HARP ERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. YoL. LXXV. JUNE, 1887. No. CCCCXLV. TUE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. IN the beginning of the year 1881 the Dieulafoy household left France. Pre- vious studies and the counsels of a great architect and an eminent savant, Viollet- le-Duc, had induced the head of the house- hold to go to seek in Persia the link which connects Oriental art with that Gothic art which spran~ into existence so suddenly in the Middle Ages. Arabian architect- ure in Spain, in Morocco, in Algeria, and in~ Egypt had brought a contingent of in- formation, but it was necessary to go back further to the prime sources of that ar- chitect ure. When once we had crossed the Cauca- sus there were presented in succession to our charmed eyes the elegant manifesta- tions of Persian art under the monarchs of Giuzne; the monuments of the Seijuks and Moguls; the enamelled edifices built at Ispahan by the great Soft; the ruins of ancient Persepolis due to an art which borrows from Egypt and Jonia its princi- pal elements, but at the same time har- monizes them with incomparable skill ;* the mountains of ruins which were once Babylon; the arch of Ctesiphon, that co * See LArt antique de la Perse, by Marcel Dieu- lafoy, 5 vols. gr. 4to. Paris: Morel. BY MADAME JANE BJEULAFOY. lossal creation of the Sassanides, the pro- totype of the mosque of Hassan at Cairo. So far our fatigues were only relative, and the difficulties surmounted without too great effort. But this was no longer the case when we had to make our way to Susiana, where, as we were told, there were very important Sassanide monuments- useful works, if ever there were any, such as bridges, dams, canals, and aqueducts. However, we arrived at our journeys end: more than a year had elapsed since our departure from France. * Susa, the ancient capital of Elam, is sit- uated in an immense plain which stretch- es from the mountains of Bakhtyaris to the Persian Gulf. Two important rivers the Karoun, into which falls the Ab-Diz- foul, and the Ikerkha, water a soil worthy to rival in fertility the alluvion of Chal- dma, but more desolate and more deserted even than old Babylonia. With the ex- ception of Chouster and Dizfoul, towns of Sassanide origin, situated the one at three stages, the other at a days ride, from an- cient Susa, and built with its ruins, there is not a sin,,le habitation to enliven the * See Persia, Ohaldcea, Susiana, by Madame J. Dienlafoy. Paris: Hachette. Entered according to Act of congress, in the year 1887, by Harper and Brothers, in the Office of the Librarian of congress at washington. Alt ri.qlsts reserved. Yoa. LXxY.No. 445i SEAL OF ARTAXE5IXF5. 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. landscape. Some nomad Persians and Arabs camp in this vast solitude, and live wild and savage on the milk of their herds, or on the fruits of plundering raids made sometimes in Turkey and sometimes in Persia. Susa, without going back so far as the legendary Memnon, was still a powerful town,whose influence for a long time out- NOTEIn the month of October, 1886, the French Minister of Public Instruction, in presence of the principal memhers of the administration of the Louvre Mnsenm and of the Fine Arts Department, conferred upon Madame J ne Dienlafoy the cross of the Order of~the Lesion of Honora distinction which has very rarely been accorded to a woman. In a summary note, the Journal 0 ciel, in register- in,. the nomination, added the following mention: Susiana Mission, 18811886: Discoveries and ar- chMological work. Madame Diculafoy has in- deed lar,.ely contributed to the success of the hn- portant archuological mission which the French government intrusted to M. Marcel Dienlafoy, her husband, and which began in 1881 with a journey through Persia, Chaldma, and Susiana, the narrative of which was published a few months ago in a vol- nine from the pen of this courageous and indefati- gable lady traveller. The mission continued its work in 18845 and 18856 by excavatin,. the tu- muli of Susa, and briinm~ng to light a series of spe- cimens of ancient art, which are now hem, arranged in the Louvre Museum, and which will probably be visible to the public toward the end of the present year. The above article, written by Mine. Diculafoy specially for Harpers Magazine, is the first authen- tic and complete account yet published of these wonderful discoveriesTM. C. weighed that of Babylon. In- deed, it was not until the sec- ond millenary before our era that Susa lost its hegemony over the alluvial plains be- tween the Karoun and the Euphrates. Darius, son of Hystaspes, made it once more the capital of Asia, when, in 521 B. c., he drove from the throne of Persia the auda- cious Magian who had mas- sacred the brother of Cam- byses. The Great King built a palace at Susa, the ancient authors tell us, and hencefor- ward the royal city became the radiant focus around which were gathered artists from lonia and from Greece, and all those whose know- ledge recommended them to the dispenser of the riches of the world. Darius disappears; Artaxerxes succeeds him; and the unworthy heir of their glory, the last of the Ach~menid~, flies before Alexander, who pillages the treasure of the citadel, and leaves in it in exchange a Macedonian garrison. Then come the Sassan ides, who abandon Susa for a town of their own creation, Chons- ter, and with the stones torn from the palace of their predecessors build bridges and dikes, and finally leave the old capi- tal to waste away and die. In the eighth century the city and its palaces began to disappear nuder layers of detritus, which become thicker every year, and at the present day all that remains is an arti- ficial mountain, valleys formed by the falling in of the banks of the canals, and by way of inhabitants wild cats and boara encamped in the deep crevices which rend from top to bottom the sides of the tu- muli. The artificial elevation which supporte in former times the palaces of Susaan elevation which can be seen from a very great distancehas the form of a hill with a horizontal crest, dominated at the ex- treme right by a higher platform. The plan of the ensemble of the tumuli is. shaped like an elongated lozenge and divided into three parts, separated from each other by a deep valley. Let us dim the loftiest tumulus. A goat path leads us to the top, and from the terrace crowning the elevation the view extends first to a M. MARCEL AND MADAME JANE DIEULAFOY. THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 5 fine chain of snowy mountains bounding a desert plain dotted here and there by two or three lcouars (a sort of shrub) and a few half-ruined Mussulman sanctuaries; to the right is a rectangular plateau, five furlongs in length, the southern extrem- ity of which seems almost as high as our observatory; at our feet is a square tumu- lus of about forty acres covered with brush; to the left a watercourse winding sinu- ously along the extreme spurs of the elevation, and bathing with its greenish waters a celebrated sanctuary; behind us epigraph informs us, came from a palace built by Artaxerxes Mnemon on the site of the royal dwelling of his ancestor Da- rius, a dwelling which was burnt down a few years after its construction. They owe to a singular chance the good fortune of once more seeing the light of day. In 1852 the English government undertook to settle the southern frontier of Turkey and of Persia. For this purpose some geographers and some dipiomatists pene- trated to Susiana, where their official in- violability guaranteed them relative secu stretches a marsh. The watercourse is rity. The people talked to them about called the Chaour; the sanctuary is no Susa, the name of which has remained other than the tomb of Daniel. Accord- popular in Arabistan, and finally Colonel ing to tradition, this monument, of no Williams, and Sir Kennett Loftus, the great pretensions, contains the last re- explorer of the tumuli of Warka, could mains of the Peighambar (i. c., prophet), not resist the temptation to make exca- whose body, 1130 feet long and 30 feet vations around the fragments of fluted broad across the shoulders, is the most columns which were to be found here and precious relic, the palladium, of the coun- there on the surface. They hired three try. Our observatory, like the neighbor- hundred Arabs, had a trench dug at the ing elevations, is destitute of apparent ru- point where the ddbris of stones were most ins. To the northwest, however, we see considerable, and soon brought to light some white stones peeping through the four bases of columns with inscriptions, brush. On approaching we find our- the head which lay near one of the col- selves, not without some surprise, face to urnns, sufficient elements to reconstitute face with the head of a gigantic animal the bicephalous capitals which surmount- lying at the foot of the base of a column. ed the columns, the bases of these sup- A cuneiform inscription in three lan- ports, and some substructions of a room guages is engraved on the flat part of the with a roof resting on pillars, and sur- base. Here and there are scattered a few rounded on three sides by porticoes. Fur- shapeless fragments, and that is all. ther excavations made to the north of These venerable relics, as the trilingual the edifice proved unfruitful: the walls of TOMB OF DANIEL. 