnan smiled again. All the flue spring boimnets of Easter-Sumiday do not prove the youth of every face under them, amid I wonder whether this splendid celebratiomi of Easter means that you are a mnore religious people than ims thie phaimier Easter days that I remember. Is the sincerity of religious feel- ing al~vays in proportion to the magmificemice of the ritual? If it is, you have become a deep- ly religious people, especially in your great 147 EDITORS EASY CHAIR. city. We used to think at the legation in Rome that the people of that city were in dan- ger of mistaking a punctual observance of re- ligious ceremonies for religion. But you are so intelligent that you are, of course, in no such (laliger. I accept these beautiful flowers and this pretty procession of new bonnets as the proof of your religions progress. The Ambassador paused reflectively a mo- suent, and then continued: You send a great many missionaries to India and elsewhere. Is it because you have no work for them at home? I often take a walk in your great city, entirely away from Fifth Avenue, off to- ward the rivers. I see several things, and I read of several things in your newspapers, which induce mc to a3k whether you are prac- tical as well as noniinal Christians. Lu my country, my benighted and heathen Sennaar, we have a proverb that an ounce of practice is worth a pound of profession. In Rome, I say, we used to fear lest the people, with crossings and dippings and genuflections and. repetitions of a long series of invocations and confessions and. penance and many ceremonies, might come to confound these things with religion. But I suppose that this blossoming Easter, this sol- emn al)stefltiou from the German in Lent, and this interest in draperies and postures, mean that you devote the same energy and time and care to studying how to help the helpless, how to console the suffering, how to teach poverty to hope and labor for its own relief. It means that the richly attired Chris- tians who are walking in the most fashiona- ble spring bonnets to church on Easter-Sun- day have learned who is their neighbor, and what their duty is toward him, and are dili- gently doing it. The Ambassador removed his eyeglasses, and turned to smile sweetly upon the group of club men near him. But if it does not mean this, bow are you better than Sennaar? If you build superb churches in one street, and tolerate heathen squalor of soul and body in the next street, why do you call yourselves Christians? No, 110: I prefer to believe that these sweet flow- ers of Easter are not symbols of your words, but of your work; not of your professions, but of your practice. The old gentleman resumed his glasses, and looked silently at the thronged street. Is his preference our faith also? Do we believe that the great increase in the beauty of the Easter comniemoration shows a corresponding increase in religious faith and I)ractice? Or are we possibly falling into the condition which they feared, at the Sennaar Legation in Rome, lund befallen the people of that other imperial city? Tnu picture of Mr. Abbeys which opens this number of the Magazine is one of the charni- ing series that he has contributed to our pages, illustrating quaint verses of ilerricks as quaintly as they. The airy and half-gro tesque fancies of that old reverend singer of the Bacchic face have been caught by Mr. Abbey with singular felicity. Gathered into a volume, as they will be for the next holidays, they will make one of the most unique and beautiful of Christmas books, and they will send many a reader to the rest of the poets verses. Those which the artist selects for the l)icture in this number of the Magazine have much of Herricks willful and whimsical strain. DELIGHT IN DISORDER. A sweet disorder in the dresse Kindles in cloathes a wantonnesse. A lawne about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction; An erring lace which here and there Enthralls the crimson stomacher; A cuffe neglectfuhl, and therehy Ribbands to flow confusedly; A winning wave (deserving note) In the tempestuous petticote; A carelesse shooe-string, in whose tye I see a wilde civility Doe more bewitch me then when art Is too precise in every part. These are not precisely the lines which ~ve might expect from the vicar of Dean Prior in Devonshire if we did not remember that the reverend gentleman hunted thue country, and was a Cavalier clergynuan who had suffered for the Kings cause. lIe wrote the most exquisite verses to flowers, verses musical and pure and delicatevery de~v-drops of song; but hue had also a taste for the to~vn and the table and all fleshly delights. There could, indeed, be no greater amazement than that of some young reader suddenly comiur for thue first tinue upon the Daffodils, or Violets, or Meadows, or Rose-Buuds, and hastening enchanted to the volumes of the poet, only to find tIme lilies blooming in the mire. The name itself of the singer, Robert Herrick, is muisical and sugges- tive. His best poems read for the first time con- vey a sense of ineffable grace and melody, and the Easy Chair recalls vividly thue delight with which a young boy browsing in a great library first tasted the ambrosia of Herricks verse. It was a rude shock, however, to see his por- trait. It is that of a bovine Bacehus. The close-curling mass of hair clings to the head, and, covering the forehead, almost blends with the shaggy eyebrow. The immense aquiline nose springs beak-like from beyond the staring eyes, the mustache of a Cavalier covers the lip above the full mouth, and the chin doubles do~vn in heavy jowls to the thick neck. In a bold hand he writes luis signature Robert Hearick. It is easy euuough to understand why he should have been and that sad In this dull Devonshire, Before I went To banishment Into the loath~d West, I could rehearse A lyric verse, And speak it with the best. 148 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. It was not until 1823 that an entire reprint of Herricks complete poems was published, but selections had been previously printed, and the poet was known to lovers of the older English poetry. In this country, Wash Irvino whose of waifs ington ~, mind was full of that pleasant old English reading, intro- duced Herrick to thousands who had never heard of him. In the delightful paper npon Christmas-eve in the Sketch-Book, the young officer, as the dance ended in which a beau- tiful blushing girl of seventeen was his part- ner, seizes a guitar, strikes an attitude, and be- gins to thrum the little French air of the Troubadour. But the old sqnire insists that on Christmas-eve there shall be none bnt good old English singing, and the young officer, pausing a moment, an(l throwing up his fine eyes to the ceiling, struck into another strain, and with a charming air of gallantry gave Herricks Night Piece to Julia. Of course his fair partners name was Julia. This beautiful little poem doubtless revealed Herrick to many readers, and laid them under a fresh debt to Irving. Indeed, one of Irvings attractions is the flavor of the old English lit- erature which is evident in his works. No English author has seized the aroma and spirit of the romance of English life and tradition, a life, indeed, that never was on sea or land, quite so satisfactorily as Irving. He did for the romance of English life what De Tocque- yule did for our political system and develop- ment. In both cases the foreigner could see more clearly. The distance lent precisioa to the view. Herricks poems are in two partsthe Hes- perides, composed of lyrics, love songs, epi- grams, and conceits of every kind; and the Noble Numbers, or religious pieces. His airy grace of versification is enchanting, and his fancies are delicate as flowers. But he goes beyond the old fable, and, like the two sisters in one, from his sole mouth fall roses and pearls mingled in wild confusion with toads and weeds. To push through a volume of the Hesperides is like walking through a swamp. It is all ooze and slime, and a tamugled luxuriance of flowers with scents of strange sweetness wafted upon the air. Upon one page you read, with disgust, lone and Jane. You turn the page, and read To Electra. I dare not ask a kisse, I dare not beg a smile, Lest, having that or this, I might grow proud the while. No, no; the utmost share Of my desire shall be Onely to kisse that aire That lately kiss~d thee. Time lyrical strain is in no English poet purer than in Herrick, and he has even been called tIme very best of English lyric poets. Certainly in none of the strictly English poets is there a more simple and joyous music, with a more delicate pathos, as in Burns. There is plenty of classical allusion and forced hu- mor in some of his verses. But the best are as free from artifice as the song of a bird. Mr. Abbeys pencil does not miss the tripping dain- tiness of 1-Jerricks conceits, nor the refi mmcd grace of his nobler numbers, and his book is very sure to renew the reading of a poet some- what forgotten, and to be read only with tIme knowledge that at any page you may be smud- denly anuazed and indignant. But every lov- er of the old poet will understand the warm strain of that other lover which recalls Nashs tender invocation to Sir Philip Sidney: May the flowers blossom to thy fame, for thou hast not left one of them unsung! May the silvery springs and ciremumambient air murmur thy praises as thou hast warbled theirs! And may those who live well sing, and those who love well sigh, sweet panegyrics to thy memory ! IT is twenty-nine years ago that, in the edi- torial sanctum of tIme old Petnam in Park Place, the question was asked, Have we a Bourbon among us h The paper which bore the title was sent to Mr. Putnam by the Rev. Dr. Hawks, who was at that time a literary and historical authority in the city, as well as an eloquent preacher. He stated that en- tire confidence could be reposed in the Rev. Mr. Hanson, who wrote the article, and Dr. Hawks also said th. t he knew Mr. Williams, the alleged lost Bourbon, amid comisidered hmium to be a simple, truthful, amiable, amid Imious man, of ordimiary intellectual power. The good doctor did not undertake to express an opimmiomi upon the claim of Mr. Williamus, but line said that he could speak with certainty to time fact that he was not am Indian, and that lie was not equal to the invention of complicated evidence to support a fabricated story. The editors of the new magazine saw at once the advantage to their enterprise of so unique an article, and it was pumbhished in the second number. Pnhlic attention was soon aroused, and for a bug time there was a brisk contro- versy over the probability of the Willinums claim. The stromugest argument for it was the appearance of the claimant. Mr. Williams came one niorumug to Mr. Putnams office, amid the editors descended to see him. They beheld a man who might have sat for time head upon a bouuis-dor. He was a maui of large frame, of swarthy complexion, and of the lift of head amud heavily muoulded face that marked the Bomurbons. There was something siugmular and distinctive in his appearance, due partly to the dark, un-American hue, and partly, domubt- less, to the imagination stimulated by time smug- ~estion that he was the Dauphin. His muami- ner was simple, and of a placid dignity which befitted both his heavy persomi and his alleged royalty. But it was inupossible not to feel timat his softness and repose might be also the craft of the Indian, and that it was yet qmiite too soon to recognize himn as a son of St. Louis. He had preached in the city, and his sermon EDITORS EASY CHAIR. 149 was thought to be a sound and sensible dis- course. He was indeed known to other Epis- copal clergymen besides Dr. Hawks as a suc- cessful missionary to the Indians in Wisconsin. But his power of conversion did not seem to extend to the dogma of his Bourbon descent. There were indeed believers. But claims with less circumstantial evidence have had sincere (lefenders. There was never any very large number of persons who supposed Mr. Williams to be the lost Dauphin. The story has been long forgotten. But a l)rief series of papers iii the Plattsburg Repub- lican, written a.t Green Bay, in Wisconsin, and signed E. S. M., recalls it. The writer, when a child, at home on Lake Champlain, used to bear of the missionary Williams, who had been born in an Indian cabin in wild Caughuawaga., and who had grown up hunting, trapping, and fishing from St. Regis to Whitehall; who, by the suggestion of the Williams f~ mily iii Mas- sachusetts, bad been to school at Long Men- (low, upon the Connecticut River, near Spring- field; who had then gone to Oneida Castle, in New York, and was so precocious that in 1820 lie had been ordained a teacher and Indian mis- sionary, with almost a bishops prerogatives. Leading a great multitude of descendants of the Six Nations, he travelled westward to Green Bay, preachin~ with an eloquence and persua- sive power which wcre wholly new to the In- dians. At Green I3ayhe married the beautiful half-breed who still lives in the house where Williams met her. Her father was a Canadian blacksmith, and her mother a half-caste Meno- minee. At thirteen years of age she was be- trothed to a gallant young trader from Detroit. But the wonderful missionary came, saw, and loved. He knew the Indian customs of court- ship, and giving the indispensable gifts to the girls mother, the dusky maiden of fourteen was told one mornii]g that she need not go to school, as she was to be married to Priest Will- iams in the evening. Tradition, it seems, still fondly describes the fashionable flutter over her baptism and confirmation byBisliop Hobart in old Trinity Church in New York sixty years ago, recalling that of Pocahontas in Londoii. But, according to the tale now told from Wisconsin, the siniple, amiable, pious, but mcmi- tally slow claimant of the Bourbon heritage in 1853 was a greater schemer thirty years be- fore, projecting the consolidation of the rein- nants of the Six Nations into a later Indian empire, of which he was to be prophet and king. But, as the story is told, false to the trust committed to him by the Church, false to his pledges to the Indians, recreant to the national government, the emigration scheme, the basis of his proposed grandeur, failed, and with it Williams fell into obscurity and neglect. The only singular fact in the narrative of his claim to be the lost Dauphin was the undoubt- ed acquaintance with the Prince de Joinville. But the explanation is simple. The Prince left Albany, with a feiv friends, to follow the course of his fathers western journey when he was an exile amid wanderer. Williams, who was then at St. Regis, heard of tIme plan, and hastened to place himself upon the steanier that was to carry the Prince through the lakes to Green Bay. The Prince asked the captain of the steamer if he could direct him to sonic one who might recall f lie journey of his father, and perhaps retain some of its traditioiis, and the captain naturally introduced Williams. E. S. M. was a guest at the dinner given by the Prince at Green Bay, at which Williams also was an invited guest, but there was no mysterious interview betiveen him and the host. Williams had probably told, with all his old missionary eloquence, at least all that he knew of Louis Philippes journey, and Louis Philippes son may very well have hidden hiiii to the Tuileries should he conie to Paris, and the Prince did undoubtedly send him tokens of remembrance when lie returned to France. The writer from whom we quote was mi- pressed vividly with the shrewd black eyes amid the well-bred Parisian ease and dignity of Williamss manner when he called upon her for we think it is a wonianto arrange time sale of his library to her husband. Not less striking was the library of time frontier mis- sionary to the Indians than f lie refined court- esy of his address. Sonie of the books were black-letter on vellum in parchment covers, some, of the oldest English text, some, of the earliest dates of printing, others were venera- ble St. Chrysostonis, Aquinas, Thomas ~ Kem- pis. It was the library that some noble youth of the court, suddenly forsaking the world, and seeking, like time early Jesuit fathers in Cana- da, to bury himself in the western wilderness, the world forgetting, by the world forgot, might have brought with himcostly editions of his uncle the cardinal ,~ ifts from some roy- al d6coteto guide his holy and solitary medi- tations. The story passed from remembrance. It was decided that we had not a lost Bourbon among us. Madame Williams said that she never heard of it until she was told by a friend who had read the article in Puteams Monthly, and Williams himself soon relapsed into obscurity. He left Green Bay, and died at Hogansburg, in St. Lawrence County, New York, about twenty years ago, in the seventy-fourth year of his age. His widow, the lovely Mademoi- selle Jourdain of sixty years since, still lives in her solitary home on a high bauik over Fox River. No relic of other days remains in tIme house except the portrait of Williams. The lady last October was still dignified amid court- eous, wearing aim old-fashioned turban of brill- iant colors, and a quaint dress, half Christian, half pagan, and she was attended by two half- caste women of her tribe. We have not, and probably we have never hind, a lost Bourbon among us, but we shall al- ways have a romantic Bourbon episode in our literary annals. IT is no exaggeration to say that no other country in the world is so laden with deep- ly affecting associations that have passed into household words, or has been the witness of events so intimately connected with the ad- vancement of the race, as the narrow strip of land, seventy-five miles in breadth and less than two hundred in length (an area less than that of the two small States of Maryland and Delaware), that lies between the Mediterra- nean and the Arabian Desert. The land of the Bibleevery rood of its territory teems with sacred memories and traditions; and as long ns the Book retains it-s hold upon the mind and affections, and the most enlighten- ed of mankind continue to contemplate the scenes, the actors, and the events that are de- scribed in it with profound and reverent syni- pathy, each new record of travel and explora- tion in the Holy Land will be turned to with fresh and eager interest. Of the numerous publications touching this memorable land, none have enjoyed or deserved a greater pop- ularity than the Rev. Dr. Thomsons The Land and the Book, the first volume of which, de- scribing the kingdom of Judab, Southern Pal- estine, and Jerusalem, was briefly noticed in this Record for May, 1880. Since then, Dr. Thomson has completed a second volunie of his pleasing and instructive work, in which he describes in minute detail, and on the same general plan as was pursued in the previous volume, Central Palestine (including Samaria and Upper and Lower Galilee) and Phnnicia. These divisions formed the most fertile and beautiful portions of the Land of Israel, and are pre-eminently distinguished for the num- ber, variety, and importance of their historic sites and sacred incidents. Here Gerizim and Ehal lift their awful heads; here Hermon raises its snow - capped peaks; here Carmel stands like a majestic sentinel at the northern gateway of the Promised Land, and here gen- tly rises TaborM hallowed Mount of the Trans- figuration; here stretch the beautiful plains of Sharon and Esdraelon, the picturesque val- leys of Ajalon and Jordan, the wilderness of the Temptation, and the cedar-crowned mount- ain range of goodly Lebanon; here lived the patriarchs, and here their bones lie buried; here Joseph was sold by his brethren, and here too he was bnried; here the hosts of Sea- nacherib and Ben-hadad were discomfited, and here Gideon triumphed over the Midianites; here flourished the ancient towns and cities of the kings of the Ten Lost Tribes; here Eli- jah and Elisha manifested the po~ver of the true God, and here nearly all the greater pro- phets dwelt and delivered their inspired mes- sages; here David slew Goliath, here lie hid himself from the jealous rage of Saul, and here he was solaced by the love passing the love of women of Jonathan; and, finally, here dwelt the Saviour during nearly the entire period of His life; here He was baptized of John, descended upon by the Holy Ghost, tempted of the devil; here He chose His disci- ples, and here He went about through town, and village, and mountain, and sweet country place, teaching, preaching, healing, doing good, and manifesting His divine power by many marvellous works. At every step are iriet his- toric sitesNazareth, Cana, Nain, Bethany, Ca-pernaum, Jacobs Well, Bethabara, the Sea ofTiberias, the Lake ofGennesaret, etc .which were hallowed by His presence, or were the scenes of the events described in the Gospels, and recall a thousand meniories of His daily life. Every portion of this most interesting land was traversed by Dr. Thomson, and is de- scribed as in an imaginary familiar colloquy hetween companions in travel, illustrating his- torical allusions in the sacred text, setthii~g questions as to the identification of sites, dis- covering simnihitudes or survivals of manners and customs, establishing topographical and geographical facts, and throwing light on in- numerable ethnological, archa~ological, and Biblical problems. The volume is the record of the accumulated experience of the author during forty-five years residence in the Holy Land as a missionary, refreshed and recast in a recent tour, and complemented in popular form by the results of the la-test and most authentic scientific discoveries and explora- tions. ONx of the most noteworthy literary events of the year has been the publication of Dor- othy; a Country Story,2 a new poem by an au- thor whose name is not given in the title- page, but who is understood to be Mr. Arthur J. Munhy, a friend of the author of Lorna Doone, whoni he rivals in his charm as a story-teller, and in the wealth of his realistic descriptions of domestic and country life and manners, and of rural occupations and scenery. The poem is a pastoral in elegiac verse, and is remark~- ble for its calm and level amplitude, and its admirable mastery of the difficult verse in which it is written. Unlike much of our re- cent poetry, it is absolutely free froni puzzle and ambiguity, and is as clear, straightfor- ward, and intelligible as anything by Chaucer, Shakspeare, or Burns. The heroine is an on- gi nal conception, evincing a daring disregard for those conventional notions which prevail 2 Dorothy. A Country Story in Elegiac Verse. l8mo, pp. 227. Boston: Roberts Brothers. The Land and the Book. Or Biblical Illustrations drawn from the Manners and Customs, the Scenes and Scenery, of the Holy LandCentral Palestine and Phce- nicia. By WILLIAM M. TaoMson, D.D. With 130 Illus- trations, and Maps. Royal Svo, pp. 689. New York: Harper and Brothers. EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 151 in society, and have ruled modern literature and art with a rod of iron, and according to which a woman to be a worthy heroine of a novel, or play, or poem, must, if of the rustic class, he of the Dresden china kind, and have soume characteristic to distinguish her from her mates, intimating that she is of a superior strain. Thus, if her avocations are homely and her surroundings common, she must have an instinctive or inherited brace and refine- ment that unexpectedly assert themselves in spite of the accidents of her birth and nurture; if she wears a coarse and simple country dress, it must be fashioned with taste and worn with high-bred grace; if her hands are ungloved and acquainted with toil, they must be soft, small, shapely, and unmarked by the stains of labor; and if her feet are ordinarily coarsely shod, and inured to trud~ings on rough coun- try soil, they nmust, on occasion at least, be- neath her petticoat like little mice steal in and out, like those of the bride so trippingly described by Sir John Suckling in his charm ing Ballad upon a Wedding. All such dainty devices are disdained by the author of this delightful idyl. Its heroiiie, Dorothy, is a love-child, reared by the hand of charity till she becomes a rustic servant-maid, working heartily and well and earning wages at the rude toil of the farm. The poet pictures her as stalwart and tall as a man, and strong as a heifer to work, rejoicing in the freedom of out- door labor as she followed luaus xvork at the plough or the scythe; stately, erect like a queen, built for beauty indeed, but certainly built for labor as well, as witness her runsen- mr arm, witness the grip of her hand. Rough and hard, he tells us, were her broad brown hands; rough her thick, ruddy arms, shapely and round as they were; rough, too, her glo~v- big cheeks, and her sunburned face and fore- head, set in her amber bright hair, browner than cairugorni seemed; yet it was a hand- some face, whose beautiful regular features la- bor could never spoil, and ignorance could not degrade. But if Dorothy has the size and strength of a nian, and is proud of the glory and joy of a mans work in the field, she is withal a very woman, in whose clear blue eyes bright beams of intelhi~emice linger, and on whose warm red mouth love might have alight- ed and lain. She kno~vs nothing, indeed, of social elegances and accomplishments, but is rich in her fearless purity, and in the native refinement that is born of grace and innocence. How this sturdy and beautiful free-born lass, fettered by duty alone, ennobled her work, and made drudgery divine by the honor in which she held it, and by the cheerfulness and sin- gle-heartedness with which she transfigured it, and how at length the flower of love bIos- somed in her heart, and made her life perfect and fragrant, is told with exquisite grace and unwonted picturesqueness and power in this fine eclogue in honor of the freedom and di& nity of labor. A MEMOIR of Johim Quincy Adams,3 prepared for the American Statesmen Series by Mr. Jolum T. Morse, Jun., coumbines a vigorous sketch (if the life amid character of one of the most vigorous and original, and without ex- ception the most independent, irrepressible, and combative, of our great statesmiien of the second generation, with a concise and lumi- mious outline of those great transitional pe- riods in our l)olitical history which witnessed severally the decademmee of the Federal party and the rise (if its opponents to aduministra- tive power, time rise and fall of the caucus sys- tem, the imitroduetion of personal politics iimto natiommal affairs, and the advent of the con veum- tion system, an(l the hmmauguration of the an- tislavery agitation in Comigress. Mr. Adammuss bug and eventful career in the public service, from his first entry upon it at the age of four- teen, as the private secretary of Mr. Francis Damma, emmvoy from time Ummited States to Russia, umitil in his eighty-first year the death-stroke fell upon hini at his post of duty in the house of Represemutatives, is sketched in no meagre outline by Mr. Morse, although, as he takes pains to assuire us, his niemnoir is not a histor- ical biography of the customary elaborate or- der, but is rather a general sketch of the maim with a few of his more promiiineut surround- ings agaiiist a background of the history of time timnes, filled in, shaded, and colored by in- cidents and versions derived principally front Mr. Adamuss own remarkable diary. Along the broad route of this characteristic and al- most life-long daily record, thu biographer travels to the cud, amid in its course every trait of Mr. Adaumss personality comes out, re- vealing a man of staimiless personal purity, whose high and imOh)le character was veined with notable blemishes, famil ts, and short-com- ings. Houmorable imi his aspirations, pure in his ambitious, patriotic iii his motives and ac- tions, indepemident to a fault, amid spuirning all questionable expedients to insure success, Mr. Adanis exhibited at all times amid under the stress of unprecedented pressure an elevated morality and a rigid political honesty that were as rare as they were a(hmnirable; and thins emidowed. he maintained for the greater part of his life, with time inflexible courane of a fa- natic, a single-hmamided fight in support of un- popular opimmiomus, which timne has since vindi- cated, and for which lie was peculiarly fitted by an indomitable will, unconquerable persist- ence, amid an infinite capacity for lahor. This was the bright side of Mr. Adamss chiaracter; and if we look omi thie reverse side of the pic- ture we find that lie was dogmatic, rancorous, vimudictive, and bitterly ceuisorious; that even his virtues were cold, repellemit, and leaned to the side of faihimigs; and timat having umo sym- pathy with and eliciting mioume from time states- men with whom he was brought in contact, hue John Qdacy AcZam~. By Jomux T. Monsx, Jun. lOmo, pp. 315. Boston: Iloughton, Muffin, and Co. 152 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. was suspicious, uncharitable, aud unjnst in his judgments of them, and unable to act in con- cert with them for the general welfare. Mr. Morses hearty al)preciation of Mr. Adamss strong and virile character is not diminished by the defects of temperament which deface itdefects which be frankly admits, without offerin~ any weak or rhetorical excuses in Imal- liation of them. So distinctly do the writings of Charles Lamb mirror the imitellectual and persosmal features of the man, and so accurately do they reflect many of the snore interesting incidents of his life, that it were possible, without re- course to any other materials, to prepare a faithful biographical l)ortrait from what may he gleaned frora them. Mr. Alfred Ainger has availed of such gleanings with nice discern- ment, and the spirited sketch of Lamb which he has contributed to the English Men of Letters Series is largely made up of the in- imitable autobiographical touches and family recollections which Lamb, under the guise of imaginary names and persons, has interspersed with a deft and liheral hand throughout his Essays of Elia and his letters to cherished friends. From these and the well-known vol- mimes of Talfourd, supplemented by interestin~ items ofiuformation derived from old and loyal friends of the Lamb family, Mr. Ainger has pro- duced a reduced but exceedingly pleash]g por- trait of the genial humorist, iii which his char- acteristic mental and personal habitudes, idio- syncrasies, and environments are effectively displayed. Mr. Ainger does full justice to Lambs character, aithon gh he has had the courage to admit the existence of some blemn- ishes that former biographers, moved by time tenderness of their friendship, have extenuated or passed over in silence; and he is an appre- ciative but acute and discriminating critic of his writings. His brief sketches of Lambs re- lations with the members of his own family, and with Coleridge, Southey, Wordsworth, Charles Lloyd, Manning, Bernard Barton, and other personal and literary friends, abound in interesting incidents and associations, and his estimate of Lamnbs Imlace as an author and critic, and his criticisms and ammalyses of Lanibs principal works, will be sustained by time judg- ment of those who are most familiar with, aimd most intelli~ent in their admiration of Lambs writings. ________ TILE Jomo~mmals amid Letters of taroline Fox5 in- troduce us to another of those refined English gentlewomen, of the type of Mary Somerville, Charles LamS. By ALFRED AINGER. English Men of Letters Series. l6mo, pp. 182. New York: Harper and Brothers. ilk jes of Old Friends. Being Extracts from the Journals and Letters of Caroline Fox. From 1835 to 1571. Edited by HORACE N. Pvsm. l2mo, pp. 378. Phila- misiphia: J. B. Lippincott and Co. The Same. Franklin Square Lihrary. 4to, pp. 71. New York: Harper and Brothers. Sara Coleridge, Mrs. Jameson, and Madame Buim - semi, who retaimi all their native femninine nrace and delicacy despite their large intellectual endownients and solid acqmi irements. Miss Fox came of aim old Quaker limienge, and was the daughter of Robert Were Fox, distinguish- ed in his day for isis scientific attainmemits. 1mm the course of experinments and ol)servations prosecuted with indefatigable energy and great ability durisig more than forty years of the present century, lie i)Loved time increase of temperature in descending nmines, and was the inventor of time Deflector Dipping Needle, which has since been advantageously used in all the arctic explorations. When he died, in 1877, he had become emiminent for his researches on time temperature and time magnetic amid elec- trical condition of the interior of the earth, especially in connection with the formation of mineral veins, and was the inventor or im- prover of many instruments now everywhere employed in ascertaining the properties of ter- restrial magnetism. His researches and serv- ices in the cause of science brought himn into associntioim with many of the most enminent thinkers and philosophers of his day, and his sterling qualities of mind amid heart ripened the casual acquaintances thus made, based on kindred tastes and pursuits, into intimate so- cial relations and abiding friemidships. It was in this atmosphere and among such associa- tions that Caroline Fox was bred amid passed her life. Often sharimig her fathers studies and researches, she was not so absorbed by them as to become hard or masculine, and modc~tly veiled her really great scientific knowledge behind social graces that were made the more wiminiug by the presence of those charsising qualities of simple purity, truthfulness, and gentle seriousness which are the distinguish inn characteristics of Quakers of time gentler sex. Among tlse companion- ships she formed, which because more especial- ly her own, were included Derwesit amid Hart- ley Coleridge, TI iornas and Mrs. Carlyle, Baron and Ernest Bunsen, Professors Owen and Adams, the Gurneys, Frederick Maurice, amid closest of all, not of her own sex, John Ster- hug and John Stuart Mill; and Iser journals and letters are laden with interesting person- al incidents connected with them, and with copious sketches of their manners, appearance, conversations, opinions, aisd criticisums of men and books. Besides the recollections of these her particular friends that are garnered in her letters and diary, they also contain a large fund of personal anecdote and reminiscence, (lerived sometimes directly and sometimes fromn third parties, concerniuug S. T. Coleridge, Southey, Wordsworth, Mrs. Fry, Sir John Bow- ring, Julius Hare, Sir William Hamilton, Wil- berforce, Clarkson, Hahlam, Gmiizot, Sir Johis Frankhium, Lord amsd Lady Byron, Sir David Brewster, Peel, Cobden, Bright, Gladstone, and indeed nesm.rly every comuteinporary who filled a comuspicuous Imlace imi tIme world of English art, EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 153 science, literature, politics, and society. Inter- spersed with these recollections are graphic descriptions of the scenes she loved, and of the persons and incidents that interested her, to- gether with opinions, criticisms, nnd reflec- tions of her own upon a variety of topics, eqnally remarkable for their acuteness and originality and for the gracious amenity by which they are tempered. THE publication by the Messrs. Carter of a cheap edition of the Life and Works of Hugh Miller5 places a compact library of great and varied value within reach of and peculiarly adapted to the needs of those who are engaged in the dual battle of self-support and self- culture. Without claiming genius of the first order, or the highest literary and scientific at- tainments, for Mr. Miller, it would yet he diffi- cult to find another author whose works sup- ply as serviceable an apparatus as his for self- education, or more useful practical lessons in the conduct of life. As to literary style, it has l)eeu well said by Mr. Bayne that Mr. Miller felicitously combined the dignity of elaborate literary form with perfect ease and freedom. As to matter, impressions, facts, reflections, fan- cies, and the results of life-long observation and study flow out upon his pages in stintless and chaste abundance. He has had no supe- riorwe had almost said no rivalin the skill of bringing poetic hues and musical tones out of the stony rock of geology, or in depicting its wonders and classifying its facts. An ori- ginal exl)lorer in science, with definite and firmly held opinions on religious, l)olitical, and social problems, he produced a series of unique and remarkable works, in which racy and sa- gacious observations on men and manners are intermingled with exquisitely fresh and vivid delineations of natures facts and beanties. As a naturalist and geologist he was recognized by scientific men of the highest eminence as their peer, who knew the facts as well as they, and reasoned them out with greater power, and described them in a purer and more idlo- inatic English than they were masters of. His descriptions of Scottish sceneryin glen and brac, and on loch and mountainglow with fine imagery, and are everywhere pervaded by a rich human element. His knowledge of the working classes and common people was pro- found and sympathetic, and Isis exertions for the amelioration of their condition, and for their social, moral, and intellectual improve- ment, were unwearied and effective. Hisworks 6 The Life ead Works of 11u9h Miller. Twelve Vol- umes in Six. l2mo. Vol. I.: Life and Letters, by Peter Bayne, pp. 928. Vol.11.: The Testimony of the Rocks; or, Geology in its Bearings on Natural and Revealed TheologyThe Old Red SandstoneGeologicalPapers, PP. 905. Vol. III.: The Foot-Prints of the Creator First Impressions of England and its People, pp. 767. Vol. IV.: My Schools and School-MastersTales and Sketches, pp. .. Vol. V.: Popular GeologyCruise of time Betsey, pp. 926. Vol. VI.: Essays, Historical and biographical, Political, Social, Literary, and Scientific, PP. 1003. New York: Robert Carter and Brothers. are an invaluable legacy to all men who, like him, are obliged to work toilsomely for their livelihood, never ceasing meanwhile to rightly value the dignity of labor, and who, while manfully performing their daily task-work, are not content to remain mere hiewers of wood and drawers of water, but would fain kindle the divine spark of intelligence of which they are conscious into a living and light-diffusing flame. The edition before us comprises all Millers works, together with the admirable bi- ography by Peter Bayne, originally published iu 1871. MORE than a hundred years ago that charm- ing naturalist White of Selborne jotted down in a letter to his friend Dames Barrington some very curious and interesting facts con- cerning earth-worms, their uses and habits. Earth-worms, he wrote, though in appear- ance a small and despicable link in the chain of nature, yet, if lost, would make a lamentable chasm. For to say nothing of half the birds amisl some quadrupeds which are almost entire- ly supported by theta, worms seem to be the great promoters of vegetation, which would proceed but lamely without theta, by boring and perforating and loosening the soil, and rendering it pervious to rains and the fibres of plants, by drawing straws and stalks of leaves into it, and most of all by throwing up such infinite numbers of lnmps of earth, called w-orm - casts, which being their excre- ment, is a line manure for grain and grass. Worms probably provide ne~v soils for hills and slopes where the rain washes the earth away. The earth, without worms, would soon become cold, hard-bound, amid void of fermen- tation, and consequently sterile. More than half a centnry hater Whites observations at- tracted time attention of Charles Darwin, then a young man just entering upon his long amid honorable career of philosophic investigation; and in 1837 in one of his earliest contributions to science, a paper rea(l by him before the Ge- ological Society of Losidon on Time Formation of Mould, he referred to Whites brief but mi- unte remnarks on earth-worms, and using them as the groundwork of his discourse, proceeded more fully to elaborate, as time frmiit of his own investigations and reflections, the natural his- tory and time extensive usefulness to man of this most lowly amid insignificant of living creatures. Since then muore than forty years have sped, but imi the mean time Mr. Darwin, amid the inthiralling urgency of his literary labors, and in the plenitude of his reputation, has never lost sight of his early inquiry, and now gives us the results of his prolomiged ob- servations in a monograph on The Formation of Vegetable Mould through the Action of Wornms,7 which is one of the most curions as well as The Fo ation of Vegetable Mould through the Acthem of W - With Observations on their Habits. By CHARLB5 DARWIN. LL.D. l2mo, pp. 826. New York: D. Appleton and Co. 154 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. pleasing contril)utions to natural history that has appeared since White of Selborne ceased to regale the world with his diurnal jottings. The memoir is very Iar~eIy the record of a personal i nxesti~ation, pursned with unflag- ging enthusiasm and invincil)le patience, of the nature, structure, habitations, and habits of earth - worms, their faculty of perception through the senses, their mental powers and manifestations of intelligence, and their place in natnre as relates to the outer world and other creatures. But its more immediate sub- ject is the amount of earth which is bronght up by worms froni beneath the surface in the form of castings, and is afterward spread out more or less completely by the rain and wind, and the part which worms have thereby played in the burial of ancient buildings all(i re- mains, and in the Pulverization and denudation of the land. Among the interesting conclu- sions reached by Mr. Darwin, bearing upon the important part that worms have ~)layed in the history of the face of the earth, are the follow- ing: that the whole superficial bed of vege- table mould passes through the bodies of worms in the course of every four years; that by these means fresh surfaces, equal to two- hundredths of an inch annually, are continu- ally exposed to conditions favorable to their decomposition and disinte ration, and are so scattered by tlie wind and rain as to exert a prodigious influence upon the face of nature, affecting even the conformation of mountains and the course of great rivers; that the cast- ings of worms have buried and preserved from the action of the elements many elegant and curious tessellated pavements and other exten- sive remains; that worums prepare the ground in an excellent manner for the growth of fibrous-rooted plants and seedlings of all kinds; that they expose the mould to the air, sifted from stones, and mingle all its particles to- gether as intimately as they are mingled by the gardener who prepares fine soil for his choicest plants; that by them the bones of dead animals, insects, etc., the shells of land mollusks, and leaves, t~vigs, stalks, etc., are buried beneath their castings, and brought within reach of the roots of plants; that they enrich and render the land porous by the leaves and other substances which they drag into their burro~vs for food, thereby greatly facili- tating the downward passage of roots; and that, in fact, the earth-worm is the earliest and most universal ploughman, by whom, long be- fore tIme plough was invemite(l, the land was regularly ploughed, amid still continues to be ploughedso that it many be doubted whether there are many other animals which have played as important a part in the world as these lo~vly organized creatures. THE immense volume of transactions in stocks, the multitudes who are engaged in them mis principals or agents for purposes of speculation, business, or investment, and the numerous questions of law and custom which are constantly arising from time conflicting con- structions or im)terests of parties to transactions in them, invest a treatise on The Lan of Stock- Brokers and Stock E changes,8 xvhichi has been prepared by Mr. John R. Dos Passos, of the Ne~v York bar, with a practical interest and a substantial value that xviii be recognized by lawyers and inca of business. Briefly stated, the treatise is devoted to a discussion of the legal nature and character and the organiza- tion of stock exchanges; to a history of the various transactions that take place in such institutions; to an account of the rules and regulations by which they are governed, and of the character and incidents of membership in them; and to a consideration of the recip- rocal legal rights, duties, and liabilities which are involved in the relation of broker amid cli- emit, and also of the nature and kind of secu- rities that are dealt in on the primmeipal ex- changes of the United States ammd Europe. Among the topics of paramount importance elaborately treated by Mr. Des Passesfor the (hiscussiomi of which he has been peculiarly fit- ted by the circumstance that his special prac- tice has made him thoroughly familiar with them both from a legal and a business stamud- pointare the following: The general rmilesre- hating to the usages or customs of stock-brokers, emubraciming a r6sum6 of the most prominiumt emises iii England and this country in which these usages have been the subject of juidicial inquiry, and have been either rejected or sus- taiumed, accompanied by critical comments on some of the moore obscure or contradictory de- cisions; the subject of wagering contracts, dis- crimmiinatimmg when they are in the nature of gambling transactions, and therefore illegal and void, and when otherwise; the differemmt kiiids ammd gemmeral character of the property, comprehiended nader the namne of securities, imi xvhich stock-brokers deal, and which constitute the two classes of instruments known as nego- tiable and non-negotiable, with a descri ptiomm of the elememits that are requisite to impart to them the character and commsequences of inmegotiabil- ity or non-negotiability; and, finally, the reine- dies of stock-brokers and chients agaimust each other, including the relation of brokers to each other amid of clients to each other, time liability of brokers to undisclosed clients, of undisclosed chiemits to brokers, and of clients to their owui brokers, tIme subject of specific perforniance, the effect of usury upon stock transactions, the contingencies that cause contracts for sale to come withiin thin statute of frauds, amid the mea- sure of damages imi actiomus between clients and brokers and in actiomins by a broker against his client. A luortion of the volume having a spe- cial imiterest to non-professiommal readers is a elmapter appropriated by Mr. Des Passes to a full analysis of a transactiomi between a broker A Treatise on the Law of Stock-Brokers and Stock Ex- changes. By Jonie H. Des PAsses, of the New York Bar. 8vo, pp. 1043. New York: harper and Brothers. EDITORS LITERARY RECORD. 155 and client in the purchase or sale of stocks, in this country and in London and Paris, illus- trating all the steps in the process, and show- ing the rights, duties, powers, and responsibil- ities of each of the parties nnder every contin- gency customarily or possibly incident to such purchase or sale. In a valuable appendix Mr. Dos Passos reprints in full the constitution and by-laws of the New York Exchange, as revised September 15, 1878, with amendments to Feb- ruary, 1882, and the rules and regulations of the London and Paris Stock Exchanges. Pre- fixed to the treatise is a complete alphabetical table of the cases and decisions referred to in the text and notes. IN order to bring his Popular Astronomy9 up to date in all important points, Professor New- comb has subjected it to a new revision, and, as now 1oublished ia its fourth edition, it in- cludes the latest results of astronomical re- search. It may he of interest to those who have the first or second editions of the work to know that the subjects added to the third edition comprised Dr. Drapers investigations on the existence of oxygen in the sun, Jaims- sens new method of photographing the sun, the conclusions from recent total eclipses, the preliminary results of the British observations of the late transit of Venus and other methods of determining tIme parallax, the discovery of the satellites of Mars, the results of recent in- vestigations into the motion of the moon, and Professor Watsons observations of supposed ntermercurial planets. The principal addi- tions to the present edition relate to the great telescopes completed within the last three years, the transit of Venus that will occur Dc- ceinber 6, 1882, and recent developments in coumetary astronomy. Mus. LmLu1~s Prudence is very pleasant reading. A timely and gentle satire upon time fashionable resthetic influenza that, after hav- ing prevailed in London without serious con- sequences, has at length reached our shores in a mild form, it quietly but effectively deline- ates the maudlin sentinmentality of those who are its genuine victims, and the affected senti- mentalism of those who feign its influence for pastime, or from restlessness or ennui, or be- cause it is a convenient novelty which helps to alleviate the routine and dullness of society. A young American girl, fresh from time most provincial part of provincial New England, as beautiful and with almost as little originative power as a flower, is throwum into this artificial society, and is delighted by its novelty and glitter. Her nature being purely receptivc, P ilar Astr my. By SIMoN NzwcoMu, LL.I). With 112 Engravings and 5 Maps of the Stars. Fonoth Edition, Revised. 8vo, pp. 517. New York: Harper and Brothers. Prudence. A Story of ~Esthetic London. By LUCY C. LILLIE. Illustrated by Du MAIJRIER. 160110, pp. 177. New York: Harper and Brothers. she passively absorbs and enjoys time spectacle without comprehending it, much as the dower absorbs and enjoys time dew, the rain, and the sunshine. Retaining all her native matter-of- fact amul prosaic sinoplicity while performimmg a rOle which gives her pleasure, hut which is al- ways a rOle and nothing umore, sloe at length lays her part aside as sloe would a cast-off dress, amid contracts a coummuouplace and mat- ter-of-fact noarriage, to the great disappoint- ment of her musthetic admirers. An episode of the story, scarcely less elaborate than time story itself, presemots two of its actorsHelena Ar- inory ammd Jonas Fieldingimo telling contrast with the heroines tamely receptive character, and suggests unrevealed possibilities, to which each reader will give shape according to the activity of lois imnagimmatiomo. READERS will be disappoimoted who take up Anerbachs posthunious novel, ~pinoza, cx- pectimmg to find in it the dranmatic play of pas- sion and character, the fine poetic fancies, tile pathos and tendermoess, and the exquisite de- limmeations of simple imouselmold life, and of un- turn in its lowliest or most engaging forms, with wimich they have become familiar in lois On time Heights, Edeiweiss, anml Villa on the Rhine. It scarcely deserves the moanme of a omovel in tIme ordimoary acceptatiomo of time termn, but is rather a philosophical romance, based on real or imom- aginary immcidents in the life of time foumoder of noodern pantheisum, in wlmiclo tlme memotal pro- cesses are described wimich inopelled Imim first to reject the creed of his Hebrew fathers, and afterward all otimer creeds, amod time reasonings are outlined whiclo resulted imm the ploilosopim- ical system that bears lois name. Incidental- ly emigaging glimpses are giveum of the social life of Amsterdamn in Spimoozas day, especially as conmiected witlm Jewisim social amid religions life. Like everytloimmg frormi Anerbacims hammd, it is a powerfuol pro~luctiomi, but will prove more attractive to time ploilosoploical thimoker than to the ordinary reader (of fictioum. Tow hinoitations of this department will moot pernoit extemoded notices of time remnainhog nov- els of tIme noomitim, nor, imideed, are their merits so coumnoanding as to mnake such mootices imidis- pensable. Time followirog are the best of time moumuber, and if the reader be not too exactimog imo lois requirements, will prove refined amid emotertaimming conopaniomos for a dull or leisure loomor: Beggar My Neighbor, by E. D. Gerard; Time Fmercs, by Mrs. Alexammder; Her Picture, a imew amoomovmouls tale in the No Name Se- 00 Spinozcm. A Novel. By BERTHOLn AURRBACOL From the German, by E. NIcuoLsoN. Leisure Hour Series. itimo, pp. 445. New York: Henry Holt and Co. Beyqer lily Neighbor. A Novel. By F. D. GERARD. Franklin Square Library. 4to, pp. 84. New York: Harper and Brothers. 03 Time Freres. A Novel. By Mrs. ALEXANDER. Lei- sure Hour Series. ltimno pp. 548. New York: Henry Holt and Co. ~ Her Picture. A Novel. No Name Series. l6mo, pp. 428. Boston: Roberts Brotloers. 156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ties; A Tallahassee Girl,15 aii anonymous story in the Round Robin Series; Through the Linn, by Agnes Oiberne; Till Death Us Do Part,7 by Mrs. John Kent Spender; The Fixed Period,5 by Anthony Trollope; and Exchange No Robbery, by the author of Patty. WE close the Record for the current month with brief announcements of new or revised editions of several works which have a peren- nial interest, and whose possibilities for use- fulness are as yet far from being exhausted. The Messrs. Harper have added a cheap edition of that universal favorite Torn Browns School Days2 to their popular Franklin Square Li- brary.Presiden t Woolseys thoughtful and suggestive treatise on Divorce and Divorce Le- gislation.2 has been republished by the Scrib- ners, after havin~ beea carefully revised and n partly rewritten by its distinguished author. The masterly exposition of Christs Sermon ~ A Tallahassee Girl. Round Robin Series. l6mo, pp. 355. Boston: James R. Osgood and Co. 16 Through the Linn; or, Miss Temples Wards. By ACHEs GIBERNE. lOmo, pp. 357. New York: Robert Carter and Brothers. ~ Till Death Us Do Part. A Novel. By Mrs. Joan KENT SPENDER. Franklin Square Library. 4to. pp. 62. New York: Harper and Brothers. The Fixed Period. A Novel. By ANTHONY TRoL- LOPE. Franklin Square Library. 4to, pp. 31. New York: Harper and Brothers. Exchange No Robbery. A Novel. By Mrs. M. Bx- THAM-EnwARns. Franklin Square Library. 4to, pp. 21. New York: Harper and Brothers. 25 Torn Browsss SchoolDays. By an Old Boy. Frank- lin Square Library. 4to, pp. 62. New York: Harper and Brothers. 21 Divorce and Divorce Legislati . Especially in the United States. By THEODORE D. WooLsEY. l2mo, pp. 328. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. on the Mount by Rev. J. Oswald Dykes, D . hitherto printed in separate volumes, has been collected by the author into a single volume, nuder the title of The Manifesto of the King, and is republished iii this country by the Messrs. Carter.The Scribners have published a re- vised edition of President Porters well-digest- ed thoughts on Books and Beading. Ia this vnll2able treatise President Porter answers the questiol], so pregnant of interest to beginners, What books shall I read, and how shall I read them ~ in such ~vise as to enable those whose limited knowledge disables them from making a wise choice without assistance to select the best books froni the world of books around them, and to rend them profitably.Professor Huxley has gathered into a single volume, ei~- titled Science and Culture, and Other Essays,2 a number of addresses and lectures delivered by him during the past seven years before various popular institutions and learned societies, al](h several essays contributed to leading periodi- cals during the same period, the whole forming a round of instructive reading on scientific, phi- losophical, and educational questions of living interest. Published in this country by the Messrs. Appleton. 22 The anifesto of the King. An Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount. By J. OSWALD ]3YKEs, D.D. l2mo, pp. 633. New York: Robert Carter and Bro- thers. 23 Books and Reading; or, What Boo shall 1 Read, and Now shall Illead ~Phemn Y BY NOAH PORTER, Presi- dent of Yale College. Svo, pp. 434. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. 24 Science and Culture, and OtherEssays. By Tno AS HENRY HUXLEY, LL.D., F.R.S. l2mo, pp. 357. New York: D. Appleton and Co. POLITICAL OUR Record is closed on April 19.The fol- lOwin,, are the principal items of business done at Washington during the month: The Consular and Diplomatic Appropriation Bill passed the Senate March 22.The Anti-Chi- nese Bill (twenty years) passed the House March 23, and was vetoed April 4; an attempt to pass it over the veto next day was defeated. On April 17 another bill, suspending Chinese immigration for ten years, passed the House. The President approved the Anti-Polygamy Bill March 23.The Life-saving Service Bill was amended and passed by thme Senate March 24.The Tariff Commission Bill passed the Senate March 28.The Indian Appropriation Bill passed thse Senate March 31.The Army Appropriation Bill passed the House April 5. The Agricultural Appropriation Bill passed the Senate April 18.The following nomina- tions were confirmed: Henry M. Teller, of Col- orado, Secretary of the Interior; William E. Chandler, of New Haninpshire, Secretary of the Navy; William H. Hunt, of Louisiana, Minis- ter to Russia.President Arthur sent two mes- sages to Congress April 18one asking that action be taken in regard to the invitation ex- tended to American powers to participate in a general congress, and one advising that the proposed appropriation for Mississippi River improvements be increased to $2,020,000, and that prompt action be taken.The House, April 19, passed a resolution declaring that neither Cannon nor Campbell is entitled to a seat as delegate from Utah. George M. Clsilcott was appointed United States Senator from Colorado to succeed Sen- ator Henry M. Teller. The Rhode Island Republican State officers ~vere re-elected April 5. The Rhode Island Democratic State Con- vention met in Providence, March 22, and nominated Horace A. Kimball for Governor, J. G. Perry, Lieutenant-Governom~. - The Massachusetts Prohibitory Liquor Bill was defeated in the house March 29, an at- tempt to pass it to a third reading resulting in a tie vote.