6 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. LIEUTENANT BABIN. the room, its doors, the stairways, and the avenues were not found. The stone bulls which crowned the cap- itals were too heavy to be removed, and some enamelled materials alone were sent to London, together with a few terra-cotta statuettes and some cuneiform inscriptions engraved on clay. Sir Kennett Loftus, pressed by the fanatics of Dizfoul, who saw with horror the impure hands of Christians disturbing the soil consecrated to the Prophet, and for thousands of years past used as burying-ground, was obliged to abandon the country after having lost one of his men, who was killed in a popu- lar uprising. We arrived at Susa for the first time in the midst of one of those deluges of rain which are the peculiar privilege of hot countries. At first sight my husband, forcibly struck by the aspect of the tumu- Ii, remained convinced that the trenches dug by Sir Kennett Loftus were not deep enough, and that it would have been pref- erable to have made the excavations to the south rather than to the north of the hypostyle roompurely platonic remarks, for, sick, worn out by fever, and by the 3700 miles that we had travelled on horse- back before reaching the palace of Artax- erxes, we had also come to the end of our financial resources. We returned to France without having so much as scratch- ed the surface of the soil of the palaces. A year passed. The souvenir of Susa haunted my husband in his sleep. He unbosomed himself to M. de Ronchaud, Director of the National Museums, and found in that high functionary the most enlightened confidant and the surest guide. Unfortunately the funds of the museums were not in harmony with the good-will of their director. Monsieur de flonchaud had at his disposal nothing but a balance remaining over from the Uni- versal Exhibition of 1878, 31,000 francs, a very small sum, considering that the country of our dreams was away at the end of the Persian Gulf, and that access to that distant country was most difficult, and consequently most expensive. How- ever, each of the Ministries came to our assistance: the Ministry of Public Instruc- tion added 10,000 francs to our budget; the War Department lent us arms, sad- dles, and tents; the Navy promised to transport our whole mission gratis as far as Aden; and finally two young collabora- tors, M. Babin, Lieutenant of Engineers, and Professor Houssay, were placed under the orders of my husband. These preliminary questions settled, we asked the Shah to grant us the authoriza- tion to excavate the tumuli of Susa. A few months passed, and thanks to the obliging intervention of Dr. Tholozan, the physician and friend of the King, all dif- ficulties were at length removed. The French government was authorized to send an archmological mission into Ara- bistan under the following reserves: the tomb of Daniel should not be touched; all gold and silver objects found should be- PROFESSOR HOUSSAY. THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 7 come the exclusive property of his Majes- lighted at the thought of presenting my ty; and all the other objects discovered respects to the famous crocodiles of Kur- should be divided betweet~ our museums rachee, when, on entering the port, we and Persia. were signalled by a ship just leaving for This news reached France at the end of the Persian Gulf. The baggage of the November, 1884. A few days later we mission was immediately transferred on embarked on board the transport-ship Le board the Assyria, and without having Tonkin, which carried our mission to even set foot on Indian soil we continued Aden. We left without very marked re- our course. gret the volcanic deck of this vessel, load- At the end of February the mission had ed with gunpowder, dynamite, and fulmi- reached the mouth of the Karoun, a large coton, destined for the use of the squadron river which flows into the Shat-el-Arab, commanded hy Admiral Courbet. One ascended the first of these watercourses night the passengers were awakened by as far as a weir built under the dynasty of the fire-alarm call, and for a few moments the Sassanides, hired a caravan, and gain- they had time to think of a better world. ed Chouster, the nominal capital of Per- What a fine effect the Susiana mission sian Arabistan, which I shall hencefor- would have produced flying sky-high in ward designate by its old name of Susi- search of undiscovered stars! ana. At Aden we passed eight days waiting Chouster is the official rather than the for the English boat which runs to Kur- real residence of the Hakem or Governor rachee, for we had to go to India in order of the province. An uncle of the King, to get the means of reaching the coasts of whose acquaintance we had made during Persia. our first Journey, had died, and his suc- En route for Kurrachee I ask the cap- cessor was a person of intelligence, but of tam what is the nature of our cargo. The low extraction, whose appointment had ample and deep hold of the steamer is full irritated the religious nobility of the coun- of lucifer-matches! try, who were thus placed at the mercy The voyage lasted a week. I was de- of a nobody. The Hakem was not at BASES OF coLuMNs OF THE rALACE OF ARTAXERXES. 8 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Chouster, but he was expected to arrive there shortly, we were told. We waited for him in vain five days, and then we started out to go to meet him. As soon as he heard of our arrival he had given orders to raise his camp, pitched not far from the tumuli. The worthy man avoided the neighborhood of the mission as he would have avoided the pest. Nev- ertheless we had to catch him in order to obtain from him the authorization to en- gage workmen, and in order to remit to his couriers our letters and despatches. We met the ordou, that is to say, the civil and military suite which accompa- nies the governor of a province, at a few hours distance from Dizfoul. The enor- mous troop of soldiers and servitors, the tents and the cannons, were defiling slow -~ ~ .