Editor's Historical Record Editor's Historical Record 156-157

156 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Ties; A Tallahassee Girl,15 aii anonymous story in the Round Robin Series; Through the Linn, by Agnes Oiberne; Till Death Us Do Part,7 by Mrs. John Kent Spender; The Fixed Period,5 by Anthony Trollope; and Exchange No Robbery, by the author of Patty. WE close the Record for the current month with brief announcements of new or revised editions of several works which have a peren- nial interest, and whose possibilities for use- fulness are as yet far from being exhausted. The Messrs. Harper have added a cheap edition of that universal favorite Torn Browns School Days2 to their popular Franklin Square Li- brary.Presiden t Woolseys thoughtful and suggestive treatise on Divorce and Divorce Le- gislation.2 has been republished by the Scrib- ners, after havin~ beea carefully revised and n partly rewritten by its distinguished author. The masterly exposition of Christs Sermon ~ A Tallahassee Girl. Round Robin Series. l6mo, pp. 355. Boston: James R. Osgood and Co. 16 Through the Linn; or, Miss Temples Wards. By ACHEs GIBERNE. lOmo, pp. 357. New York: Robert Carter and Brothers. ~ Till Death Us Do Part. A Novel. By Mrs. Joan KENT SPENDER. Franklin Square Library. 4to. pp. 62. New York: Harper and Brothers. The Fixed Period. A Novel. By ANTHONY TRoL- LOPE. Franklin Square Library. 4to, pp. 31. New York: Harper and Brothers. Exchange No Robbery. A Novel. By Mrs. M. Bx- THAM-EnwARns. Franklin Square Library. 4to, pp. 21. New York: Harper and Brothers. 25 Torn Browsss SchoolDays. By an Old Boy. Frank- lin Square Library. 4to, pp. 62. New York: Harper and Brothers. 21 Divorce and Divorce Legislati . Especially in the United States. By THEODORE D. WooLsEY. l2mo, pp. 328. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. on the Mount by Rev. J. Oswald Dykes, D . hitherto printed in separate volumes, has been collected by the author into a single volume, nuder the title of The Manifesto of the King, and is republished iii this country by the Messrs. Carter.The Scribners have published a re- vised edition of President Porters well-digest- ed thoughts on Books and Beading. Ia this vnll2able treatise President Porter answers the questiol], so pregnant of interest to beginners, What books shall I read, and how shall I read them ~ in such ~vise as to enable those whose limited knowledge disables them from making a wise choice without assistance to select the best books froni the world of books around them, and to rend them profitably.Professor Huxley has gathered into a single volume, ei~- titled Science and Culture, and Other Essays,2 a number of addresses and lectures delivered by him during the past seven years before various popular institutions and learned societies, al](h several essays contributed to leading periodi- cals during the same period, the whole forming a round of instructive reading on scientific, phi- losophical, and educational questions of living interest. Published in this country by the Messrs. Appleton. 22 The anifesto of the King. An Exposition of the Sermon on the Mount. By J. OSWALD ]3YKEs, D.D. l2mo, pp. 633. New York: Robert Carter and Bro- thers. 23 Books and Reading; or, What Boo shall 1 Read, and Now shall Illead ~Phemn Y BY NOAH PORTER, Presi- dent of Yale College. Svo, pp. 434. New York: Charles Scribners Sons. 24 Science and Culture, and OtherEssays. By Tno AS HENRY HUXLEY, LL.D., F.R.S. l2mo, pp. 357. New York: D. Appleton and Co. POLITICAL OUR Record is closed on April 19.The fol- lOwin,, are the principal items of business done at Washington during the month: The Consular and Diplomatic Appropriation Bill passed the Senate March 22.The Anti-Chi- nese Bill (twenty years) passed the House March 23, and was vetoed April 4; an attempt to pass it over the veto next day was defeated. On April 17 another bill, suspending Chinese immigration for ten years, passed the House. The President approved the Anti-Polygamy Bill March 23.The Life-saving Service Bill was amended and passed by thme Senate March 24.The Tariff Commission Bill passed the Senate March 28.The Indian Appropriation Bill passed thse Senate March 31.The Army Appropriation Bill passed the House April 5. The Agricultural Appropriation Bill passed the Senate April 18.The following nomina- tions were confirmed: Henry M. Teller, of Col- orado, Secretary of the Interior; William E. Chandler, of New Haninpshire, Secretary of the Navy; William H. Hunt, of Louisiana, Minis- ter to Russia.President Arthur sent two mes- sages to Congress April 18one asking that action be taken in regard to the invitation ex- tended to American powers to participate in a general congress, and one advising that the proposed appropriation for Mississippi River improvements be increased to $2,020,000, and that prompt action be taken.The House, April 19, passed a resolution declaring that neither Cannon nor Campbell is entitled to a seat as delegate from Utah. George M. Clsilcott was appointed United States Senator from Colorado to succeed Sen- ator Henry M. Teller. The Rhode Island Republican State officers ~vere re-elected April 5. The Rhode Island Democratic State Con- vention met in Providence, March 22, and nominated Horace A. Kimball for Governor, J. G. Perry, Lieutenant-Governom~. - The Massachusetts Prohibitory Liquor Bill was defeated in the house March 29, an at- tempt to pass it to a third reading resulting in a tie vote. EDITORS DRAWER. 157 Five hundred and thirty-one a~rarian out- rages were reported to the Chief of the Irish Constabulary during the month of March, in- eluding 2 murders, 12 cases of firing at persons, cases of ag~ ravated assault, and 30 cases of arson. It is stated that the expense of admin- isteriug the LandAct has thus far cost the coun- try 90,000, while the reductions of rent made by the Laud Commissioners, it is estimated, reach 30,000. The Primary Education Bill passed the French Senate March 24. The Chamber of Deputies, March 28, passed the hill repealing the prohibition of the importation of American pork. The French Senate, April 1, voted a credit of 8,000,000 fram incs for the Tunis expedition for the second half of the current year. The Ecclesiastical Bill passed the Prussian Diet March 31. Prince Gortehakoff has retired from the po- sition of Russian Minister of Foreign Aflusirs on account of shattered health and advancing years, and M. De Giers, his assistant, has sue- ceeded him. The frontier treaty between Russia and Per- sia has been ratified. DISASTERS. March 21.Emod, in Ru ugary, totally de- stroyed by fire. Nine lives lostEight men killed and many injured by a collision on the Northern Pacific Railroad, nineteen miles west of Bismarek, Dakota Territory. March 22.Two barks wrecked on the Alge- riau coast. Fourteen persons drowned. March 26.A life - boat, while rescuing the crew of a sloop during a gale off Havre, cap- sized, and both crews, nineteen men, drowned. March 27.Eighteen persons drowned by the sinking of a coasting steamer in the Eng- lish ChanneLEleven men killed by an explo- sioa at the Vulcan Powder-WorksSteamer Thomas Cornell wrecked near Newbnrgh, New York. March 29.Tl]e Ralston Gin, near Lake St. John, Lonisiana, destroyed by the flood, and 120 refugees drowned.News of time loss of many lives by a blizzard along the line of the Winona and St. Peter Railroad, in Dakota. March 30.Steamer Golden City burned at Memphis. Thirty-five lives lost. April 3.News of sinking of steamers Douro and Yrurac Bat by collision off Cape Finisterre, Spain. More than fifty lives lost. April 6.Twelve persons killed and much property destroyed by tornado in the Western States. April 7.Boiler of the steamer Bella Mac ex- ploded near Brownsville, Wisconsin. Several killed and many injured. April 18.Explosion in the Black Horse Colliery, Sunderland. Twenty-three men kill- ed.News from Eastern Siberia of the loss of the United States ship Rodgers, burned and sunk while searching for the Jeannette sur- vivors. OBITUARY. March 24-In Cambridge, Massachusetts, Henry W. Longfellow, aged seventy-five years. In Washington, D. C., Rear-Admiral Gusta- vus H. Scott, U.S.N. (retired), aged seventy years. AL rch 27.At Lima, General S. A. llurlbut, United States Minister to Peru, in his sixty- seventh year. April 11.In London, England, Dante Ga- briel Rossetti, a.ged fifty-four years. THERE is an ailment, formerly more preva- lent in this propinquity than at present, entitled fever and ague. It quivered and flut- tered through our persons in a pleasant sort of way, jmist enough to remind us of our qui- nine. Compared with the manner it takes hold of one in the West, it is a mere bagatelle. Its perfect development seems to have been reached in Arkansas, judging by the following description given by an expert between whiffs from his pipe: Maybe yell git some idea of the Arkansaw ager when I tell ye that I once unjinted both shoulders in shakin, and it was a light shake at that. When I had one of my reguhar dou- ble-back-action shakes, I could jar a jug of whiskey omit of the crotch of a tree twemuty- eighmt rods off. Nobody dast pile up cord-wood within half a mile of my cabin, and thats a solemn fact. I (levoured ky-neemi just as you eat corned beet; and my hull system finally got so bitter that a dog who sunelled of my leg couldnt git the pucker out of his muouthi in- side of ten days. Gentlemen, I do not wish to prolong this agony. We will have some lick- er, and I will then seek a few needed re poses. ________ MRS. OFOGARTY recently sold her house- hold goods at auction. The entire lot brought thirty-four dollars and sixty-three cents. As the chairs were backless, both tables minus a leg, and some of the pots and jars cracked and almost worthless, bric-h-brac hunters missed rare treasmures by not being apprised of the sale, and Mrs. OFogarty is over a thousand dollars out of pocket in consequence. SIFTINGS FROM TEXAS. GILISOOLY, a resident of Austin, who is muot in the habit of ~myimg for anything he gets, recently bomught a pair of boots on credit from

Editor's Drawer Editor's Drawer 157-162

EDITORS DRAWER. 157 Five hundred and thirty-one a~rarian out- rages were reported to the Chief of the Irish Constabulary during the month of March, in- eluding 2 murders, 12 cases of firing at persons, cases of ag~ ravated assault, and 30 cases of arson. It is stated that the expense of admin- isteriug the LandAct has thus far cost the coun- try 90,000, while the reductions of rent made by the Laud Commissioners, it is estimated, reach 30,000. The Primary Education Bill passed the French Senate March 24. The Chamber of Deputies, March 28, passed the hill repealing the prohibition of the importation of American pork. The French Senate, April 1, voted a credit of 8,000,000 fram incs for the Tunis expedition for the second half of the current year. The Ecclesiastical Bill passed the Prussian Diet March 31. Prince Gortehakoff has retired from the po- sition of Russian Minister of Foreign Aflusirs on account of shattered health and advancing years, and M. De Giers, his assistant, has sue- ceeded him. The frontier treaty between Russia and Per- sia has been ratified. DISASTERS. March 21.Emod, in Ru ugary, totally de- stroyed by fire. Nine lives lostEight men killed and many injured by a collision on the Northern Pacific Railroad, nineteen miles west of Bismarek, Dakota Territory. March 22.Two barks wrecked on the Alge- riau coast. Fourteen persons drowned. March 26.A life - boat, while rescuing the crew of a sloop during a gale off Havre, cap- sized, and both crews, nineteen men, drowned. March 27.Eighteen persons drowned by the sinking of a coasting steamer in the Eng- lish ChanneLEleven men killed by an explo- sioa at the Vulcan Powder-WorksSteamer Thomas Cornell wrecked near Newbnrgh, New York. March 29.Tl]e Ralston Gin, near Lake St. John, Lonisiana, destroyed by the flood, and 120 refugees drowned.News of time loss of many lives by a blizzard along the line of the Winona and St. Peter Railroad, in Dakota. March 30.Steamer Golden City burned at Memphis. Thirty-five lives lost. April 3.News of sinking of steamers Douro and Yrurac Bat by collision off Cape Finisterre, Spain. More than fifty lives lost. April 6.Twelve persons killed and much property destroyed by tornado in the Western States. April 7.Boiler of the steamer Bella Mac ex- ploded near Brownsville, Wisconsin. Several killed and many injured. April 18.Explosion in the Black Horse Colliery, Sunderland. Twenty-three men kill- ed.News from Eastern Siberia of the loss of the United States ship Rodgers, burned and sunk while searching for the Jeannette sur- vivors. OBITUARY. March 24-In Cambridge, Massachusetts, Henry W. Longfellow, aged seventy-five years. In Washington, D. C., Rear-Admiral Gusta- vus H. Scott, U.S.N. (retired), aged seventy years. AL rch 27.At Lima, General S. A. llurlbut, United States Minister to Peru, in his sixty- seventh year. April 11.In London, England, Dante Ga- briel Rossetti, a.ged fifty-four years. THERE is an ailment, formerly more preva- lent in this propinquity than at present, entitled fever and ague. It quivered and flut- tered through our persons in a pleasant sort of way, jmist enough to remind us of our qui- nine. Compared with the manner it takes hold of one in the West, it is a mere bagatelle. Its perfect development seems to have been reached in Arkansas, judging by the following description given by an expert between whiffs from his pipe: Maybe yell git some idea of the Arkansaw ager when I tell ye that I once unjinted both shoulders in shakin, and it was a light shake at that. When I had one of my reguhar dou- ble-back-action shakes, I could jar a jug of whiskey omit of the crotch of a tree twemuty- eighmt rods off. Nobody dast pile up cord-wood within half a mile of my cabin, and thats a solemn fact. I (levoured ky-neemi just as you eat corned beet; and my hull system finally got so bitter that a dog who sunelled of my leg couldnt git the pucker out of his muouthi in- side of ten days. Gentlemen, I do not wish to prolong this agony. We will have some lick- er, and I will then seek a few needed re poses. ________ MRS. OFOGARTY recently sold her house- hold goods at auction. The entire lot brought thirty-four dollars and sixty-three cents. As the chairs were backless, both tables minus a leg, and some of the pots and jars cracked and almost worthless, bric-h-brac hunters missed rare treasmures by not being apprised of the sale, and Mrs. OFogarty is over a thousand dollars out of pocket in consequence. SIFTINGS FROM TEXAS. GILISOOLY, a resident of Austin, who is muot in the habit of ~myimg for anything he gets, recently bomught a pair of boots on credit from 158 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Mose Schaumburg, who keeps a store on the Avenue. The hoots were very fine, and Gil- hooly was amazed at the lo~vness of the price three dollars. How is it, Mr. Scbanmbnrg, asked Gil booly, that you only charge me three dol- lars on credit, while you made Gus Dc Smith pay five dollars in cash for the same style of boot ~ I dells you how dot vash, replied Schaum- bnro: Yen a gustoiner bays gash, I shoost dakes so mooch ash poshihie; but yea J sells ov goots on gredit to a big schoundrel vot very likely never hays at all, den I puts de brice down low to match de gustomer. Den, again, I puts de brice low so yen he dont bay I vont lose so mooch. The other day Gilbooly observed Gus Dc Smith standing in his door smoking an im- mense cigar. Why, exclaimed the amazed Gilbooly, how is it that you, ~vho are always denoun- cing tobacco, are smoking away as if for dear life ? It is only for a few moments that I am smoking. I do it to prevent my mother-in- la~v kissing me. She will arrive in a few mia- utes. Ill take both her hands in mine, and shake them, while I keep the lighted cigar in my mouth. But dont tIme cigar make you sick ? Not as sick as I ~vould be without it. One of tbe most eloquent and popular cler- gymen of Austin, being ahout to ascend the steps leading to his church a few Sundays ago, was asked by a partially blind old lady, who did not recognize him, to help her up the steps. With his usual urbanity he complied with her request. Just as they reached the top steps she asked him who was going to preach. Parson Smith, he replied, that being his own name. 0 Lord ! exclaimed the old lady. Help me down again. Id rather listen to a man sawing wood. Please help me down again. I dont care to go in. At first the clergyman was inclined to re- fuse, but, on reflection, he gently assisted her down the steps again, remarking as they reach- e(h the bottom: You are quite right, madam, about not going into the church. I wouldnt go in either if I was not paid for it. A. E. S. A WESTERN paper contains an article head- ed Chasing Deer with a Locomotive. The Western people are always introducing some innovation. It must be a thrilling spectacle to witness a huge locomotive chasing deerto see the iron monster, all alive with excitement and its nostrils breathing fire, leaping fences, crashing through forests, fording streams, mounting hills, and scaling rocks, after the fleet-footed animals. It is certainly wild and exciting fun, attended with considerable dan- ger; but we should think the engineer of the locomotive would have his interior department pretty well shaken up hefore he caught the deer. For persons of sedentary habits such sport now and then may be highly beneficial in a sanitary point of view, but most people will prefer to go hunting on foot in the mar- kets, and pay twenty-five cents a pound for their venison. J. H. W. MODERN FABLES. ruE srAe mx mx ox srALL. A STAG, hard pressed by the Hounds, ran for shelter into an Ox Stall, the door of which was open, and covering hinmself with a heap of Stra~v, waited for the Night to come. Several Servants and even the Farm Bailiff came, and looked round, and went away, seeing nothing of ihe Stag, who was ready to jump out of his Skin for joy, and warmly thanked tIme Oxen for their Silence. Do not be too sure, replied one of the friendly Beasts; there is one yet to come whose Eyes are a great deal sharper. This was the Master himself, who, having been (lining with a Neighbor, looked in on his way home to see that everyshing wash all ri. At a Glance he perceived the tips of the Horns coming through the Straw, and raised the hue an(l cry, calling all his People together, and bidding them make a prize of the Herds of Antlered Monarchs which, he assured them, peopled the Byre. But they pityimigly bore hima away and put him to Bed, and the Stag returned in safety to his accustomed Covert. (NOTEThere is no Moral to this Fable. The Ox was right, and so was the Master, and yet somehow the Premises failed to connect with the Conclusion. Still, such is Life.) raz WANTON cALF. A Calf, full of Wantonness and play, seeing aim Ox at the Plough, could not forbear insult- ing him. What a sorry, poor Drudge are you, said he, to bear that heavy Yoke, and go turning up the Ground for a Master! See what a happy life I lead ! he added, when at evening the Ox, unyoked and going to take his rest, saw him, hung with Garlands, being led away by the Flaumen, a venerable man with a fondness for Veal Pot-Pie. MOEALThis Fable teaches us that Young People had better Stick to the Farm, and not Study for a Learned Profession unless they are fully aware of what it means. THE FOX wirnour A TAIL. A Fox was once caught in a Trap by his Tail, and in order to escape was forced to dispose of it at a heavy Sacrifice. Kuowimmg that with- out such an Appendage he would be a Laugh- ing-Stoek for all his Fellows, he resolved to try ammd induce them to part with theirs. So at the next Assembly of Foxes he mnmmde a speech on the inconvenience of Tails, and the econom EDITORS DRAWER. 159 ic and hygienic advantages of abstaining from wearing them, but was ridiculed as a Dress Reformer, until, having learned wisdom, he gave out that at Paris Foxes wore their Tails short. This Argument proved convincing, and his Fellows speedily discarded their Tails, which he disposed of at a large advance to amateur Fox-Hunters anxions to persuade their friends that they had been in at the Death. MOaAL.See, our Sons and Dan ~hters with how little Wisdom the World of Fashion is Governed! ______ G. T. L. THE NIMEOD OF BULL FALLS. DOWN the chasm of the Upper Wisconsin caine the roar of Bull Falls, now loud, now low, as the varying volume and direction of the night winds niodified its tones. Over and through all other sounds flowed the tireless croon of the old pine-tops. It was an autumn evening, and round a good crackling fire of pine knots in the rude lint of a logging camp just below the falls a large gang of wood-choppers sat on folded blankets laid on the earthemi floor. The group was of wonder- fully composite nativity, but all its members could chop. Their axes were stacked in a cor- ncr, and their sleeping bunks lined two sides of the single-roomed huta cabinet of shelves for this collection of human specimens. The flimsy roof of poles and boughs was support- ed by a stout post stepped in the middle of the hoer, and decorated with spikes from which depended the camp provisions in sacks and jugs. As each man lit his pipeful of black plug with a blazing pine kmiot passed from hand to hand, he stretched out his legs with an exclamation of comfort, and resigned him- self to an hour of chatty idleness before turn- in g in for the night. There hind been a flurry of excitement in the camp on the nmornin~ of that day. Just before snurise a bear had broken down the lint door and robbed the larder, pulling down the pro- visions in confusion on the floor, breakimig jugs of molasses, going into crazy ecstasies over the sweet-bear fashionand rolling in it. Torn sacks of flour had loaded his sticky coat with white powder until he looked like a bear from the land of the midnight sun. For dessert, lie had impetuously bitten into a paper of pepper. A revulsion of feeling ensued, and lie made oft through the woods, with throat running fire amid eyes running water, his deportment more entertaining to the entertainers than to the emitertaiiied. The loggers had clanibered to their top shelves, turned on their backs, kick- ed away the roof with their bare feet, and re- tired upward to the walls of the lint, whence these noble Romans, with nothin~ on but their togas, had witnessed the gaumes in the Cohisenum below. The men were not hunters, but wood- choppers, and the bear was allowed to depart in such peace as he might. Now it happened that one of the gang lied claimed skill as a hunter, and this man hind been seuit out two days before iii quest of vemi- ison to vary the monotony of ~aht pork. He had not yet returned. Wonder whiar Patsey McCorkle is? He ought ter ben in fore night. Didnt 1mev no whiskey with him, did he ? The speaker was old Beim, foreman of the gang, a man of that gigantic stature which can afibrd anmiahuihitv. He vas gone all de day out. Dot Batsey, you cant tell notimuks about every Irishmaims vat dey vill do if (ley been gone five umimiutes behind a fellers face, said omie of the hands. If lie vas in Bavaria, dot ishi de place a feller got to temid to everybodys business. im jest a leetle unite afeard Patseys got into some diffikilty or nothier said a loose FOR nzsszar, HE HAD IiITTEN mzro A PAPER OF PEPPER. jointed descendant of Miles Standish. Them Irish is etarnally gittin into somne kind er pickle An jist as everlastimily crawhin out, add- ed a representative of Southern Indiana, giv- ing an imidescribable yank to time last word it was the New England nout pronounced with wolfish abruptness. A peachy young fellow, who, despite his grunubhing, was as sound in head ali(l heart as in wind and limb, here broke in: Immm blowed if a Hirishiman knows wen Cs well hoff. I ate to work in the same gang with such a blumuderimi gaby hanyow, and Ill be For a umoment the air bristled with exclamation l)oints; then tIme door flew wide open. Every logger sprang to time bunks in panic, shouting, The bear! But the voice of MeCorkle dispelled the alarmn. He entered, talkimig loudly, under pressure of pent-np in- (higimatiomi. 160 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. then he stood on one fat of him, an, faith! he spinnedroundlike a church weather- cock. Didnt I know the fat paunch that was on him, an didnt I know the curious walk of him in the white gown ! An what are yez chiggerin at, byes. Holy Fairther! sez I, an the jaws o me baytin together like two game-cocks, what brings yez into them dolesorne woods I sez I ; an himself sez never a wurrad, but hoppin up an down fifty feet ill the air, an him roll- in along the ground on the tap of his head, an his gown flyin afther. So, then, when I cross- ed mesel quick as a weasel, if he didnt vanish in the air itself, like all them ghosts, not an hour ago! An I never stopped to say, Good- by, Fairther Kelley,~ bat let him vanish the best way he could, an meseif runnin wid all the legs o me till where yez see me now. Yez may laugh, byes, but I seed ihat ghost beyant, I tell yez, not an hoar agone; an by that same token it was Fairther Kelley hisself in the mountain above Laugh away, all o yez, then, till yez break your clothes. Laugh now! Chigger away Au Ill never go after deer again for yez, owid Ben, not if I was to see your bare bones drum- miii on the flure wid starvation. But what are yez all rattlin and howlin about at all, byes? Sure theres nothi a to laugh at ii spook. I tell yez I did see the ghost o Fairther Kehley beynut in the trees, an him Thats right. Go on! Faith! yez can roarbrave enough, sittin here safe and sung by the fire, but I tell yez The voice of themightyhanter could no longerbe heard. A. McC. LAUGH AWAY! WHAT DOES I SEE BUT THE GhOST 0 THE BLESSED FAHiTIIER KELLEv. Hali! There yez are! How well I wont do what yez tell me the next time, owid Ben! Why did. the likes o yez, that has sorra haporth o sowi to save nor lose, send a diii- eate bit o pink flesh like meseif beyant for mate in the cowid wood fulL o spooks and goblins ~ Sure an when I was layin as still as a post waitin for the dainty bit of a deer I spied yesterday forninst the mountain to wurruk down for his drink out of the river faith! the black-hearted scoundrel went some other way for his water, an never came my way at all. He scratched his head with the stem of his pipe. Them deers is wise! I waited an watched for the likes of him till I thinks to meself~ sez I, Ive beeii aslape here all night in the woodsfor there was the first wink o inornin trampin over the hillsan I says to the mornin, Ill tramp wid ye, me bye; an I tramped all this blessed day till there wasnt a bone left in me skin only painsbad lack! An it come this eveiiin, and mesel five mile lip the monntain. So there I sat me do~vn in the darkness, wid the big moania trees, to take a bit of a rest, an a sap o the craythar in a bit of a bottle under me shirt; an what does I see but the ghost o the blessed Fairther Kelley whats dead an goneHeaven rest his so~v1 !sure as Im standin here, sittin by the fire: a mar- therm ghost in a long white gown, as I)ale as death itself, holdia up his head ten feet in the sky, an him trowiu himself broadcast on the ground, an plowin up the dirrut wid the nawse of him till the sparruks jumped out o the sand as big as your fist, owld. Ben Bad cess to the whole o yez! Howid your laughin. Then he danced sideway forty rod as mad as a rabbit, an then he danced back again; 4 2 0 -I Engraved by XV. B. Closeon from the crayen drawing by Samuel Rewee. RALPH WALDO EMERSON.

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Harper's new monthly magazine. / Volume 65, Issue 386 International monthly magazine Harper's monthly magazine Harper & Bros. New York July 1882 0065 386
Henry W. Lucy Lucy, Henry W. Glimpses of Great Britons 163-185

IIARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINES No. CCCIXXXYI. JUlY, 1882.Yoi~. IXY. GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. (CAUGHT AT WESTMINSTER.) ~ L R. BRAND has been Speaker of the House of Commons now for nine years, and the moral suggested every time he takes the chair Las lost some- thing of its sharp point. But it is undoubtedly a notable thing, a remarkable tribute to the high tone of English political parties, that Mr. Brands nomination to this office should have been received without dissent, and that his conduct in the chair should never be seri- ously called in question. Mr. Brand commenced his political career as whip of the Liberal party. There is nothing questionable in the business arrangements of a whip, at least in the present days. The earlier official name of this minister indicates possibilities of transactions that wonld not always bear light. As Patronage Secretary it was not only his business to whip up men who were willing to vote from convic- tion, but to buy up others whose votes were purchasa- ble. A whip of to-day has no patronage to dispense. Still, there remains to him the duty of arranging for good divisions, and he must do what he can to bring them about. He is, in the fullest acceptation of the term, a partisan. Naturally he believes that his party and the state are synonymous terms, and regards as tautology Macaula Cs lament for the days when none were for the party, but all were for the state. We have in recent times heard of the consciences of Lords-in-waiting being troubled, and Gold-sticks have resigned because of difference of opinion with her RT. HON. MARQUIS OF HARTINGTON, N. P Photographed by London Stereoscopic Co. Photographed by Elliott sod Fry, Loodon. Photogrophec ny Loodon Stereoscopic Co. RT. HON. JOHN BRIGHT, N. P. RT. HON. JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN, NP. MT. HON. w. E. FORSTER, NP. Photographed by hiatt and Fry, London. RT. HON. HUGH CULLING EARDLEY CHILDERS, SIP. Photographed by Loodon Stereoscopic Co. Entered accordios~ to Act of coonress, in the year 1882, hy harper and Brothers, in tue 001cc of the Lihrarian of Con~reso, at waShicsntoci. VISL. LX VNo. 186.i 1 164 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Majestys government on questions of high policy. But no one ever heard of a whip resigning because he thought that on a particular line of policy his colleagues should have done something else. In re- spect of all decisions, his not to wonder why. His rather to bring up the full vot- ing power of the party, and be ready to ac- count for every absentee. It was after holding a position of this character that Mr. Brand was nominated and elected to the chair. No longer stride could be taken in Parliamentary life. At a single bound he passed from strictest and most unquestioning partisan into the seat of the judicial head of the House, the ab- solutely impartial dictator of the moment- ous questions momentarily arising in the procedure of the assembly. This hap- pened in 1872, toward the close of the life of the great Parliament of 1868. It seem- ed a bold step, but it has been fully jus- tified by events. Mr. Brand is certainly the best Speaker the present generation of members can call to mind. He has a pe- culiarly dignified manner, a full resonant voice, and a deliberate, not to say solemn, intonation. These are qualities of manner and appearance which have a great deal to do with the successful fulfillment of the office. But Mr. Brand has the additional qualities of mind and temperament which complete the character of a model Speaker. He is a perfect master of the laws, tradi- tions, and customs which he has to admin- ister. I do not remember his ever being caught at disadvantage in this respect. Yet the circumstances under which he is put to the test are fuller of difficulty than pertains to most offices of a similar char- acter. The rules of the House of Com- mons go back over two hundred years. They are themselves numerous, and in minuthe intricate. To master them is, of course, a matter of application. What changes is circumstance. A man may have the rules of the House off by heart, but he can not foresee the concatenations of circumstance that suddenly arise and demand instant decision from the chair. The House may be proceeding drowsily through debate. The horizon may seem as clear as it did to Mr. Hammond when, on the eve of the outbreak of the war be- tween France and Prussia, Lord Granville consulted him on the state of the political weather. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, a storni may break forth. All the benches may be in uproar, half a dozen members may be on their feet at one time, and the Speaker may be called upon with- out a moments hesitation to decide a knot- ty question involving the necessity that he shall have paid the closest attention to what has been said during the whole of the earlier part of the sitting. These crises have more frequently oc- curred in the time of Mr. Brand than of any preceding Speaker. His term of of- fice will be forever memorable by reason of the birth of Irish obstruction. He has had to grapple with this in its manifold and always virile forms. It is too much to claim infallibility for any man, and there may possibly have been occasions when, the episode complete and time for reflection afforded, wise people have been able to point out wherein the Speaker would have done better had he done oth- erwise. But the Speaker unhappily has not these advantages of opportunity for reflection, and of consideration of the ep- isode as a whole, including the conse- quences of the step he may take. He has to deal with the case as it arises, and while it is developing itself, and Mr. Brand never fails to satisfy the sense of justice and the general intelligence of the vast majority of those present at the scene. The Speaker of the House of Commons has a salary equal to that of the Prime Minister. Both cultivate politics on 5000 a year. In addition, the Speaker has with- in the precincts of Westminster a pleasant town house looking out on to the river. On the whole, the emoluments of the chair are not incommensurate with its duty and its dignity. Both these are met with rare excellence by Mr. Brand, and it will be a great loss to the House when the inevita- ble time comes that he shall leave the chair without intention of ever more tak- ing it. In Mr. Brands case there are more than ordinary chances of this calam- ity suddenly arising. In addition to the ordinary chances of humanity, Mr. Brand may any morning wake to find himself a peer of the realm. He is heir-presump- tive to one of the oldest baronies of the kingdom, and his brother, Lord Dacre, is seventy-three. The Speaker takes the chair at four & clock on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. On Wednesday the House sits at twelve, rising at six. The first business of the evening sittings is what is called private business, that is to say, the furtherimmg of bills promoted by private GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 165 individuals or corporations. This is gen- erally disposed of considerably before half past four, the hour at which public busi- ness commences. As the session wears on, and private business is worked off, the House saves an additional quarter of an hour to the state by beginning busi- ness at a quarter past four. Notices of motion are given, then follow the ques- tions, and these put and answered, the hit upon by which the privileges of pri- vate members were systematically curtail- ed. Arrangements were made by which the House held what were euphemistical- ly called morning sittings, ordained to take place on Tuesdays and Fridays. On these occasions the House sits at two, and remains in session until seven, during which time the government business is in progress. The sitting is suspended for stock business of the sitting begins. Mon- days and Thursdays are government nights, whereon only bills promoted by ministers are discussed. Private mem- bers appear to have a fair share of the week, since Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are nominally devoted to their service. But in one way or another the time of private members is considerably encroached upon. It was during one of the earlier sessions of the administration of Mr. Disraeli that a notable device was two hours, and on meeting again at nine, private members may, if they can get a House together, proceed with their bills or resolutions. But it very frequently hap- pens that members, worn out with the toils of the morning, decline to put in a fresh appearance in the evening, and as soon as a private member rises, big with speech, the House is counted, and there not being forty members present, is forth- with adjourned. On Wednesday, private members are at THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE SPEAKER. 166 HAIIPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the further disadvantage that in the case of implacable and unscrupulous opposi- tion by a body, however small, their bills or resolutions have no chance of progress. According to the Standing Orders, debate on Wednesday is peremptorily interrupted at a quarter to six, the remaining fifteen minutes being devoted to clearing off the other orders on the paper, so that the House may adjourn at six. Thus a man may have charge of a bill of which the majority of the House approves, and which, being down for a Wednesday, would cer- tainly be advanced a stage if he were per- mitted to divide. But if the opposition can muster sufficient vocal force to keep the ball of discussion rolling till a quarter to six, they win a victory as substantial as if they triumphed in the division lobby. It is true that technically the debate stands adjourned; but in nine cases out of ten the member in charge of the bill or reso- lution has exhausted his opportunities in securing a favorable place on this partic- ular day. All other days of what may be left of the session are appropriated, and he may as well withdraw his bill as leave it hopelessly on the orders. Tuesday is the most favorable day for private members desiring to bring under the notice of the H& iise questions in the form of resolutions. On Tuesdays notices of motion have precedence of the orders of the day, and if a member gets a good place for his motion, he starts off with his speech as soon as the questions are dis- posed of, has all the evening for debate, and full opportunity for taking a division. On Fridays this privilege is considerably curtailed. Though nominally a private members night, the government largely share with private members the advan- tages of the evening. Supply is always put down as the first order of the day on Fridays, and members moving res6lutions can do so only in the way of introducing them as amendments to the main ques- tion, that the House resolve itself into Committee of Supply. This is all very well for the member who has the first mo- tion on the paper. He can proceed.to the natural conclusion of a division precisely as he might on Tuesday. But it will be perceived that if the resolution is nega- tived (and private members resolutions usually are), no further division prior to going into committee can take place dur- ing the sittiiig, because in rejecting what was formally an amendment to go into committee, the House has definitely de- cided that it will go into committee, and there is an end of the matter. This is a formula in which the subtle mind of Mr. Gladstone frequently discovers advantage. When a resolution comes before the House on a Friday, introduced by one of his own supporters, and which he shrinks from too rudely opposing, he is often at great pains to explain to the unfortunate member predestined to defeat that, after all, the House is not expressing a definitive and damning opinion on the question his hon- orable friend has so much at heart. The question is,,, Mr. Gladstone says, wheth- er or not the House will resolve itself into Committee of Supply, and in voting aye, we shall not commit ourselves to a posi- tive negative on the resolution which my honorable friend has so much at heart, and which he has advocated in a speech of so much ability. Public bills, whether they be introduced by ministers or private members, go through many stages before they reach the statute-book. At the outset, leave is formally asked for their introduction. It is only in the case of important bills that a speech is made at this stage explanatory of the purpose of the measure. As a rule, this is a mere formality, a preliminary to the printing of the bill, which follows im- mediately on leave being given to intro- duce it. It is on the second reading that the principal fight takes place if the bill is to be contested. It is understoodthough the understanding is grievously disregard- ed, that on the second reading all that the House has to do is to debate the principle of the bill, leaving its details for consider- ation in committee. If a bill pass its sec- ond reading, a day is named for commit- tee. When the House resolves itself into committee, the Speaker leaves the chair, the mace is removed from the table, and to the chairman of committee are deputed many of the functions and much of the au- thority of the Speaker. Whilst the Speak- er is inthe chair, a member can speak only once on a particular motion. In commit- tee, he may speak as often as he likesa variation of rule which has a striking ef- fect upon the tone of the sitting. With the Speaker in the chair, members are ora- torical; in the presence of the chairman of committee, they are conversational. When a bill has passed committee, there awaits it the stage of report (that is, the amendments made in committee are re GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 167 ported to the House), and final- ly the stage of third reading; after which, if it has been in- troduced in the House of Com- mons, it goes to the House of Lords, where it proceeds through precisely similar stages. In the House of Lords the president is the Lord Chancel- lor, a personage nominally of greater dignity, but not en- dowed with nearly so much power as the Speaker of the House of Commons. In the matter of regulation of its pro- cedure, the House of Lords is a pure democracy. The Lord Chancellor has not even the privilege of nominating suc- cessive speakers. If two or three peers are moved at the same moment to rise, and none is inclined to give way, the Lord Chancellor is quite help- less. The difficulty is settled by some peer on one or the other side of the House moving that the Lord Knowswho or the Lord were further disputed, there would be a di- Tomnoddy shall be heard. If the matter vision. When bills have passed through all their stages in both Houses they receive the royal assent, in the present reign always by commission, and thereafter are added to the statute-book. If we look in at the House of Commons, or stand awhile in the lobby, we shall catch glimpses of some of the men whose names are oftenest on the public lips. Place aux m6rts! One has but just gone forth who never shall return, without whose life that of the House of Commons would have been less picturesque than it has been. When one morning in August, of the year 1876, the world was amazed to learn that Benjamin Disraeli was no more, and that it had in his place been dowered with an Earl of Bea- consfield, it was thought that Mr. Disraeli, weary of the long strife, had deliberately chosen the decent means of retirement from the fore-front of battle which the continued existence of the House of Lords supplies EARL GRANYILLE. Photographed by the London Stereosoopte Company. THE DUKE OF ARGYLL. Photographed ny Jitliott and Fry, London. 168 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to the state. It was surmised that in the altered circumstances of the Upper Cham- ber the dashing and reckless bcdu sabre of House of Commons warfare would be lost. It was said that he would languish amid the proprieties of the House of Lords, that he would not understand their lordships, that their lordships would misinterpret him, and that between the two he would presently come to wish that he had re- mained amid more familiar scenes. This was prophecy uttered in the House of Commons, and in some measure it had its birth from disappointment and chagrin. Members, whether Liberal or Conserva- tive, bitterly regretted the withdrawal of one of its principal ornaments. It did not seem at the moment how the House was to get on at all without Mr. Disraeli, and it was natural in the circumstances to suggest that he had made a mistake which he would always rue. Very soon it became apparent that Lord Beaconsfield was getting on very well in- deed with the Lords. It is true that in the first session there was some inclination on the part of barons of newest creation to stare with w~Al-affected bewilderment when Lord Beaconsfield raised his voice to oratorical pitch, or when he attempted to crack a little joke. But in process of time he educated the peers as he had earlier ed- ucated his party. He had several phases of oratorical manner, one of which seemed admirably suited to the new atmosphere. Nobody could assume a grander, vaguer, or more solemn style than Lord Beacons- field when occasion appeared to demand it. The demand was recurrent either when he did not want to convey partic- ular information, or when he desired to conceal a particular movement of policy. As these emergencies frequently arose during the exciting times concurrent with the flourish of a spirited foreign policy, Lord Beaconsfield early had recourse to this style, which admirably suited the chamber and the audience. In the House of Commons, when Mr. Disraeli, literally puffing out his cheeks, speaking in deep chest notes, and waving his right arm as if leading the charge of the Light Brigade, was wont to declaim grandiloquent pas- sages in which the Empire formed a leading note, he was not altogether un- conscious of the fact that some people be- low the gangway opposite were laughing at him, and that presently some man, with sharp incisive speech, would rise and prick the bladder of his inflated oration. In the House of Lords he was free from this danger. Lord Granville, it is true, was accustomed on these occasions to permit a playful smile to cross his genial counte- nance, and when he rose he would with lightest sarcasm suggest that the noble earls sentences were a trifle too rotund. But the majority of the House liked this style. It had about it the ring of true pa- triotism, and justly glorified a state the honored apex of which was the British peerage. In course of time Lord Beacons- field ventured upon epigrams, and that par- ticular style of audacious personal humor for which he was so famous in the Coin- mons. Before he died he had obtained an ascendency in the House of Lords even exceeding that hardly won in the House of Commons, and when it was known that he intended to speak, noble lords crowded in to hear him with as much eager curi- osity as if they were ordinary commoners. But it is with the House of Commons that the fame of Mr. Disraeli is associated, and in connection with which he would rest his fame. In some respects he was a far more successful Parliamentary speak- er than Mr. Gladstone. If it came to a weighty and exhaustive argument of a great question, Mr. Disraeli had no chance with Mr. Gladstone. Mr. Gladstone can, and often does, speak for two or three hours, maintaining the attention of his audience throughout the whole of that space. Mr. Disraeli, whether in the Com- mons or the Lords, always failed when he laid himself out to deliver a speech that extended beyond the space of an hour. His great triumphs were in his briefest speeches, spurts of twenty minutes length, full of point and sparkle. In order to make a speech of two hours in length, a man must needs have a certain proportion of facts to work upon. Mr. Disraeli never displayed a constitutional liking for facts, and when of occasional necessity he came to handle them, it was not with a master- hand. In proportion as he was permitted to disregard facts, or even to distort them, so was he successful in dealing with them. But if he could get away altogether from this hard ground, giving full run to his fancy and wit, he was at his happiest, and was the cause of the greatest happiness in others. Since Lord Beaconsfields death, a fact frequently asserted has been officially ac- knowledged, and the whole world knows GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 169 THE HOUSE OF LORDS. that he was really a year older than ac- in a reverie. But whilst yet he was in the cepted records give him credit for. Born Commons a careful ohserver would note in 1804, he was five years and a week older that a pair of keen eyes were roaming than Mr. Gladstone. Certainly during the over the benches opposite, taking in every later years of his life his personal appear- movement of the adversary, noting who ance justified statistics. His indomitable was in his place and who was absent, who spirit always brought him to the front of were coming and going, and, above all, the fray when his presence was needed. turning to watch the central figure on But it was not difficult to note evidence of the other side of the table, who was never self - application of whip and spnr. For still a moment. When Lord Beaconsfield an hour or two before he had to speak, first went to the Lords he maintained this Lord Beaconsfield sat on the front bench habit of momentary watchfulness. But in the Lords with arms folded, legs cross- later it had given place to a habit of act- ed, head slightly bent down, and eyes half nal semi-somnolency, though there was a closed. It was this last peculiarity which brief return to the older manner on the marked the growth of the final change. occasion when Mr. Lowe took his seat in The attitude had been the same for a quar- the House of Lords as Viscount Sher- ter of a century. Lord Beaconsfield al- brooke. During this particular sitting ways had a great gift of immobility. Lord Beaconsfield scarcely for a moment When in the Commons he seated himself took his eyes off the familiar face and on either front bench, he had a little figure once more brought in conjunction habit of crossing his legs, carefully arran- with himself in this new sphere. ging the skirts of his frock-coat over them, The last speech Lord Beaconsfield de- folding his arms, and so sitting apparently livered in Parliament lacked nothing in 170 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the spasmodic energy with which he in turn would be received by work-a-day poli- these last days simulated vigor. His ticians. Still it was a triumph, and it voice was raised to the loudest pitch. His was noted as a curious incident of an oth- arms were flung about in liveliest wind- erwise not eventful evening, that when mill fashion. He was on his favorite theme. He did not speak so long as had been his habit on these topics, for mid- night was near at hand before he rose. He intervened at the close of a battle the conclusion of which was foregone. It would prove a somewhat humiliating tri- umph, since every one knew what the Lords would do, and how absolute would be the indifference with which their dic the figures of the division were announced, Lord Beaconsfield, coming in from the lobby, made straight for the front minis- terial bench. In other circumstances this would have been regarded as an augury. He was the leader of a party that had just defeated the government. What more natural than that he should straightway take his place on the ministerial bench, relegating its occupants to the cold shades LAST VISIT OF LORD BEACONSFIELD TO THE HOUSE. GLIMPSES OF GIREAT BPJTONS. 171 of opposition? But though noble lords smiled at the incident, it was not without pathetic interest to those to whom Lord Beaconsfields life was precious. It was a mere freak of absence of mind. But such things do not take place vhen a statesman is in full possession of mental and physical faculties. This was the last time Lord Beaconsfield entered the House of Lords. Mr. Gladstone, in his seventy - second year, still walks with perfect uprightness of carriage, and is able in a single week to bring in a budget and explain a Laud Bill. Of late his attend- ance on the duties of the House has been a little less persistent. He frequently, as the hand of the clock approaches midnight, folds his tent like the Arab, and as silently steals away. He has also betrayed some disposition to forego the greed of speech which formerly distinguished him. It was the old complaint among his colleagues in his former administration that the Premier left them scarcely any- thing to do in their places in the House of Commons. His boundless vigor not only cov- ered the necessities of his own post, but was at all times ready to do the work of others. Dur- ing the current session there have been occasions when Jr. Gladstone has actually dele- gated to a colleague the duty of replying to a question put to himself. Still he never shirks work, and sometimes seems to make it. He fills up odd lei- sure moments in the course of a nights sitting by inditing some of his far-reaching correspondence. With a blot- ting-pad on his knee, he steadily writes whilst the debate is in progress. But if presently he comes to speak, it will be dis- covered that all the time he has had one ear open, and that no passage of import- ance has escaped him. It is only since his accident, when he stumbled and fell on alighting from his carriage, that lie has consented to leave the House before the sitting was quite over. Last session, dur- ing the tumults with the Irish members he remained in his place throughout, walk- ing out for the constant divisions with ~hich obstruction achieved its purpose. Near him on the Treasury bench sits Mr. Bright, his constant companion dur- ing some of the long intervals of the din- ner hour. Mr. Bright has never fallen in with the habit, found convenient with most people, of dining in the evening. He is thus left disengaged at an interesting hour when most of his colleagues are oth- erwise occupied, and the House is almost a wilderness. He sits and listens, with what appears a marvellous gift of atten- tion, to the utterances, whether halting or fluent, of some of the mediocrities of the House, to whom this particular hour is sacred. During the existence of the pre- sent Parliament Mr. Bright has returned in full measure to active political life. From time to time whilst the Jingoes were yet predominant he was moved to the ut- terance of some exceeding scornful speech. His was the first voice to disturb the se- renity of the new Parliament after it had fallen into pleasant grooves under the skillful management of Mr. Disraeli. One night Mr. Bright came down, and, like the angel of old (though the similitude did not at the moment strike any one), troubled the placid waters. Mr. Disraeli complain- ed, with something of pathos in his voice, Photographed by the London Stereoscopic Company. VISCOUNT SHERBROOKE. 172 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of this unwonted intrusion. Everything had been going on so nicely and calmly. Parliament and the nation were wearied of the high pressure under which Mr. Glad- stones government had been conducted. With his clear insight, Mr. Disraeli had perceived what was the need of the hour, and he was admirably fulfilling it. The Liberal opposition, cowed by their stupen- dous defeat at the polls, and disorganized by the withdrawal of Mr. Gladstone from the leadership, were not in a mood to cavil. Swords were sheathed, carbines oiled and put away. Peace and politeness reigned in the House. Upon this scene Mr. Bright, one quiet summer evening, strode, and, without a word of warning, fell upon min- isters in general, and Mr. Disraeli in par- ticular. I forget what the precise occa- sion of his wrath was. But I remember, as if it were yesterday, the righteous wrath of Mr. Disraeli, and the indignant cheers from the Conservative benches when the Premier denounced this untimely disturb- ance of the peace. What happened then is what always happens when Mr. Bright speaks. Lord George Bentinck made a shrewd guess when he said that if Mr. Bright had not been a Quaker, he would have been a prize- fighter. Advancing age has not tempered his militant spirit. His sword is perhaps not swung so easily and so lightly as of yore. But it is always ready to flash out and come down on the head of his tradi- tional enemies. There is no one on the Liberal benches who comes within mea- surable distance of Mr. Brights power of aggravation. Long usage to responsibil- ity of office has mellowed Mr. Gladstones manner. He feels that he is leader of the House as well as leader of his party, and that members on the opposite side, howev- er opposed in politics, or whatever amount of provocation they may give, have a claim upon his courtesy. Mr. Bright holds no office which imposes those restrictions upon his natural manner. He is in charge of a duchy, but has few duties. He may there- fore enjoy his fling when he pleases, and he not infrequently pleases. There is one little habit of speech which is pregnant with meaning to students of his manner. It is among the most whole- some and powerful restraints on disorder- ly speech in the House of Commons that all remarks must be addressed to the Speak- er, and that when one desires to indicate particular persons, they must be mention- ed by a certain circuinlocutory and court- eous phrase. This is a usage which Mr. Bright habitually breaks through. He turns upon honorable gentlemen opposite with straightforward and minatory you. Frequently the indication is made plainer by a scornful wave of the hand, which, as plainly as gesture can, adds the word ca- naille. This manner, not less than the speech, is pardonably aggravating to those addressed. It is perhaps a failing in Mr. Brights character that he is not able to comprehend the possibility of any one who differs from him being otherwise than in the wrong. This happens in all contro- versial relations. It crops up in those scornful and fiery epistles which from time to time see the light, in which the right honorable gentleman smites with back-handed blow at some one whose speech or writing has been brought under his notice. As an example of this kind of settling the question, the case of Sir Charles Ad- derley (now Lord Norton) will suffice for citation. At the time when Sir Charles was President of the Board of Trade, and occupied a (for him) unfortunately promi- nent part in the debates on the Merchant Shipping Bill, Mr. Bright had occasion to take part in the debate. Coming across Sir Charles, who sat attentive on the Treasury Bench, Mr. Bright, with one of those expressive waves of the hand, dis- missed him in a single sentence The right honorable gentleman, he said, is a dull man. Perhaps nothing could more precisely hit off the character, and more especially the manner, of Sir Charles Adderley than this phrase. But there are not many public men who wonld have cared to say it to his face in the House of Commons, and with this perfectly unemo- tional manner, as if what was under dis- cussion at the moment was not a living man, but the monument in Trafalgar Square. As for the Tories, Mr. Bright made up his mind about them years ago a circumstance which now saves him some mental wear and tear, if it does not spare them occasional contumely. It is some pleasure to a man that his adversary should discuss him, even with fullest intent to do him despite. It at least shows that there are people somewhere who are not quite of the opinion of his detractor, who there- fore feels it necessary to convince them. Mr. Bright never discusses a Tory. He would think it as willful waste of time as GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 173 to debate the law of gravitation. If in full swing. To some extent this failing the course of his daily life a Tory comes of nervous power is still felt. But it has across his path, he instinctively and with worn away with renewed practice, and more or less joyousness hits him a crack only a slight trembling of the voice and on the head. But that is all. a nervous fingering of documents before Mr. Brights general health is of late, him show that to the great orator the perhaps particularly dating from the gen- crowd of faces turned upon him lacks the eral election, much improved. He is able to take his full share in duty on the Trea- sury Bench, will remain for late divisions, and frequently takes part in debate. He has, moreover, partially vanquished a cu- rious terror which possessed him after the serious illness which led to his partial re- tirement from public life. For some years after he came to the House he found him- self attacked with a sudden faintness when- ever he rose to speak. Time after time he came down to the House proposing to speak on some great question. He has sat on the bench, saying to himself, When this man is finished, I will rise. But when the critical moment has come, and the opening has been made for him, he has shrunk back. When at last, by a strong exercise of will, he has placed himself at the table, his limbs shook, his tongue fal- tered, and the once clear, full, strong stream of speech has dribbled forth in in- eptitudes. This lasted only for a few min- utes, and presently the orator was in his inspiration which it once gave, and is even possessed with a momentary disturbing power. As Mr. Bright affects the lower end of the bench, he generally has for companion the Marquis of Hartington. Within the last year Lord Hartington has made long and steady strides in public opinion. At the outset of his Parliamentary career he was handicapped by a lack of fluency and a painful shyness. He has frequently shown himself a man of undaunted cour- age, never fearing, under whatsoever cir- cumstances, to tell the full truth and the precise truth. At the same time he is shy and reserved. If he had been found at the marriage feast, he would certainly have taken a seat at the lower end of the table, and would unfeignedly have regretted to hear the invitation, Friend, go up high- er. But when the invitation assumed the form of a command, as it did upon the tem- porary retirement of Mr. Gladstone from the leadership of the party, and again on THE MINISTERIAL BENCHA NIGHT DEBATE. 174 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the Premiers illness at the end of last ses- sion, Lord Hartington has shown himself worthy of the place. All his faults of speaking are in his manner. The matter is uniformly excellent, and probably those who dnly know him as a speaker by read- ing reports of his speeches will marvel that men should not concede him nearly the highest rank as a Parliamentary orator. His words are well chosen, his sentences admirably constructed, his sense clear, and his argument sound. But, except on rare occasions when he is roused, he has an im- mobile manner a voice that lacks the qual- ity of clearness, and a tendency to fall into a sing-song intonation, which com- bine to repel his listeners. These are mat- ters thought of and spoken of less now than they were six years ago. In the mean time Lord Hartington and the House of Commons have become better acquainted with each other. His lordship is a sort of man who will stand a good deal of know- ing, and the more he is known, the greater becomes the admiration. He is essentially a trustworthy man. Upon him the Liber- al party in the House of Commons and throughout the country rests with un- troubled thought in view of the contin- gency, which they hope may long be avert- ed, of the removal of their present leader. Lord Hartingtons Liberalism partakes of the main characteristic of his being. It is steadily progressive. His convictions are anchored deep, and are not moved by ev- ery wind that blows. But in spite of his prospective dukedom, his aristocratic tend- ency, and his vast estates, he is a Liberal of strongest and most natural conviction. He is more Liberal to-day than he was a year ago, and though he will never be a Radical, he will always be fully abreast of the steady, resistless tide of Liberalism, with the onward movement of which goes the intelligence of the educated English- man. A remarkable contrast to Lord Harting- ton is furnished in the person of Sir Will- iam Harcourt. Sir William has in con- spicuous degree many of those qualities which Lord Hartington lacks. He is sprightly, fluent, and witty. At one time he even entered the lists with Lord Bea- consfield as a phrase-maker, and came out of the conflict by no means disgraced. He is a sort of Uhlan of party debate, except, perhaps, that he does not carry with him the terror which marked the raids of the Uhlans in a recent war. It seems para doxical that so habile a speaker, so keen and ready a wit, should do so little dam- age among his opponents, should rather in many cases damage his own friends. The explanation of this is to be found in the fact that if Lord Hartington lacks some of the lighter graces of Sir William Har- court, the Home Secretary is altogether deficient in that weight of character which Lord Hartington brings to bear upon all he undertakes. There is an impression on the mind of his audience, rightly or wrong- ly acquired, that Sir William Harcourt when speaking is thinking more of the success of his next joke than of the right or wrong of the cause he is advocating or attacking. He will have his jest if others have his estatehere represented by the cause committed to him to plead. His ac- cession to the Home Office was viewed not without apprehension by those who had at heart the stability and continued pros- perity of the government. As yet Sir William Harcourt has not done anything to justify these fears. The worst thing that can be said of him in connection with his discharge of the duties of Home Secre- tary is that he is too rhetorical in the an- swers he from time to time has to make to questions touching his department. In- stead of giving to a plain question a sim- ple answer, he brings down, carefully written out on foolscap, little essays full of point, in which he discusses the whole question from all possible points of view, and finally dismisses the questioner in some doubt whether he has received any answer at all. The House of Commons does not like Sir William Harcourt as it likes Lord Hartington and Sir Charles Dilke, but he often amuses it, and is scarce- ly less successful than Mr. Bright in breaking the calm of an evening with sudden turmoil. This said, it must be added that Sir William Harcourt is not a man to be too hastily dismissed from cal- culation in any attempt at prognostication of the future of men who sit to-day below the first place on the Treasury Bench. He is able and ambitious, and there may some day flash upon him a clearer view of the pathway to the supreme position, to which it is no discredit that he should aspire. Some evidence of hitherto unsus- pected qualities of self-control were forth- coming early in the session, when, during the absence of Mr. Forster in Ireland, he took charge of the Arms Bill in commit- tee. On this occasion he astonished ev GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 175 erybody by the patience, courtesy, and ad- mirable mixture of firmness and conces- sion with which he performed a difficult task. In a final struggle for supreme power, should circumstances so fall out as to bring it to pass, Sir William Harcourt will have to take account of Mr. Chamberlain. The advance of the junior member for Birming- ham to the office is not quite unprecedent- ed, since Mr. Cross, by grace of Mr. Dis- raeli, made a similar leap, and Mr. W. H. Smith advanced to the position, though by more measured steps. But neither Sir Richard Cross nor Mr. Smith personally forms a fit parallel with Mr. Chamberlain. In the first place, Heaven has thus far be- stowed upon the President of the Board of Trade a perpetual youth. He is, accord- mug to the reckoning of the almanac, actu- ally in his forty-sixth year. But to see him seated among the bearded men on the Trea- sury Bench, lie looks rather like twenty- five, sometimes even like eighteen. Mr. Chaniberlain has long had in his mind a fixed and steady idea of the goal for which he is bound, and it becomes, as the months roll by, increasingly probable that he will reach it. His character is a rare combi- nation of commercial capacity and politi- cal aptitude. From the very first hour he rose to address the Commons lie took his place as one of the best speakers in the House. As President of the Board of Trade he has confirmed the fullest and most generous estimate of his abilities. Courteous in manner ,grac eful in specch, capable in business, young iii years, and un THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 176 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dazzled by his amazing success, Mr. Cham- berlain will have a good deal to do in the way of making the history of whatever course of years he may live through. The shaggy head and long loose limbs spread out to the fullest length which the stranger in the gallery will notice in the most prominent position on the Treasury Bench belong to Mr. Forster. Mr. Forster has always had a good opin- ion of himselfa circumstance providen- ti liy designed to compensate some lack of appreciation on the part of others. He achieved his great Parliamentary success when in charge of the Education Bill, and though in one sense it made his political fortune, it proved his ruin. Mcii on both sides of the House were so grateful to have this vexed question settled in some way or other that they were overlavish in their praises of the dexterity with which Mr. Forster had steered among the rocks and shoals that awaited the bill in committee. This view of his ability so entirely coin- cided with his private opinion that he has ever since been ready to undertake with a light heart whatever might be the most difficult task of the day. In 1874, the most difficult task was the leadership of the dis organized Liberal party. Mr. Forster was quite ready to undertake itmuch more ready than the party to accept his guid- ance. In 1880, the most difficult post in the newly formed administration was the Irish Secretaryship, and Mr. Forster, with a light heart, reached out his hand to take the tiller. It ha since happened that Mr. Biggar has publicly counselled the right honorable gentleman to retir from a post for which, as Mr. Biggar. pleasantly put it, he is notoriously unfit. That, how- ever, will not be accepted as tes- tiinony of Mr. Forsters failure. He has certainly not succeeded, but this has not been due to lack of energy, self-devotion, or of honest purpose. He has kept before him the one single aim. to do his duty, and to make an end of the ills which beset Ire- land. He has failed, and the only person utterly surprised is himself. He was fully aware of the difficulties of the post, and did not underrate them in connection with others. But he felt an honest conviction that. before his superior intelligence, his long experience, his admin- istrative skill, and his happy, almost unique, admixture of gentleness and firmness the iron hand under the silken gloveIreland would own a new con- queror as strong as Cromwell and as be- loved as Carlisle. This, we know, has not been quite the result, and the tragedy is not without a touch of comedy in Mr. Forsters ir of baffled contemplation. Mr. Childers has something of Mr. Fors- ters self-confidence, but it assumes a more complaisant form, and is, on the whole, more justified by results. As a speaker the Minister for War is verbose, and prone to platitudes. His speeches are very long, but few would deny him the placid en- joyment he derives from the delivery, more especially those who are able to leave the House after hearing the intro- duction, and returii in time to hear the conclusion, having in the mean while pleasantly dined. Mr. Childers is one of the very few men in the administration who do not feel that they were born to b Premier. He has done so well in the va-~ ned offices that have fallen to his charge rhotographed by the London Stereoscopic Company. RT. HON. HENRY FAWCETT, itt. r. GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 177 that he might reasonably accept the Pre- miership if in the distribution of office it caine in his way. In the mean time, hav- ing administered the affairs of the Navy, lie is content to look after the Army. Sir Charles Dilke is one of the conspic- uous successes of Mr. Gladstones adniin- istration. When the cabinet was being formed, the opinion was widely held that Sir Charles Dilke had a right to be in- cluded in it. For some reason his claims were postponed, and he accepted the office of Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. This post, always an important one, received fresh dignity from the fact that the chief was in the other House. The House of Commons is the centre of political life in England. It is there where the rudder of the ship of state is held. As represent- ative in that House of the For- eign Office, Sir Charles Duke is much more in evidence than Earl Granville. It is conceded on both sides that as far back as the niemory of man goes, there never was a better Under- Secretary. Sir Charles is inti- mately acquainted with Euro- pean politics, and with some European personages. He has a pleasing presence, a courteous manner, and is yearly increas- ing in ability as a speaker. One novel claim to fame which may be urged on his behalf is that lie has entirely broken through the traditions of his office as they have been understood by many of his predecessors. In the last Parliament there were few things more painful than to hear Mr. Bourke answering questions addressed to him on foreign policy. The Under- Secretary was wont to stand at the table of the House of Commons as the unwilling witness stands in the box to which he has been dragged by the strong arm of the law. He told as little as he could, obscuring his meaning by embarrassed speech, and exciting the sympathy of his hearers by the misery, both physical and mental, occasioned by the conflict evident- ly going on in his mind between the danger of telling too much and the necessity of at least appearing to answer the question. Sir Charles Dilke never embarrasses his own or friendly governments by prema- ture disclosures. But he never shirks a question. If it may not be answered, he says so; if it may, he gives full informa- tion, with an open countenance and a frank speech, which convey the impres- sion that here is no mystery, and that darkened rooms with occasional flashes of blue or red light are not absolutely ne- cessary to the conduct of business in the Foreign Office. Members of the present House who also sat in the last are quite surprised to find how much they may know of British relations with foreign. powers without the disclosure being fol- lowed by au earthquake, or the dispatch of somebodys fleet to blockade somebody elses ports. At the lowest end of the Treasury Bench sits Mr. Fawcett, oftenest with both hands resting on his stick as lie leans forward listening intently. No one hearing him answering questions or making statements in the House would guess that the world was dark to his physical eyesight, or that he was dependent upon kindly help for the manipulation of the figures and facts which he handles with such mastery. Mr. Fawcetts memory is simply marvellous. 1~liotogrnp1oed fly Hiatt and Ory, London. THE MARQUIS OF SALISBURY. 178 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. What amount of labor is entailed upon him in committing to memory statements which he purposes to make I do not know. But his success is invariably complete. With the object of securing accuracy, he, with more regularity than other of the ministers, sends to the reporters gallery manuscript copies of his answers. It is these which appear in the report of the following morning; but they are, with remarkable fidelity, word for word what the Postmaster-General has recited to the House. Sometimes he answers three or four questions in a sitting, and the natural tendency of his mind is not toward terse- ness. He is prone rather to say too much than too little. But all his answers, writ- ten on paper which lie can not see, are re cited with verbal accuracy. Since he ac- cepted office, Mr. Fawcetts energyhas been directed rather in the channel of work than of talk. He was, whilst he sat below the gangway, one of the most frequent con- tributors to debate. Now he works, and the Post-office feels through every channel the force of his vigorous, enlightened, and practical mind. The bearded and spectacled gentleman who sits on the other side of the table in a position exactly facing the Premier is Sir Stafford Northcote. The leader of the opposition sits through the long night in an attitude not less characteristic than that peculiar to Mr. Forster. Mr. Forster, quite nnconsciously, makes as much of himself as possible. He sprawls all over the place, Pliotographed by Elliott and Fry, London. Photographed by London ono~roseopic co. Pbnoograpbod by Elliott ann cry, London. RT. HON. SIR R. A. cROSS, H.P. LORD R. cHURCHILL, M.P. RT. HON. SIR STAFFORD NORTHOOTE, H.P. GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 179 so that no one could help seeing him, even a step which in the mind of some of his if he were not seeking him. Sir Staf- followers was conclusive of his unfitness ford Northeote, on the contrary, both phys- for leadership. It was a very small mat- ically on the front bench, and morally in ter, suitable to the numerical proportions his relations with tbe House, makes as lit- of the party which had taken it up. It tle of himself as possible. With his knees all tnrned upon the precise moment at closely pressed together, his hands clasped up his sleeves. and his head bent, he dumbly begs people to have tbe good- ness not to pay any attention to him, and, above all, not to ive themselves any trouble on his account. This frame of mind, carried through all his relations with public life, has h d much to do with the settle- ment of the lately agitated con- troversy about the succession to Lord Beaconsfields place. Sir Stafford Northcote is too mild for a party which includes within its ranks young bloods like Lord Randolph Churchill and Mr. Chaplin. If Sir Stafford Northcote is not the kind of man to excite enthusiasm in his party, he has the personal character which secures respect, and even a warmer sentiment of esteem, on the part of the House of Commons. He is the model of an English country gen- tleman with a turn for poli- tics. Looking to the success achieved by Lord Salisbury, it is probable that Sir Sta ords partial fail- ure is due to the fact that he is not able to dispense with sonie of the finest in- stincts of a gentleman in order to gain a party triumph. He has a mind incapable of perceiving fine distinctions in etymol- ogy. The subtle ramifications of mean- ing in the word authentic, for exam- ple, are beyond him. If a thing is the truth at the Pynes or in the study of his town house, it is true at Westminster; and he same holds good with respect to what is false. With this lamentable deficiency, Sir Stafford Northcote is not able to take full advantage of openings for attack. For example, when one night last session the Fourth Party discovered that the Premier and some of the principal members of the government had been guilty of a breach of the rules of the House, inasmuch as they had left without voting after having heard the question put, Sir Stafford took. VOL. Lxv.No. 386.i 2 vhich the Premier an his colleagues had left the House. It was nothing to the leader of the opposition, being one of those little harassings on the march which the light cavalry of the Conservative force is accustomed to carry ont. No one appeal- ed to Sir Stafford Northcote for his opin- ion or his testimony. But sitting imme- diately opposite the accused, he knew that the charge ~as wholly gronndless, that the ministers had witbdrawn before the question was put, and were therefore quite in order. Knowing this, it appea ed to him the natural thing that he should state the facts; and this he did, with the result of the triumphant acquittal of the accused, and the discomfiture of the ac- cuser. Such a thing would have been all very well elsewhere, in the ordinary avo- cations of life; but in the House of Com- mons and in these circumstances, it con- vinced at least a section of the Conserva THE EARL OF DERBY. 180 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tive party that Sir Stafford Northcote was hopeless. The House as a body is, on the contra- ry, pleased to dwell on the recollection of a trivial incident like this, and of many more that happen throughout the session and go to invest Sir Stafford with a power of quite a different kind from what might be exercised in similar circumstances by a more brilliant man. Yet it would be a mistake to suppose that because Sir Staf- ford Northcote is modest, courteous, and lacking in enterprise, he is therefore de- ficient in ability. Few men have had a more thorough acquaintance with the House of Commons, its ways and its in- stincts. Few have had wider experience in public affairs; few bring to bear upon their conduct a clearer intelligence or a sounder judgment. Sir Stafford makes no pretense to be an orator, as indeed he makes no pretense of any kind. But he is a clear and pleasant speaker, with a gentle, old - fashioned humor something like that the mild light of which beams upon the pages of the Spectator. Sir Richard Cross makes up a fair aver- age with his colleague in the matter of self- assertion. Sir Richard was an excellent Home Secretary, and the self-satisfaction with his labors remains with him to the present day. Souse one has said that in the face or manner of a man might be traced resemblance to some particular bird. If this general principle be accepted, there will be no difficulty in discovering in the face and manner of Sir Richard Cross something of the chirpiness of the spar- rowthe sparrow that has done well in the early morning search for worms or crumbs, and who, xvith head sharply cock- ed on one side, and weather eye glancing pertly round, is prepared to give its opin- ion on things generally, and its advice on any subject in particular. When we come to Mr. W. H. Smith, we once more get back within the range of modest men. Evidence of this predomi- nating feature in either case is supplied by the varied manner in which the right hon- orable gentlemen, addressing the House, deal with the table. Sir Richard Cross advances to it with confidence and treats it with familiarity, leaning his elbow upon it in jaunty fashion, whilst he lays down the law. Mr. W. H. Smith approaches it respectfully and even gratefully, holding on to it with both hands, in obedience to that human hankering after physical con- tact which possesses nervous people when they feel that the eyes of an audience are fixed upon thens. These are some of the great Britons whose names are most familiar to the pub- lic at home and abroad, and for whom places are found on the two front benches. But those favored seats have not a mo- nopoly of greatness. There are scattered throughout various parts of the House many men whose names are familiar to the reader of the Parliamentary reports. Below the gangway on the Liberal side there sits in the corner seat Mr. IDilwyn, wary and watchful, grown spare and gray in the service of his country, and with some furrows on his brow implanted there by anxiety for the rights of private mem- bers, and for economy in the admuinistra- tion of public departments. On the cor- ner bench above him is Mr. Rylands, known to several generations of members as Peter. The issue of the general elec- tion has had a soothing effect upon Mr. Rylands. His speeches are fewer, and his presidency over little tea-room cabals is more intermittent. Time was when Peter was almost always engaged either in draw- ing up an amendment, in giving notice of it, in moving it, or in withdrawing it. Whilst Mr. Disraeli was yet in the House, Peters anxiety that he should tread in the right course led him frequently into speech. It was on one of these occasions, when he had drawn up a terrible indictment against the Premier, who sat upon the Treasury Bench, successfully concealing any feeling of contrition that might possess him, that a piece of paper was handed about the front bench, subsequently made the tour of the House, and finally reached the Premier, whose grim face relaxed into a smile. The verse ran thus: Preposterous Peter! prithee cut it short. We know that Dizzy doeth what he didnt ought; Still, we would hold that life the sweeter That gave ten Dizzies aud dispeused with Peter. This was cruel, as coming from those whose advocacy Mr. Rylands had undertaken. But his speeches were certainly long, and had not always the desired effect. It is hard to fix any particular locality as associated with the presence of Mr. Jo- seph Cowen. It is characteristic of him that lie does not follow the general exam- ple, and by early attendance secure a par- ticular seat. If there is one empty any- where when he looks in, he drops into it, his only preference being that it should be GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 181 in the background, if possible under the gallery. Mr. Cowen has of late lived un- happily with his own party. On the Eastern question he took a view diamet- rically opposed to that of Mr. Gladstone, and subsequently found himself in union with the more exalted Tories, known at the time by the name of the Jingoes. At first this defection was observed by the Lib- erals with pained silence. Then it caine to be openly lamented, and eventually Mr. Cowen became an object of abuse by good Liberals, whose record of service to the Liberal cause would seem exceedingly meagre beside his own. The principles of Liberalism were not found sufficiently broad to prevent illiberalism of criticism with respect to difference of opinion on a particular ques- tion. Some eccentricities were permitted to 1\Ir. Cowen in def- erence to his living in a free country. No one objected to his appearing in the House in a low-crowned hat, or to his pref- erence for the sartorial fashion of Blaydon - on - Tyne as com- pared with the cut of a Bond Street tailor. But when these evidences of originality mani- fested themselves on a partic- ular question of politics, Mr. Cowen was denounced in print and in speech, and combined effort made, not altogether without fair chance of success in the case of a highly sensitive mind, to drive him into perma- nent residence in the camp of the enemy. On this back bench sits Mr. Burt, a true gentleman, born by chance in the cottage of a working collier. There are few men in the House whose opinion carries more weight than Mr. Burts, and when he rises to address the House, the benches all fill at the sound of his strange Northumbrian speech. Naturally Mr. Macdonald an- other working-mans member, selected a seat on the floor of the House where there may be no chance of his being overlooked. Mr. Macdonald is in every respect the re- verse of Mr. Burt, who is neither vain~ ig- norant, nor presumptuous. On the Conservative benches Mr. War- ton, a new member with the new Parlia- ment, has earned for himself a certain amount of notoriety by natural insensibil- ity to the courtesies of the House. A man who does not shrink from interrupting the speech of Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Bright with ironical cheers or minatory shouts has his uses in party warfare. When to this quality he adds the possession of a snuff- box always generously filled and liberally dispensed, and when on dull evenings he will make sport by delivering some dis- jointed remarks which he regards as a speech, the foundation is laid for acquir- ing a certain position in the House. This Mr. Warton fills. It is something of the same kind of con- sideration that has made the fame of the Fourth Party. This important factor in English politics had its birth in the first weeks of the first session of the new Par- liament, in connection with the attempt of Mr. Bradlaugh to enter the House. At first sight, and upon recollection of his character and history, Lord Randolph Churchill is not precisely the personage whom one would expect to come forward as the champion of religion. The young- er son of a duke, and of lively tempera- ment, he had, before taking up politics as a serious pursuit, chiefly enjoyed the oppor Photographed by the Leaden Stereeseepte Cenepany. LORD SELBORNE. 182 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tunities which his position afforded him of making life pleasant. His record at college was not what may be regarded as dazzlingly brilliant. He got as far as B. A., and thereafter generously retired from competition with more needy or more ambitious youth. His father, hap- pening to own Woodstock, elected him member in the Parliament of 1874. He therein distinguished himself at long in- tervals by a duel, always interesting, sometimes brilliant, upon which be en- tered with Sir Charles Dilke on the ques- tion of unreformed corporations. For several years in succession Sir Charles Dilke brought forward this question. Lord Randolph Churchill met it with a nega- tive, and the House made a point of being present at the encounter. But it was in the new Parliament, when Mr. Bradlaugh attempted to enter, that Lord Randolph Churchill leaped into fame. When Mr. Bradlaugh first appeared, her Majestys ministers were seeking re-election. There was no one on the Treasury Bench of more commanding position than Lord Frederick Cavendish. Members were as sheep without a shepherd, and Lord Ran- dolph, with gay audacity, seized the crook and undertook to drive the flock. He was joined in this new crusade by two new members, who composed a delightfully odd incongruity. One was Sir Henry Wolff, an able, experienced, and adroit man of the world. He had been private secretary to more than one minister, had mixed with ambassadors, and held for a brief period the position of chargi daf- faires in a first-class legation. The third member of this strangely constituted par- ty was Mr. Gorst, a middle-aged barrister with the manner of an attorney. As the Bradlaugh situation became graver, these three gentlemen increased in activity, and presently coming to be known as the Fourth Party, became the object of concentrated regard by a public always ready to be amused. It was felt that the constitution of the party was of itself an act of original genius. If Mr. Gorst had led the party, it would have had a quality of commonplace that would have relieved it from notice. If Sir Henry Wolff had been leader, the arrangement would have appeared disappointingly natural. But to have this young lordling the acknow- ledged chief of the middle-aged barrister and the K.C.B., versed in the inner mys- teries of European diplomacy, tickled the palate of the House. During the Inst ses- sion the Fourth Party filled a large place and made a great noise. At the beginning of the current session, discord made its appearance. The occasion of the falling out remains for the present as unaccount- ed for as little Peterkin found the battle of Blenheim, that great victory which amongst other services to the state has giv- en us Lord Randolph Churchill. What they fought each other for no one could make out. It was said the enmity broke out aro~itnd the council board at which was discussed an important measure called the Recovery of Small Debts (Limitation of Actions) Bill, which Lord Randolph Churchill subsequently introduced, and finding no support for it, was obliged to withdraw. Certainly Mr. Gorst publicly repudiated any hand in this great work of statesmanship, although when introduced his name was at the back of the bill. How- ever it be, early in the present session the Party was broken up, and though it has since occasionally acted together, and though it has been recruited by the adhe- sion of Mr. Balfour, the Fourth Party is no longer a power in the state. The Irish members who follow the lead of Mr. Parnell sit on the benches below the gangway on the Conservative side-a happy disposition of themselves, originally taken up with intent to make themselves disagreeable to some one, but which has resulted in general convenience since if they had, in the ordinary fashion, crossed the floor, they would have greatly incom- moded the Liberals, who overcrowd the moiety of the House allotted to them. Mr. Parnell does not fulfill the expectation naturally formed of him by people who read his speeches or follow the windings of his policy. If in Ireland the opera- tions of the Land League are marked by fire and shears, the burning of homesteads and the cutting off of mens ears, the Par- liamentary manner of its president reach- es the other extreme of mildness. He has what might easily be made a graceful man- ner of addressing the House. When he first entered, bringing with him an intensi- ty of hatred of all that was Saxon that as- tonished easy-going Englishmen, his pas- sion reached heights or depths that made it something ludicrous. With hands clinch- ed, teeth set, and face paled to deadliest white, he stood, and almost hissed out his contumely and defiance. But with grow- ing practice he has vastly improved, till GLIMPSES OF GREAT BRITONS. 183 130W the House of Commons contains few more graceful or effective speakers. His voice is clear and strong, his sen- tences are in good literary style, and there is about his manner a certain reserved pow- er which, even failing special study, would intimate to whom it might concern that beneath this profoundly deferential at- titude there is a stubborn will not to be balked by difficulties or bought off by promises. Mr. Bigga , Mr. Parnells earliest lieutenant, differs from him it every point. The two re the Tragedy and the Com- edy of Irish Irieconcilabilitv. Mr. Pa neil, rhen he cares to dress, looks like a gentleman Mr. Biggar has many attrac- tions, but they do not converge in this direction. Mr. Parnell is educated; Mr. Biggar is ig- norant. Mr. Parnell is alway~ at the white heat of earnest- ness ; Mr. Biggar will some- times tulle with the Saxon, tickling him under the fifth rib preparatory to plun- ging the knife in at the same place. Mr. Biggars humor is of that particular kind which makes the House laugh, not at joke, but at the joker. He has in a pe- culiar way the imitative faculty which goes in some measure to support the Dar- winian theory on the descent of man. He also has ~astly improved as a speaker since he entered the House. It has been like the sharpening of a knife on the stone~ the knife is better, if the stone is a little worn away. By long ractice and much wearing away of the patience of the House Mr. Biggar has achieved an indescribably comical style of speech. It is a burlesque on the courteous judicial address of the older members, such as Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Bright. He has been described in one of his numerous addresses to the House as using that judicial phraseology which in his mouth always calls to mind an orang- outang, wigged and gowned and seated on the bench of the Lord Chief Justice. The exceedingly sarcastic, highly polish- ed style is Mr. Biggars, and when, stand- ing in his favorite oratorical attitude, with his thumbs stuck in the armhole of his waistcoat, the House roars with laughter, he be~4ns to think that the Saxon is not insensible to wit. But really Mr. Biggar has recently been promoted to something of the position of a favorite. This is part- ly due to his having fought his way into a recognized position, and partly to the cir- cumstance that recent imporfations have shown that, compared with what might be, lie is really a desirable person. These are a few of the miscellaneous and minor gatherings of the notabilities in the House of Commons. In the House of Lords the view is more circumscribed. Lord Selborne, who sits on the woolsack, was long known as Sir IRoundell Palmer. He edited a hymn-book, and carries into his discourses in the House of Lords some- thing of the manner of the pulpit. Earl Granville is admirable whether as leader of the House or of the opposition. Al- ways easy, graceful, and courteous, he has a pretty gift of satire, and sometimes when a noble lord opposite thinks he has been gently stroked down, he finds the blood trickling, and discovers that he has been wounded to the quick. Lord Salisbury, the tall, dark-browed, bearded man who lounges on the bench opposite, does not always care to be courteous. He has somewhat tame his manner since he sat in the othe House and barked at the heels of Mr. Disraeli. l3ut he is always rhotographed h~ W. I. wrenre, Dahlia. CHARLES 5. rARNELL, M. r. 184 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. militant, and not oniy barks, but bites. He has a characteristic way of addressing the House of Lords, leaning one elbow on the table whilst he snaps forth his re- marks, as if really it was scarcely worth while to draw himself up to full height in order to convince or even to smite this particular audience. The Duke of Argyll, on the contrary, e nally ready to smite, draws himself up to his fullest height on the slightest provocation. He is a great- er orator an a less effective debater than the Marquis of Salisbury. The Duke of Cambridge, like the oth- er royal princes, sits on the cross-benches which lie between the two camps, a posi- tion indicative of neutrality. His Royal Highness is by no means an ineffective speaker. He has a good hearty, if occa- sionally blunderin~, way of speaking, and fully shares the enjoyment of the House in the delivery of his speeches. The Prince of Wales never takes part in the debates, and very rarely in the divisions. As far as outward evidence goes, it is the pros and cons of the great controversy which rages around the proposal to marry a deceased wifes sister that has most for- cibly presented itself to the mind of the heir-apparent. When, some sessions ago, this came before the Lords, the Prince of Wales presented a petition in favor of the alteration of the law, and when the divi- sion was called, went into the lobby with the contentsin this case, paradoxical- ly, the lords discontented with the existing state of the law. Only one more glimpse at not the least great of Britons. Behind the ministerial bench, a constant but up to the present time a silent attendant on the duties of the House, sits a tall, spare man with snow - white hair and clean - shaven face the pink shade of which is made the more noticeable by the white eyebrows and oc- casionally gleaming teeth. He is dressed in plain and decent black. But when on early spring nights he walks down to the House, he hands into the charge of the at- tendant at the door~ venerable Inverness wrap which has seen many changes, from the sunshine of royal favor to the outcry of irate match - makers. This is Robert Lowe, now Viscount Sherbrooke, who has changed neither his principles nor his overcoat since lie became a peer. THE HOUSE DiVIDESTHE LEADERS OF THE OPPOSITION. LYING iN STATE IN CAIRO. Egypt is only the fa9ade of an immense sepulchre.PAuL DE SAINT-VICTOR. IN the Central Hall of the Museum of Hyksos ruler of Lower Egypt, the other a Egyptian Antiquities at Boolak, ranged son of Pinotem 11.there intervenes a side by side, shoulder to shoulder, lies a space of time which may be roughly esti- solemn company of kings, queens, princes, mated at seven centuries and a half. This and priests of royal blood, who died and space of time (about equivalent to that were made imperishable flesh by the em- which divides the Norman Conquest from balmers art between three and four thou- the accession of George III.) covers the sand years ago. The story of their recent rise and fall of the XVIIIth, XIXth, resurrection has been toldnot always XXth, and XXIst dynasties.* During with exactness by the foreign corre- these four dynasties occurred the expul- spondents of almost every newspaper pub- lished on either side of the Atlantic. * By the XXIst Dynasty it is to be understood Based upon information derived from an- that the line of priest - kings is intended. Some thentic sources,~ it will bear to be told Egyptologists (Professor Maspero amon~ the num ber) regard the XXth or second Ramesside Dynas- again. ty as mer~ed in and continued by the Her-br line, These royal personages are of different so countin~ the last Rarnesside Pharaohs nd the dynasties and widely separate periods, priest - kings as a single dynasty, i. e., the XXth. Between the earliest and the latestthat But inasmuch as the Her-br family is by the pre- is to say, between IRasekenen and Masahir- sent discovery shown to have handed down the re~al power from fathers to sons in unbroken succession ti, the one a anonarch reigning in Upper through six or seven generations, it is, in the opinion Egypt contemporaneously with the last of the present writer, unquestionably entitled to rank as a distinct dynasty. In accordance with this view * That is to say, from Professor Masperos van- the Her-br line is herein styled the XXIst Dynasty, ous reports, some of which I have been permitted to unless where a quotation is given from the writings see in MS. or in proof, and also from details kindly of Professor Maspero, when it is classed as a con- communicated by letter. tinuation of the XXth Dynasty. Tn ROYAL MUMMIES IN TRE MUSEUM AT aOOLAK.