~v ~ .1 PERSIAN WORKMAN. ly, and spreading without order over a space of a quarter of a mile wide and nearly four miles long. At last I saw Mozaffer-el-Molk, the sovereign master of the province. He was accompanied by Dr. Moustapha, a pupil of Dr. Tholozan, who in the school of this learned practi- tioner had acquired a very fair knowledge of French, and perhaps too of medicine. We saluted his Excellency, and the mis- sion continued its route toward Dizfoul, while my husband turned back and went to spend the day with Mozaffer-el-Molk in a camp where breakfast was prepared. I saw Dizfoul again with joy: I was so near Susa, and I was in such a hurry to set the picks to work! Toward evening Marcel rejoined us. All the necessary authorizations had been given him; he returned to the mission enchanted and overwhelmed with kind words. The next day the mission handed a letter of recommendation received from high authority to the Sheik Tai~r, an aged and saintly mollah, who was all- powerful in the province, while I paid a visit to the two wives of the general in command of the troops, two beauti- ful Teheran ladies who were bored to death in this town so far from the cap- ital. Two days afterward we started for Susa without troubling our heads about an official spy, placed at my hus- bands disposal by Mozaffer - el - Molk, under pretext of doing us honor, and who in our absence emptied in our name the grocery stores of the bazar, and paid with the money intended for these purchases the debts which, for want of an ordou, he had been drag- ging in his train for years. The weather was dark and rainy; dazzling lightning was rending the starless night when I caught sight of the tumuli in the bluish glimmer of the flashes. It was too late to plant our tents the night of our arrival; we were obliged to beg asylum in the tomb of Daniel; and we considered ourselves very fortunate to be able to encamp nu- der one of the arcades running around the entrance court. At daybreak this honor seemed to us to be dangerous, Christians not being safe in the vicinity of the patron of lion- tamers; and so our first care, as soon as the sun had dried the herbage which covered the turnuli, was to plant our tents not far from the bases of columns THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 9 discovered formerly by Colonel Williams. - At three oclock in the afternoon we trans- orted our baggage to the new encamp- ment, and to their great joy the four exiles dined for the first time in their own quar- ters, or rather in the quarters of the Koun- dour Nakhounta and of the iDariuses. It was seventy-two days since they had left France. Before setting to work it was found ad- visable to examine with the greatest at- tention the excavations begun a little at hap-hazard by Loftus, and to determine the position of the trenches which we were to dig. My husband, at the time of our first journey, had made an exhaustive study of Persepolitan architecture, and his knowledge was of no small assistance in guiding us on the northern plateau,which I shall call the Acha~menida~an tumulus, because the palace of Artaxerxes was sit- uated at this point. The position of the inscriptions engraved on the bases of the column of the Apadana (throne-room) led him to conclude that we ought to look for the entrance of the royal dwelling not to the north but to the south. A first trench was therefore traced about two hundred feet in front of the southern portico; it was slanted slightly along the fa9ade of the palace; the other trenches were cut on the eastern platform, which I shall indi- cate by the name of Elamite. To mark out the trenches was not a great affair; the difficulty was to find workmen to dig them. During these first few days we ceived two visits. One of them, to which we were far from attaching all the impor- tance it deserved, was that of a venerable priest, who came to the tomb the day after we had settled our camp. Accompanied by an escort of thirty persons, he mounted to FAMILY OF DEPUTY-GOVERNOR OF DIEFOUL, PERSIA. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. our tents, refused to come in and rest, and asked why the mission had abandoned the Gabee (the Persian word for tomb), and encamped on muddy and damp ground. Our work, replied my husband, re- quires us to live on the spot. The sec- ond visit was that of an Arab chief, Sheik Au, who was camping with his tribe in the environs of Susa. He brought a fine lamb in testimony of his desire to live on good terms with the new-comers. His proceeding was too polite for us to neglect to interest Sheik Au in our affairs. Mar- cel asked him if amongst the nomads of his tribe there were not some who would dig and shovel dirt for a consideration. He rubbed his hands one against the oth- er, and murmured with contempt, Arab, la, la (Arab, no, no). This meant to say, in a brief form, The Arabs do not work; apply to the Persians. The gloaming of the third day saw the arrival of Mirza Abdoul Khahim. This spy related that he had delayed his de- parture from Dizfoul in order to calm the emotion caused in the town by the news of our establishment on the domain of Daniel. Mirza Abdoul Khahim, accord- ing to his own statement, had dissipated all the storms. Meanwhile an old fellow, wearing the blue turban of the Dizfoulis, with a coun- tenance more intelligent than it was frank, a mason by trade, a usurer when he had the chance, appeared in the camp. He had heard in the bazar that the Faran- ghis recently arrived at Susa could dive better than amphibious anfmals, and that the smallest of them could live for three days at the bottom of the Chaour, where he would swim about without ever breath- ing, and feed on live carp. This is tru- ly strange, he had said to a colleague: what say you? Let us go and enjoy this gratuitous spectacle. And there- upon the two, mounted on asses, had taken the direction of Daniels tomb, where they had arrived after a ten hours ride across the desert. And still the excavations were not be- gun, from want of workmen! An old Arab, whose only nourishment consisted of the herbs which he browsed on the tumulus, a poor devil who had been robbed by the nomads, and the son of a widow who was dying of starvation in the Gabee, were at last enrolled at fancy prices. On February 28 Marcel and my- self took command of this glorious bat- talion. Full of emotion, I struck the first blow with the pick on the Aebmumenidmean tumulus, and worked until my strength gave out. My husband then took his turn with the pick, while our acolytes carried away the loose earth. This was how the excavations at Susa were begun. The day was drawing to an end when the mason and his companion, who, after having looked for us in vain in the Cha- our, had assisted without uttering a word at the inauguration of the works, proposed to engage some workmen and bring them to us. Their offer was accepted at once, and a daily premium was promised for each workman, picker or shoveller. For- ty - eight hours afterward sixty Dizfoulis animated with their presence the long- abandoned tumuli. The weather was rainy; our tents let in the moisture; provisions were short; our soup, cooked in the open air, was bet- ter provided with rain-water than with butter; nevertheless, we were joyousjoy- ous because we had reached Susa, joyous because we had taken possession of the site which we had so long aspired to exca- vate, joyous because we had at last some workmen at our disposal. Our happiness was short-lived. On March 2 a courier arrived with a let- ter from the Governor, written in French by Dr. Moustapha. Here it is in its en- tirety: MoNswun,The Mussulmans are igno- rant, uncivilized, and outside rules; they are, in short, a stumbling-block in the way of your labors. In my absence it is very difficult for you, I believe, to direct your mission. The tumult of passions of the religion of Islam will cause, perhaps, a great danger, which it will be impossible for me to ward offi It is good to deposit your things at Diz- foul, in the charge of Mirza Abdoul Khahim, and to come and stay at Chonster with me. After my return to Dizfoul you will be able to attend to your business with the escort, the force, and the advice of the government. Yours truly, MOZAFFER-EL-MOLK. The unexpected arrival of this wonder- ful document threw my husband into a state of cruel perplexity. The bearer on being questioned, furnished some supple- mentary explanations. More than six hundred fanatics had set out for Susa three days previously; they were armed with guns, lances, and slings, and were advancing, intoxicated with the smell of THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 11 powder, with the intention of attacking the violators of the tomb of Daniel, the infldels who were seekin~ to appropriate the relics of the prophet. The three Sons of the Sheik Tai~r had arrived at full gal- lop, and with great difficulty induced the fanatics to turn back, by promising them that their father himself would lead them to massacre us, if the holy priests sent in hot haste to our camp should discover any foundation for the accusations brought against the Christians. In short, the ex- citement was extreme, and the life of the members of the mission in peril, if they persisted in remaining at Susa. Thus was explained the singular visit we had re- ceived, and the delay of our spy in rejoin- ing us. On the other hand, there was no mis- take to be made: to leave the tumulus the day after this scene was equivalent to abandonin~ forever the hope of excava- tine, Susa. The Governor would certain- ly not come to Dizfoul before the sum- mer; that is to say, before the season when the climate of Susiana becomes so torrid that the natives themselves cannot go out in the daytime, but live in cellars dug thirty feet below the surface in order to protect themselves from the mortal rays of the sun. My husband called us all together, com- municated to us the Governors letter, and also his formal intention of remaining on the tumulus and of continuing the works in spite of everything. We all applaud- ed this manly resolution. The chief of the mission then replied to Mozaffer-el-Molk that, in spite of his de- sire to please him, he could not desert a post which the French government had intrusted to him after a special under- standing with the Shah. If popular fa- naticism endangered the lives of the mern- bers of the mission, it was the duty of the Governor to watch over the security of the emissaries of a friendly power. In order to put an end to the suspicions which the arrival of a courier had begun to awaken amongst the workmen, alway in dread of the official rod, my husband ordered Ousta Hassan, who had been pro- moted to the dignity of head contractor, to double the number of laborers. Hence- forward the excavations proceeded with the greatest activity. The Arabs, so dis ARABIAN DANCING MEN. 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dainful in the beginning, came in crowds sembling palm leaves, supported by yel- to offer their services and their spades, low ribbons. Merlons covered with blu- and it was not the least of our trouble~ ish-gray enamel complete the decoration every morning to drive away the intrud- at the top. ers, who came in hundreds, and threat- To the right of the room it was easy to ened to pillage the tents when they were see that there was an interruption in the not admitted to the honor of working deposit of enamelled d6bris, indicating the under our orders. However, the first position of a vast entrance; finally the trenches began to deepen. In spite of position of the bricks, and of the unbaked the interruptions caused by the abundant clay walls against which they were fixed, rain, we had reached a depth of nearly showed that the lions, nine in number, fourteen feet without finding anything had crowned a pylon, and had fallen except some fine funeral urns, covered on to the paved floor of the court, break- each with round stone stoppers, each con- ing the tiles situated below the enamelled taming a skeleton, when the pick of one bricks, and leaving intact those which of the workmen all at once laid bare a had not borne the shock of the wall. bed of queer white-colored materials which Mixed up with the bricks we found a skel- looked like agglomerated concrete. Hea- eton crushed by the fall of the masonry, yen be praised! One of the sides of these a marvellous opal seal which once be- parallelopipeds was coated with colored longed to Xerxes, a cone of carved ivory, enamel. and a thousand interesting utensils. The trench was directed parallel with These discoveries were the most impor- the fa9ade of the palace, and the method- tant of the whole campaign. The east ical excavation continued for about 200 trenches, however, gave us some entirely feet, with a breadth of 26 feet. One month new information about the ancient forti- later we were able to put together on the fications, and furnished a contingent of floor of our tent the enamels composing various objects, such as spear heads, tear magnificent lions in low relief, each mea- bottles, bronze and terra-cotta lamps, en- suring six feet in height and over eleven graved stones, bronze coins, and a series feet from the tip of the nose to the end of of funeral urns arranged in files, and of- the tail. The animal stands out against a ten one row on the top of another. One of turquoise blue background; the body is these urns, isolated contrary to the usage, white, the head surrounded by a sort of especially attracted our attention. It green victorine, the mustache blue and rested on a basis formed of slabs of con- yellow, the flanks white, the belly blue. crete. On demolishing this pedestal we In spite of its extravagant coloration the noticed that each slab was enamelled; on beast has a terribly ferocious aspect. the edge of one was painted and modelled Above and below this bass-relief were a beard; on others the arms of a black- two friezes composed of blue and green skinned person, life size, clothed with dentils, and small white ornaments re- richly colored stuffs. What were these men with superb vestments? Were we in presence of those Ethiopians of the Levant of whom Homer and Herodotus speak? Were the Nak- hounta the de- scendants of a princely family re- lated to the black races who reign- ed in the south of Egypt? We thought also that perhaps, after the example of the Greeks who paint- COLOSSAL LION IN ENAMELLED FAIENCE. THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 13 ed black the body of the men, and left hands upset this hypothesis, at first sight white the skin of the women, the Susians so tempting. While we were digging might have systematically used conven- trenches in the three tumuli, we took care tional colors. This seemed to us all the not to abandon the fragments of capitals more admissible as the mouth of our en- discovered by Loftus. With time and amelled personage was fine and delicate, infinite patience we had just succeeded in But the discovery of a white mans hand getting some very heavy stones out of the in enamel similar in form to the black trenches, when the first detachments of ENAMELLED BRICK STAIRCASE. 14 HAHPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the pilgrims who come every year to do homage to the prophet arrived at Daniels tomb. The desire to examine at close quarters the four Faraughis, about whom the most fantastic legends were current, con- tributed to increase very considerably the numbers of the devout. Henceforward our situation became intolerable. Every day hundreds of pilgrims poured in by the road from Dizfoul, accompanied by their asses, their wives, and their chil- dren. No sooner had they arrived than they rushed into the trenches, picked up the bones which we could not conceal in certain places, so great was the quantity, insulted usat a~good distancefired their guns in our ears without a word of warn- ing, became wild with rage at onr calm- ness in presence of these aggressive dem- onstrations, and finally broke at night all the objects which were too heavy to be carried to our tents. Fifty funeral urns, a whole family vault, placed all ready to be photographed, were thus smashed to atoms during a storm. The bulls soon came in for their turn; and in order to avoid irreparable damage we were obliged to give up the complete excavation of the Apa& iua. Marcel would have set guards ovqr the trenches, but the bravest of the workmen shut themselves up in the tomb of Daniel immediately after sunset, and neither silver nor gold would tempt them to face the divas, the fairies, the enchant- ers, and above all the thieves, who peopled the tumuli. I cannot blame them for this cowardice, for the camp itself offered nei- tlier repose nor security. At one moment the nomads would approach stealthily and try to carry off our horses; at the next moment it was the hen-pen that was INTAGLIO CYLINDER, NO. 2. STONE INTAGLIO cYLINDER, NO. 1.