Amelia B. Edwards Edwards, Amelia B. Lying in State in Cairo 185-205

LYING iN STATE IN CAIRO. Egypt is only the fa9ade of an immense sepulchre.PAuL DE SAINT-VICTOR. IN the Central Hall of the Museum of Hyksos ruler of Lower Egypt, the other a Egyptian Antiquities at Boolak, ranged son of Pinotem 11.there intervenes a side by side, shoulder to shoulder, lies a space of time which may be roughly esti- solemn company of kings, queens, princes, mated at seven centuries and a half. This and priests of royal blood, who died and space of time (about equivalent to that were made imperishable flesh by the em- which divides the Norman Conquest from balmers art between three and four thou- the accession of George III.) covers the sand years ago. The story of their recent rise and fall of the XVIIIth, XIXth, resurrection has been toldnot always XXth, and XXIst dynasties.* During with exactness by the foreign corre- these four dynasties occurred the expul- spondents of almost every newspaper pub- lished on either side of the Atlantic. * By the XXIst Dynasty it is to be understood Based upon information derived from an- that the line of priest - kings is intended. Some thentic sources,~ it will bear to be told Egyptologists (Professor Maspero amon~ the num ber) regard the XXth or second Ramesside Dynas- again. ty as mer~ed in and continued by the Her-br line, These royal personages are of different so countin~ the last Rarnesside Pharaohs nd the dynasties and widely separate periods, priest - kings as a single dynasty, i. e., the XXth. Between the earliest and the latestthat But inasmuch as the Her-br family is by the pre- is to say, between IRasekenen and Masahir- sent discovery shown to have handed down the re~al power from fathers to sons in unbroken succession ti, the one a anonarch reigning in Upper through six or seven generations, it is, in the opinion Egypt contemporaneously with the last of the present writer, unquestionably entitled to rank as a distinct dynasty. In accordance with this view * That is to say, from Professor Masperos van- the Her-br line is herein styled the XXIst Dynasty, ous reports, some of which I have been permitted to unless where a quotation is given from the writings see in MS. or in proof, and also from details kindly of Professor Maspero, when it is classed as a con- communicated by letter. tinuation of the XXth Dynasty. Tn ROYAL MUMMIES IN TRE MUSEUM AT aOOLAK. 186 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The brothers Abd-er-Rasoul are well known to the present writer. They live together, with their wives and families in a terrace of rock-cut tombs behind the letter addressed to myself by Professor Maspero, bearing date from Paris, Au- gust 4, 1881: You have perhaps read in the newspa- pers of the fortunate results of my first cam- paigu. The story is curious. Having noted how Egyptian antiquities of every descrip- tion were constantly finding their way to Europe, I came tea years ago to the conchi- sion that the Arabs had discovered a royal tomb. Furthermore, Colonel Campbell had given me some photographs of the first pages of a superb Ritual bought by him- self at Thebes, which Ritual proved to have been written for Pinoteni I. Briefly, then, on arrivin~ at Luxor, I caused to be arrest- sion of the Hyksos invaders, the Asiatic ed one Abined Abd-er-Rasoul, an Arab guide conquests of Thothmes III., of Seti J., of. and dealer, to whom a mass of concurrent Rameses II., the oppression and ex~odus testimony pointed as the possessor of the se- of the Hebrews, and the defeat of the allied cret. For two months this man lay in prison Mediterranean fleets by Rameses III. To 1K~~ obstinately silent; and I had just prompted by jealousy and avarice~ the same period belong the great temples one of his brothers decided to tell all. In this of Thebes, the sepulchres in the Valley of wise we were enabled to put our hands, not the Tombs of the Kings, the obelisks of upoa a royal tomb, but upon a hiding-place Hatasu, the rock-cut temples of Aboo-Sim- wherein were piled some thirty-six mummies bel, and the Colossi of the Plain. In a of kings, queens, princes, and high-priests. word, all the military glory and nearly all the architectural splendor of ancient Egypt are comprised within the limits thus indicated. When, therefore, it began to be rumored, some five or six months ago, that the mummied remains of al- most all the mightiest warriors and builders of this supreme epoch, together with the relics of kin_ s and queens of a still earlier and a still later date, had been found at the bottom of a pit in one of the loneliest nooks of the western cliffs at Thebes, most of us felt some- what doubtful regarding the truth of the whispers flying from wire to wire. Time, however, brought confirmation of the wondrous news. A discovery of immense importance had indeed been made; but inasmuch as the authorities had long suspected the existence of some such treasure, it could hardly be regarded as a surprise. Neither was it an original discovery; for the Arabs had lighted on it many years before, and turned it, unfortunately, to their profit. Touching the way in which the dis- covery was brought about, many con- tradictory reports have been circulated, EXTERIOR OF TIlE CAVE. some ascribing the honor to Herr Emil Brugsch, keeper of the Boolak Museum, ruins of the Ramesseum, their ostensible and others to Daoud Pasha. For the bet- calling being that of guides and donkey- ter information of readers of Harpers masters, their private profession that of Magazine, I quote the following from a I tomb - breakers and mummy - snatchers. JECTING )UNTAIN SPUS calledb the Arabt Skemkh aid el 6 nak SCENE OF THE DISCOVERY. LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 187 A ll~IJ btaircase 30 Metres 70 centimetres Passage 7 M~trea 3lartaary Chamber 13rn;30c: SECTION AT A Mohammed, the brother who decided to tell all,~~ was eldest of the four, a spare, sullen, silent fellow, avaricious as Harpagon and extortionate as Shylock. Fearing lest his brothers constancy should failfearing, above all, that the reward which Professor Maspero had thought it well to offer should fall into other hands he stole away secretly to Keneh, the chief town of the province, and made his deposi- tion before Daoud Pasha. Daoud Pasha immediately telegraphed to Cairo, and in the course of a few hours Herr Emil Brugsch, whom Professor Maspero had empowered to act for him in his absence, started for Thebes. This was on Satur- day, July 2, 1881. On Wednesday, the 6th, Herr Brugsch, accompanied by Ah- med Effendi Kemal, also of the museum service, was met at Dayr-el-Baharee by Mohammed Abd-er-IRasoul, and conduct- ed to the now famous hiding-place. The discovery of the Cyprus treasure by General Di Cesnola, romantic as it was, bears no comparison in point of dramatic interest with the revelation which awaited the Boolak officials at Dayr-el-Baharee. Slowly and with difficulty the one bur- rowed onward from chamber to chamber, entering gradually into possession of suc- cessive hoards of bronze and silver and gold. The others, threading their way among desecrated tombs and under the shadow of stupendous precipices, followed their trembling guide to a spot unparal- leled even in the desert for gaunt solem- nity. Here, behind a huge fragment of fallen rockperhaps dislodgedfor that pur- pose from the cliffs overheadthey were shown the entrance to a pit so ingeniously hidden that, to use their own words, one might have passed it twenty times with- out observing it. Into this pit they were lowered by means of a rope. The shaft, which was two me- tres square by eleven and a half metres in depth, ended in a narrow subterraneous passage trending westward. This passage, after pursuing a straight direction for a distance of rather more than seven metres, turned off ab- ruptly to the right, and stretched away northward into endless night. Now stooping where the roof was low, now stumbling where the floor was uneven, now descending a flight of roughly hewn stairs, and with every step penetrating deeper and farther into the heart of the mountain, the intruders groped their way, each with his flickering candle in his hand. Pieces of broken mummy cases and fragments of linen band- ages strewed the floor. Against the walls were piled boxes filled with porcelain stat- nettes, libation jars of bronze and terra cotta, and canopic vases of precious Lyco- politan alabaster. In the corner to the left, where the long passage branched northward, flung carelessly down in a tumbled heap, perhaps by the hand of the last officiating priest, lay the funeral can- opy of Queen Isi-em-Kheb. Then came several huge sarcophagi of painted wood, and farther on still, some standing upright, sonie laid at length, a crowd of mummy cases fashioned in hu- man form, with folded hands and solemn faces and ever-wakeful eyes, each emblazon- ed with the name and titles of its occupant. Here lay Queen Hathor Honttaui, wife of Pinoteni I.; yonder stood Seti I.; then came Amenhotep I. and Thothmes II.; and farther still, Ahmes I., and Sekenen- Ra, and Thothmes III., and Queen Ahmes Nofretari, and Rameses, surnamed the Great. The men of to-day, brought face to face with the greatest kings of Pharaonic Egypt, stood bewildered, and asked each other if they were dreaming. They had conie hither expecting at most to find the mummies of a few petty princes of the comparatively recent Her-Hor line. They found themselves confronted by the mor- tal remains of heroes who till this moment had survived only as names far echoed down the corridors of Time. A few yards farther still, and they stood on the threshold of a sepulchral chamber 23 Metres -Passage IL sf1 / / GROUND-PLAN AND SECTION OF THE EXCAVATION. 188 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. literally piled to the roof with sarcophagi the period of the Pinotems and Piankhis. of enormous size. Brilliant with gilding Here was found Queen Notem-Maut, wife and color, and as highly varnished as if of Her-Hor, the first Priest-King of the but yesterday turned out from the work- Amenide dynasty. Here lay King Pino- shops of the Memnonium, the decorations tern I., King Pinotem II., Queen Makara, of these coffins showed them to belong to Queen Isi-em-Kheb, Prince and High- DAYR-EL-BAHAREE. LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 189 thing, in short, went to prove that this chamber was the family vault of the de- scendants of Her-Hor, who, for some rea- son of expediency, would. seem to have given sepulchral hospitality to their pre- decessors of foregone time. To enumerate all the treasures found in this chamber would be to write a supple- ment to the catalogue of the Boolak Mu- seum. Enough that each member of the Amenide family was buried with the ordi- nary mortuary outfit, consisting of vases, libation ja s, funereal statuettes, etc. iRicher in these other-world g-oods than any of the rest was Queen Isi-em-Kheb daughter of Prince Masahitti and wife to her uncle, King Meukheperra. Besides statuettes, libation jars, and the like, she was provided with a sumptuous fune- real repast, consisting of gazelle haunches trussed geese, calves heads, dried grapes, dates, d6m-palm nuts, and the like, the meats being mummified and bandaged, and the whole packed in a large rush ham- per, sealed with her husbands unbroken seal. Nor was her sepulchral toilet forgot- ten. With her were found her ointment bottles, a set of alabaster cups, some gob- lets of exquisite variegated glass, and a tures emblems of the goddess Maut, each holding in its claws two ostrich feathers, emblematic of Truth and Justice. The form of the canopy is an oblong parallelogram, made in shape and size to fit the roof of the deck cabin of the funeral galley which con- veyed the mummy to the western bank of the Nile. On two of the sides it is bordered with an orna- mental frieze, and on the other two sides by a le- gend in d~coup~ hieroglyphs, all in cut leather. Above the frieze is a series of squares, or meto- pes, containing figures of grotesque birds, gazelles, fishes, lotus bouquets, etc., alternating with the car- touches of Pinotem II., grandfather of the deceased. Above the hieroglyphed legend runs a narrower frieze of winged scarab~i, alternating with the same u rtouches. These are supported on either side by the urnus, oi sacred and divine asp, emblem of divinity and royalty. The legend, which is of a votive character, and wishes a happy repose to Jsi-em-Kheb during the voyage of transit, is also of great historical importance. It shows that this princess was daughter to Masahirti, prince and high-priest, and wife to Menkbeperra. It also showa that both Masahirti and Menkbeperra were FUNENAL CANOPY OF QUEEN I51-EM-KHE~.~ sons of Pinotem II., consequently that Isi-em-Kheb was wife to her uncle, and granddaughter to Pino Priest Masahirti, Princess Nasi-Khonsu, tem II. Four large flaps, patterned with alternate squares of green and red leather, depend from the and others of the same lineage. Every- central portion of this canopy, and were intended to hang over the four sides of the deck cabin, so as * The illustration represents a ma~nificent and to cover it completely. The c~ nopy is much dilapi- unique specimen of eppliqu~ embroidery in cut lea- dated, but the colors are yet quite fresh. The cen- timer, made some three thousand years ago. The tral piece measures about two and half metres in centie is of pale bluish-gray, ers~rn~ with Tudor length, and the four flaps measure about two and a roses. Upon this ~round are stitched five large vul- half square metres eaclm. 190 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. marvellous collection of huge full-dress wigs, curled and frizzed, and inclosed each in a separate basket. As the food was entombed with her for her refreshment, so were these things deposited in the grave for her use and adornment at that supreme hour of bodily resurrection when the jus- tified dead, clothed, fed, perfumed, and anointed, should go forth from the sep- ulchre into everlasting day. The rest of this strange story is soon told. Without loss of an hour, Herr Emil Brugsch proceeded to remove the treasure. Three hundred Arabs were summoned from the nearest villages, and those three hundred, working as Arabs can work, without rest, without sleep, through the burning days and sultry nights of an Egyptian July, not only succeeded in com- pletely clearing out the contents of the hiding-place within forty-eight hours, but in five days from the time when MM. Brugsch and Kemal were first lowered The features of Pinotem II. are distinctly of a Nubian east, The head is shaven; the skull is small and doliebo-cephalic. The flesh of the face is pressed and ridged by the bandages, now removed. The nostrils are strained open by the insertion of the instruments used for the extraction of the brain and the cavities of the eyes are stuffed with pledgets of linen, down the shaft, they had packed the whole of the objects in sail-cloth and matting, carried them down across the plain of Thebes, and rowed tbem over to Luxor, in readiness for embarkation. Some of the larger sarcophagi, as, for instance, those of Queen Ahmes Nofretari and Prince Masahirti, were of such enor- mous size and weight that it took sixteen men to move them. Only those who know the place, the climate, and the scarcity of mechanical appliances in provincial Egypt can appreciate this statement at its full value. Professor Maspero, in his address to the Orientalist Congress at Berlin (Sep- tember, 1881), and again in his official re- port to the Minister of Public Instruction (1882), takes occasion warmly to extol the energy, vigilance, and endurance display- ed throughont ibis difficult enterprise by Herr Emil Brugsch and Ahmed Effendi Kemal. The steamers meanwhile had not yet arrived, and for three days and nights the museum officials guarded their treasure in the midst of a hostile population, every member of which looked upon Ahmed Abd-er-Rasoul as a martyr, upon Moham- me& Y NYA-er-~asoul as a traXtor, an~Y upon tomb-breaking as the legitimate trade of the place. On the fourth morning, how- ever, the baboors* made their appear- ance, received their august freight, and steamed for Boolak. And now a startling incident, or series of incidents, took place. Carried from lip to lip, from boat to boat, news flies fast in Egypt. Already it was known far and wide that these kings and queens of an- cient time were being conveyed to Cairo, and for more than fifty miles below Thebes the villagers turned out en masse not merely to stare at the piled decks as the steamers went by, but to show respect to the illustrious dead. Women with dishevelled hair running along the banks and shrieking the death-wail, men ranged in solemn silence and firing their guns in the air, greeted the Pharaohs as they passed. Never, assuredly, did history repeat itself more strangely than when Rameses and his peers, after more than three thousand years of sepnlture, were borne along the Nile with funeral honors. The following, tabulated as nearly as possible in chronological order, is a list of * Baboor, a corruption of vapore (Italian), the Arab name for steamer. HFA~ OF KING PINOTEM ii,*~~~~[raon A PiIoToCRArM TAKEN ninzcm~v FROM THE MIJMMY.] LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 191 the principal royal personages found as mummies, or represented by their empty mummy cases: XYIITH DYNASTY. (circa B.C. 1710 to B.C. 1703.) 1. King Rusekenen Tuaken 2. Queen Ansera XVIJITH DYNASTY. (circa B.C. 1703 to B.C. 1402.) 3. King Ahmes Ra-neb-pehti 4. Queen Ahrnes Nofretari 5. Queen Merit-Amen 6. King Amenhotep I 7. Queen Honttimoohoo 8. King Thothmes I 9. King Tliothmes II 10. King Thothmes III 11. Queen Sitka XIXTII DYNASTY. (circa B.C. 1462 to B.C. 1288.) 12. King Rameses I 1:3. King Seti I 14. King Rameses II XXTH DYNASTY. (circa B.C. 1288 to B.C. 1110.) Not represented. XXJsT DYNASTY. (circa B.c. 1110 to B.C. .) 15. Queen Noteni-Maut 16. King Pinotens I 17. Queen Hathor Houttani 18. King Pinotein II 19. Queen Makara 20. Prince and High-Priest Masalsirti. t 21. Princess Nusi-Khonsu 2~2. Queen Isi-eni-Kheb Besides the above, there were found some few minor royalties and priestly personages of both sexes, as the Princess- es Meshonttimoohoo and Set-Amen, the Princes Se-Amen and Tat-Ptah-f-ankh, the Priest Nebseni, the Lady Tauhirt, Son~stress of Amen, various court func- tionaries. etc., etc., all of the XVIIIth and XXIst dynasties. On reading this list, the mind at once as- sumes an attitude of inquiry. How comes it. we ask, that so many royal mummies, of periods so widely separated, are found gathered together in a single vault? Were they not originally buried in sepulchres of their own ? If so, why were they not suf- fered to repose each in his own house? When were they taken thence, and why deposited ea masse in the later resting- place? These are questions which need to be answered separately, and at some length. This huge outer mummy case (in style resem. hung the colossal Osirian caryatidn in the first court of the Temple of Medeenet-Aboo) stan(ls 7 metres 17 centimetres high, without counting the lofty plumes upon the head-dress. These plumes mea- sure 1 mctre 50 centimetres in height ,so making a tot I of 8 metres 67 centimetres. This mummy case measures 87 centimetres across the shoulders, and in thickness, from the chest to the hack, 55 centi- metres. The material is what French Egvptolo~ists call cartonnage. It is made of innumerahie lay. OUTER MUMMY CASE OF QUEEN AIIBES NOFRETA RI. * An asterisk (-) stands for a mummy case, two or more asterisks denote two or more mummy cases, and f stands for a mnunnv. 192 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. We do know that most if not all of these which rises behind the Temple of Goornah, personages were originally buried in sep- near the entrance to the valley of Bab-el- ulchres of their own. There is little doubt Molook, is the most ancient quarter of the that Rasekenen and Ansera, of the XVIJth great Theban necropolis. The kings of Dynasty, and most of their successors of the Entef line (XIth Dynasty) and some the XVJIIth Dynasty, were interred in a of the kings of the XIIth Dynasty were certain desolate hill-side called by the Ar- abs Drah-Aboo-el-Neggah. This hill-side, ers of linen saturated and hardened together by some kind of glue, and coated outside with stucco. The cartonnage of Queen Abmes Nofretars is im- pressed in parts with a reticulated sexa~ onal pat- tern, which gives the surface the appearance of being honey-combed. Each little sexagonal hollow ~ pa~~~ted blue, the rest of the cartonnage being of a vivid yellow. The features, necklace, bracelets, etc., are also picked out in blue. In each hand the queen holds the emblem AnUs, which is the hiero- glyph signifying life. A vertical band of hiero- glyphs reaching from the waist to the feet contains the ordinary invocation to Osiris in the name of the deceased. Inside this enormous external case was found another of the ordinary size and the same material. This second case, which is painted of a vivid crimson, contains the mummy, wrapped in a shroud of somewhat coarse linen, dyed orange-red by means of the Uertlsemus tinctorius. The shroud is kept in place by bands of linen, through which are stuck a few faded lotus blossoms, both in flower and seed-pod. The mummy measures 1 metre 69 centimetres in length; and upon its breast, written in hieratic characters, bears the name of Ahmes Nofretari. Around the head is bound a band of white linen inscribed with fantastic and m ~ical figures, outlined in marking-ink with the pen. This is an amulet, and was placed there to preserve the mummy from destruction or injury. For nearly 3600 years it would seem to have answered that purpose very satisfactorily. certainly buried there. Two or three of their ruined sepulchres are yet extant. Others are specified in a document known as The Abbott Papyrus, to which I shall presently have occasion to refer. Al- though the tombs of Drah-Aboo-el-Neggah have been pillaged, re-appropriated, again pillaged, and for the most part destroyed, there is reason for believing that the dis- trict continued in use as a royal burial- field up to the time of Amenhotep I. (XVIIIth Dynasty). After this date we find the XVIIIth Dynasty sovereigns choosing other sites for their last homes. Mr. Rhind in 1857 found a rifled tomb near the foot of the hill called Sheykh Abd-el-Goornah, which, according to cer- tain tablets discovered among a heap of dd- bris, had once contained the mummies of eleven princesses, daughters of Thothmes III. The Hon. J. Villiers Stuart in 1878 discovered the tomb of Queen Hatasu close behind the Temple of Dayr-el-Baha- ree. The sepulchre of Amenhotep III., excavated to a depth of 352 feet in the mountain - side, is found in the western branch of the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings (Bab-el-Molook). To the XIXth MUMMY AND INSiDE COFFIN OF QUEEN AIIMES NOFRETAiII. LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 193 and XXth dynasties belong the famous catacombs in the eastern branch of the same valley, and it is absolutely certain that the mummies of Rameses I., Seti I., and Rameses II. were originally laid in the magnificent subterraneous palaces which they sculptured and painted and inscribed for themselves behind the western mount- ain. All these Pharaohs, then, from Ra- sekenen to Rameses II., were in the first instance buried in tombs of their own. With Rameses II., however, this cer- tainty ends. Next in chronological or- der (i. e., nearly two hundred years later) comes the mummy of Queen Notem- Maut, wife of Her - for, High - Priest of Amen, and founder of the XXIst Dynas- ty. All the rest of the royal mummies enumerated in our list are descended from this pair, and no separate tomb belonging to any one of them is known to exist. We are therefore driven to conclude that, con- trary to immemorial custom, the priest- kings of the Her-Hor line elected to be buried in a single family vault, which family vault, rough-hewn, unsculptured, unadorned, is no other than the recently discovered hiding-place at Dayr-el-Baha- ree. Queen Notem-Maut and her descend- ants were therefore found in their own house, whereas their illustrious prede- cessors were there only as guests, and possibly as refugees. The post-mortem adventures which be- fell several, and possibly all, of these de- funct refugees before entering into the shelter of the Her-Hor vault are exceed- ingly curious. Inscriptions traced in hie- ratic writing upon the mummy cases of some and upon the bandages of others show that they were periodically exam- ined by official Inspectors of Tombs, who not only renewed their wrappings and re- paired their coffins, but were authorized to remove them when necessary from their own sepulchres, and to lodge them else- where. In the sixth year of Her-Hor, for instance, the mummies of the three Pha- raohs of the XIXth Dynasty (Nos. 12, 13, 14) would seem to have been still in occu- pation of their own separate catacombs in the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. There they were visited by a government inspector, who renewed their funerary appointments, and left an entry of the fact, duly attested by witnesses, upon the mummy cases of Seti I. and Rameses II. After this, at some date unknown, Rame- ses I. and Rameses II. were removed into the tomb of Seti I., where, in the sixteenth year of Her-Hor, they were visited by a commission of priests, who proceeded to transfer all three mummies to the tomb of Queen Ansera (No. 2). This removal they recorded upon the mummy cases of all three Pharaohs (Rameses I., Seti I., and Rameses II.), deposing at the same time to the uninjured condition of the bodies, and to the fact that in Queen Anseras sepulchre one of the Amenhoteps already reposed in peace. Later still, accord- ing to an entry inscribed upon the coffins of Seti I. and Rameses II., bearing date the tenth year of Pinotem I., these two Pharaohs were shifted from the tomb of Queen Ansera into the Eternal House of Amenhotep; but whether this was the same or another king of that name is not specified. Lastly, written in marking-ink upon the breast bandages of IRameses II., a fourth inscription tells how this Pharaoh was actually carried back again to the tomb of his father: The year XVI., the third month of Pert [i. c., the season of seed- time], the sixth day, being the day of car- rying the defunct King Ha-user-Ma Sotep- en-Ra, for the renewal of his funerary ap- pointments, into the tomb of the defunct King Ra-men-Ma Seti, by the First Pro- phet of Amen, Pinotem. Other inscriptions-two on the mummy cases of Amenhotep I. and one on the bandages of Thotlimes 11.record similar visits of inspection, the latest date being that of the sixteenth year of the pontificate of Masahirti, son of Pinotem II. All this contemporary information, dated and attested by numerous witnesses, is of immense historical value; but, un- fortunately, like many a broken stela and many a torn papyrus, it gives neither the beginning nor the end of the story. That the story had a beginning which dates from before the earliest of the foregoing inscriptions, and an end subsequent to the latest, is capable of direct proof. Like architecture, sculpture, penmanship, or any other product of Egyptian art, mum- my cases have their epochs of style. A mummy case of the XIth Dynasty differs as widely from a mummy case of the XXVIth Dynasty as the recumbent effigy of a crusader in chain-mail differs from the periwigged memorial statue of the Queen Anne period. Now Rameses II. lies in a mummy case which unquestion- ably appertains to the school of the XXIst Dynasty. The face is excellently carved 194 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. (note especially the thin open nostrils, the full free curves of the mouth, and the characteristic ridge at the edge of the lips), but it in no wise reproduces the delicate and haughty features of the hero of Ika- desh, If the profile of a tiny figure sketched by the pen of a draughtsman might be compared with a carved mask larger than life, Ii would point to the curious resem- blance which may be detected between this mask and the portrait of Her-Hor as he appears in the vignettes to Queen No- * The mummy case of Rameses II. is of unpaint- ed sycamore-wood, and of the shape called Osiri- an; that is to say, the deceased is represented in the attitude and with the attrihutes of Osiris, the lower limbs swathed, the arms crossed, and the hands grasping a flail and crook. The eyes of the effigy are inserted in enamel, and the e~ chrows, edges of eyelids, and heard are painted black. Upon the hreast are drawn the two royal cartouches of Name- ses IL, reading Na-user-Ma Sotep-en-Na, i. e., Na Strong in Truth, Chosen of Na. The mummy mea- sures 1 metre 80 centimetres in length, i. e., six Eng- lish feet. The process of mummification has, how- ever, in all likelihood hrought the larger hones closer together in their sockets, and Nameses II., when in life, may have stood over six foot in height. The body is wrapped in outer shronds of very fine amber and rose-colored linen, bound with hands of a strong- er texture. Underneath these shrouds, which date from the XXYJth Dynasty, the mummy is yet swathed in its original hand ages. It is Professor Masperos intention to remove these inner bandages at some convenient opportunity, and in the presence of medical and Egyptological witnesses. tem - Mauts papyrus, part of which be- longs to the Prince of Wales, and part to the Louvre.* The likeness may be ac- cidental, or may resolve itself into the art type of the period; but remembering that under the new empire it was custom- ary to give the features of the reigning sovereign to images of gods and sphinxes, and to the human-headed lids of Canopic vases, I venture to suggest that this mum- my case may have been made in the first year of Her-Hors rule (prior, of course, to the date of the first hieratic inscription), and that the mask upon the lid was inten- tionally modelled in the likeness of the king. And now it will be asked, what had hap- pened in that foregone time, of which we have no record, to make this new coffin a necessity? The museums of Europe pos- sess specimens dating from a period far more ancient than the period of Rameses II. specimens of the workmanship of the XIth and XIIth dynasties, which are to this day as perfect as when they were con- signed to the tomb. We therefore can hardly suppose that age had decayed the outer and inner coffins, three or four in number, in which, according to the fashion of the XIXth Dynasty, we may be sure this mighty monarch was originally in- * See my article, The Prince of Waless Papy. in, in The Academy, October 1, 1~81. MUMMY AND MUMMY cAsE OF RAMESES THE GREAT* LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 195 closed. Why, again, are others of these royal mummies found in mummy eases not their own? The coffin of Rameses I. (No. 12) once belonged to some other per- sonage, whose epitaph is effaced; the name of Queen Sitka (No. 11) is surcharged upon that of a former occupant who was a Songstress of Amen; Queen Ansera (No. 2), in whose tomb so many of these wandering royalties were at one time de- posited, herself lies in the coffin of a Lady Ral, who was nurse to Queen Nofretari (No. 4); Queen Merit-Amen (No. 5) usurps the mumm T case of one Sonou, Master of the Royal Household, etc., etc. Others of the coffins bear signs of rough usage, and some have been altered and repaired. All these facts, considered in connection with the frequent removal of the mummies, and their final consignment, as if for safety, to the family ault of the Her - Hor kings, point to some great disturbing cause. To determine the nature of that disturbing cause is therefore our main object of in- quiry. The Cairo correspondent of a daily pa- per, writing on August 8, 1881, thought to solve the enigma by putting his own construction upon the inspectors entries, which he boldly intei reted as statements recording the concealment of the mum- mies in a pit during the time of a foreign in asion. This fine flight of imagination is wholly without foundation. The in- scriptionsall tr nslated verbatim in Pro- fessor Masperos official reportrelate sole- ly, as I have shown, to the visits of the inspectors, the removal of the mummies from tomb to tomb, and the renewal of their funerary appointments. They were certainly not deposited in the pit till some date subsequent to the entry which records the last migration of Ra- meses II.; while as regards the foreign invasion, there is not only an entire ab- sence of monumental evidence to show that any such invasion took place, but the unbroken hereditary succession of six, if not seven, rulers of the Her-Hor line af- fords strong presumptive proof of a long period of peace. Fortunately for the cause of historic truth, there are yet extant two hieratic documents, respectively known as the Abbott Papyrus and the Amherst Papyrus (both written during the six- teenth year of Rameses lX., of the XXth Dynasty), which suggest a more than hy- pothetical explanation of all these difficult Vol. Lxv.No. 386.i 3 questions. The Abbott Papyrus is the original draft of a report drawn up by the Commandant of Police and other high functionaries in the year and reign above named. It contains the minutes of an in- quiry into certain sacrilegious robberies which had then lately taken place in the august necropolis in the west quarter of Thebes. This inquiry extends over four daysthe 18th, 19th, 20th, and 21st of the month Atbyrin the course of which the Commissioners visited the tombs of various HEAD OF CARVED EFFIGY ENLARGED, Pharaohs of the XIth, XIIth, XVIIth, and XVIIIth dynasties, the tomb of King Rasekenen (No. 1) and the tomb of Amen- hotep I. (No. 6) being among that number. Some they found intact, including these two; others betrayed marks of violence outside, but were intact within; but the tomb of King Sevek-em-Saf and of Queen Nubkhas, his wife (XIIth Dynasty), and a great number of tombs and memorial cha els of private persons, were discover- ed to have been broken open and robbed. The sepulchre of Sevek-em-Saf was cleared of mummies, jewels, and all its contents; but as regarded the private tombs, it was found that the thieves had torn their occu- pants from their coffins and mummy cases, and had cast them in the dust, and had stolen their funerary furniture which had been placed with them, as also the gold 196 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and silver and the ornaments which were with them in their coffins. The Amherst Papyrus, of which the beginning and end are lost, contains the deposition of one of the criminals, which would appear to have been taken down in writing by a scribe in attendance upon the Governor of Thebes. It bears date the 19th day of Athyr, i. e., the second day of the judicial visitation recorded in the Abbott Papyrus. The confession of the robber, telling how he and his com- panions broke into the sepulchre of King Sevek-em-Saf, is very circumstantial. It was surrounded by masonry, and covered in with roofing stones. We demolished it, and found them [the king and queen] reposing therein. We found the august king with his divine axe beside him, and his amulets and ornaments of gold about his neck. His head was covered with gold, and his august person was entirely adorned with gold. His coffins were over- laid with gold and silver within and with- out, and incrusted with all kinds of pre- cious stones. We took the gold which we found upon the sacred person of this god, as also his amulets and the ornaments which were about his neck, and the coffins in which he reposed. And having like- wise found the royal wife, we took all that we found upon her in the same man- ner; and we set fire to their mummy cases, and we seized upon their furniture, their vases of gold and silver and bronze, and we divided them amongst ourselves. From this and other evidence it is clear that the social condition of Thebes had ceased to be one of absolute security. We have, indeed, the testimony of two other very important contemporary documents to show that the beginning of the XXth Dynasty was a time of exceeding