[SEE PAGE 21.] THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 15 rifled by two-legged jackals; then, again, the servants would be heard calling all the members of the mission to defend the pots and kettles against the ravages of marauders. Not a night passed without Marcel leading a sortie em masse against the plunderers. Determined to sell our lives dearly if the nomads made bold enough to attack our tents, we had con- tracted the habit of sleeping in our clothes, and with loaded arms for bedfellows; but these excellent precautions did not make up for sleepless nights, nor did they give us that rest which we needed after the- long hours passed in the trenches. I was inspecting one day the numer- ous crevices which streak the flanks of the Acba~meni& e- an tumulus when I set my foot on a hard body which I had not noticed through the grass. I slipped and fell. It did not come into my mind to punish the stone, first cause of my accident, like Xerxes chastising the Hellespont; nevertheless I pushed aside the vegetation, and discovered beneath a tuft of marsh-mallows a white slab in con- crete similar to the concrete of the lions. To run to the tents, to get a pick, and pull out of the ground six or eight of these bricks enamelled on one edge was the affair of a few minutes. Below this first layer was a second, and below that a third, and a tenth, and a twentieth. The balustrade which is now in the Louvre was discovered thus in a wall of the fortifi- cations which had been re- paired under the Sassanides. It was square-scalloped, and covered with branches of lotus terminated by white palmettes. Sonie black feet shod with yellow or blue shoes, some black hands, enamelled, but painted flat and not in relief, and some fragments of a very elegant polychrom.e decoration closed the series of our last discoveries. The time INTAGLIO CYLINDER, NO. 4. INTAGLIO cYLINDER, NO. 3. INTAGLIO CYLINDER, NO. 5. 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and th& days passed, and passed misera- bly, in struggles now against the pilgrims and now against the wdrring tribes, who robbed our flour convoys and stole our sheep. As for making complaints, it was not to be thought of. To whom could we complain? You have remained at Susa against my advice, the Governor would have replied; you must get out of the mess yourselves the best way you can. In the midst of all this, Professor Hous- say was sent on an embassy to the Sheik Ta~r, in order to ask his authorization to build on the lands of Daniel a house for the shelter of the members of the mission. The experience of a winter passed in tents had convinced my husband of the neces- sity of having in future a shelter, not only against the heavy rains of the win- BRONZE STATUETTE. ter season, but solid walls behind which we could set the pilgrims and the maraud- ers at defiance. The Sheik Ta~3r received kindly Mon- sieur Houssay, who had rapidly learned the language of the country, and granted the desired authority, on condition that when th~re were no more French at Susa to live in it. the house should be placed at the disposal of the administrators of the domain of Daniel. Finally the vener- able mollah promised to come and visit our works in person. Three days after- ward the road from Dizfoul seemed to us to be black with people. Escorted by five hundred persons, the sheik was on his way to the tomb of Daniel, where he in- tended to await the visit of Marcel, while his sons came to the tents to salute us. The double ceremony passed off with- out any mishap; it even had an unhoped- for result. As soon as the workmen and the pilgrims saw on what terms the mis- sion was with the religious chief of the province, we suddenly found ourselves en- joying relative calm, which was all the more appreciated considering that since the beginning of our enterprise we had not had a single nights undisturbed rest. Unfortunately the heat became daily more intolerable. Some of the men had fallen sun-struck in the trenches; it was impossible to remain in the bottom of these ovens. Finally the grain crops were ripe, and we were inevitably ap- proaching the end of our campaign. We closed it very pleasantly, and a banquet composed of rice and mutton, washed down with Chaour water, sealed our good relations with the workmen. The tomb of Daniel was transformed into a banquet- INTAGLIO cYLINDER, NO. 6. I v( -, I, THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 17 ing hall and dancing saloon. After the our treasures. Fifty-four boxes, made repast a deputation came up to the tents, Heaven knows howwith Dizfoul wood and proceeded solemnly to kiss the feet and nails, were filled, and the objects of each of our party; then the best talker which could not be put into them were of the group delivered a speech. My hus- buried by night in a spot known to our- band was thanked for having abstained selves alone. from clubbing his workmen, although no After having endured many vicissi- one would have ever contested his right tudes and many privations without our to do so; he was thanked for having set- general harmony and good-humor hay- tlcd with justice the various differences ing been disturbed for a single instant, which had arisen durin~ the past three the mission separated into two parts. months between the men and their mas- Messieurs Babin and Houssay went into ters; Lieutenant Babin was praised to the Persia, properly so called, where they skies for having handed over the pay to were to make a journey for the purpose the workmen in its entirety, without of special studies, while my husband and havin~ kept back a farthing for his own myself proceeded to arrange the trans- profit; Professor Houssay received the port to France of the precious packages blessings of the sick, to whom he had giv- which had been so laboriously got to- en consultations, medicine, and money. gether. I will not say what share came to me in We were anxious to avoid a journey of this general distribution of compliments, nearly two hundred miles across a coun- but I remember that I was not forgotten. try where objects taken from the belong- In short, the speaker expressed the hope ings of the prophet were looked upon as that they would see us a6ain after the hot talismans and treasures. We therefore season, and that then they would be all resolved to get into Turkey as soon as the more devoted in their service, as they possible. were the better acquainted with us. At last we reached Amarah, a small We had to think now of packing up town recently built on the banks of the FRIEZE OF ARCHERS FROM THE PALACE OF DARIUS. 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Tigris, and on the itinerary of the Eng- lish boats. Our boxes were therefore safe so far, and we thought that we were now going to enjoy a well-earned rest. What an illusion! We had scarcely landed from our boats when the custom-house officers of the Sublime Porte took posses- sion of us. From our sorry looks they imagined that travellers worn out by fa- tigue and fever would readily sacrifice a few Turkish pounds to their desire to re- turn home to their country. Without opening our boxes they estimated their value at 100,000 francs, and demanded 1000 francs for transit dues before they would allow us to take them, 5000 francs as caution money, and also a bakshish in proportion to the wildness of their other demands. This was pure extortion. The French consul at Bagdad complained to the Valy Taki-ed-din Pasha, the instigator of the massacres of Aleppo. This gentle- man even outbid the pretensions of his in- feriors. He gave us to understand that our antiquities might very well have been found on Turkish territory, and in that case they ought to be sent to the museum of Constantinople. We obtained, however, the favor of having our boxes taken on to Bassorah, but once there we were kept continually under strict watch, while gun-boats cruised in the river with orders to sink us if the slightest attenipt at escape were made. The only thing to be done was to return to France in order to have the matter treated diplomatically. The boxes were all sealed with the seal of the French con- sulate, and deposited in the custom-house, and broken-hearted we took passage on hoard a coal-boat bound for Aden. We had with us only three trunks, contain- ing the lions head and the small objects. These three cases passed as personal lug- gage. An announcement from the Persian Prime Minister, repealing our firmans, ar- rived at Paris a few days after us. Nego- tiations were undertaken which resulted in obtaining the prolongation of the statu quo at least for one year. His Majesty of Persia and his son the Prince Zell~ Sultan consented not to offi- cially revoke the orders given in the pre- ceding year, orders which, as we have seen, were so badly carried out. In these precarious conditions we took the road to Susa once more in the begin- ning of October. A gun-boat stationed at Aden was to carry us as far as Bassorah, thus render our return more rapid, and, above all, assert the intentions of the French goverhment. The Scorpion reach- ed Bouchyr, where we found Messieurs Babin and Houssay, but not, as we had hoped, the renewal of our firmans. Three weeks passed thus, and when at last Persian territory was open to us anew, the rainy season was beginning. The Amarah road being shorter than the Chouster road, we TRANSPORTING TREASURES ACROSS THE JUNGLE FROM SUSA TO THE PERSIAN GULF.