lawless- ness, of treason, of rapine, and of reli- gious decadence. Rameses III., in his fa- mous posthumous address known as the Great Harris Papyrus, tells how, when he ascended the throne, the Land of Khemi (Egypt) had fallen into confusion every man doing as he listed. For many years there were none who had command over others. The land was under chiefs of provinces, each slaying the other for jealousy and ravin. No offerings were made in the temples. The gods were over- thrown, and lay upon the ground. From another papyrus, written a few years ear- lier than the above, while IRameses III. was yet living, we learn that disaffection was rife among the nobles of the land, and that treason lay in wait for Pharaoh with- in his own palace gates. This document, known as the Judicial Papyrus of Tu- rin~ contains a mutilated abstract of criminal proceedings instituted against the leaders of a vast conspiracy which would seem to have included most of the principal dignitaries of the royal house- hold, as well as numerous priests, scribes, officers in the army, and ladies of high rank, all of whom were found guilty, and condemned to die by their own hands. That Rameses III. succeeded in tempora- rily stamping out these and other dangers proves only the greatness of the man, but not the security of the state. All that he did to prop that tottering fabric went to pieces at his death; and under his feeble successors, commerce, public works, man- ners, and morals rapidly declined. What with a bankrupt treasury, an unpaid army, and a starving population, it was no wonder that the dead were not safe in their graves. As late as the reign of Rameses IX. (ac- cording to the Abbott Papyrus), most of the royal sepulchres situate in the flanks of the hill called Sheykh-Abd-el-Goornah, as well as those near the Temple of Hata- su at Dayr-el-Baharee, had escaped viola- tion. But we know not how they fared dur- ing the reigns of Rameses X., Rameses XI., and Rameses XIII. It is, however, certain that marauders grew bold as the law grew weak, and that under these roisfain4ants, whose throne was presently to be usurped by Her-Hor, an organized system of spoli- ation was carried on almost unchecked in the necropolis of Thebes. Still there was one place into which the tomb-breakers had apparently not yet ventured, namely, the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. This remote and desolate gorge lies at the back of the mountain range which bounds the western plain of Thebes. The way to it is long and wearisome. The gorge it- self is not only a cul-de-sac, but it origi- nally had no entrance. Like a coral-reef atoll, it was entirely shut in by mountain walls. Through the lowest of these walls some Pharaoh of oldpresumably Rame- ses 1.caused a passage to be hewn, in or- der that his sepulchre might be prepared in the appalling solitude within. Inclosed by limestone precipices calcined to a white hem~t by the pitiless sun, shut away from the breeze of the desert and the breath of the Nile, it is a place utterly without moist- LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 197 ure, without verdure, without life. Not a lichen relieves the scintillating white- ness of those skeleton cliffs. Not a lizard makes its home in their crevices. In the palmy days of the new empire, when the treasury overflowed with the spoils of con- quest, and the Pharaohs were as gods, the base of the cliffs at the upper end of this Valley of the Shadow of Death became gradually honey-combed with subterrane- ous palaces of enormous extent and ex- traordinary splendor of decoration, in each of which a mummied king, with his arms, his jewels, his illuminated papyrus, and all his fiinerary treasures, was walled up forever. During the whole period of the XIXth Dynasty, and till nearly the end of the XXth Dynasty, these tombs remain- ed inviolate. IRameses IX., despite the sepulchral pillage which went on in his reign, caused his own tomb to be excava- ted in a lateral branch of the valley, and his example was followed by Rameses X. Possibly the first predatory attempts in this quarter were made during the reigns of Rameses XI., Rameses XII., and IRa- meses XIII. The tomb of Rameses I., which is not only the oldest in the east- ern valley, but is also the most secluded, would have been one of the first to in- vite attack. We accordingly find that the original mummy case of this sover- eign has disappeared, and been replaced by a coffin which formerly belonged to some person whose name is effaced. The tomb of Rameses II. must evidently have suffered the same fate. His mummy cases having been destroyed, a new coffin was provided for him during the early years of Her-Hor. But the tomb of Seti I. would seem to have either escaped detection or defied assault. His mummy case is slight- ly damaged, and the feet of the mummy are visible; but this accident may have happened in the course of removal, and does not necessarily imply willful injury. The inspectors inscriptions point, at all events, to the fact that in the sixteenth year of Her-Hor the tomb of Seti I. was regarded as a place of such undoubted se- curity that the mummies of Rameses I. and Rameses II. were deposited therein. But were they brought hither by way of the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings Evidently not. If we turn back to the now half-forgotten pages of Belzoni, we learn that the entrance to the tomb of Seti I., when he discovered it in 1819, was built up with massive masonry, and hidden under a cataract of d6bris from the cliffs above. Belzoni broke through that ma- sonry, and found himself on the threshold of a series of staircases and passages lead- ing to a deep pit, the walls of which, like the walls of the preceding staircases and passages, were covered with texts and il- lustrations from the Ritual, all exquisite- ly sculptured, covered with a thin coat of cement, and brilliantly colored. One wall of this pit, however, despite the hiero- glyphs and paintings upon its surface proved to be masons work, and not exca- vated rock. A breach was made, and the entrance to a magnificent hall was dis- closed. Beyond this lay a second hall. Then came more passages, more chambers, a third hall, and a vaulted saloon contain- ing the beautiful alabaster s~frcophagus which is now in the Soane Museum. To Belzonis amazement, although he found the tomb absolutely inviolate, the lid of this sarcophagus was broken, and the mummy was gone. But the mystery did not end even here. He presently discov- ered that at the spot where the sarcopha- gus stood the floor sounded hollow. He broke through the floor, and found a de- scending passage, a double staircase, and another passage leading no one knows how far into the heart of the mountain. This passage is still accessible for a distance of about one hundred and fifty feet, beyond which point the roof has fallen in. Whith- er did it lead? Perhaps to another sepul- chral chamber, or perhaps to a tunnel lead- ing out upon the Theban side, somewhere near the Temple of Hatasu at Dayr-el- Baharee. It is, at all events, certain that, until opened by Belzoni, this tomb was in- tact on the side of the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings. Also it is no less certain that it must have had a second entrance, by which the mummies of Rameses I. and Rameses II. were introduced, and by which, ten years later, they were (together with the mummy of Seti himself) trans- ferred to the tomb of Queen Ansera. The existence of a subterraneous passage lead- ing from the Tombs of the Kings to some point not far from Dayr-el-Baharee has long been suspected. It is even laid down conjecturally in the plan of the valley given in the sixth edition of Murrays Hand-Book for Egypt (1880). Granted that such a passage existed, and that the secret was known only to a faithful few, we at once see that the tomb of Seti I. must not only have been a place of great 198 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. security, but also a place easy of access for the purposes to which it was ultimately applied. Even after Rameses II. had been transferred thence to the tomb of Queen Ansera (wherever that may have been), he was brought back again, in the sixteenth year of Pinotem J.,to have his funerary appointments renewed. That is to say, the tomb of Seti I., having ceased to be used as a sepulchre, became a kind of workshop in which these pious offices were performed. And why, being inviolate on the side of the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings, did it cease to be used as a sepulchre? Again we are forced back upon conject- ure. It may be that in course of time the secret of the second entrance became known to ~oo many persons, and that the place was no longer deemed secure. This would account for the removal of all three Ramesside Pharaohs, father, son, and grandson, to the sepulchre of Queen Ansera, whence they were by - and - by transferred to the tomb of one of the Amenhoteps. What next became of them we know not. Rameses II. may have been taken back to the Amenhotep tomb after his funereal toilet was repaired in the sepulchre of his father Seti during the sixteenth year of Pinotem I. Or he may have continued migrating from tomb to tomb until he finally found shelter in the Her-Hor vault. In this Her-Hor vault, at all events, we at last discover him, with the father and grandfather, who were the companions of his wanderings. In the absence of more hieratic inscriptions, it is impossible to say whether the earlier kings and queens were or were not in like manner periodically inspected and occa- sionally removed. But if such inspec- tions and such removals were essential to their safe custody, the mere evidence of their preservation may be accepted in fa- vor of that conclusion. M. Maspero is of opinion that in the time of the priest- kings of Amen all these lately discovered Pharaohs of the XVIIth, XVIIIth, and XIXth dynasties formed a single group, and were consigned at the same time to their last resting-place. As regards the date of that consignment, he inclines to place it under the reign of King Menkhe- perra, second son of Pinotem II., and hus- band of Queen Isi-em-Klieb. Now the only funereal repast found in the Her-br vault was the funereal repast of Isi-em- Kheb, which shows her to have been the last buried. The other mummies when first brought in would, as a matter of course, have been similarly provided, each repast, however, on the occasion of a fresh interment, being replaced by the repast of the newest comer. Isi-em-Kheb, there- fore, died before her husband Menkhe- perra, whose seal (he being then living) i~ impressed upon the hamper in which the food is ~ontained. She must, however, have survived her father, Masahirti (No. 20), whose mummy, inclosed in three mummy cases and an enormous outer sar- cophagus, was among those discovered in the mortuary chamber. The absence of Menklieperra and his son Pinotem III. yet remains to be accounted for, and to this question Professor Maspero recognizes but one probable solution. He believes that at some date subsequent to the interment of Queen Isi-em-Kheb, Menkheperra must have caused the whole group of ancestral mummies, from Rasekenen to Rameses. II.,to be transferred from the Amenhotep tomb (if, indeed, they were still there) into the family vault of his own kinsfolk, and that there consequently no longer remain- ed sufficient accommodation for the last representatives of the Her-Hor line. In this case, might not Menkheperra and Pi- notem III. have been buried at Haybee, a~ city which seems to have been founded by Menkheperra, and of which the principal temple was dedicated to Isis, the tutelary goddess of Queen Isi-em-Kheb? Here, at all events, last years excavations laid bare a great wall built of huge burned bricks stamped with the cartouches of these two kings, as well as a series of se- pulchral vaults filled with sculptured sar- cophagi of great size and excellent work- manship. Be this as it may, however, the divine forefathers were safe at last. Warned by the sacrilegious deeds which had been done among the tombs of their predeces- sors, the priest-kings had made their own last home, not for splendor, but for securi- ty. To this end they electedapparently for the first time in Egyptian historyto be buried, generation after generation, in one common sepulchre, it being obviously less difficult to keep guard over one cata- comb (and that catacomb on the Theban side of the mountain) than to keep guard over many. They were therefore laid to- gether in this vault, the approach to which was so well concealed that one might have passed it twenty times without oh- LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 199 serving it. The secret of its whereabouts was well kept, and when the descendants * The mummy of Queen Isi-em-Kheh, like the mummies of most of the Her-Ilor family, was found in three mummy cases, all made after the one pat- tern, and varying only in size. That is to say, they are in the form of a mummy, the face and hands gilded, time wig black, and the cases covered hoth inside and outside with innumer ble figure subjects and hieroglvphed legends. Our illustration shows the inside of the lid of Queen Jsi-em-Khehs third mummy case and its elahorate decorations. At the top we see the winded disk (symbolical of the sun in his journey from east to west) presiding over the head of Osiris, who stands upon the hieroglyphic sign Nub, signifying the chamher of the sarcopha- gus. A hrief legend styles him Osiris, King of the Living, the Great God. The urmeus serpent and crowned vulture (each on a basket), emhlematic of the sovereignty of the sun over the northern and southern horizons, are placed at each side of his of Her-Hor became extinct, it died with them. Through all the changes and all7 the ages that followed, it remained undis- covered. The Ethiopian, the Persian, the Greek, the Roman, the Arab, the Turk, conquered and ravaged in turn, and still the Pharaohs and the pontiffs reposed in peace. Then came the archa~ological invasion. But the great discovery, denied to Champollion. Lepsius, Wilkinson, and Mariette, was reserved for the brothers Abd-er-Rasoul. We know too well what use they made of it. All the jewels which were unquestionably buried with these roy- al mummies, all the weapons, all the pre- cious papyri (save four), have disappeared. Her-Hor himself, and Piankhi, his imme- diate successor, are missing. Only one king and one queen of the XVIIth Dy- nasty are left. Where are the rest? Of the XVIIIth Dynasty, Amenhotep I., Thothmes II. , * and Thothmes III. have escaped but where are Amenhotep II., Thothmes IV., Amenhotep III., and Queen Hatasul Where are all the kings of the XXth Dynasty? There is ground for sup- posing that these last may have been de- posited in a hiding-place discovered some five-and-twenty years ago, not far from head. Next helow these come the divine sisters of Osiris, Isis and Nepbthys, in time attitude of mourn- ems; and under Jsi~ wud Nephthvs two of time lesser deities, or genii, of time dead seated hehind altars and offerings. The low cm Ii df of the lid is divided in three compartments the fimst or highest contain- ing two sittimig figmmres of Osmrms hack to back; the second, two munmimmames hick to hack, each attended by the vulture, emblematme of the goddess lEant, with the Ankli, or sign of life held in its claw. Each vulture stands on time hiemo h ph Nuh. Lowest of all we see the mulct Ia between two of time ammilets called Tot. The To represents a kmnd of belt bmickle, and when cut in carnelian om jasper is gen em-ally suspended round time mieck of time mummy. Time Tot sigumifies stability, and is the emblem of Ptliah. All these desi~ns have referemmee to time Egyptian dogmas of immortality and resurrection. Time maummny of Queen Isi-em-Kimeb measures 1 muetre 62 centimetres in lemmgth, and is here seems wrapped imi an outer shroumd of time finest linen, held iii place by bands of linen amid leather, in tIme style of time XXIst Dynasty. * Time tomb of Timotlmmes 1. must Ii ye been among those violated by time tomb-breakers of time XXtim Dynasty. his mummy had no doubt been destroy- ed, buit his mtimnm~ case remains, 1mavin~ been en- larged amid redecorated for time reception of Pinotemn 1., who was a taller man. When it is remembered that James I. caused his own body to be laid in time tomb of hlemiry VII., where time two skeletons were found by Stanley, side by side, we immay meadily sup- pose that Pinotem I. coveted time honor of reposing iii time coflimi of so muighty a monarch as Thmothmnes I. Mt-MMv CASE AND MUMMY OF QUEEN m5i-EM-KHEB. 200 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the gi~eat temple of Medeenet-Aboo ;* but the presence of a very singular relic of the great woman-Pharaoh of the XVIIIth Dynasty would seem to indicate that her mummy was consigned to the vault at Dayr-el-Baharee, with the mummies of her * This cavern, which lies about 20 feet below the level of the desert, was showu to Mr. Harris, the an- tiquary, in 1856 or 1857, by some Arab di~oers, who stated that they had there found a number of broken mummies antI a large heap of papyri. Of these last they offered him a sackful. Not bein~ able to buy them all, Mr. Harris secured ouly a few, one of which is the posthumous address of Hameses III. now known as the Great Harris Papyrus. This magnificent document is oue of the finest specimens in the world, and measures 133 feet in length. No one knows what became of the rest of the sackful, nor whose those broken mummies were; but the two brothers Thothmes II. (who was also her husband) and Thothmes III. The said relic is a small wooden and ivory cabinet, ornamented with both cartouches of Ha- tasu, and containing, strange to say, a des- iccated human liverpossibly hers. For some of these absent royalties the old tomb-breakers may doubtless be held accountable, but there is too much reason to fear that very many have been sold by the brothers Abd-er-Rasoul. For, unfor- tunately, the modern traveller is not con- tent to collect merely beads and funereal statuettes and such small game. He must bring home an ancient Egyptian in pro- prid persond. The amount of business done of late years in this grim kind of bric-~-brac has been very considerable. A foreign agent and wine-merchant of Cairo assured me, when I returned from the Sec- ond Cataract in 1874, that he had that very season already passed and shipped no less than eighteen Theban mummies; and many other agents were most likely equal- ly busy and equally successful. Amen- hotep III. artfully stowed away inside a crocotlile, or Hatasu rolled up in the folds of a sketching tent, may easily have been slipped through the Alexandria custom- house by one of these gentlemen. Mum- mies, however, are expensive hobbies, only to be indulged in by the wealthy. From 60 to 100 was at that time the average price of a full-sized specimen, while from 10 to 12 was asked for a baby. I must aiot be supposed to imply that the general mummy market was supplied by the bro- timers Abd-er-Rasoul. Their goods were too precious and too perilous to be parted from except under conditions of elaborate secrecy and exorbitant payment. The purchaser of the Pinotem papyrus paid 400 for his bargain, and it may be as- sumed that a royal mummy from the same source would have cost at least double that sum. That Rameses II. was, as lately as 1880, actually offered for sale to a wealthy American (who did not, however, believe in the genuineness of the article as report- ed, and declined to deal) is a fact for which I have the authority of one of that travel- lers companions. But the ordinary mummy sold to the ordinary tourist is of quite another class. sublect of this especial papyrus, taken in connection with the locality, and other circumstances, renders it likely that the cavern in question was a hiding- place similar to that of Dayr-el.J3aharee, and that it contained the Pharaohs of the XXth Dynasty. MuMMY OF THOTLIMES III., AS FOUND. LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 201 He belonged in his day to the lesser no- a sacred scribe, a civil or military official. bility; that is to say, he was an architect, Such inumnijes, ranging chiefly from the * The small cabinet of Queen Ilataso, and the tiny mummy case in theforeground, each contains a mum- mified human liver. The small mummy case mea- sures only twenty-five centimetres in lengthi. e., ten inchesand hears the name of one Soutimes, a priest. On the left of the cahinet stands a conical object, of the kind commonly represented placed on either side of a table of offerings. This object is painted green, with horizontal hands of gilding. Three nuts of the d6m-palm in their husks, and three funereal statuettes, or sliel ti, are laid here and there among the other objects. These sliabti, or respondents, are found in tombs of all classes of persons, and are made in various materials as wood, clay, limestone, and porcelain. They repre sent laborers, and carry in their hands a hoe, flail, and seed sack, with which to till and sow the celes- tial fields of Aahln (corrupted by the Greeks into Elysium). This labor of tilling and sowing is, in fact, the duty of the deceased. These figures, how- ever, are supposed to answer for him, and act as his substitutes ; hence their name of respondents. The specimens here represented are in fine blue por- celain. The two in the foreground are for Queen Makara, wife of King Menkheperra (XXJst Dynasty); the one at the back is for the Lady Tainhir-t. Five very beautiful goblets complete the group, all be- longing to Queen Jsi-eni-Kheb. The two to the left are in blue glass, inscribed with short funerary le- gends; the three to the right are in opaque vane- MINIATURE MUMMY CASE INScRInED WITH THE NAME OF SOUTIMES, AND VARIOUS SMALL FUNERAHY OBJECT5.~ 202 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. XXIst to the XXVIth dynasties, form the staple of Theban trade. As for the Theban fellah, mummy-hunting is his hereditary vocation. He passes his life in digging, finding, hiding, and selling; his home is an empty sepulchre; his shirt is made of mummy cloth; his childrens playthings and his wifes ornaments are spoils of the dead. His forefathers have subsisted for generations by this equivocal industry, and his descendants will subsist by it for who shall say how many generations to come? Even now, after centuries of spo- liation, the soil needs only to be dug a lit- tle deeper in order that the spade may strike a lower stratum of graves. And if this be true of a mine so long and so per- sistently worked as the necropolis of Thebes, what must be the sepulchral wealth of thousands of other burial-fields, some partially and some wholly unex- plored? To this day the mountain ranges and shifting sands of Egypt conceal some hundreds of millions of mummies. Dr. Birchcounting from B.c. 2000, when mummification was supposed to have been first practiced, down to AD. 700, when it may be said to have ceasedcalculates the approximate number of bodies em- balmed during that period at 420,000,000. But recent explorations among the pyr- amids of Sakkara, and the discovery of the mummied corpse of King Merenra* ~VIth Dynasty), must henceforth compel us to ascribe a much earlier date for the beginnings of the art. I would venture, in fact, to carry it back to B.c. 3800, or even to B.c. 4000, so assigning a period of 4700 years for the observance of the process, and approximately estimating the gross number of mummies of all epochs at not less than 731,000,000a gigantic total. Yet when it is remembered that the rites of mummification were perform- ed not only for every Egyptian man, wo- man, and child, gentle or simple, but for every stranger, no matter what his na- tionality or religion, for every captive, for gated glass of the kind generally believed to be of Pheuician manufacture. The two uppermost gob- lets imitate marble; the lowest, in waved bands of blue, red, and yellow, is of the pattern known in antiquity as the false murrhine. * The pyramid of Merenra would seem to have been violated aud the mummy stripped of its band- ages at some very remote period. The marks of the bandages, however, are distinctly impressed upon the skin, and show the process of mummification, as practiced at the time of the VIth Dynasty, to have been identical with that of later times. every slave, for every criminal, for every leper and outcast, this presumed total of 731,000,000 falls probably far short of the actual number. Very few mummies of children have been found in the Her-Hor vault, but originally there must have been several. A tiny wooden sarcophagus measuring some fourteen inches in length by eight in breadth, dome-topped, and decorated with the usual royal frieze of asps, disks, etc., was offered to me by Ahmed Abd-er-Ra- soul in 1874. It contained the embalmed remains of a little undeveloped infant which had never drawn the breath of life, but which was nevertheless spiced and swathed and laid to rest in a coffin adorned with all the emblems of royalty. There were no inscriptions on either the sarcoph- agus or the bandages; but the former was of XIXth Dynasty workmanship, and belonged, I think, to that portion of the XIXth Dynasty covered by the reign of Rameses II. Its occupant may have been one of his many children. But the one touch of real pathos in all this curious history of the great cache con- cerns Queen Makara (No. 19), who was sec- ond wife of Pinotem II., and mother of Menkheperra. In the summary of Pro- fessor Masperos address read before the Orientalist Congress at Berlin, we find the following entry: No. 29.A double sar- cophagus containing the mummies of two queens, named Makara and Maut-em-Hat. With this double sarcophagus was found a box in two compartments, the one half fill- ed with funereal statuettes for Makara, the other filled with similar statuettes for Maut-em-Hat; also a funereal papyrus written for both queens, in which Maka- ra s name was distinguished by being in- closed in a royal cartouche. On the other hand, however, Maut-em-Hat bore a string of titles, one of which was Principal Royal Wife. Now that two contempo- rary queens should have died and been embalmed at the same time, and then laid together in one sarcophagus, seemed very extraordinary. Were they sisters? or were they wives to one and the same hus- band? Our illustration solves the mys- tery. Queen Maut-em-Hat, for all her high-sounding dignities, is only sixteen inches long. Makara died in child-birth, and this tiny infantsuperscribed with every title which was already hers by right of birth, or which might have been hers, had she lived, by right of marriage LYING IN STATE IN CAIRO. 203 was, after all, no more than a little dead letter addressed to the Land of Shadows. Mummied infants as a rule, however, were separately coffined, and instances to the contrary arc rare. But Paul de Saint- Victor tells of a touching group, also found at Thebesthe mother with her babe clasped in her arms, and pressed to her lifeless bosom. A curious catalogue might be made of the strange things buried with mummies. The pet gaEelle of Queen Isi-em-Kheb, as carefully embalmed as herself, was found the other day in the Her-Hor vault. A musician in the British Museum has his cymbals on his breast. Dolls and balls and other playthings are constantly dis- covered in the mummy cases of children; and in tombs of the XIth and XVIIth * Though otherwise in good preservation, the mummy case of Queen Makara has lost all the prom- inent parts of the decoration, as the face, hands, and feet of the external effigy. The surface is covered with hieroglyphed legends, and hi~hly varnished. The mummy of Queen Makara is handaged in the same style as the mummy of Queen Isi-em-Kheb, the outer shroud heing drawn in long pleats along the legs, and held in place hy cross-hands. The infant appears to he mummified in a crouching po- sition. It lies just ahove the head of the mother. Among the funereal furniture of Queen Makara was found a coffer divided in two hy a partition, the one half containing sliebti for Makara, and the other half shabti for Maut-em-Hat. Each half of the coffer hears its separate inscription, the first on hehalf of Makara, the second on hehaif of Maut-em-Hat; and, strangely enough, hoth mother and infant are dis- tinguished hy the same titles of Royal Daughter, Royal Wife, and Royal Mother. dynasties tools, weapons, household fur- niture, and articles for personal use are abundant. Thus we find the soldier with his bow and arrows, the painter with his palette, the scribe with his pen and slab, the mason with his mallet and chisel, the carpenter with his adze, the beauty with her rouge pots and mirror. Coming down to later times, the mumniy of a Greek dis- interred at Thebes was found holding in his hand a roll of papyrus containing, not a chapter from the Ritual, not an exorcism against evil spirits, not a litany for the dead, but, strange to say, a transcript of the Seventeenth Book of the Iliad. Buried with another Greek mummy of Ptolemaic times, Signor Passalacqua found a sealed letter, written by one Timoxenes to a cer- tain Moschius, introducing the bearer, for whom the good offices of Moschius were solicited. The young man never deliver- ed his letter of introduction. He died be- fore he reached his destination, and the letter remained unopened byhuman hands, unread by human eyes, till the Ptolemys and the Egypt over which they reigned had passed into the domain of ancient history. No letters or miscellaneous documents of any description, save the papyri of Queen Makara, Queen Isi-em-Kheb, and Princess Nasi-Khonsu, have been recover- ed from the cache at Dayr-el-Baharee, and these few were found hidden in the dwell- ing of the Abd-er-Rasoul brothers. It is impossible even to guess how many such have been sold and dispersed, but nothing MUMMY CASE AND MUMMiES OF QUEEN MAKARA AND FRIN~ESS MAUT~EM~HAT.* 204 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. unproved can be more certain than that a funereal papyrus of some kind was buried with each member of the Her-Hor family. A few, and only a few, of the lost treasures have been traced* to their present owners. It is to be hoped that the possessors of oth- er papyri from the same source may be in- duced to make their acquisitions known to Professor Maspero, who is anxious, on historical grounds, to restore as nearly as may be the list of all that the Her-Hor vault may originally have contained. Such in outline is the story of the great discovery at Dayr-el-Baharee. For am- pler details and more exact descriptions I must refer my readers to Professor Maspe- ros official report, in which will be found an account of many more mummies mum- my cases, and other relics than I have space to mention. My object has been to * See my papers on The Prince of Waless Pa- pyrus in the British Museum (The Academy, Octo- ber 1, 1881); A New Royal Papyrus (The Acad- emy, November 5, 1881); Arabs, Travellers, and Anteckabs (The Academy, September 3, 1881); also, M. Navilles paper on The Recent Discoveries at Thebes (The Aeedemy, October 22, 1881). ~ With this princess (who would seem to have been wife to Prince and High-Priest Masahirti) were buried two papyri, an ordinary funereal Ritual, and the document shown in the accompanying illus- tration. This document purports to be a decree of Amen-Ra, King of the Gods, and tutch ry deity of Thebes, in favor of the deceased. The four lines here shown afford an excellent specimen of the trace the post-mortem history of the prin- cipal royal mummies lately discovered, and following the lines laid down by Pro- fessor Maspero, to gather up such scattered links of evidence as may tend to show when and why these kings and queens of various dynasties were concealed in the family vault of the Priest-Kings of Thebes. And now, after burial and reburial, aft- er the darkness and silence of ages, after all the dangers of pillage, ancient and modern, these kings and queens and pon- tiffs of old, who ranked with the gods, and reckoned their descent from the sun, are no longer anything but antiquities, classi- fied, catalogued, and exhibited in a muse- um. Even at Boolak, although the struc- ture has lately been rebuilt, and is now being enlarged, it is doubtful whether they are really safe. An unusually high Nile, a fire, a popular revolt, may at any mo- ment sweep them away, leaving to future generations only the strange story of their discovery and the memory of their fame. handwriting of the epoch, and are translated as follows by Professor Maspero: This august deity, Ruler of all the Gods, AMEN-RA, Lord of Karnak; great soul which has been from the beginning; God subsisting by Truth; the first to exist, and the par- ent of all who live, so that every God is in him; the One only Being; Maker of all things ; ~vhose h egin - ning was the beginning of the world; whose births are mysterious, and his forms many and various, etc., etc. HIERATIC ~APYRU5 OF raINcEss NA5I-KHON5U. SPANISH VISTAS. ~bftb 3~a~cr. CORDOVAN PILGRIMS. HE House of Purification, as the great mosque at Cordova was called, used to be a goal of pilgrimage for the Moors in Spain, as Mecca was for Mohammedans elsewhere. Their shoes no longer repose at its doors, but other less devout pilgrims now come in a straggling procession from all quarters of the globe to rest awhile within its fair demesne, hallowed, perhaps, as much by the unique flowering of a whole peoples genius in shapes of singular loveliness as by the more direct religious serv- ice to which it has been dedicated and rededi- cated under conflicting beliefs. It was with peculiar eagerness, therefore, that we set out on our way. An American who was following the same route had joined usa man with ruddy bronzed cheeks and iron-gray hair, whom I at first should have taken for the great-grandson of a Spanish In- quisitor, if such a thing were possible. His iron persistence and the intensity of his pre- judices were in keeping with that character the only trouble being that the prejudices were all on the wrong side. Whetstone (as he was called) shared our eagerness in respect of Cordova, though from different motives. He hailed each new point in his journey with satisfaction, because it would get him just so much nearer the end; for the reason he had come to Spain was, apparently, to get out of it again. I dont see what I came to Spain for, Whetstone would observe to us, dismally; and, for that matter, we could not see either. If there ever was a God-forsaken country Why, look at the way a whole parcel of these men at the dinner table get out their cigarettes and smoke right there, without ever asking a ladys leave! Id like to see em try it on at home. Wouldnt they be just snaked out of that room pretty quick ? He had under his care a young lady of great sensibility, a relative by marriage, accompanied by her maid; and the maid was a colored woman of the most pronounced pattern. Altogether our pilgrim party embraced a good deal of variety. The young American girl being a Catholic, was really a palmer faring from shrine to shrine. Rarely a convent or a chapel escaped her; she sipped them all as if they had been flower cups and she a humming-bird, and managed to extract some unknown honey of comfort from their bitterness. It was like having a novice with us. The night journeys by rail, so much in vogue in Spain, have their advantages and their drawbacks. At Castillejo, a junction on the way to Cordova, we had to wait four hours in the evening at a distance of twenty miles from the nearest restaurant. The country around was absolutely desolate except for tufts of the retamn~a sort of broom with slim green and silvered leaves, which grows wild, and, after drying, is used by the peasants as a substitute for rye or wheat flour. Only two or three houses were in sight. The tracks with cars standing on them, and the unfinished look of the whole place, made us feel as if we had by mistake been carried off to some insignifi- cant railroad station in Illinois or Missouri. The Spaniards invent little rhymed proverbs about many of their villages, and of one insignificant Andalusian hamlet, Brenes, the saying is: If to Brenes thou goest, Take with thee thy roast.