[SEE PAGE 23.] THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 9 chose it. It would take too long to relate the incidents of this journey, but in brief we did not reach Susa until December 12, sixty-eight days after leaving Marseilles. The hundred voices of fame soon an- iiounced our arrival to the nomads, and the very next day crowds of workmen ar- rived, and the excavations were resumed as smoothly as if they had not been inter- rupted at all. My husband had agreed to stop the ex- cavations before the beginning of the pil- grimages, that is to say, before April 1. lie was obliged, therefore, to modify his original plans, which had been conceived with a view to a durable organization. The Achmemenidmean tumulus was best suited for rapid excavations. The level of the floor of the palace had been discov- ered the preceding year, and the depth of the trenches was not excessive. My hus- band resolved, therefore: 1. To go on with the excavations begun in 1852 by Loftus on the site of the Apa- dana, continued in 1885 by the French mission, and interrupted at the epoch of the pilgrimage in order to save the sculp- tures laid bare from certain destruction. 2. To try to determine the position of the stairway of which I had discovered the balustrade in one of the walls of the fortification. 3. To find the junction of the pylones, and the position of the perimeter of the palace. The results of these different undertak- ings fully came up to our expectations. On the floor of the Apadana we exhumed, besides the fragments seen by Loftus, the entire body of a bicephalous bull in a per- fect state of preservation, another bulls head very beautifully worked, shafts and bases of columns, the double volutes placed below the capital, the surrounding walls of the throne-room, which the English mission had sought for in vain, some frag- ments of stone coming from the outer doors, and, finally, some fragments of the facing of the walls and of the pavement. The excavations alongside the pylones enabled us to find the base of the surround- ing wall and a fortified door. This open- ing was based, contrary to the usage, on terra-cotta foundations. Never, since the beginning of the excavations, had we met with an ancient wall built with similar materials, and Heaven knows how anx- iously we had sought for such a precious guide. Monsieur Dieulafoy thought at VOL. LXXV.No. 445.2 once of the palace of Darius, destroyed, according to the account of Artaxerxes Mnemon, in the reign of his great ances- tora palace of which the pavement had been found at another point. He was not mistaken. All our efforts were then con- centrated on this part of the excavations, and soon our workmen succeeded in taking out, fragment by fragment, the frieze of archers, which in a few months the pub- lic will be able to admire in the Louvre Museum. The bricks composing this frieze, unlike those of the lion, did not affect the form of parallelopipeds. They were fiat and square, and made of a kind of concrete combining the whiteness of plaster with the hardness of stone. The subject paint- ed on the edge and treated with minute care was very difficult to recompose. One day we discovered a hand, the next day a foot shod with a golden boot; finally the enamels became abundant, and we were able, aided by the continuity of the sub- ject and by the way it was ctft out into rectangular sections, to reconstitute a per- sonage forming part of a bass-relief repre- senting a procession of archers. The warriors are figured in profile and marching; on their shoulders rest a bow and an immense quiver; they carry a javelin terminating in a silver pome- granate. The vestments are all cut af- ter the same pattern. They are com- posed of a robe slit in front, of a short shirt with long sleeves, drawn in round the waist by a belt, and a round jacket closed over the breast. A rich band of ornament trims the hem of the garments. The stuffs are different. Some are gold- en yellow embroidered with blue and green daisies; others have a white ground, and bear on a black escutcheon a picture of the citadel of Susa; sometimes the robes are white, and covered with flowers and stars set off by a black background; the shirt is black or yellow; the boots gold or blue. The archers are crowned with a green torsade, and bedecked with gold ear-rings and bracelets. Their skin is black; the eyes are drawn as if they were seen full face; the nose is arched; the lips thin, and narrowly edged with carmine. The curled beard is relatively short; the hair is curly only at the end. The cunei- form inscriptions on the enamel, which concern the archers, still contain, in spite of their mutilation, the name of Darius King in Persian, in Median, and in Assyri HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. an, and the following characteristic phrase: Otana nama parsa (a Persian by the name of Otanes). These fragments are very precious, for, in the absence of more precise archteological information, they suffice to date the monument. My husband was right in considering the Susian people to be an isolated tribe of the most ancient colonists of Asia, those blacks of the Rig-Veda, those Ethiopians of the Levant mentioned by Homer and described by Herodotus. The anthropological studies of Profess- or Houssay on the present inhabitants of Susiana and the examination of the well- preserved skeletons discovered in the fu- neral urns furthermore tend to show that within the past eighteen hundred years the anatomic characteristics of the black races have been continually growing weaker, though they may still be found in all the townsfolk of Arabistan. Besides these enamelled faiences, the ex- cavations of the palace of Darius brought to light fragments of sculpture on terra- cotta of a very peculiar character. They are neither painted nor enamelled; their elementary forms have entirely lost any conventional character; and the ensemble of the bass-relief is modelled with surpris- ing skill and ability, althou~,h the subjects are borrowed from the fantastic fauna of Chaldtea. Here it was a wild beast like those which are reproduced on the bass- reliefs of Persepolis; there it was a bull represented in profile, and nevertheless with two divergent horns. These ani- mals were surrounded by friezes covered with a cuneiform text engraved by hand on the edge of the bricks. Some of the inscriptions are in Persian; others, writ- ten in Assyrian cursive characters, have some connection with Susian texts of the eighth or ninth century B.C. Although the palace of Darius has hith- erto furnished only magnificent fragments of its decoration, the plan of the edifices which in the time of Artaxerxes crown- ed the Achtemenidman tumulus is now known; we can even reconstitute the Apadana in its general aspect and in its details. The buildings rose on an almost rectangular platform sixty feet high, sur- rounded on the east and west by fortifica- tions. The summit of the northern de- fences, terminating just at the level of the platform of the palace, allowed the eye to embrace the whole chain of the Bakhtya- ris Mountains, the plain, and the town of Susa. The southern front formed one of the sides of the interior court comprised between the citadel and the Elamite tu- mulus. The grand entrance to this court. was situated in the axis of the palace, to the south and at the foot of the walls of the citadel. Without concerning myself with the lateral constructions, I pass~ through the gate and proceed toward the palace of Artaxerxes. In front of me is- a gigantic stairway between two towers, which form part of the system of fortifica- tions. I admire the enamelled hand-rail; I mount the steps, so easy that they might be mounted on horseback, and I reach the outer court, bounded on the east and west by the ramparts. Porticos supported by pillars and decorated with fantastic ani- mals occupy the middle of the wings facing the stairway is an opening flanked by two pylones, faced with white and rose mosaic, and surmounted by a magnificent procession of enamelled lions. Before crossing the threshold of the inner court I perceive the throne-room. The Apadana* was isolated from all the surrounding constructions on the south by the inner court, on the north, the east, and the west by a gently sloping road reserved for the royal chariots, which mounted there from the plain to the top of the platform. The three colonnades of the palace and their bicephalous capitals escaped the view of visitors, unless they caught a glimpse of them through the large openings placed at their extremities. For that matter they had full leisure tc~ admire the elegance and the majesty be- fore penetrating into the royal precincts, inasmuch as the throne-room dominated with its whole height the fortifications- on the north. In the time of Darius the walls forming the back of the colonnades must have been adorned with processions- of warriors, and with those endless inscrip- tions destined to proclaim the glory of the Achtemenidte. Such was, in its main outlines, the offi- cial dwelling of a Khchayathia,t further embellished by fountains, ponds, flower- gardens, and works of art, which must have beeii marvellous if we are to believe the Greeks, who were good judges in the niatter. If it be granted that simplicity * Apad~na is the word by which the Persians designated the throne-room. This expression bas passed into Hebrew with the meaning of tabernacle. f Persian name for King, whence comes the title of Shah, borne at the present day by the sovereigns of Persia. THE EXCAVATIONS AT SUSA. 21 of plan, clearness of arrangement, and harmony of ensemble are the supreme ex- pressions of architectural beauty, the Apa- dana of Artaxerxes must have been one of the finest edifices of antiquity. The excavation of the Apadana did not alone absorb the attentioii of the chief of the mission; the examination of the nat- ural crevices which had not yet been in- vaded by the tall herbage gave a most in- teresting result, for it led to the discovery of a narrow trench, carefully filled up with gravel, the presence of which in this particular place was soon to lead my hus- band to reconstitute with certitude the ancient fortifications which surrounded the palace of the great kings. The rode and the position of this lining, which was similar to the works used by our modern engineers for the protection of a retain- ing wall, having been once recognized, it became straightway easy to follow the trench full of pebbles at all points where it had not been buried beneath too thick a mass of rubbish, and thus to isolate the exterior wall from the retaining wall, and to re-establish the situation of the exterior facing parallel with the lining, and dis- tant from the latter some seventy- five feet. We were thus in possession of the perimeter and exact extent of the defen- sive works of Susa, but the principal ele- ments of the transversal sections were wantinga regrettable lacuna, which fresh researches, facilitated by a happy concourse of circumstances, at last filled up. We even discovered the grand gate of the royal precincts, and near it there was still lying a fragment of the panels, covered with triple brass, nailed, and em- bossed. The Susian fortification comprised, first of all, a moat filled with water and com- municating with the Chaour. The ex- terior rampart, built with hollow bricks, was 75 feet broad and 70 feet high. This latter dimension is obtained by adopting as a plane of comparison the average level of the plain, taken 55 feet below the pave- ment of the Apadana of Artaxerxes. Against the inner side of the wall, and separated from it by the lining of gravel, there leaned a mass of beaten earth 85 feet thick and 55 feet high. On this platform of embanked earth rose two groups of buildings parallel to each other, which served as casemated barracks and pas- sages where the defenders of the place could circulate without danger even when the first zone of defences was in the pow- er of the enemy. A second rampart, 57 feet broad, formed by two unbaked brick walls 11 feet and 15 feet thick, with be- tween them earth beaten down while wet, dominated the first line of defences. And behind this second zone there was a ram- part road, the dimensions of which we could not determine. Generally the plan of the fortifications is not bastioned; it af- fects the form of a saw, with the teeth set at right angles. These strong and intelligent defensive works had rendered legendary the cele- brated fortress of Susa; its reputation was not usurped, for this same stronghold, which opened wide its gates to Alexander, enabled a thousand Macedonians to resist for a whole year the efforts of the revolt- ed Persians. Our expedition has enriched the Louvre with 302 engraved stones or rollers. Some of them are very remarkable, either for their masterly execution, or for their an- tiquity, or for the novelty of the subjects which they represent. I will mention some of them: 1. A roller in diorite about an inch and a half high. The subject represented is some very archaic religious scene. The god of the worshipper, and perhaps the wife of the worshipper, figure in the pic- ture, also the victim, the sacrificial in- struments, the lunar arc, the solar aster- isk, and an inscription in archaic charac- ters which occupies two lines and a half. The god wears a complicated tiara and a long fringed scarf, which is wrapped around the body in such a manner as to leave free the shoulder and the right arm. The man and the woman wear a similarly draped costume, through which never a needle passed. The preservation of this specimen is perfect, but its execution is primitive. 2. A roller of light green porphyry about one and a half inches high. The engraver represents for us the combat of Jsdoubar and his servant NoubaYn against the bulls and lions that were devastating the land. This intaglio, as fine in draw- ing and execution as the most celebrated rollers of the De Clercq collection, or of the Metropolitan Museum of New York, testifies to the possession by the eminent artists of old Chalda~a of a knowledge of anatomy and a superior talent such as their Assyrian and Babylonian successors never showed. Even the grouping of the per- 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. sonages has been treated with minute care: it is most curious, for instance, to notice how the horns, the shoulders, and the thighs of the two standing bulls form a delicious scroll, in the centre of which was engraved an inscription which has been unfortunately worn down. With- out hesitation I should declare this superb intaglio to be six or seven thousand years old. It must be contemporaneous with those kings of Agad6 whose names and great deeds have been revealed to us by the inscriptions of the last sovereigns of Babylon. 3. A roller of rock-crystal 1.378 inches high. A harpist and a guitar-player are giving a concert to a monkey and a goat placed between the musicians. The pic- ture is most interesting, because it repro- duces with charming grace a domestic scene which I have never before found represented. The costume of the person- ages is Chalda~an. 4. A roller of light green porphyry one inch high. A scene of adoration marvel- lously modelled and executed. In this charming intaglio you discern distinctly the arrangement of the draped costumes to which I have already called attention in describing roller No. 1. I have every reason to believe that this seal belonged to a royal Chalda~an princess, whose title will be found in the inscription. It is for the Assyriologists to decide whether this interpretation is exact. 