George P. Lathrop Lathrop, George P. Spanish Vistas 205-223

SPANISH VISTAS. ~bftb 3~a~cr. CORDOVAN PILGRIMS. HE House of Purification, as the great mosque at Cordova was called, used to be a goal of pilgrimage for the Moors in Spain, as Mecca was for Mohammedans elsewhere. Their shoes no longer repose at its doors, but other less devout pilgrims now come in a straggling procession from all quarters of the globe to rest awhile within its fair demesne, hallowed, perhaps, as much by the unique flowering of a whole peoples genius in shapes of singular loveliness as by the more direct religious serv- ice to which it has been dedicated and rededi- cated under conflicting beliefs. It was with peculiar eagerness, therefore, that we set out on our way. An American who was following the same route had joined usa man with ruddy bronzed cheeks and iron-gray hair, whom I at first should have taken for the great-grandson of a Spanish In- quisitor, if such a thing were possible. His iron persistence and the intensity of his pre- judices were in keeping with that character the only trouble being that the prejudices were all on the wrong side. Whetstone (as he was called) shared our eagerness in respect of Cordova, though from different motives. He hailed each new point in his journey with satisfaction, because it would get him just so much nearer the end; for the reason he had come to Spain was, apparently, to get out of it again. I dont see what I came to Spain for, Whetstone would observe to us, dismally; and, for that matter, we could not see either. If there ever was a God-forsaken country Why, look at the way a whole parcel of these men at the dinner table get out their cigarettes and smoke right there, without ever asking a ladys leave! Id like to see em try it on at home. Wouldnt they be just snaked out of that room pretty quick ? He had under his care a young lady of great sensibility, a relative by marriage, accompanied by her maid; and the maid was a colored woman of the most pronounced pattern. Altogether our pilgrim party embraced a good deal of variety. The young American girl being a Catholic, was really a palmer faring from shrine to shrine. Rarely a convent or a chapel escaped her; she sipped them all as if they had been flower cups and she a humming-bird, and managed to extract some unknown honey of comfort from their bitterness. It was like having a novice with us. The night journeys by rail, so much in vogue in Spain, have their advantages and their drawbacks. At Castillejo, a junction on the way to Cordova, we had to wait four hours in the evening at a distance of twenty miles from the nearest restaurant. The country around was absolutely desolate except for tufts of the retamn~a sort of broom with slim green and silvered leaves, which grows wild, and, after drying, is used by the peasants as a substitute for rye or wheat flour. Only two or three houses were in sight. The tracks with cars standing on them, and the unfinished look of the whole place, made us feel as if we had by mistake been carried off to some insignifi- cant railroad station in Illinois or Missouri. The Spaniards invent little rhymed proverbs about many of their villages, and of one insignificant Andalusian hamlet, Brenes, the saying is: If to Brenes thou goest, Take with thee thy roast. 2O~1 HARPERS N]~W MONTHLY MAGAZINE. But Castillejo seems to be an equally good subject for this warning. We re- called how lavishly, on the way to Toledo, we had presented bread, meat, and straw- berries to some country folk who were not in the habit of eating, and how ardently they had thanked us. As we passed their ~ house in returning, it was closed and life- less, and we were convinced that they had died of a surfeit. How willingly would we now have undone that deed! However, after making some purchases from an ex- tremely deaf old woman who presided over such poor supplies as tbe place afforded, we asked her if she could have coffee pre- pared. If there is enough in the house, she replied to our interrogatory shrieks. Accordingly, we carried a table out under some trees on the gravel platform, to eat al fresco. When we found ourselves in this way for the first time thrown back on the Spanish sausage, we resisted that unsym- pathetic substance with all the vigor of de- spair. But aided by some bad wine an interesting conversation with the Novice, and the glow of a sunset sky that looked as if strewn with fading peony petals, we recovered from the shock caused in the be- ginning by a mingled flavor of garlic, rai- sins, and pork. In truth, there was some- thing enjoyable about this wild supper around which our quartette gathered in the dry, dewless twilight. Au ancient fe- male, resembling a broken-down Medea, COFFEE AT cASTILLEJO. SPANISH VISTAS. 207 came out and kindled a fire of brush-wood beyond the track, swung a kettle there and cooked our coffee, bending over the flame- light the while with her scattered gray tresses, and wailing out doleful pctcncras, the popular songs of Spain. The songs, the fire, the wine, the strange scene, were so stimulating that we we:~e surprised to find all at once the dark vault overhead full of stars, the comet staring at us in its flight above the hills, and our ten-oclock train nearly due. The next morning we were in a region totally unlike anything we had seen be- fore, excepting for the ever-present mount- ain ranges wild as the Pyrenees or Guada- ramas. The light of dawn on these bar- ren Spanish mountain-sides, drawn up into peaks as sharp as the points of a looped-up curtain, produces effects indescribable ex- cept on canvas and by a subtle colorist. The bare surfaces of rock or dry grass and moss, and the newly reaped harvest fields lower down, blend the tints of air and earth in a velvet - smooth succession of madder and faint yellow, olive and rose and gray, fading off into a reddish-purple at greater distances. These eminences are a part of the Sierra Morena, where Don Quixote achieved some of his most noteworthy featsthe liber- ation of the galley-slaves, the descent into the Cave of Montesinos, the capture of Mambrinos helmet, and the famous pen- ance. A windin1, river-bed near by was bor- dered by tufted copses of oleander in full flower, and hedges of huge serrated alo guarded the roads. On the hill-sides a~ round corral for herds would occasionally be seen. In the fields the time-honored method of threshing out grain by driving a sort of heavy board sledge in a circle over the cut crop, and of winnowing by tossing up shovelfuls of the grain dust into the breezy air, was in active operation. By-and-by the olive orchards began. As far as we could see they stretched on either side their ranks of round dusty green tree-heads. Thousands of acres of them one grove after another: we travelled through fifty miles of almost unbroken ol- ive plantations, until we fancied we could even smell the fruit on the boughs, and our eyes were sick and weary with the same- ness of the sight. Then the river, which PRIMITIVE THRESHING. 208 HAHPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. WHILE THE WOMEN ARE AT MASS. from time to time had shown its muddy current in curves and sweeps, moving through the land at the bottom of what might have been an enormous drain, turn- ed out to be the famous Guadaiquivir, which, as Ford vividly puts it, eats its dull way through loamy banks. At last, Cordova, seated in an ample plain; Cor- dova, in vanished ages the home of Seneca, Lucan, Averroes, and the poet Juan de Mena; Cordova, white in the dry and grit- ty sun-dazzled air, with square, unshadow- ed two-story houses, overlooked by the bell tower of its incomparable Mezquita Cathedral: a cheerful Southern city, main- taining large gardens abounding in palms and myrtles and orange and lemon trees; possessing, moreover, clean streets of per- ceptible width. After the interpreter, or hotel guide, the beggar: such is the order in these Spanish towns, and not seldom the guide is merely a bolder kind of beggar. Two or three of the most frantically miser- able and loathsome chari- ty-seekers I ever saw sur- rounded our omnibus as we awaited our baggage, and stuffed their hideous heads in at the windows and door, concentrating on us their fire of appeals. Velazquez had heard that the sover- eign remedy for these pests was to treat them with con- sunimate politeness and pi- ety. Pardon me, bro- ther, for Gods sake, was the deprecatory formula which had been recom- mended, and he now pro- ceeded to recite this, book in hand. Unfortunately it took him about five min- utes to get it launched in good style and pure Span- ish, during which time the beggars had an opportunity entirely to miss the sense. A few grains of tobacco dropped into the hat of one of them was more effica- cious, for it had the result of mystifying him and hopelessly paralyzing his analytical powers. Final- ly the guide, coming with the baggage, recognized his rivals, and drove them off. At several places on the way we had seen our twin military persecutors waiting for us, sometimes with white havelocks, and again in glazed hat - covers and capes. Are they disguising themselves so as to fall upon us unawares ? I asked my friend. We determined not to be deceived, how- ever, by the subtle device. These Spanish police - soldiers go through more meta- morphoses in the linen and water-proof line than any troops I know. It must be excessively inconvenient to run home and make the change every time a slight show- er threatens; and invariably as soon as they get on their storm-cover, the sun be- gins to shine again. On our arrival they seem to have made up their minds to ap- prehend us at once; they came striding along toward us in duplicate, one the fac- simile of the other, and we gave ourselves up for lost. But just as they were within Th 6 SPANISH VISTAS. 209 a few paces, their unaccountable policy of we had left in the middle of the kingdom, delay caused them to deviate suddenly, at Toledo, was replaced in this more trop- and march on as if they hadnt seen us. ical latitude by great activity. The shop One more escape, sighed Velazquez, fer- streets presented a series of rooms entirely vently. open to the view, where men and women Strangely enough, the languor which were busily engaged in all sorts of small WATER STAND IN CORDOvA. 210 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. manufactureshoes, garments, un-work, carpentering. They were happy and dil- igent as if they had been animated writing- book maxims, and sang or whistled at their tasks in a most exemplary manner. Cordovan leather still holds it own, on a petty scale, and the small cups ham- mered out of old silver dollars constitute, with filigree silver-work, a characteristic local product. The faces of the people betrayed their gypsy blood oftentimes, and traces of blonde or light chestnut hair showed that the Moorish stock had left some offshoots that do not die out. The whole aspect of Cordova presents at once a reflex of the refined and enlightened spirit of the ancient caliphate. Every- body, including most of the beggars, has a fresh and cleanly appearance; the very priests undergo a change, being frequently more refined in feature, and of a more tol- erant expression. The women set off their rosy brown complexions and black hair with clusters of rayed jasmine blossoms flattened and ingeniously fixed in rosette form on long pins. The men, discarding those hot felt hats so obstinately worn in the central provinces, make a comfortable and festive appearance in their curling Panamas. On the Street of the Great Captainthe chief open-air resort, com- memorating Gonsalvo of Cordova, who led so ably in the triumphant Christian campaignsthe people laugh and chat as if they really enjoyed life. There is a great deal of wealth in the place, and the lingering atmosphere of its past great- ness is not depressing, as that of Toledo is, for it was never the home of bigotry and ignorance. Its prosperous epoch under Abdur-rahman and his Ommeyad success- ors was one of brilliant civilization. It was then a nursery of science and the arts; its inhabitants numbered a million. It had mosques by the hundred, and nearly a thousand bathsfor the Spanish Moors well knew the civilizing virtue of water, and kept life-giving streams of it running at the roots of their institutions. The houses of the modern city are very plain on the exterior, and their common coat of whitewash imparts to them a democratic equality; but aristocracy is still a living thing there, instead of having sunk into pitfalls of squalor and idleness, as in the sombre city by the Tagus. But now the Cross is sparkling on the mosque, And bells make Catholic the trembling air. Gloomy little churches crop out in ev- ery quarter, and a few convents of nuns remain, where you may hear the faint, sad litany of the unseen sisters murmured be- hind the grating while a priest chants serv- ice for them in the lonely chapel. The bells of these churches and of the mosque- cathedral are hardly ever silent; the bra- zen jargon of their tongues echoes over the roofs at all hours, and the hollow, metal- lic tinkle of mule bells from the otherwise THE GAY cOsTEa-MONGER5 OF ANDALUSIA. SPANISH VISTAS. 211 silent streets at times strikes one as mak- premely wonderful House of Purification ing response to them. But the beauty of as it now stands; and then, after the con- the cathedralstill called the Mezquita quest by Ferdinand and Isabella, in the (mosque) lies almost solely in the preser- reign of Charles V., the cumbrous high yation of its original Moorish architecture. altar and choir, which choke up so much The site was first occupied as a place of of the interior, transformed it once more worship by the Roman Temple of Janus, into a stronghold of Christian ceremonial. and this in turn became a basilica of the But when you enter at the Gate of Pardon Gothic Christians. Abdur-rahman, after the long, wide Court of Oranges, you find the Christians had long been allowed by yourself transported instantly to Moham- the caliphs to continue their worship in medan surroundings; you are under the one half of the basilica, reared the su- dominion of the Ommeyades. VOL. LXV.No. 38G.i 4 THE MEZQUITA. 212 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. High walls hem in this open-air vesti- bule, where rows of orange-trees rustle their dense foliage in the warm wind. Their trunks are corpulent with age, for some of them date back to the last Moor- ish dynasty, and at one end stands the tank where followers of the Prophet wash- ed themselves before entering in to pray. The Gate of Pardon, under the high-spired bell tower, takes its name from the cus ing several acres, not very lofty, yet im- posing from its exquisite proportions. A wilderness, a cool, dark labyrinth of pil- lars from which light horseshoe arches rise, broken midway for the curve of an- other arch surmounting each of these, spreads itself out under the roof on every handgrove of stone in a cave of stone, stretching so far that the eye can not fol- low its intricate regularity, its rare har RELIC PEDDLERS. tom which obtained of giving criminals refuge by its portal. The murderer who could fly hither and gain the central aisle of the temple, directly opposite the gate across the court, was safe for shelter by the inner mihrab (shrine), at the farther end of the aisle. All the nineteen aisles for- merly opened from the fragrant garden, though Catholic rule gives access by only three; but inside one sees at a glance the vast consecrated space which was so freely open to the Mussulmansa space cover- mony of confusion. The rash Christian renovators who, overruling the protest of the city, undertook to remodel so excep- tional a monument, covered the arches with whitewash; but many of them have been restored to the natural hues of their red and white marble. Imagine below them the pillars, smooth-shafted and with fretted capitals. Of old there were twelve hundred of them supporting the gilded beams and incorruptible larch of the roof; and a thousand still stand. Each is shaped SPANISH VISTAS. 213 from a single block, and many quarries con- the average human height they have been tributed them. Jasper and porphyry, black, worn dark, and even smoother than the white, and red emerald and rose marble, workmen left them, by the constant touch- re all represented among them; though ing and rubbing and leaning of genera- with their diversity they have thi, in corn- tions who have loitered and worshipped in mon that from the pavement up to about the solemn twilight that broods around THE GARDEN OF THE ALCAZAR, 214 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. them. A large number were appropriated from the old Roman temple which stood on the spot; others were plundered from temples at ancient Carthage; still others were brought entire from Constantinople. They typify the different powers that have been concerned in the making and un- making of Spain, and one could almost imagine that in every column is concealed some petrified warrior of those conflicting races, waiting for the spell that shall bring him to life again. FLOWERS FOR THE MARKET. On the surface of one of these marble cylinders is scratched a rude and feeble image of Christ on the cross, hardlynoticeable until point- ed out. It is said to have been traced there by the fin- ger-nail of a Christian cap- tive who was chained to the pillar when it formed part of a dungeon somewhere else. He had ten years for the work, and enjoyed the ad- vantage of a tool that would renew itself without expense whenever it began to wear out. I must say that we were touched by this dim record of the dead-and-gone prisoners silent suffering and faith. The shock of doubt struck us only when, in hnother part of the mosque, we came upon an- other pillar against the wall, bearing an exact reproduc- tion of the finger-nail sculpture, and fur- thermore provided with a holy-water basin and a lamp burning under the effigy of the captive, who appears to have been canon- ized. How is this l I asked the guide. Here is the same thing over again. He scrutinized me carefully, taking an exact measure of my credulousness, before he replied: Ab, but the other is the real one ! It all seems to depend on which pillar gets the start. But there is no deception whatever con- nected with the inner shrine, or mihrab, where there is a maiwellous alcove mark- ing the direction of Mecca, on the east. Its ceiling, in tIme shape of a quarter-globe, is cut from a single great piece of marble,. which is grooved like a shell. And when the light from candles is thrown into this Arab chapel, it sparkles upon elaborate enamelling on the surface, the vitreous glaze of minute and almost miraculon mosaic, making it flash and sparkle with rays of the ruby, the emerald, the topaz, and diamond. There in the dusk the glittering splendor scintillates as brilliant- ly as it did eight hundred years ago, and shoots its beams upon the unwary eye as if it were a cimeter of the defeated race sud- denly unsheathed for vengeance. In this place was kept the wondrous Koran stand of AI-Hakem II., which cost a sum equal now to about five million dollars. The PRIEST AND PURVEYOR. SPANISH VISTAS. 215 sacred book within it was incased in gold tissue embroidered with pearls and rubies, and around the spot where it was enshriued the solid white marble floor is unevenly worn into a circular hollow, where the servants of the Prophet used to crawl sev- en times iu succession on their hands and knees. This homage was paid by the brother of the Emperor of Morocco only a few years since, when he visited Spain, and indulged the luxurious woe of weeping over the fair empire his people had lost. The bewildering arabesques, the lines of which pursue and lose each other so mys- teriously about the shrine, managing to form pious inscriptions in their intricate convolutionsby an exception to all oth- er Hispano-Arabic decoration, which em- ploys only stuccoare wrought in marble, frigid and stern as death, but embossed into a living grace as of vine tendrils. Whetstone had been remarkably silent after entering the Mezquita. I fancied that he did not wholly approve of it. But after we had looked long at that epitome of the beautiful, he observed, impartially, in turning away, I tell you, those fellows knew how to chisel some. He had mere- ly been trying to reduce the facts to their lowest terms. Priests and boys were marching with crucifixes from the choir as we came away; the incense rolled up against the lofty smoke-dimmed altar; and the mild-faced celibate who played the organ sent har- monies of unusually rich music (perform- ed at our guides special request) reverber- ating among the thousand-columned maze of low arches. But my fancy went back to the time when gold and silver lamps had shed from their perfumed oils the only illumination there, and when the jewelled walls, smouldering in the faint light, had looked down upon the prostrate forms of robed and turbaned zealots. Then we passed out through the Court of Or- anges into the street, with those forty tow- ers of the cathedral wall again seen stand- ing guard around it, and found ourselves once more in modern Cordova. The breath of the South, the meridional aroma, welcomed us. The scent of the air in the neighboring Alcazar garden would of itself have been enough to tell us, in the dark, that we had entered An- dalusia. From this post of vantage one can see the thick brown current slowly oozing by, and the ancient bridge which spans it, fortified at both ends, connecting the Cordova of to-day with the opposite bank where the ancient city extended for two or three miles. With its great arch- ed gate, Roman made and finely sculp- tured, this mellow light brown structure TRAVELLERS TO cORDOVA. 216 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. makes an effective link in the landscape, and below its piers stand several Moorish mills, disused, but as yet unbroken by age or floods. We drove across the venerable viaduct afterward, and found that by an extraor- dinary dispensation some very fresh and shining silver coins of ancient Rome had lately been dug up from one of the shoals in the river (a peculiar place, by-the-way, to bury them in), and that our guide had some in his pocket. We forbore to de- prive him of such treasures, however, even at the very trifling price which he put upon them. II. From Cordova may be made, by those who are especially favored, one of the most interesting expeditions possible, to the Hermitage, or, as the church authori- ties name it, the Dcsicrta (desert), of soli- tary monks, genuine anchorites, a few miles distant in the Sierra Morena. There are obstacles more formidable than the purely physical ones in the way of this excursion, the bishop of the diocese being averse to granting permissions for the visit to any one who is not a good Catholic. Two Englishmen who came before us re- lying on the potent gold piece, had made the toilsome ascent only o find that their sterling sovereigns were of no avail. I think the presence of the Novice helped our party; but it would be unwise to reveal the stratagem by which we all gained ad- mittance. Let it be enough to say that we went to the bishops palace after the usual hours of business, and by humble apologies obtained an audience with the secretary. While we were waiting we sat down under a frivolously gorgeous rococo ceiling on a great double staircase of marble leading up from the patio, which was well planted with shrubs, and had walks paved with smooth round stones of various hue, set edgewise in extensive pat- terns. The vaulted ceiling resounded powerfully with every remark we made, which had the result of subduing our con- versation to whispers, for an attendant soon came to warn us that the bishop was asleep, and that we must not speak loud, on account of the echo. Profiting by the great mans siesta, we extracted the de- sired permission from his severe-faced but courteous secretary, who marked the doc- ument Especial. Our brief cavalcade of donkeys started the next morning at five, after we had taken a preternaturally early cup of choc- olate. The donkeys appeared to know just where we were going, and would not obey therein; the driver, walking behind, governed them by a system of negatives, informing them with a casual exclama- tion when they showed signs of turning where he didnt want them to. Advance there, Baker I he would cry. Dont you know better than that? What a wretched little beast! Do as I tell you. The ani- mal in question was named Bread-dealer, or Baker, and the one that I rode rejoiced in the eccentric though eminently literary appellation of College. To the right, College ! our muleteer would shout, exercising a despotic power over my four-footed institution of learn- ing. Get up, little mule. Arre, burr- r-rico ! firing off a volley of rs with a tremendous rising and falling intonation, which invariably moved the brute to take one or two rapid steps before dropping back into his customary slow walk. As the heat increased and the way grew steep- er, he sighed out his arr6gee up-in a long, melancholy drawl, which seemed to express profound despair concerning the mulish race generally. Muleteers in Spain are termed generically, from this surviv- ing Arabic word, arricros, or gee-up- pers, as we may translate it. In this manner we made our way along the dusty road among olive orchards, and a sort of oak called japarros, until we be- gan to mount by a rough, stony path which sometimes divided itself like the branches of a torrent, though we more than once succeeded in prodding the don- keys into a lively canter. The white facades of villas - quintets or carmcns they are denominated hereaboutstwin- kled out from nooks of the hills; but at that early hour everything was very still. We could almost see the silence around us. Higher up, Pnknown birds began to sing in the sparse boscage that clothed the mountain flank or clustered in its narrow dells. Midway of the ascent, furthermore, Baker, on whom Velazquez was seated in solemn stride, with a blanket in place of saddle, paused ominously, and then be- gan a nasal performance which shook our very souls. Why a donkey should bray in such a place it is hard to determine, but how he did it will forever remain impress- ed on our tympana. There was something peculiarly terrible and unnerving in the sound, and just as it ceased, our guide, SPANISH VISTAS. 217 ARRE, BURR~R-RICO ! 9 // 4 I / I (/7~~ 218 HAIRPEHS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Manuel, observed that this had once been ~a great place for robbers. A few years ~ago no one would have dared to come up -along this road as we are doing. He -added that they used to conceal themselves in the numerous caves in the region, and pointed out one fissure in the rocks which his liberal imagination converted into the entrance of a subterranean retreat running Yor several miles into the heart of the mountains. At the same instant, looking down across a gorge below our track, I saw a man with a gun moving through a patch of steep olives, as if to head us off at a point farther along, and on a jutting rock rib above us a memorial cross rose warn- ingly. Crosses were formerly put up in the most impossible places among these hills, to mark the spot where anybody fell a victim to bandits or assassins. The eld- er Dumas makes effective use of this fact in one of his short stories.* Brigands were themselves punctilious in setting up these reminders, which were held to exert an expiatory influence. If any one would understand how hopelessly the Spanish mind at one time perverted the relations of crime and religion, he may read Calde- rons Devotion of the Cross. wherein the hero, Eusebio, born at the foot of one of these way-side crosses, a terrible renegade who murders right and left, is saved by his reverence for the holy symbol. He is en- abled, by virtue of this pious sentiment, to rise up after he is dead, walk about, and confess his sins to a friar, after which he is caught up into heaven. The whole conjunction was somewhat alarming, but Manuel explained away our man with a gun by saying that he was merely one of the armed watchmen usu- ally attached to country estates to protect crops and stock from depredation. As for the bandits, they had now been quite dis- persed, he declared, by the Civil Guard. That name, it is true, called up new fears for Velazquez and myself as we thought of the two relentless men who were on our trail; but we knew that for the moment at least we were beyond their reach. At last we gained the very summit, and drew up under a porch at the walled gate of the Desert, while a shower began to fall in large scattered drops, like the lingering contents of some gigantic watering-pot, but soon spent itself. Our second pull at * Contained in the series called The Man With Five Wives. the mournful-sounding bell was answered by a sad young monk, who opened a square loop-hole in the wall, and asked our errand in a voice enfeebled by voluntary privations. After inspecting our pass, he told us, with a wan but friendly smile, that we must wait a little. It was Friday, and we had to wait rather long, for the hermits were just at that time undergoing the weekly flagellation to which they sub- ject themselves. But finally we were let in--donkeys, guide, arriero, and the col- ored maid Fan sharing the hospitality. An avenue of tall, sombre cypresses open- ed before us, leading to the main building and offices. The Desert, in fact, was green enough; well supplied with olives and pomegranates; and hedges of the prickly- pear, with its thick, stiff leaves shaped like a fire-shovel, and heavy as wax-work, cinctured the isolated huts in which the brothers dwell each by himself. Pre- cisely as we came to a triangular plot in front of the entrance we were confronted by a skull set up prominently in a sort of monument, giving force by its dusty grin to an inscription in Spanish, which read: As thou lookest, so once looked I~ as I look now, so wilt thou appear hereafter. Ponder upon this, and sin not. Shortly beyond stood a catacomb above-ground, in which a number of defunct hermits had been sealed up. It also bore a legend, but in Latin: The day of death is better than that of birth. In the vestibule of the house these drastic reminders of mortality were supplemented by two allegorical pictures hanging among some portraits of evanished worthies who had ended their penitential days theretwo crude paint- ings exhibiting The Soul Tortured by Doubt, and The Soul Blessed by Faith. It was not altogether in keeping with the unworldly and ascetic atmosphere of this spiritual refuge that a tablet in the wall should record with fulsome abasement of phrase how her Most Gracious Majesty Isabella II. had, some few years ago, deigned to visit the Desert, and how this stone had been placed there as a humble monument of her condescension. Cer- tainly, considering the ex-queens charac- ter (if it may claim consideration), it is hard to see what honor the anchorites should find in her visiting their abode. A gray-haired brother, robed in the coarse and weighty brown serge which he is obliged to wear in winter and summer alike, received us kindly and showed us SPANISH VISTAS. 219 the expensively adorned plateresque chap- el. He knelt and bowed nearly to the threshold before unlocking the door, crossed himself, and knelt again on the pavement within; then, advancing far- ther, he dropped down once more on both knees, and bent over as if he had some intention of using his good-natured, sim- ple old head as a mop to polish the black and white marble squares, but ended by signing another cross, and moving his lips in noiseless prayer. The national manner of making the cross is peculiar: after the usual touching of forehead and breast, the Spanish Catholic concludes by suddenly attempting to swallow his thumb and then as hastily pulling it out of his mouth again, to save it up for some other time. This movement, I suppose, em- blemizes the eating of the consecrated wafer, but it makes a grotesque impression that is anything but solemn. At times you will also see him execute a unique triple cross, with strange passes and dabs in the air which might easily be mistaken for preliminary strategy directed against some erring mosquito engaged in guerrilla warfare on his eyebrow. We were obliged, in conformity, to do as our Catholic com- panions did, receiving the holy water and making a simple cross an act which, without being of their faith, one may per- form with unsectarian reverence. Bro- ther Esteban was on the watch to see that proper devotion was shown in this pecul- iarly sacred chapel, and in the midst of his adoration he turned quickly upon Manuel, asking, Why dont you go down on both your knees in the accustom- ed manner Manuel, being a master of ready decep- tion, answered without an instants delay, Ah, that is my misfortune, that I lately had an accident to that leg (indicating the one which had not sunk far enough), and that is why it is not easy to get down on both knees. However, he spread his handkerchief wider, and painfully brought the offending member into place. Esteban frankly apologized, and then the praying went on again. The hermits, as I have said, have their sep- arate cottages scattered about the grounds, each with a small patch of land to be cul- tivated. There theyraise fruit, which their rules forbid them to eat, and so it is car- ried down as a present to some wealthy Cor- dovan families who support the hermit- age by their largesses. Every day poor folk toil up from the plain, some five miles, to this airy perch, and are fed by the monks; but they themselves eat little, ab THE FRUIT OF THE DESIERTA. 220 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. staining from meat, wine, coffee, teaev- erything, indeed, except some few ounces of daily bread, a pint of garbanzos (the tasteless, round yellow bean which is the universal food of the poor in Spain), and a soup made of bread, oil, and gar- lic. They live on nothing and prayer. They rise at three in the morning, and thrice a week they fast from that hour until noon. Their step is slow, and their voices have a strange, inert, sickly sound; but they appeared cheerful enough, and joked with each other. I asked Esteban the name of a tiny yellow flower growing by the path, and he couldnt tell me; but be plucked it tenderly, and began dis- coursing to Manuel on its beauty. Tan chiquita, he said, in his poor soft voice. So little, little, and yet so precious and so finely made ! Another brother was deeply absorbed in snipping off bits of coiled brass wire with a pair of pincers. These are for the Our Fathers, he ex- plained, meaning the large beads in the rosary, separated from the smaller Ave Maria ones by links of wire. The cot- tages or huts, surrounded by an outer wall, contain a cell, sometimes cut out of a bowlder lying on the spot, where there is a rude cot, a shelf for holy books and the crucifix, and a grated window, across which waves, perhaps, the broad-leaved bough of a fig - tree. An anteroom, provided with a few utensils and the disciplinary scourge hanging mildly against the wall, completes the strange interior. The lives of the hermits of the Sierra are reduced to the ghastly simplicity of a skeleton; a part of their time is spent in contempla- ting skulls, and they have a habit of dig- ging their own graves, in order to keep more plainly before their minds the end of all earthly careers. Mistaken as all this seems to many of us, there was a peacefulness about the hermitage for which many a storm-tossed soul sighs in vain; and I am glad that some few crea- tures can find here the repose they desire while waiting for death. Some of the hermits are men of rank, who have retired hither disheartened with the world; oth- ers are low-born, men afflicted by some form of misfortune or misdemeanor of their own, who wish to hide from life; but all assemble in a pure democracy of sorrow and penitential piety, apparently contented. When night closed above us again in the city; when mellow lamps glowed, and a tropical fragrance flowed in from the gardens; when in the long dusky pauses of warm nocturnal silence the watch- mans weary and pathetic cry resounded, or gloomy church bells rang the hour the romance of Cordova seemed to con- centrate itself, and fell upon me, as I list- ened, in cadences like these: FLOWER OF SPAIN. Like a throb of the heart of midnight I hear a guitar faintly humming, And through the Alcazar garden A wandering footstep coming. A shape by the orance bowers shadow Whose shape? Is it mhie in a dream? For my senses are lost in the perfumes That out of the dark thicket stream. Mid the tinkle of Moorish waters And the rush of the Guadalquivir, The rosemary breathes to the jasmine, That trembles with joyous fear. And their breath goes silently upward, Far up to the white burning stars, With a message of sweetness, half sorrow, Unknown but to souls that bear sears. Here, midway between stars and flowers, I know not which draw me the most: Shall my years yield earthly sweetness? Shall I shine from the sky like a ghost? A spirit I can not quiet Bids me bow to the unseen rod. I dream of a lily transplanted, To bloom in the garden of God. Yet the footsteps come nearer and nearer; Still moans the soft-trouo d strain Of the strings in the dusk. Well I know it: Twas called for me Flower of Spain. Ah, yes, my lover he made it, And called it by my pet name: I hear it, andIm but a woman It sweeps through my heart like a flame. The nights heart and mine flow together; The music is beating for each. The moons gone, the nightingale silent; Light and song are both in his speech. As the musky shadows that mingle, As star-shine and flower-scent made one, Our spirits in gladness and anguish Have met. Their waiting is done. But over the leaves and the waters What echoes the stran~e clanging bells Send afloat from the dim-arched Mezquita! How mournful the cadence that swells From the lonely roof of the convent Where pale nuns rest! On the bill Far off, the hermits in vigil Are bowed at the crucifix still. And the brown plain slumbers around us. O land of remembrance and grief, If I am truly the flower, How withered are you, the leaf! There was a good deal of discussion among our group of pilgrims as to the SPANISH VISTAS. 221 I MEMENTO MORI. 222 HAIRPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. propriety of a foundation like the her- mitage of the Sierra continuing to exist in an age like the present one. Whetstone, who had declined to visit it, was of opin- ion that men who led such idle lives should be suppressed by law, and even went so far as to talk about hanging. As for the rest of us, it was not easy to pronounce that we were of much more value than the hermits; and assuredly those earnest as- cetics compared favorably with our mule- driver, who was remarkable only for an expression of incipient humor that was never able to attain the height of actual expression. I was sure that as he sighed out his final Arr6 in this world, he would pass into the next with that vacant smile on his face, and the joke which he might have perpetrated under fortunate circumstances still unuttered. Nor did the average life of Cordova strike us as signally indispensable to the worlds pro- gress. It was doubtless a very pleasant, lazy life so far as it went. They have a charming fashion there of building houses with pleasant interior courts, in which the selinda, a vine with pale lavender clusters of blossoms suggesting the wistaria, droops amid matted foliage, and lends its grace alike to crumbling architecture or modern masonry. In these courts, separated from the street by gates of iron grating beauti- fully designed, you will see pleasant little domestic groups, and possibly a whole din- ner party going on in the fresh air. It was likewise agreeable to repair to a certain restaurant restored in the Moorish manner, and there, while clapping hands echoed through the light arcades, drink iced beer and lemona refreshing beverage, which might reasonably take the place of fiery punches, in America, for hot weather. Neither will I deny, said Velazquez, that it is a won- derful sensation to stray into the Plaza de Geron Paez and come up suddenly against that glorious old Roman gate growing up as naturally as the trees in front of it, but so much more wonderful than theywith its fine crumbling yellow traceries. How nice- ly it would tell in a sketch, eh, with some of the royal grooms, the remontistas, walking through the foreground in their quaint costumes ! The men to whom he referred wear in the best sense, a thoroughly theatrical garb of scarlet and black, finished off by boots of Cordovan leather in the style of sixteenth-century Spain, turned down at the top, laced, tasselled, and slashed open by a curve that runs from the side down to the back of the heel. This shows the white stocking under short trousers, giv- ing to the mas- culine calf and ankle a grace for which they are usuallydeniedall credit. For the rest, dwellers in mod- em Cordova at- tend mass and vespers, stroll around to the confectioners of an afternoon to eat sweetmeats, especially sugar- ed higoehuinbos (the unripe prickly-pear boiled in syrup), or the famed and fragrant preserve of budding orange blossoms known as dulces de aizahar; and the remainder of the time they while away pleasantly in loitering on the Street of the Great Captain, or in peer- ing from their windows at whatever passes beneath. DIFFICULT FOR FOREIGNzRs. I. ON a bright morning, fifty years or more ago, Christian Bergh, father of Henry Bergh, was sitting in his office at the northeast corner of Scammel and Wa- ter streets, not far from what is now the Grand Street Ferry, watching some work- men in his ship-yard. He was in a region of ship-yards. Below him, at the foot of Montgomery Street, was the ship-yard of Thorn and WilliamsStephen Thorn and honest old Jabez Williams, as they used to call himand lower still, near the foot of Clinton Street, the ship - yard of Car- penter and Bishop. Ficket and Thoms s yard (afterward at the foot of Houston Street) adjoined it, and, farther south, James Morgan and Son had built a bark at the foot of Rutgers Street, and Joseph Martin the brig Mary Jane at the foot of Jefferson Street, and the ship General Page at the foot of Pike Street. Above Mr. Bergh was a series of yards extend- ing along the East River as high up as Thirteenth Street: Sneden and Lawrences yard, near the foot of Corlears Street; Sam- uel Harnards yard, near the foot of Grand Street; Brown and Bells yard, from Stan- ton to Houston streets, which was former- ly occupied partly by Henry Eckford, and partly by Adam and Noah Brown; Smith and Dimons yard, from Fourth to Fifth streets; Webb and Allens yard (afterward William H. Webbs), from Fifth to Seventh streets; Bishop and Simonsons yard (aft- erward Westervelt and Mackays), from Seventh to Eighth streets; James R. and George Steerss yard, Williani H. Browns yard, and Thomas Collyers yard, higher still. Many other builders or repairers of ships occupied the same interesting shore of the East River at about the same time or later: Mr. George Thorburn, a well-known spar-maker, who now uses a part of the old yard of Sneden and Lawrence, counted, the other day, not less than thirty-three of them, whose yards resounded with the axes and hammers of busy American ship-carpenters, calkers, blacksmiths, and joiners. Above the northernmost yard AN OLD-TIME SHIP LAUNCH. THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK.

G. W. Sheldon Sheldon, G. W. The Old Ship-Builders of New-York 223-242

I. ON a bright morning, fifty years or more ago, Christian Bergh, father of Henry Bergh, was sitting in his office at the northeast corner of Scammel and Wa- ter streets, not far from what is now the Grand Street Ferry, watching some work- men in his ship-yard. He was in a region of ship-yards. Below him, at the foot of Montgomery Street, was the ship-yard of Thorn and WilliamsStephen Thorn and honest old Jabez Williams, as they used to call himand lower still, near the foot of Clinton Street, the ship - yard of Car- penter and Bishop. Ficket and Thoms s yard (afterward at the foot of Houston Street) adjoined it, and, farther south, James Morgan and Son had built a bark at the foot of Rutgers Street, and Joseph Martin the brig Mary Jane at the foot of Jefferson Street, and the ship General Page at the foot of Pike Street. Above Mr. Bergh was a series of yards extend- ing along the East River as high up as Thirteenth Street: Sneden and Lawrences yard, near the foot of Corlears Street; Sam- uel Harnards yard, near the foot of Grand Street; Brown and Bells yard, from Stan- ton to Houston streets, which was former- ly occupied partly by Henry Eckford, and partly by Adam and Noah Brown; Smith and Dimons yard, from Fourth to Fifth streets; Webb and Allens yard (afterward William H. Webbs), from Fifth to Seventh streets; Bishop and Simonsons yard (aft- erward Westervelt and Mackays), from Seventh to Eighth streets; James R. and George Steerss yard, Williani H. Browns yard, and Thomas Collyers yard, higher still. Many other builders or repairers of ships occupied the same interesting shore of the East River at about the same time or later: Mr. George Thorburn, a well-known spar-maker, who now uses a part of the old yard of Sneden and Lawrence, counted, the other day, not less than thirty-three of them, whose yards resounded with the axes and hammers of busy American ship-carpenters, calkers, blacksmiths, and joiners. Above the northernmost yard AN OLD-TIME SHIP LAUNCH. THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 224 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the bank of the river sloped into a beau- tiful beach of clean fine sand, where at evening scores of men and women assem- bled to bathe in Arcadian simplicity. Dan- dy Point, or Pint, as they called it, was the name of this popular resort, and no summer night passed without witnessing the arrival of bathing parties of twenty or more persons of both sexes. Down from the big wagons they jumped, the men go- ing to one spot, the women to another not far off; and when their clothes had been exchanged for older or less valuable ones, without the protection of bath-houses of any kind, down into the water they ran, disporting themselves as freely as dol- phins. Sandy Gibsons tavern, with its supply of cakes and drinks, was the favorite resort of pleasure-seekers on the beach. There was considerable bathing also near the foot of Corlears Streeta spot chiefly distinguished, however, for the number of baptisms that it witnessed, the candidates being brought thither in car- riages from the Baptist churches of the city, and submerged in the clear water the river drained no sewers then-by their respective pastors, before a crowd of inter- ested and well-behaved spectators. The Williamsburg shore, with its modest cot- tages, gardens, and orchards, was the fa- vorite fruit market of the calkers arid ship-carpenters: they nsed to row across the river in sniall boats, and steal the apples that complemented their mid-day meals. Morning, noon, and evening, Lewis Street was almost filled with the mnltitude of mechanics going to work in the ship-yards, or returning thence; the sidewalks did not begin to be wide enough to hold them. The traveller who sailed down the East River and saw the spacious HENRY ECEFORD. THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 225 yards that lined the New York shore, the noble vessels on the stocks, the thousands of busy workmen, and the huge collec- tions of timberwhite oak, hackmatack, and locust for the ribs of the ships, yellow pine for the keelsons and ceiling timbers, white pine for the floors, live-oak for the apronsmight have been pardoned for supposing that Manhattan Island was the head-quarters of the ship-building of the world for such indeed it was. The glory has departed: not one of those ship-yards is left. In their place are machine shops, sash - and - blind factories, lumber yards, sugar refineries, and coal wharves a transformation so complete that Mr.Whit- tier might find in it a subject for another Ichabod. Christian Bergh, as we have said was sitting in his office, looking at some work- men, a hundred and fifty feet away, in his ship-yard. To one of them, who had just finished trimming a piece of timber, he shouted, Thats three-quarters of an inch out of line, and in a few minutes was be- side the offending mechanic, npbraiding him in warmest terms. You are mis- taken, said the man; the beam is all right, appealing to Mr. Robert Connolly and Mr. Jacob A. Westervelt, other inem- bers of the firm, who sustained his posi- tion. Mr. Bergh insisted upon the justice of his criticism, and proved it by measure- ment. Bergh had a hawks eye, said this mechanic to the writer, fifty years aft- er the event just described. The bea lay fore and aft to him as he sat in his office, and though a hundred and fifty feet away, he detected the deflection of three- quarters of an inch from the horizontal. WILLIAM H. WEBBS OLD OFFICE. 226 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. On the inner side of one of the covers of an immense German Bible now in the possession of a member of that old ship- builders family is the following entry: Christian Bergh was born April 30, 1763, and baptized, May 12, in Wetteuburgh Church, in Rhinebeck Pre- ciucthe died June 24, 1843. Aged 80. The existing rec- ords of the Bergh family in this country go back to the year 1200, and there were still earlier records, destroyed dur- ing the Revolutionary war; so that Mr. Henry Bergh, the founder of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Ani- mals, seems justified in saying, If there is such a thing as an American, I think I am one. Having submitted to the usu- al course of apprenticeship, Christian Bergh was appoint- ed by the United States gov- ernment to superintend the construction of the President and other war vessels in the Brooklyn Navy-yard; and at the breaking out of the war of 1812 was sent to Lake Erie to build sloops and cutters for service against the enemy. On returning to New York he established a ship-yard at the foot of Scammel Street on the East River, and built packets for the Liverpool, London, and Havre lines; and the frigate Hellas for the Greeks, which was blown up by order of her commander in a Turkish port, whence she had been un- able to escape. Another famous vessel was the 6-gun schooner Antarctic, constructed by Mr. Bergh for a Captain Morrell, who proposed to go to one of the islands of the Antarctic Ocean for a cargo of b& he la- mare, a fish for which there was great demand. Her history was romantic. On arriving at the place of destination, the captain began to catch and cure his fish under the eyes of the barbarian inhabit- ants, whose friendship he believed he had secured, but who one day suddenly made a descent upon him, and butchered all but three or four of his crew. The survivors hurriedly took to a boat, rowed to their vessel, weighed anchor, sailed to Manila, restocked her at great expense with men and munitions of war, and returned to the hostile islanders, who, in great fear, sent out a canoe with an embassy of peace. Captain Morrell was about to fire upon the canoeists, when one of them called, in good English, Dont shoot, captain. JACOB A. IVESTERVELT. DAVID BROWN. THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 227 He was a relic of the captains old crew, and during the treacherous assault of the natives had saved himself by creeping into the bushes, where the kino of the isl- and, on a promenade, found him, and aft- er striking the unlucky fellow on the head so hard as to lay his scalp open, and pour- ing sand and sea-water into the wound, made a slave of him. Morrell brought the sailor home, and with him a cargo of seal-skins that fetched a handsome price. He published a volume, in which he re- corded some valuable discoveries that are now to be found on the maritime charts. In the neighborhood of Scammel and Henry streets Mr. Berghs tall, commaiid- ing figure (he stood six feet six in his stockin~,s), his blue frock-coat, blne trou- sers, broad-brimmed high hat, and white neckcloth which no collar ever creased, are still remembered by a few old residents. The old gentlemans popularity caused him to be respected by the politicians, and many a time did he preside with grace and dignity in Tammany Hall (on the site of the present Sun building), though stead- fastly refusing to run for office. His hon- esty was proverbial, his dislike of debt a passion. In his last illness the one thing uppermost in his mind was that his physi- cians bill had not been paid. To the re- voL. Lxv.No. 386.i 5 ply that the bill was not yet presented and not yet due, he said to his son: Henry, I wish yon would have a check made out. On being assured that the matter would be attended to, he nevertheless repeated the request, and finally, in order to quiet him, his son filled out a check for his signa- ture, which, with a trembling band, was affixed. In a few days the honest old Democrat was dead. His handsome pro- perty was divided among his three chil- dren, Edwin (who died on the 4th of May, 1876, at Henry Berghs house, No. 429 Fifth Avenue), Henry, and a daughter. Henrys share was the old homesteada two-story frame house, with attic, at the northeast corner of Scammel and Water streets, where his fathers office was, in an excellent neighborhood, old Colonel Rut- gers, the Crosbys, and Henry Eckford liv- ing near by. The property extended north to Grand Street, and among the trees in its orchard was an ox-heart cherry-tree the like of which the Bergh children never saw elsewhere. Henry, who had just returned from Europe, built ten five-story tenement- houses on the site of the homestead, the first in New York city to give each fami- ly a floor to itself. Fire-escapes and oth- er philanthropic conveniences were not wanting, and to-day these buildings are THE GREAT WESTERN. 228 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. still models of their kind. Christian Bergh would not consent to have a por- trait of himself taken; he had an impres- sion that to do so would betoken a certain aristocratic vanityas if he considered himself of sufficient importance to make arrangements for the preservation of his verisimilitude after death. Henry, what do you want a picture of me for ? he once asked of his son: merely to be put up into the garret some day or other, and covered with dust ? It is remembered to the honor of Chris- tian Bergh that he was the first ship-build- er who had the courage to employ colored men. II. At the immense fire - place (it was so large that a man could easily sit in the chimney) in the Bergh house Henry Eck- ford was a frequent visitor. Indeed, Berghs principal amusement was in go- ing to see Eckford, and Eckfords princi- pal amusement in going to see Bergh. Henry Eckford was a Scotchman, who came to this country in 1796, when twen- ty-one years old, and, like his friend Chris- tian Bergh, rose into prominence during the war of 1812, having obtained contracts for building government vessels on the lakes. His house on Water Street is still standing. Not striking in personal appearance, he was a genuine mechanic, and much liked by his men, one of whom, Mr. Thomas Megson, an octogenarian, of Eighteenth Street, New York city, speaks of him to this day in terms of enthusiastic admiration. Eckfords yard in 1801 was near the Brooklyn Navy-yard, and there he built the ship Samuel Elama ship of 350 tons, whose figure-head represented a man on horseback, and whose bowsprit was high enough to clear the fuans head; and the ship Beaver, for John Jacob As- tor, which carried a cargo of 1100 tons in her live-oak frame, and after a service of more than forty years was broken up to furnish timber for another vessel. On Lake Ontario, in 1812, Eckford built sev- eral war vessels for the government, and had a large frigate on the stocks when peace was proclaimed. Soon afterward he became Superintendent of the Brook- lyn Navy-yard, and built the United States frigate Ohio. He seems to have had the instincts of a reformer, for one day, pass- ing the blacksmiths shop, and seeing that the commodores horses were being shod there at the national expense, he ordered the grooms to remove the animals at once. The business of this shop, he said, is to repair government vessels, not to shoe commodores horses. In his own yard he built a frigate apiece for Brazil, Colom- bia, Peru, and Chili. Having received an advantageous and very flattering offer from the Turkish government, Eckford accepted a commission as naval construct- or at Constantinople. His departure cre- ated considerable excitement in New York city, chiefly because he took with him a number of American mechanics, who were promised what was then considered the extraordinary sum of two dollars a day apiece, the time of service to be reckoned from the moment they started on the voy- age. The hopes of the company were of short duration. Eckford lived only about a year after reaching the Turkish capital. His untimely death occurred on the 12th of November, 1832. These menBergh and Eckfordwere brought into prominence by the war of 1812, which marked the first great era of New York ship-building. The entire coast of the United States having been exposed to the attacks of British cruisers, a demand arose for the construction of vessels that should meet those of the enemy, and, in the words of Commodore Perry, make them ours. Among the New - Yorkers summoned to build a fleet for that gallant commodore on the shore of Lake Erie the same fleet with which he captured the British men-of-war near Put-in-Bay on the 10th of September, 1813were Adam and Noah Brown, who soon launched sev- eral privateers, among them the York- town, Teaser, Paul Jones, Saratoga, and General Armstrong, the latter especially distinguishing herself by going under the stern of a British man-of-war in the Eng- lish Channel, and by blockading an Eng- lish port. But the most famous of their vessels was a steam-battery called Fulton the First, designed by Robert Fulton, and built by Adam and Noah Brown, under the superintendence of commissioners ap- pointed by William Jones, Secretary of the Navy, her keel being laid on the 20th of June, 1814. Eight years before, the first steamboat in the world was constructed in the yard of another American ship-builder, Charles Browne (not a relative of Adam and Noah Brown), after the design of Robert Fulton, who had brought her engines from Eng THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OP NEW YORK. 229 land. She was called the Clerinont, and was intended to ply between New York city and Albany. One of the few persons alive this year who remembered the trial trip of the Cler- mont was the late ship-builder Mr. Her- bert Lawrence. He died last March, at his residence, No. 267 Henry Street, in his ninety-fourth year, after an illness of about two months. The children in the neighborhood, for whom he always had a pleasant word, and often a piece of money, will miss that benevolent and well-pre- served nonogenarian. In 1817 he built the Bolona, the first steamboat command- ed by Captain (afterward Commodore) Vanderbilt, tbe model of which is said to be in the possession of William H. Van- derbilt. He and his partner, Mr. Sneden, built also the first of the large Sound steamboatsthe President, Boston, Em- pire State, Granite State, and Bay State; and it used to be the delight of the boys to go in swimmin~ off the docks about five o clock in the afternoon, and float in the wake of those vessels. One of Mr. Law- rence s sons is a ship-builder at Green- point. III. The two most eminent apprentices of Henry Eckford were Isaac Webb (father GEORGE STEERS. of Williani H. Webb), of the firm of Webb and Allen, and Stephen Smith, of the firm of Smith and Dimon. Isaac Webb was born in Stamford, Connecticut, in 1794, the son of Wilsey Webb, himself after- ward a ship-carpenter in Eck- fords yard. Among the ships built by him in his first yard, at the foot of Montgomery Street, were the Superior and the Splendid, for the China trade, of about 300 tons each. They were in their time the largest merchant ships in the United States, unfortunately too large, there being no cargoes for them. The Splendid became a Havre packet. A New York gentle- man, during an absence from his family, wrote home from Constantinople as follows: I have the most unbounded con- fidence in the honor and integ- rity of Isaac Webb, and I can not be mistaken; and it is my particular wish that he may be consulted an.d advised with by my whole family as a man in whom they may implicitly rely, and one whose judgment is good on all subjects with which he is acquainted. He is cautious in business, and not easily led JAMES it. STEERS. 230 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. astray. On the whole, I think him one of money. The ship Mary Howland had the safest men I have met as a friend. It great celebrity in her day because of her is related of Isaac Webb, who was very size; crowds thronged the wharves to see considerate of the feelings of his workmen, hershe was of about 500 tons. The that when he had occasion to find fault North River boats Rochester, Jarne Kent, and Oregon, and the GreekfrigateLiberator(which was built in four months and twenty days), were other pro- ducts of Smiths genius. The ship Independence, just men- tioned, was one of the most cel- ebrated of the Liverpool pack- ets; she was built in 1834, was 140 feet long, 32 feet wide, 20 feet deep, and 734 tons burden. Commanded by the famous Captain Ezra Nyc, she for sev- eral years s~iiled regularly on the 6th of March, and carried the Presidents Message. David Brown, of the firm of Brown and Bell, was the neph- ew and adopted son of Noah Brown, of the firm of Adam and Noah Brown. He died in Princeton, New Jersey, on Christmas-day, 1852, and when his body was brought to New York for burial, his friends no- ticed that many flags in the shipping were at half - mast. The sailors in the government JACOB BELL. vessels in the harbor used ta man the shrouds when Noah with a mechanic who had done a piece of Brown went on board. The late Dr. work to the best of his ability, but not ex- William A. Dod, Lecturer on Architect- actly in the best style, he would say, ure in the College of New Jersey, used to John, if I had had this to do, I should speak with much warmth of the beauty have done thus an so, indicating the of the lines of David Browns vessels. way; but if the man offered to do it over Mr. Brown received from the Emperor of again, he would invariably say, No mat- Russia a diamond ring in acknowledg- ter, thus sparing his pride while teaching me t of some drawings lent to that mon- him a lesson. arch. One midni,ht he was awakene Stephen Smith, of the firm of Smith by loud rapping at the door of his house. and Dimon, was, like Isaac Webb, a na- The Seventh Ward Bank was in trouble, tive of Stamford, and an apprentice of and some of the directors had called to Eckfords. Among his celebrated ships beg him to take the presidency as the only were the packets Independence and Ros- hope of carrying them through the crisis. coe, and the clippers Rainbow and Sea Very reluctantly he consented, and from Witch. His partner, Mr. Dimon, attend- that hour the banks dist ess ceased. H ed principally to the business of repairing built many ships for the Liverpool packet vesselsusually the most profitable de- linesthe Liverpool, of 1174 tons, in 1843; partment of a ship-building firms enter- the Queenof ti e West, of 1168 tons. His. prisesand is related by the late Dr. A. favorite ship was the Roscius, of E. K. K. Gardner (from an unpublished mann- Collinss Dramatic Line. Nothing, he script by whom, some facts in this narra- used to say, can beat the Roscius. tive are taken) to have said on one occasion, About 1846 Mr. Brown determined to retir Smith builds the ships, and I make the from business, in spite of the remonstrances THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 231 of his friends. He had long desired to spend his days in the country, and his ample fortune made him independent. Four years afterward he died. His part- ner, Jacob Bell, continued the business and constructed two of the Collins Line of steam-ships, the Pacific and the Baltic. Jacob A. Westervelt was a native of Hackensack, Bergen County, New Jersey, and the son of a ship-builder. He learned the art, trade, and mystery of his pro- fession by serving as a common sailor, and as an apprentice of Christian Bergh. Having finished his time with Mr. Bergh, he established himself in business in Sa- vannah, and built several vessels there; but on the invitation of his old boss he returned to New York, and became a mem- ber of the firm of C. Bergh and Company, Mr. Robert Connolly being a third mem- ber, and so continued until 1837, when each partner retired with a fortune. In- deed, all the old ship-builders that have beea mentioned became rich, with perhaps the single exception of Isaac Webb. Aft- er a trip to Europe, Mr. Westervelt became associated with Nathan Roberts, and built two ships in Williamsburg. He went back to New York, entered into business with Mr. Mackay, and built many ships. While a member of the firm of C. Bergh and Company he constructed most of the Havre packets and London packets that were launched previous to 1837. In 1852 he was elected Mayor of New York city, and on leaving office was awarded the contract for building the United States stean)-frigate Brooklyn. lie finally took his sons into partnership, under the style of Westervelt and Company. Mr. Con- nolly and Mr. Westervelt built houses for themselves side by side, in East Broadway, facing Grand Street, and over the front door was a large stone cap on which was carved a representation of a ships taifrail. John Englis was born in the city of New York on the 27th of November, 1808. Aft- er serving an apprenticeship in the yard of Stephen Smith, lie became foreman in the yard of Bishop and Simonson. In 1837 he went to Lake Erie, and built the steamers Milwaukee and Bed Jacket, and on returning to New York opened a ship- yard of his own at the foot of East Tenth Streetan immense establishment, cover- ing 140000 square feet, and employing at times the services of 450 men. His spe- cialty was in the construction of steam- boats of improved model and speed, hav- ing built fifty-six of them, of an average burden of 1500 tons each, previously to the year 1866. Of his seven steamers for the China trade, the chief was the Stono Nada, which made the trip from Hong-Kong to Shanghai in fifty-six hours-a distance of one thousand miles. The Albany steam- boat St. John, of the Peoples Line, built in 1863, was one of the largest and finest vessels of his construction, costing ~600, 000, and entering the lists as the first of the great floating palaces that navigate the North River. She was soon followed by THE OLD MECHANICS BELL TOWER. 232 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the Dean Richmond and the Drew. The Sound steamer Newport, which makes the voyage from New York to Newport, 160 miles, in eight hours, is another envoy from Mr. Engliss yard. A bronze medal, awarded to John Englis and Son for a model of the United States revenue-cutter Ashuelot, 1863, by the American Insti- tute, is a trophy valued because of the great competition then existing in that de- partment of American ship-building. The following letter explains itself: NAVY DEPARTMENT, October 8, 1861. SIR :The Department is niuch gratified to learn that the Unadilla, built by you, is the first of the gun-boats that has been delivered, as well as being the first that was launched, in the short space of fifty-eight days, and twelve days within the contract time. It gives the Department much pleasure to add that the re- ports of the Inspector are in the highest de- gree complimentary of the manner in which the work has been executed. Jam, respectfully, your obedient servant, GIDEON WELLES. JOHN ENCLIs, Esq., New York. Ix]-. The life of an apprentice to a ship-build- er fifty years ago would be distressful to a modern mechanic. Two of Eckfords ap- prentices, Thomas Megson and William Bennett, still live to testify to their early hardships. Andrew Craft, now Inspector of Steamboats at the Port of New York, and John Englis, the well-known ship- builder at Greenpoint, went through the same mill. How fine that mill ground is evident from the following little docu- ment, which hangs in a neat frame in Mr. Engliss office: This Indenture witnesseth, That John En- gus, now aged sixteen years, nine months, and twenty-four days, by and with the consent of George Bell, his step-father, bath put himself, and by these Presents doth voluntarily and of his own free will and accord put himself; ap- prentice to Stephen Smith, of the city of New York, ship-carpenter, to learn the art, trade, and mystery of a ship-carpenter, and after the manner of an apprentice to serve from the day of the date hereof, for and during and until the full end and term of four years, two months, and seven days next ensuing: during all which time the said apprentice his master faithfully shall serve, his secrets keep, his lawful com- mands everywhere readily ohey: he shall do no damage to his said master, nor see it done by others without telling or giving notice thereof to his said master: he shall not waste his said masters goods, nor lend them unlaw fully to any: he shall not contract matrimony within the said term: at cards, dice, or any un- lawful game he shall not play, whereby his said master may have damage: with his own goods nor the goods of others without license from his said master he shall neither buy nor sell: he shall not ahsent himself day nor night from his masters service without his leave; nor haunt ale-houses, taverns, dance - houses, or play-houses; but in all things behave himself as a faithful apprentice ought to do during the said term. And the said master shall use the utmost of his endeavors to teach, or cause to be taught or instructed, the said apprentice in the trade or mystery of a ship-carpenter, and the said master shall pay to the said appren- tice the sum of two dollars and fifty cents weekly for each and every week he shall faith- fully serve him during the said term. And also shall pay to him, the said apprentice, the sum of forty dollars per year, payable quarterly, for each and every of the said years, which is in lieu of meat, drink, washing, lodging, cloth- ing, and all other necessaries. And for the true performance of all and singular the cove- nants and agreements aforesaid, the said par- ties bind themselves each unto the other firm- ly by these Presents. In witness thereof the parties to these Presents have hereunto set their hands and seals the 10th day of Septem her, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five. STEPHEN SMITH, JOHN ENGLIS, GEORGE BELL. His apprenticeship fulfilled, the youth became at twenty-one years of age a full- fledged mechanic; but it would be a mis- take to suppose that his labors were easy. He worked from sunrise to sunsetthat i~ to say, from half past 4 oclock A.M. in summer till half past 7 oclock ~ a period of fifteen hoursfor $1 25 a day. At 5 oclock in the morning he was al- lowed an hour for breakfast, but on reach- ing home was usually too tired to enjoy that meal or to eat much of it. At 1~ oclock he had two hours for dinner. Hi~ supper came after the days labor. The heaviest beams, which are now lifted to the stocks by stealn or horse power, he carried on his shoulders, his bosses working with him, and usually not sparing their emphat- ic orders. Many hours would be consumed in the sawing of a piece of live-oak timber, one man standing upon it, and the other below it, in a ditch that had been dug t& hold him, his face protected by a veil from the dust, while to-day a circular steam-saw would go through such a beam about as~ fast as you could walk. Often, when th~ sun had set, one of the bosses invited his~ THE OLD men to refresh themselves from a pail of brandy and water, and then suggested that some timbers be raised; so that it was dark before the raisers reached home. Jacob A. Westervelt had to walk three miles to get there. A faint ray of light illumined the scene at 11 oclock AM. and 4 oclock P.M., the hours for grog, when for three cents the mechanic obtained at the neighboring shops a glass of brandy much better than that for which the guest of a Broadway hotel to-day pays twenty-five cents. Good ci- gars cost three cents apiece. Presently wages became $1 50 a day, and very soon afterward $1 75, when the overjoyed mechanics re- solved to strike for a day of ten hours instead of the pre- vailing fifteen hours. The bosses offered them $2 a day of the old hours, but the offer was rejected, and a day of ten hours ushered in; and in order that the privilege so won should not by any possibility be impaired, the workmen passed around the hat and raised money enough to buy a bellthe old Mechanics Bellwhich they erected on a small tower in Lewis Street, between Fourth and Fifth streets, near where it now stands, although recently recast. They hired a saw-filer in the neighborhood to ring the bell four times dailyat 7 oclock, 12 oclock, 1 oclock, and 6 oclockand were insatiable in their demand that he should be prompt, paying him for his serv- ices $50 a year, and obtaining the money by passing around the hat. At any of these hours he might have been seen cross- ing the street with his little ladder, which he planted against the shed on which the tower stood, and after mounting it, pro- ceeding to ring the bell by means of a lever very like a pump handle. Every time he lowered the lever the bell turned a complete somersault. The silver watch of the ringer and the silver tones of the bell still linger in the memories of thou- sands of American shipwrights. SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 233 The amusements of these mechanics were simple but thorough. There was a good deal of boat-rowing on the river for one thing; and the East River Garden,~~ on Cherry Street, a part of it roofed for a stage, where singing and acting were pro- vided. A balloon occasionally made its admired ascent, after special performances on the tight rope and the slack rope. There was the Mount Pitt Circus, managed by Major-General Sanford, the Barnum of that era, who provided entertainments both histrionic and equestrian. On each anniversary of the signing of the Decla- ration of Independence the Fourth-of- July Ship a vessel forty feet long, rigged to look like a ship about to be launched, mounted on a truck, manned by from twelve to sixteen sailor lads, and drawn by eight horsesappeared in the streets. Some old residents of Henry Street remember William H. Webb, a youth of thirteen years, with trousers WILLIAM H. WEBB. 234 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tight at the knee and loose at the bottom, as one of those sailor lads. The vessel was housed in Cannon Street, and afterward at the corner of Houston and Columbia streets, and had been built by Isaac Webb and other shipwrights in their spare hours. A large brick building in Columbia Street (afterward known as the Weary Wan- derers Hotel), erected as a boarding-house by Noah Brown for his apprentices, was a head-quarters of considerable jocularity; and when at night they went out on a fes- tive expedition, especially when changing the sign-boards in modern collegiate fash- ion, so that, for instance, a druggists sign- board should ornament a butchers shop, they were the terror of the neighborhood, though not of old Captain Asten, who did constabulary duty with his wooden leg and club. In this region were the residences of the ship - builders. Stephen Smith lived on East Broadway, nearly opposite Sheriff Street; his house, finished in extra style by ship-joiners, is still standing. John Dimon built a large house on the corner of Columbia and Rivington streets. The boys used to call it the Greek house, be- cause it was supposed to have been con- structed with money received from the Greek government in return for a couple of fine frigates. Jacob A. Westervelt lived on East Broadway a few doors be- low Gouverneur Street; Christian Bergh in a yellow clapboard house at Scammel and Water streets. On the top of a hill Miss MacLaughlin kept a dairy-farm, and sold the ship-builders milk. They drank water which came from wooden pumps in the streets. The last of these pumps is at the corner of East Broadway and Mont- gomery Street; and three churchesAll- Saints Episcopal Church, Willett Street Methodist Episcopal Church, and St. Marys Catholic Churchwere built of the stone that came from the hill. Democratic in their tastes and simple in their habits, the old ship-builders had little social intercourse with the four or five great men of the neighborhood; but their boys liked to steal pears from Colonel Willetts place, which was bounded by Columbia, Broome, Delancey, and Lewis streets, and defended by old Camp, the gardener ( Old Scamp they called him). The colonels house, now entirely sur- rounded by tenements, and hidden from the street, is occupied by the priests of St. Rose of Limas Catholic Church. Colonel Rutgers lived on the block bounded by Jefferson, Clinton, Monroe, and Cherry streets, and a beautiful block it was, with its extensive lawn backed by a garden, and its two-story brick house, sixty feet square. Into one of its trees, four feet in diameter and hollow, the boys used to say that the colonel crawled when the British were after him. Judge Ogilvie, the last slave-holder on the east side, oc- cupied the handsome block bounded by Sheriff, Delancey, Columbia, and Riving- ton streets. Three of his slaves, Jess, Tone, and Dick,~~ being impudent rowdies, the ship-builders sons liked to lick them, being not at all awed by the aristocratic old judge with his queue, and his waistcoat pocket full of snuff; nor by the celebrated street preacher John Ed- wards, the linchpins of the wheels of whose gig they were wont to remove on a Sunday afternoon, when he had come to arouse the neighborhood. Several ships having been burned on the stocks, the builders and mechanics organized in 1824 a fire-engine company, the famous old Live Oak, No. 44, whose head-quarters were in Houston Street near Lewis. Isaac Webb was foreman, and William H. Webb ran with her many a time. Joseph L. Perley, lately President of the Board of Fire Commissioners, who be- longs to a ship-building family (his grand- father used to build vessels near Newbury- port, Massachusetts, in the woods, and drag them to the shore with sixty yoke of oxen), was another foreman, and all the mem- bers were connected with the ship-yards. Mechanics Hose Company, No. 47, whose house still stands on Fourth Street near Lewis, and Marion Hook and Ladder Com- pany, No. 13, were organized in later years for a similar purpose, furnishing much amusement for the mechanics. The steam- ship Panamathe first of the Pacific Mail steamerswas on fire in Mr. Webbs yard; one of her sides was blazing, but a dash of water put it out. Charles Forrester, en- gineer of the Fire Department, asked Mr. Webb, Where can we be of most assist- ance ? If you can save my steam- chest, was the reply, you will help me most. The steam-chest was the box, say forty-five feet long and two feet wide, where the timbers were steamed in order to make them pliable. If it had been burned at that time, most of the men in the yard would have been compelled to stop work. Mr. Forrester, when a boy, THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 235 carried a torch at the burning of Adam and Noah Browns ship-yard in 1824, when two steamboats on the stocks, nearly ready to be launched, were consumed, and Jere- miah Bunce and several other members of Black Joke Engine Company, No. 33, jump- ed into the river to save their lives. At the house of his father, Archibald Forres- ter, he used to hear Henry Eckford, John Allen, and other old Scotch ship-builders talk politics and theology with all the na- tional energy and certainty. A launch of a large vessel brought peo- ple from the city and all parts of the sur- rounding country, and made a general holiday. The builders invited their friends, and the owners invited theirs. Christian Bergh did not like the saturnalia which the occasion often invokedalmost every- body in the neighborhood was more or less under the influence of liquorbut the proprietors of the packet and clipper lines always insisted upon giving the workmen a blow-out, and usually paid the bills for the bis- cuits, cheese, and rum punch, and also for the cham- pagne drank by the guests in the mould loft. It was a day of anxiety to the builder until the ship was suc- cessfully launch- ed. He had so much at stake: the ways might be insufficiently greased; the chains beneath the vessel might break; she mighttumble over on her side, as the Switzerland did in Westervelt and Mackays yard; she might ac- quire momentum enough to drive her into the oppo- site bank of the river. But there was no finer sight in New York fif- ty years ago than that of a noble ship sliding easi ly into the water, while a young woman broke the christening bottle of wine over the bow, and the sailors heaved anchor, and the saluting cannon boomed, and the wild throng of spectators on river and shore rent the air with cheers. A friend of the late Rev. Dr. James W. Alexander relates that one day at a launch in Brown and Bells yard the doctor was trembling with emotion when the ship began to start. There! there she goes ! he exclaimed, adding, as the gun was fired, That serves as an outlet to my feelings. For the launch of the General Admiral, twenty- five years ago, in Mr. Webbs yard, the mechanics had erected, the previous even- ing, a stage for their really fine-looking families, wrote an eye - witness of the scene, -who was on board the vessel. A slight jar, a rush to the sides, roar of can- non, loud huzzahs from outsiders, Dod- worths Band playing Departed Days, and through the port-holes it was seen that hENRY STEERS 5 MODEL-ROOM. 236 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the vessel was in motion. So gentle and steady was the movement, so slight was the dip, and so gradually was she brought up by her anchors before passing twice her length from the shore, that a person stand- ing on board, with closed eyes, could not have realized that any change whatever had been made in her position. V. One of the most brilliant successes of the clipper era was the yacht America built in 1851 by James R. and George Steers, for John C. Stevens and several other gentlemen, who desired to secure a vessel which would win the Queens Cup at the annual regatta of the London Roy- al Yacht Club. She cost about $23,000, and her builders were to have a large bo- nus in case she won. After a sail of twen- ty-two days and four hours, during five days of which she was so becalmed as to make only six miles a day, she reached the neighborhood of Havre, her port of desti- nation, and was met by a Channel pilot- boat, which at once showed the French flag, and was supposed, of course, to car- ry a French pilot. As soon as the pilot stepped on board, James R. Steers said to his own pilot, Richard Brown, who had brought the yacht from New York, Dick, that fellow is no Frenchman. Immedi- ately Dick walked up to the stranger, and shouted, in most emphatic tones: I tell you what, my friend, if you let this yacht scrape bottom, Ill throw you overboard. Dick kept hold of the tiller himself, and would not give it up. As the yacht ap- proached the lights of Havre, the pilot confessed his inability to take her in. He left her, and hurried in his own boat to Cowes, with the news that the Yankee is the fastest vessel going. The English- men always spoke of the America as the Yankee. So it came to pass that when the Steers brothers and the rest of the party crossed the Channel, and offered to back their yacht with wagers, they discovered that they had been betrayed. There was no- body to take their bets. So confident of success were they that they had brought $4000 each to invest in that way, while Dick Brown had manifested his faith by mortgaging his own pilot - boat in New York to John C. Stevens for $2000, every cent of which he intended to stake upon the race. But the French pilot, who had been employed by somebody to get on board the America and learn her sailing qualities, had destroyed their chance of winning a dollar. Moreover, at eleven oclock of the night preceding the long-an- ticipated regatta, the Messrs. Steers were informed that their yacht, which they had brought three thousand miles to sail, was ruled out of the race. Why? Because it was a rule of the club that every com- peting yacht should be owned by but one owner. Now the America was owned by several owners. The next day, however, August 21, 1851, the America sailed from Cowes at the mo- ment that the regatta yachts sailed from Ryde, and beat them handsomely, although the distance traversed by her was nine miles longer than that traversed by the other yachts. The excitement was tremen- dous, but over the victory of the Yan- kee the twenty thousand spectators were mute as oysters. Queen Victoria, Prince Albert, and young Albert Edward, how- ever, paid a visit of complinient to the winning yacht that did not get the prize. Her Majesty was dressed in republican simplicity; the one thing that one of her hosts best remembers to this day is that she wore a plain calico gown. The tastes of her maids of honor were less severe. On leaving the yacht, the Queen asked how many men there were in the crew, and on being told the number, drew from her pocket a purse, from which she count- ed an equal number of guineas, laying them one by one upon a plate that had contained some ginger-snaps brought for her refreshment. With a request that the steward would distribute the guineas, and with a polite invitation to the yachts- men to visit her at Osborne, she took her leave. The next thing the Steers brothers heard from her was that she had given them another Queens Cup, a precise duplicate of the Queens Cup for which they had not been allowed to compete. That is the cup which was brought home by them, and deposited by Mr. John C. Stevens and his friends in the hands of the New York Yacht Club, where it still lies safe, in spite of repeated efforts of for-~ eign yachts to capture it. The visit to Os- borne was duly made and greatly enjoyed. Upon the lawn in front of the palace her Majesty had provided a variety of rural sportsmen running in sacks, and climb- ing greased poles, and so on. But the tru- ly marvellous fun was this: A wire was stretched between two poles txvelve feet THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 237 high, and upon it were fastened a series of buns, the ends of which had been dipped in molasses (or treacle, as the natives called it). Several men, each with his hands tied behind his back, made their appearance, and very industriously strove by jumping to detach the buns with their teeth. When successful, it was their duty to eat the bun thus detacheda task impossible in many a case except by putting their noses in close proximity to the ground upon which the slippery bun had fallen. The fellow who ate his bun first got the prize. The Marquis of Anglesea also called upon the yachtsmen, inspected their yes- sel, and invited them to his mansion on the Isle of Wight. He had come, he said, to see the men who had the brains to build that boat. The friends of those gentlemen gave them a magnificent ban- quet at the Metropolitan Hotel, New York, on their return from Cowes, speeches of congratulation being made by George Law, Simeon Draper, Theodore E. Tomlinson, and others, and a silver cup presented. Five years afterward, on the 25th of Sep- tember, 1856, George Steers, while driving a pair of horses to Glen Cove, Long Isl- and, in order to bring home his wife, who had been visiting there, was thrown from his wagon and mortally wounded. The horses had begun to run, and he had jumped to the ground, had struck his head, and injured his spine. He never spoke again. He was only thirty-six years old. At the time of his death the magnificent Collins steamer Adriatic had just been launched from Mr. Steerss yard, and was about to make her trial trip. He and his brother, James R. Steers, had won thirty- six prizes in regattas witb the yachts which they had built. Among these yachts, the most notable, next to the America, was the Una, built for James M. Waterbury, which took the first prize in the New York Yacht Club regattas of 1847, 1850, 1851, 1853, 1854, and 1856. The Julia, built for the same owner, took the first prize in 1855, 1856, 1857, and 1858, and then was ruled out because of her speed. She sailed so fast that the club would not enter her, and Mr. Waterbury was com- pelled to transform her into a schooner. And then she won. The Widgeon and the Coruelia, built for William and Daniel Edgar, and the Haze, built for Mr. Ives, of Rhode Island, were also very fast. As for the America, she was sold in Eng- land by Mr. J. C. Stevens for $25,000; was bought there by the Confederate govern- ment, brought back to this country, and THE YACHT AMzRIcA. 238 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. then sunk in a Southern port to prevent the Federals from capturing her. They raised her, however, and after repairs made her a tender to a government school- ship in Boston Harbor; but as the raisers claimed prize-money, the Secretary of the Navy ordered her to be sold at the Brook- lyn Navy-yard, where General Benjamin F. Butler bought her for $5000. He still owns the brilliant little yacht. Why was she so fast ? was recently asked of Mr. James R. Steers. Because, he replied, we studied to get the shape of model that would create the least resistance to water considered as a solid. This is the condition of the success of all vessels, steam or sail. I actually believe that sailing vessels will be constructed to go twenty miles an hour without raising the water two inches above their flotation lines. Mr. Russell, in his Naval Architecture an English treatisewhile comparing the English yacht Titania with the Amer- ica, says that before the wind there was scarcely a difference in their speed, ex- cept that arising from the larger sail area of the America; on a wind, on the contrary, the America stood up under her canvas by virtue of her uncurtailed shoulders, while the Titania heeled over. The America, with her uncurtailed longitudi- nal section, weathered the Titania on ev- ery tack. This challenge of America to England was of incalculable benefit to England. America reaped a crop of glory; England reaped a crop of wisdom. The yacht-builders of England at once adopt- ed the wave-line principle for their new yachts, and called them, with rigid self- denial, American lines, and they instant- ly swept from their books those legisla- tive enactments which compelled their yacht-builders to dance in fetters. It was worth the loss of a race to gain so much. (Vol. I., p. 613.) The father of James R. and George Steers was Henry Steers, an English ship- builder of eminence, who, after some serv- ice in the Plymouth Navy-yard, went to the Isle of Guernsey and built for the French government three war vessels (aft- er the drawing reproduced for this arti- cle), which sailed so fast as to make havoc among the fleets in the Channel. One of his comrades, John Thomas, having gone to the United States, and obtained a posi- tion in the Washington Navy-yard, wrote to Henry Steers to join him. Steers ac cepted the invitation, and in 1819 was in- stalled with Thomas at the national capi- tal. It was not long before he showed to the commodore of the navy-yard the drawing after which he had constructed the terrible cruisers for the French gov- eminent. The subject so interested that officer that he obtained from the authori- ties an order to build two war vessels, the Shark and the Grampus, after the same model. Steers and Thomas also furnish- ed plans for the construction of an im- mense ship-house and an inclined plane, by means of which they were successful in hauling up the frigate Congress for re- pairs. In 1824 the two ship-builders came to New York, and built, at the foot of Tenth Street, on the East River, the first ship-railway ever seen in the United States; it consisted of rails laid on an in- clined plane, upon which a cradle was run for the purpose of drawing vessels up out of the water in order to repair them; and in consideration of their enterprise the Legislature granted to the railway com- pany a charter for a bank, to last as long as grass grows and water runs. Thus was founded the Dry - dock Bank, now the Eleventh Ward Bank. The only oth- er institution that ever received such a charter was the Manhattan Company. Mr. James H. Steers has been a stock- holder in that bank more than fifty years. His home is a fine old mansion, with ex- tensive grounds, on an eminence in West- chester County, overlooking the Sound. His father died in 1841, at the age of six- ty-two. His son Henry Steers, grandson of the Henry Steers who built the Shark and Grampus, has built some of the largest vessels of the Pacific Mail Steam- ship Company, and some of the largest steamboats to be seen on Long Island Soundthe Massachusetts, for instance. VI. William H. Webbs distinction as an American ship-builder consists partly in having launched a larger aggregate ton- nage than any other member of his pro- fession, and partly in his successful con- struction of powerful war vessels. At the age of fifteen years, and contrary to the wishes and plans of his father, Isaac Webb, who desired for him an easier berth on the voyage of life, he entered his fathers ship- yard, and swung the axe, shoved the plane, and performed all the other functions of an apprentice, working as hard and as THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 239 long every day as did any of his fellows. derbilt, and other guests on board, she He was soon promoted to the mould loft, made nine and one-third knots an hour in model-room, and drawing-room, where he the teeth of a gale and a heavy head-sea, modelled entirely some of the last vessels a rate of speed which the late Mr. George built by Isaac Webb. While travelling W. Blunt thought hardly possible un- in Europe in 1840 for professional pur- der the circumstances, and which led a~ poses, he learned of the death of his fa- ther, and at once prepared to return home. The same year, at the age of twenty-four, he became his fathers successor, the firm name continuing to be Webb and Allen; and before the end of the year had launch- ed two square-rigged vesselsthe brig Ma- lek Adhel, of 110 tons, and the ship James Edwards, of 500 tons. It is said that Da- vid Brown, of the firm of Brown and Bell, remarked upon seeing the little brig that Webbs future was not problematical. In 1847, Mr. Webb built for Mr. Charles H. Marshall and others the steam-ship United States, the first steamer to enter the Gold- en Gate of the Pacific slope. In several important respects her frame differed from that of any vessel previously constructed, especially in having a fiat bottom with concave points. Her engines were from the works df T. F. Secor and Com- pany. On her second trial trip, with Dud- ley Persse, Philip Hamilton, D. Austin, Jun., Gabriel Mead, Hemly Sanford, Cap- tain Hudson, U.S.N., Captain Jacob Van- committee of experts to feel a just pride in such a successful specimen of naval architecture and ocean steam-engine build ing. The United States was also the first commercial steam-ship constructed t be of use to the government naval service. She could be armed with two tiers of guns, had plenty of room in which to work them, and could carry coal enough for a voyage to Europe. Her first trip to Liverpool, under command of Captain Hackstaff, oc- cupied thirteen days, and consumed forty tons of coal daily. She was 256 feet long~ 50 feet broad, and 30~ feet deep. In 1849, Mr. Webb built the three-decker ship Guy Mannering, the first complete three- decker constructed for the American pack et service. By the end of the next ten years he had built 126 vessels. Meantime Mr. Webbs ambition led him to seek wider opportunities. His offer to build a line-of-battle ship for the United States government having been declined in 1851, lie scm t a special messenger with a similar offer to the court of St. Peters- THE GENERAL ADMIRAL. 240 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. burg, especially to the Grand Duke Con- stantine, then commander of the Russian navy, with the rank of General Admiral. Two years afterward, at the invitation of that government, he visited St. Petersburg, and obtained a contract to build a propel- ler frigate of the first class. Some delay intervened, owing to the advent of the Cri- mean war, but on the Emperors birthday, september 21, 1857, the stern - post of the General Admiral was laid in Mr. Webbs yard, at the foot of Sixth Street, in the presence of Baron de Stoeckel, the Russian Minister, and many invited guests, the event being further celebrated by the of- fering of a prayer in the Russian language, and the partaking of a grand banquet at the Clarendon Hotel. The baron placed in a mortice in the keel a silver plate in- scribed in Russian as follows: The 70- gun ship General Admiral was begun in the presence of the Baron de Stoeckel, Rus- sian Minister at Washington, September 21, 1857, in New York, after the plans of W. H. Webb, American ship - builder. The mortice was then closed, and the first cop- per bolt driven into the ship, every guest present giving a blow. Precisely one year afterward, on the birthday of the Grand Duke Constantine, after whom she was named, the General Admiral was suc- cessfully launched with great 6clat. Her cost was about $1,125,000. On her trip to Europe she made the voyage to Cherbourg in eleven days and ten hours, part of the time under canvas alone. With her pro- peller lifted clear of the water, her average speed was twelve knots an hour. In ac- knowledgment of her success, the Emperor of Russia presented Mr. Webb with a gold snuff-box enriched with diamonds, and the iBritish government immediately built two vessels after the same model, which, how- ever, never equalled her in speed. She was ~325 feet long, 55 feet wide, and 34 feet deep, and had two horizontal engines of 800 horse-power. A board of United States naval officers, consisting of Comniander Andrew H. Foote, Chief Engineer W. E. Everett, and Naval Constructors S. M. Pook and B. F. Delano, appointed to examine the General Admiral, reported to the Sec- retary of the Navy, Mr. Toucey, that the workmanship and disposition of materials were excellent, and fully equal those of any vessels constructed by our govern- ment; and we may mention that in regard to location of beams relatively to the ports, she is superior, from the fact of the arma ment having been determined before build- ing the vessel. We therefore recommend in future that the armament be always de- termined in our service before building the vessel. The construction of the Gen- eral Admiral reflects great credit on Mr. Webb. In 1861, Mr. Webb contracted with the Italian government to build two iron-clad steam-frigates, and a few years before this had obtained the contract from the United States government for building the reve- nue-cutter Harriet Lane, his model for her having been selected by a committee of sixteen ship-builders, out of twenty-two models presented in competition. But the greatest undertaking of his life was the steam-rain Dunderberg, launched on the 22d of July, 1865. Her length was 378 feet, her breadth 73 feet, her depth of hold 23 feet, and her tonnage 7500 tons. Her sides, five feet thick, were covered with a five-inch plating of iron. Her revolving iron turrets contained guns capable of throwing shells weighing 500 pounds each, and she was driven fifteen nautical miles an hour by an entirely concealed force of 1200 horse-power. After offering her to the United States government, which would not buy her, Mr. Webb sold her to France. Mr. Webb modestly ascribes his success to attention to details. For many years he was the first man to enter his yard in the morning, and the last to leave it at night; he marked the place for every stick of timber in every vessel, and, until the General Admiral was built, made ev- ery model, drawing, and specification for every vessel with his own hand. The drawings in his books are arranged so systematically that he could at any time duplicate exactly those of any one of the hundred and forty or more vessels that he has built; and by referring to them could in a few minutes give the particu- lars of any kind of vessel ever built by him, and make a contract, with full de- tails of style and pricea labor of days to most ship - builders. To this habit of personal attention to the details of his own business is partly, at least, due the fact that none of Mr. Webbs vessels ever received an injury in launching, or ever stuck on the ways. They were ready at the word go. But this cause alone does not account for the fact that the plans of the vessels which gave Mr. Webb his reputation were not transcripts of any- THE OLD SHIP-BUILDERS OF NEW YORK. 241 thing previously planned at home or abroad, but represented, each by itself, a distinct advance upon the methods then prevailing. yII. New York, said one of its newspa- pers, about the year 1852, is one of the great ship-yards of the world. Our clip- pers astonish distant nations with their neat and beautiful appearance, and our steamers have successfully competed with the swiftest-going mail packets of Great Britain. In the farthest corners of the earth the Stars and Stripes wave over New York built vessels. Contrast this statement with the following from a New York newspaper thirty years later, on the 21st of December, 1881: WHAT THEY STARED AT. Passengers on the Brooklyn ferries between 9 and 10 A. M. on Tuesday saw something which made them stare. The curious object was a new trim-built clipper ship, fresh from the ship- wrights hand, and flying the American flag at the fore. The old flag has become such a nov- elty and a new-bnilt clipper such a rarity that as she sailed leisurely down the East River, old-timers recalled the days when snch objects were common and ship-building was at its zenith. Many looked upon the sight as an omen of better days to come. As long ago as January, 1867, Mr. Da- vid A. Wells, Special Revenue Commis- sioner, reported to the government that during the month of November previous there was but a single vessel in the course of construction in the ship-yards of the city of New York. The causes of the decline of ship-build- ing in New York city are clear and sim- ple. The war for the Union was one of them. Our vessels were captured by the Alabama and other Confederate cruisers, and at one time were supposed to be in danger from British men-of-war. There was little encouragement to invest money in such property. The substitution of iron for wood in ship - building was another cause; and the war left us with a high pro- tective tariff on iron, as well as on cop- per, chain - cables, rigging, and canvas. Mr. W. H. Webb wrote to a friend in 1869: My business is destroyed by the absurd laws of a high tariff, which destroys the shipping interestthe right arm or bower of the country. Then the use of steam has diminished the need for ships. Thirty- five years ago about two hundred sailing vessels were engaged in the trade between this city and Charleston; to - day, four steamers do the business. Furthermore, the value of the land formerly occupied by the ship-builders has increased to an extent that forbids its use for the old pur- poses. The ship-builder on the coast of Maine pays comparatively little for his land, and gets his timber from the woods behind it. Wages are lower there; and lower, too, in England, where eight dol- lars a month will procure a sailor who would demand from thirty-five to forty dollars if he lived in New York city. Fi- nally, the old ship-builders retired rich, and the sons do not begin where the fathers did, living over their own shops. THE DUNDERBERG. [From a Lithograph by Endicott and company.l FRANZ LISZT. The Master awaits you at two oclock to-day. TONI RAAB. HOTEL HUNGARIA. A SIMPLE visiting card with these words hurriedly traced upon it was lying on the piano as I entered the music- room this morning. A commissionnaire brought it, said my maid, answering, as she supposed, my look of blank astonishment. Madame Raab caine to Pesth last night. The MasterLiszt, Franz Liszt, await- ed me, and to-day my friend Madame Raab would present me to him! We had seen him at the noonday mass in the old parish church last Sunday; yesterday a note from him, with his pho- tograph, had been sent me, and now the kindly old Master would receive me. But such a storm as raged outside my windows! The rain, as it only can rain on the banks of the Danube, dashed down in torrents. How can you think of going out to- day ! exclaimed the countess, to whose boudoir I had flown with my treasure, Toni Raabs card. I dare not send my horses out. Youll see Liszt at the con- cert to-morrow night. Do not peril health and reception toilet in this storm. Car- riages stop before the door: you can not drive into the porte coch~re at the Maes- tros. Dear countess, please say no more. I must go. I saw him Sunday; I had a let- ter from him yesterday; to-day I shall go to him; to-morrow attend his concert; Thursday, go to Vienna with him Her ladyship raised her eyes. In the same train, I mean, said I, correcting myself.

Octavia Hensel Hensel, Octavia Franz Liszt 242-248

FRANZ LISZT. The Master awaits you at two oclock to-day. TONI RAAB. HOTEL HUNGARIA. A SIMPLE visiting card with these words hurriedly traced upon it was lying on the piano as I entered the music- room this morning. A commissionnaire brought it, said my maid, answering, as she supposed, my look of blank astonishment. Madame Raab caine to Pesth last night. The MasterLiszt, Franz Liszt, await- ed me, and to-day my friend Madame Raab would present me to him! We had seen him at the noonday mass in the old parish church last Sunday; yesterday a note from him, with his pho- tograph, had been sent me, and now the kindly old Master would receive me. But such a storm as raged outside my windows! The rain, as it only can rain on the banks of the Danube, dashed down in torrents. How can you think of going out to- day ! exclaimed the countess, to whose boudoir I had flown with my treasure, Toni Raabs card. I dare not send my horses out. Youll see Liszt at the con- cert to-morrow night. Do not peril health and reception toilet in this storm. Car- riages stop before the door: you can not drive into the porte coch~re at the Maes- tros. Dear countess, please say no more. I must go. I saw him Sunday; I had a let- ter from him yesterday; to-day I shall go to him; to-morrow attend his concert; Thursday, go to Vienna with him Her ladyship raised her eyes. In the same train, I mean, said I, correcting myself. FRANZ LISZT. 243 Friday, meet him at the Wagner-Verein; Saturday, attend the levde given for him at Princess ~s; and Sundayah! I shall hear his Graner Mass, which he will himself direct. Ach! a week aupr~s de Liszta week of delight ! Her ladyship smiledhigh-born women never laugh in Austria. Your enthusi- asm amuses me, she said. Thirty years ago I could have understood it. Ah! you should have been with me then. Even ten years ago, interposed her daughter, when Cousin Marie was with us. Liszt was charmed with her voice, and used to accompany her delightfully. That must indeed have been music. Countess R ,whom I heard in Vienna, recalled my childhoods enthusiasm for music as nothing else has ever done. I was quite too young to appreciate her mo- ther, Henrietta Sontag; but something in the tones of Countess Maries voice, in the Schubert ballads, brought back every re- membrance of her mother. All the morning I played over the rhap- sodies, ballads, and memories arranged by the Master. Chopins life, too, I glanced through. I had many things to say, many questions to ask him. A few minutes be- fore two oclock the servant announced the carriage, and I left the warm cheerful mu- sic-room in the palace forthe Fisch Platz. Could a less artistic street have been found for a maestros abode! The rain had par- tially ceased; it was quite too wet to walk, and yet, as the carriage turned from the Donau-Gasse, we saw a crowd of ladies and gentlemen leaving the house. The reception is just over, said the footman, as he came to the carriage door. Madame must wait; there are many car- riages before the house. I was glad of it. I was frightened and nervous now that I must really ap- pear before the Master, and grasping my music roll tightly, sank back in a cor- ner of the coupd. At last we reached the door, and springing from the carriage with the same shudder one feels when about to dive into a swimming bath, I was soon under the shelter of the broad entrance. Which floor does the Abb6 Liszt occu- py ? I asked of the portier. Ich weiss nicht. He not here, said the man. But that is impossible, retorted I. Liszt certainly lives here. voL. Lxv.No. ~S8~l 6 Der Meister, vielleicht ? said the old German, catching sight of the music roll which the footman carried. Natiirlich, der Meister, answered I. By name, by Church title, he was not known, but der Meister was the open sesame to his abode. Turning to the right, I ascended a circu- lar marble stairway, and going out to the balcony of the first story above the court, knocked at a door, upon which a simple white card bore the name, F. Liszt. A pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman ad- mitted me to a small vestibule. A table under a wall hat rack on the right, a bu- reau covered with lamps on the left, and two chairs, were all the furniture of this room. Is the Master ready to receive me I I asked. She shook her head: Oh no; he is very tired; he has gone to lie down. Is Madame Raab not here at this hour I The woman shrugged her shoulders. Ich weiss nicht, she said, then suddenly left me. I remained standing a few moments, then sat down by the bureau, and exam- ined the lamps and their fanciful chimney capslittle crochet hats and bonnets to cover, German fashion, the long glass chimneys when the lamps were not light- ed. At last a portly, good-natured man came into this anteroom, and asked if I had an appointment to see the Master. Natfirlich, said I. Please, your name I handed him my visiting-card. He glanced at it, then at a memorandum- book, and shook his head. There is some mistake, he said; I find no such appointment here. Is not Madame Raab here ? I asked. Yes, he replied; but you are not the lady for whom she is waiting. Yes, I am; take my card to her. He shook his head, and replied: Par- don me, your ladyship (he thought me a countess: a simple musicieniw would hardly have dared to be so importunate, perhaps imperious), excuse me, I can only admit those appointed to come at this hour. Wait until the lady comes, if you wish, and perhaps she will resign her interview in favor of your ladyship. Whom are you expecting ? I asked. 244 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Madame I started. How stupid I had been! My nom de plume was the only name by which Liszt knew me, and I had forgot- ten the fact. It was utterly impossible to make this good-natured servant believe me; he was too used to all deceits and tricks practiced by the aristocracy to get admitted to the Master to credit my asser- tions. Fortunately, Pauli, tenor at the Hungarian Opera, arrived just as I was beginning to despair. He, seconded by Count of Vienna, who also looked in, gained for me the privilege denied themadmittance to the reception-room. What a cheerless, comfortless spot it was! Nothing but the superb bunch of purple Parma violets which stood on the small wooden table before the sofa show- ed sign of artistic taste. A few cane and wooden chairs, a common brown reps sofa, a floor uncarpeted and carelessly waxed, blank walls covered with a paper dingy and dark, gave the room a sombre, melancholy aspect, perfectly chilling to musical sensibilities. Somebody in the room to the right was playing one of Liszts rhapsodies. I listened, and felt sure that my friend Toni was at the piano. A door to the left opened. It was a bed- room, for I saw an oak-colored wooden bedstead, an oaken wash - stand, and on the wall a row of pegs, on which hung a dressing-gown and a black soutane - like coat. It was only a glance, for in the doorway stood the tall, commanding form of the Master. He advanced toward me, holding out both hands. Is this Madame ? he asked, as I placed both hands in his and looked up to his grand old face. Yes, Master. I could say no more. I was spell-bound, magnetized by the ma- jesty of the face upon which I was gazing. Madame Raab tells me you love mu- sic, and, what is better, that you know the meaning of the word; that you are artiste in soul. In your presence, Master, I can only acknowledge that I am but beginning to grasp the true meaning of art. It would be well if all beginners had such a grasp as yours, he said, taking the seat of honor on the sofa, which I persist- ently refused and pointed out to him. Ach! you Americans are a great peo- ple. You form Jubilee Symphonies to be played with steam-whistles, church bells, and cannon. We are a noise-loving people, and so we do the best we can until we have learn- ed to control Heavens thunder for our di- apason. But we know how to appreciate and reward artists whom Europe lends us. Ah, Master, why will hot you come He laughed a low, pleased laugh. No, no; I am too old now; the time is past for me to seek new worlds to conquer. No need to conquer, Master. We al- ready own and acknowledge your sway; to us as to all other nations you are the Master. We ask your presence, to wel- come you with homage, enthusiastic and loyal. Yes, I should like to see America, but that is quite impossible. He paused, for the tones of the piano in the adjoining room became louder. Sextolats in chro- matics flashed like the splendor of a corn- cts pathway through a starry heaven. Liszt held up his hand as if to implore si- lence. The passionate allegro of the rhap- sody seemed flinging phosphorescent light even into the shadowy room where we sat. Too loud, too loud, murmured Liszt; that passage must be more subdued. In life, as in love, deep, earnest passion is al- ways calm: the more intense the feeling, the calmer its outward expression. In all natures, Maestro ? I asked, speaking in Italian. You describe the Northern intellectual life and love. Would an Englishman play that allegro better than an Italian l John Bull, you know, is always calmly earnest. Liszt laughed. You apprehend well enough what I mean, he said. A rhap- sody is a quickly told story; it is intense in feeling, and progressive; it may end in death, or the heart sink into restful silence, like a calm after a storm. Would not John Bull be too apathetic ? For your rhapsodies, perhaps, Maestro, for they are like the sunshine of Monte Bene, or the sparkle of champagne. We do not die; we are exhilarated, confused, berausehed: no Italian word expresses it. ~ Do you like to play them I No; they make me dizzy, like Hunga- rian wine.~~ And hearing them I They confuse me, I said, laughing and rising, for I saw his mind was on the music in the next room. Toni Raab is perhaps awaiting you, and I am only de- taining. Let me say good-by. I am go- ing to Vienna for the Wagner-Verein. con- cert. Shall we meet there ? FRANZ LISZT. 245 I hope so. But you will be at the con- cert to-morrow evening? And when are you going to play for me I bowed low. Courage having com- pletely failed me in the anteroom, I had left my music upon the table there. Thank you, Maestro. If you will be so patiently good as to criticise my rendition of some very simple thing, I will play the next time I come to you. He smiled and held out his hands. I can answer for the patience, he said. Then you are good indeed, I replied, and bending down, pressed my lips upon the strangely statuesque hand which held both of mine. As I looked up to him, he leaned for- ward and kissed my forehead, saying, God bless you, my child ! He rang for the servant. We shall meet in Wien, he said, as he led me to the vestibule, into which the servant had opened the door, and where my maid awaited me with man- tle and umbrella. The immense Redouten Saal in Buda- Pesth was crowded. The stage for the occasion of Liszts concert occupied the centre of the room. Two pianos were placed upon it, for the Master, in order to be seen by all the audience, would use them alternately. The piano by which I sat (for I had a place in the front row of seats nearest the stage) was decorated with Hungarian colors, natural garlands, and bouquets of red and white roses amid their green leaves. The piano chair was a throne of red, white, and green flowers and leaves, and upon the music desk was a laurel wreath tied with an immensely long and broad satin streamer of red, white, and green. Here is the programme in Hungarian, of course: MUSQE: 1. Bdlcso k6ltem6ny Jokai M6r. Szavalja J6KAINf ~trno. 2. GyAszindul6 Schubert, F. LISZT FEIIENCZ. o. a) Osillog a harmat Rubinstein, A. 6) Szerelmi jido Liszt, F. c) Magyar dal Mikue megyck az olt~rhoz. Abrtnyi. Euckli BussE ALVIN, k. a. 4. a) Petdfi Sze11em~nek Liszt, F. 6) Cantique dAmour LISZT FERENCZ. 5. a) Dal GounOd, K. 6) Ar6zsa Wagner, R. Enekli Onav LEHEL. o. Abr~ad k6t zongor~ra Schubert, F. LISZT Fzazicz ~S MICIIALOVICII ODbN. A little before seven oclock Liszt and Mr. Michalovich entered the hall. They joined friends opposite to me, but after laying aside his great-coat, the Master passed about the room, chatting with his acquaintances and musical prot~g6es. You will lose much to-night, said he, sitting down beside us you will lose much by not understanding Hun~,arian. Madame J6kain6 is a superb elocutionist. I translated her selection with my teacher this morning, I replied. But I shall lose more, Maestro, by not being familiar with the Magyar In Memori- am to Petdtl which you are to interpret. Dearly as I love Hungarian music, it is a mystery to me as weird and wild as its Asiatic origin. Foreigners can not render it, for so very few understand it. I wish you were to play something more famil- lar. One never knows what the Master is to play, said the friend who accompanied me. Something Hungarian and pa- triotic must be given to-night, of course; but at the Wagner-Verein in Viennaah! there well taste of the Masters most gen- erous bounty ! No, no, children, said he, laughing; there I do not, shall not play. I am only a guest. Nous verrons, said my friend, as the Master moved away, smiling. He offered his arm to Madame J6kain6, and with her ascended the steps of the platform. The applause was deafening. It is not customary in Austria to welcome artistes with applause when they appear.; but Patti, Liszt, Joachim, and Rubinstein are exceptions to all rules. After Madame J6kain6s reading, Liszt led her to her place in the audience and taking time to whisper a few compli- mentary words to her, and to converse with other friends, he leisurely returned, and again mounted the steps. Shouts of Eljen 1 (the Magyar hurrah) and a clap- ping of hands most deafening greeted the grand old Master as he approached the piano, where, leaning on the rose-garland- ed chair, he bowed repeatedly on all sides to the enthusiastic throng. At last he seated himself at the instrument. The silence was so intense you could have heard a cambric needle fall on a bed of moss. I fixed my eyes upon the hands of the Maestro; I could have laid my hand upon his arm, he was so near; and yet, as those long slender fingers of his fell upon 246 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the keys, the music seemed to come from a sphere miles away from this earth. How can I describe it? The attempt to do so would be absurd. No pencil has painted the Alpenglilhen on Tyrolean mountain heights; no pen can transcribe the wondrous passion and poetry of the tone-poem the Master interpreted. The apotheosis to Petdfi was as Magyar as that noble young patriot and poet, who in dying wrote with his blood upon the sand, could have wished it, and far more abstruse than the audience, Hungarians though they were, wished it. It seemed an interweaving of unfamiliar Hungarian motives broken by discordant arpeggios. The only one recognizable sounded like the Szomor~i fiiz ~ga :* tr ~z] [~ZIF~~~m& 91 L~ ~rnrnLz~4iz~zuzz~J but so wound in arpeggios and so smoth- ered in minors that one could not be sure what the Master was trying to render. The Cantique dAmour was Wag- nerian, although it may have been com- posed before Richard Wagner ever started his metaphysical pen to tone chcf-dccuvrc fabrication, but it sounded Nibelungen- ly; and had it not been for the exquisite delicacy of the Masters touch, clasping dreamy arpeggios with questioning ac- cords, I think the Cantique dAmour would have been what many love canticles arearrant humbugs. Delightful as this concert was, I felt sure my friend was right when she said: Wait, youve not heard Liszt yet. He must improvise. Once worked up to the necessity of interpreting his thoughts in music, you will hear the Maestro of forty years ago.~~ Friday evening the B6sendorfer Saal in Vienna was lighted up for the long-ex- pected concert of the Wagner - Verein. Toni Raab was to play, and Liszt to be there, an invited guest. Long before seven oclock that charm- ing little hall was full to suffocation. Not only the hall itself, but the vestibule, * The Weeping-Willow. cloak-room, and even the piano salons beyond the vestibule were filled with Wagnerians and their opponents. I have lost the programme of that evening; in- deed, what need was there for one? Ev- ery friend of music knew young Motti and his wondrous rendition of the Sieg- fried Idylthat charming cradle song which this young artist has made a chef- dceuvre in the concert-rooms of the impe- rial city; and Toni Raab, with her grand technique and earnest adherence to les bonnes traditions du piano. She played better than ever before; she took the house by storm, and that is saying much for an artistes concert in the B6sendorfer Saal. Better than all, she inspired Liszt. Round after round of applause greeted the dif- ficult rhapsody she had played, but she would not acknowledge it alone. She sought out the Master where he sat among the peeresses. of Austria in the circle be- fore the platform, and seizing him by the hand, fairly dragged him to the stage. Once there, he could not break away. Cheer after cheer, the Magyar Eljen ! the Bohemian Salva ! the German Hoch ! with the Bravo, Bravissimo I, of all lands greeted him. The audience arose; ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and gentlemen clapped their hands. The air was full of perfume and rose leaves as bouquets went flying over the audience to the stage, where they fell at the Masters feet, who stood bowing, smiling, and shak- ing his head, while honestly trying to resist Toni, who fairly dragged him to the pi- ano. Refusal and resistance were both in vain. The perfume of flowers, the flash- ing of gems upon the jewel-decked arms and fans of the ladies waving toward him. but more than all, the splendid magnetism of sympathetic genius, for Viennas grand- est and best musicians were gathered around him, worked upon the artist-im- agination and delicate nervous system of the great Master. He stood still for an instant, then, with a bow of acquiescence, he placed himself at the piano. One wild shout of triumph rang through the room, and then a silence like the si- lence of death hushed the vast assembly. Was the Master thinking of Chopin as he raised his superb hands, and let them fall, with a touch as delicately soft as rose leaves, and weave, as if in dreaming, the memories of mountain lakes and pine for- ests into an improvisation full of starry minors from echoing Alpen - horns? Of FRANZ LISZT. 247 whom, of what, was he thinking? It was indeed Liszt who played his own wild Wanderlieder, the Waliner - See, and other pictures of travel seen in his youth, but the improvisation moved on in Cho- pin-like phrases of thought, until the land- scape faded from the memory, and the lights of the concert-room, the crimson hue of rose garlands lying scattered around, forced themselves upon the Mas- ters mind; then, one of Chopins weirdly wild and passionately gay waltzes whirl- ed faster and faster into a dance almost bacchanalian. It was the hour of the Danse Macabre; but the twelve tones of midnight were crushed out in accords of revelry and mirth very different from the solemn annunciation which ushers in the revel of the dead. He ceased. The thunders of applause which shook not only the B6sendorfer Saal, but the entire Lichtenstein Palace, were enough to raise the dwellers in Cen- tral Friedhof with the idea that they had heard the trumpets of the judgment-day. What a night that was, or rather, what a morning! Liszt did not leave the hall until three & clock, and our partie carr~e was not called together until after four; nor did we adjourn then, but went to our music-room, had coffee, and talked and rehearsed the concert programme we had heard till noon next day. Saturday night G& ttcrdiirnmerung was to be given at tl~e Opera, and Sunday the glorious Corona- tion Mass, better known as the Graner, ~ was to be conducted by Liszt; so, soon aft- er lunch, we parted to sleep the inter- vening hours away. The Master appeared in Prince H6hen- lohes box at the opera for a short time during the evening, and later attended a soiree at the princes house; but Sunday noon he came to the Musik-Verein far more fresh and vigorous than many a younger man. This force and vitality of Liszt are pecul- iarly remarkable. No matter how wearied the Master may be, a young aspirant for musical fame is never turned unheard or unheeded away; but many times princes and princesses have waited for hours to be admitted to his reception - room, and often have been compelled to go away without seeing hinL In the social world of the drawing-room, Liszt is quiet and reserved, but exceeding- ly courteous and graceful in manner. He converses pleasantly, and has a host of amusing anecdotes and reminiscences of persons lie has met. To hear him speak of the salons of Paris, where George Sand held sway, and where Chopin improvised, is like turning over the pages of a grand- fathers journal, or gazing on the minia- tures of the friends of his boyhood. Un- fortunately, the Master never loses sight of himself, and this is the one fatal blot on the greatness of his genius. Surrounded by musicians, he is genial and sympathetic, thoroughly bon carna- rade. Called upon to criticise, he is con- descending, kind, and lenient. As a pa- tron of humble aspirants, he is noble and generous to a fault. Thus, as friend to musicians, especially to musicicnrtcs (for he kisses and calls them all daughters), as graiid old courtier in the drawing- rooms, Liszt is charming; but as director of an orchestra, with baton in hand, he is a failure. Poor dear gentleman, great musician as he is, majestic as he looks in the directors desk, he listens to and enjoys the music, and quite forgets to lead. In Vienna an- other director stands a little below him to one side, hidden from the audience by the flower-wreathed and garlanded music desk and arm~chair* of the Master, and this one the orchestra look upon as their leader. Not that Liszt does not know how to lead, but he forgets to do so. He raises his baton, begins well enough, then some de- licious little motivo trembling in the mu- sic sets his brain improvising, and he for- gets baton, orchestra, and everything but his fingers play among the rose garlands. So it happened during the Graner Mass. No serious consequences followed, for the regular leader, hidden under the roses, car- ried the musicians along. There is a pathos and beauty in this Coronation Masst which pleases musicians better than other church music of the Mas- ter. The Credo~~ is especially beautiful, the tenors softly declaring the birth of the Saviour, while the trinity-like triplets of the accompaniment mount upward. The confusion and intricacies of the Crucifix- us with minor accompaniment descend until a grand burst of harmony proclaims * Whenever and wherever Liszt appears in pnblic, flowers in profnsion are wreathed abont his chair. t Written for the coronation of Franz-Joseph I. * So called becanMe Hungarian kings used to be crowned at Gran, on the Danube. ~48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the Resurrection. The Sanctus and Benedictus for tenors were superbly ren- dered. Liszt laid down the baton. He seemed miles away from this earth. In- deed, I think every musician present was, like the Master, absent in spirit. The Agnus Dei was more entrancing still. All through its intricacies one seem- ed to hear the whispering effect of the prayer, Dona nobis pacem. And peace seemed to come at last; the violins trem- bled into silence, loath to cease their prayerful wail; but the Amen rang out exultant, as if faith triumphant had entered the soul, there to abide forever. The Master was more wearied after this musical morning than I had seen him be- fore. He hardly answered the congratu- lations of friends who gathered around him, but allowed his servant to wrap him in his warm cloak and conduct him at once to his carriage. A few days later I called upon him in Pesth to bid him good-by for the summer. It was one of his general reception days, so I did not remain to converse with him beyond the five minutes de rigueur allow- ed for a call. A promise to see him in the fall, and most grateful thanks for the honor of being permitted to play before him, and I came away with a little bunch of Parma violets ,as a souvenir of that adieu, and a heart full of respectful love for the Master, Franz Liszt, the only one. GLAPIS ROY. THE heroines of fiction are generally found in romantic places. Why not? It is pleasant to contemplate enchanting environments, and to the creative imagi- nation a castle with ivy-crowned turrets, set in a lovely landscape, costs no more than a dug-out on a barren moor. Still, it is better at times to copy than to create; and the heroines of real life do often spring up in the odd nooks and corners of the earth. Such was the fact in the case of Gladis Roy, a lovely woman, without spot or blemish, unless it may be set down against her that she was strong-minded. Some of her neighbors hinted this be- cause she could not give much time to the cultivation of their acquaintance, and because she had taken up the oddest of callings, and had supported herself and her gentle mother handsomely thereby from the age of sixteen, she being now about twenty-one. To get a peep at the particular odd nook where Gladis Roys first days were passed we must go back some years to a little flag station in a pine-wood clearing on Long Island. This clearing, upon one side of the railroad, was but a few acres in extent, and was bordered by a dense growth of slender pines. On the opposite side of the road, extendino~ north was a barren stretch of dwarfed oaks, with blue- berry and other bushes. There were no residences in sight of the nondescript home of Gladis, built of huge bricks in brown, black, red, blue, green, lilac all the colors of the rainbow, the railway travellers said, who pointed it out to each other with excited nudges as the train flew by. The general impression was that the builder was a lunatic; but Mr. Lowell was only a harmless inventor of artificial stone, as he called it, and his house was a permanent advertisement of the same. It was a good thing, most people said; still there were f~w purchasers; and the inventor, alone there in the woods with his wife and a few swarms of neg- lected, discouraged bees, began to despair of the fortune held so long just beyond his grasp, as he believed, and he was forced to seek other work to keep the wolf from the door. This work, oddly enough, one would think, was the making of phrenological busts. He made the moulds himself after a plan of his own, and on showing some of the specimens to the house of Gall, Combe, and Co., he re- ceived small orders from time to time thereafter. His wife about that time in- duced her old friend Mrs. Roy, now a widow, to come and live with her. Mrs. Roy had a small government pension, her husband having served in the war of the rebellion; and being in delicate health, she was easily persuaded to give up house- keeping for a while, and try the balsamic atmosphere of the pine woods in which the Lowells lived. So Mrs. Lowell ex- pressed it. Gladis, Mrs. Roys little daughter, was then about five years old: a thin child, with big dark eyes and a small neck. Still, she was quite a strong child, very active, and not without beauty of a cer- tain kind. Mrs. Roy, for the first year or tw6, was too feeble to leave her room a great deal. Mr. Lowell was generally in a back room devoted to moulding, and as Mrs. Lowell was busy much of the time

Marie Howland Howland, Marie Gladis Roy 248-257

~48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the Resurrection. The Sanctus and Benedictus for tenors were superbly ren- dered. Liszt laid down the baton. He seemed miles away from this earth. In- deed, I think every musician present was, like the Master, absent in spirit. The Agnus Dei was more entrancing still. All through its intricacies one seem- ed to hear the whispering effect of the prayer, Dona nobis pacem. And peace seemed to come at last; the violins trem- bled into silence, loath to cease their prayerful wail; but the Amen rang out exultant, as if faith triumphant had entered the soul, there to abide forever. The Master was more wearied after this musical morning than I had seen him be- fore. He hardly answered the congratu- lations of friends who gathered around him, but allowed his servant to wrap him in his warm cloak and conduct him at once to his carriage. A few days later I called upon him in Pesth to bid him good-by for the summer. It was one of his general reception days, so I did not remain to converse with him beyond the five minutes de rigueur allow- ed for a call. A promise to see him in the fall, and most grateful thanks for the honor of being permitted to play before him, and I came away with a little bunch of Parma violets ,as a souvenir of that adieu, and a heart full of respectful love for the Master, Franz Liszt, the only one. GLAPIS ROY. THE heroines of fiction are generally found in romantic places. Why not? It is pleasant to contemplate enchanting environments, and to the creative imagi- nation a castle with ivy-crowned turrets, set in a lovely landscape, costs no more than a dug-out on a barren moor. Still, it is better at times to copy than to create; and the heroines of real life do often spring up in the odd nooks and corners of the earth. Such was the fact in the case of Gladis Roy, a lovely woman, without spot or blemish, unless it may be set down against her that she was strong-minded. Some of her neighbors hinted this be- cause she could not give much time to the cultivation of their acquaintance, and because she had taken up the oddest of callings, and had supported herself and her gentle mother handsomely thereby from the age of sixteen, she being now about twenty-one. To get a peep at the particular odd nook where Gladis Roys first days were passed we must go back some years to a little flag station in a pine-wood clearing on Long Island. This clearing, upon one side of the railroad, was but a few acres in extent, and was bordered by a dense growth of slender pines. On the opposite side of the road, extendino~ north was a barren stretch of dwarfed oaks, with blue- berry and other bushes. There were no residences in sight of the nondescript home of Gladis, built of huge bricks in brown, black, red, blue, green, lilac all the colors of the rainbow, the railway travellers said, who pointed it out to each other with excited nudges as the train flew by. The general impression was that the builder was a lunatic; but Mr. Lowell was only a harmless inventor of artificial stone, as he called it, and his house was a permanent advertisement of the same. It was a good thing, most people said; still there were f~w purchasers; and the inventor, alone there in the woods with his wife and a few swarms of neg- lected, discouraged bees, began to despair of the fortune held so long just beyond his grasp, as he believed, and he was forced to seek other work to keep the wolf from the door. This work, oddly enough, one would think, was the making of phrenological busts. He made the moulds himself after a plan of his own, and on showing some of the specimens to the house of Gall, Combe, and Co., he re- ceived small orders from time to time thereafter. His wife about that time in- duced her old friend Mrs. Roy, now a widow, to come and live with her. Mrs. Roy had a small government pension, her husband having served in the war of the rebellion; and being in delicate health, she was easily persuaded to give up house- keeping for a while, and try the balsamic atmosphere of the pine woods in which the Lowells lived. So Mrs. Lowell ex- pressed it. Gladis, Mrs. Roys little daughter, was then about five years old: a thin child, with big dark eyes and a small neck. Still, she was quite a strong child, very active, and not without beauty of a cer- tain kind. Mrs. Roy, for the first year or tw6, was too feeble to leave her room a great deal. Mr. Lowell was generally in a back room devoted to moulding, and as Mrs. Lowell was busy much of the time GLADIS ROY. 249 cutting and pasting tiny labels on the bumps of the plaster heads, Gladis was left a great deal to herself. Her face at such times was always well powdered with the ghastly white of the plaster of Paris, which made her big dark eyes seem almost unearthly in their brightness. It was touching to see this little child amus- ing herself quietly without playmates or living creatures of any kind. The dining- room was her play-ground, whither she used to smuggle from the moulding-room ail the cracked or otherwise spoiled heads, until crossing that room without demolish- ing some of Gladiss company became often an acrobatic feat. When reproved for bringing so much trash there, she silenced her accusers by a terrified, ap- pealing look, and at once began to pack off her company under the sofa, the table, or behind the wood-box. No one dared to destroy Gladiss pets, lest her sensitive little heart should b