5. A roller of rock-crystal 0.709 of an inch high. An androcephalous bull, a variation of the geniuses pla& ed at the doors of Assyrian palaces. This intaglio is remarkable on account of the rarity of the subject represented and its superb execu- tion. 6. A roller of white marble 1.181 inches high. The Greek legends tell us of dol- phins which served Anon as coursers, but I never heard of riding on carp to go a-fishing with a trident. Facing the aquatic rider, a gentleman, lightly clad, reclines on a couch. This second person- age is doubtless blas6 as regards all the exploits of his companion, for he seems to be entirely occupied with the flower whose perfume he smells, and with the bird which is flying in the air. 7. Royal Acha~menida~an seal, in flax gray opal, 0.787 of an inch diametera magnificent stone, engraved doubtless for Xerxes or Artaxerxes I. (See illustration at the head of this article.) The medal- lion of the King, surmounted by the great god Avuramazda, is placed between two sphinxes wearing the white crown of Up- per Egypt. This intaglio, of a truly royal art, is particularly remarkable as a speci- men of the Ach~emeni& ean art of Per- sepolis. In connection with these intaglios I may notice a little bronze four inches high, to obtain which nearly cost us our lives. As I cannot prolong indefinitely even the summary description of the 1000 or 1200 monuments discovered in the course of our campaigns of 18845 and 18856, I will content myself with a succinct recapitulation of the objects which we brought back to France. 1. Two fragments of a frieze in enam- elled faience adorned with lions in low re- lief, and coming from the pylones of the palace of Artaxerxes Mnemon. These two fragments together measure 13 feet high by 29 long. 2. A fragment of a frieze in enamelled faience adorned with eleven royal guards of the corps of the Immortals, and coming from the palace of Darius. This fragment 15 15 feet high and 30 feet long. 3. Two fragments of the balustrade of a stairway in enamelled faience. 4. Three fragments of a frieze in terra- cotta representing fantastic animals. These fragments together measure 6 feet high and 20 feet long. 5. A bicephalous capital resting on its volutes, 17 feet high and 13 feet broad, coming from the palace of Artaxerxes. 6. A superb collection of engraved stones, comprising in all 302 seals or roll- ers, dating from the most archaic times down to the Sassanides. 7. A great number of cuneiform inscrip- tions, mostly Susian or Ach~menid~an. These inscriptions are engraved on clay and on stone, or enamelled on bricks. 8. Bronze coins from Susiana and the adjoining countries of the epoch of the Parthians and the Sassanides. 9. Some bronze, terra-cotta, marble, and ivory statuettes. 10. A part of the bronze covering of the outer doors of the palace of Artaxerxes. 11. A series of glass tear bottles. 12. Some 500 objects of secondary im- portance, comprising enamelled Sassanide vases, Parthian funeral urns, a headless sandstone statue, arms of iron and bronze, lamps, toilet utensils, marble vases, al- tars, fragments of enamelled bricks and MEXICAN NOTES. 23 of sculptured stones, funeral inscriptions, etc. 13. Susian inscriptions which have been buried from 1700 to 2000 years. 14. Plaster casts of the large bases of the palace, Qf their inscriptions, and of other objects too heavy to be transported. 15. A series of photographic views of the most important aspects of the tumuli, the works, and the native types of Susiana. 16. A relief plan of the tumulus and of the excavations, made by Lieutenant Babin. Our establishment at Susa and the work of excavation presented great difticulties. Nothing, however, in all the trials which the mission had endured there is worthy to be compared with the anxiety of all kinds and with the material suffering which the transportation of our treasures caused us. We had to pack and drag nearly fifty tons of boxes some of which weighed not less than three tons across a pathless desert continually scoured by nomads living exclusively on plunder, and that too with the aid of men and ani- mals who had not the most elementary ideas either of carts or harness. Thanks to the indefatigable devotion of our young collaborators and to the invincible obsti- nacy of Monsieur Dieulafoy, we neverthe- less got the better of difficulties which seemed at first to be insurmountable. We made carts and harness; the mules learned to draw; and the men, who were even more frightened than the quadru- peds, learned to drive the teams; the riv- ers had to be crossed without the aid of bridges. During a journey of nearly two hundred miles, night and day, we were obliged to drive away the robbers with gunshots; and in spite of the nomads in spite of the difficulties inherent in the soil, and in spite of the temperature, which reached no less than 120~ Fahr. in the shade and 163~ in the sun, we at last reached the Persian Gulf. Happily the cruiser of the squadron, Le Sand, was waiting for the mission at the mouth of the Shat-el-Arab. It took us on board, utterly worn out with our efforts, and at the end of June brought us within sight of Toulon. It was high time to return to our dear France: half the mission could not have endured a longer stay in Susiana. MEXICAN NOTES. 111.COATEPEC. BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER~ ONE inconvenience in travelling in Mexico is the bulky silver money with which the tourist must load himself down. Whenever I moved any distance from the capital I carried a shot-bag full of the cart-wheel dollars, which were worth from nineteen to twenty-four cents less than United States money. The Bank of London and South America, in Mexico, issues notes which are current in the states of Mexico and Michoacan, and perhaps elsewhere, but not good in the state of Vera Cruz, although the bank officials as- sured us they were. Consequently we have this anomaly, whic.h is characteristic of Mexico, that while the railway company of the Mexican IRailwav received these notes for fare at the Mexican end, they would not take them at all at the Vera Cruz terminus. The first-class fare, in an ex- ceedingly roomy and comfortable coach 263 miles in about fourteen hourswas sixteen dollars. In the train was a car- load of soldiers in white cotton uniform a precaution against robbers which the government takes on no other railway in the republic. At every station, also, a guard of half a dozen soldiers appeared on the platform, saluting as the train drew up. On the higher table-land these guards were mounted, and in their fine appearance reminded one of the famous Guardias Giviles of Spain. The morning (February 26) was bright and a little cool; the twin snow peaks sparkled crystal white in the clear air. The road runs in the Mexican basin north of Lake Tezcoco, through a region highly cultivated, bristling with cacti of gro- tesque forms, the fields marked by lines of the maguey plant, frequent adobe vil- lages, with clusters of the stately organ cactus grouped about the huts, the whole plain full of the stir of agricultural life and movement. As we rose among the hills the clean maguey plant was more

MEXICAN NOTES. 23 of sculptured stones, funeral inscriptions, etc. 13. Susian inscriptions which have been buried from 1700 to 2000 years. 14. Plaster casts of the large bases of the palace, Qf their inscriptions, and of other objects too heavy to be transported. 15. A series of photographic views of the most important aspects of the tumuli, the works, and the native types of Susiana. 16. A relief plan of the tumulus and of the excavations, made by Lieutenant Babin. Our establishment at Susa and the work of excavation presented great difticulties. Nothing, however, in all the trials which the mission had endured there is worthy to be compared with the anxiety of all kinds and with the material suffering which the transportation of our treasures caused us. We had to pack and drag nearly fifty tons of boxes some of which weighed not less than three tons across a pathless desert continually scoured by nomads living exclusively on plunder, and that too with the aid of men and ani- mals who had not the most elementary ideas either of carts or harness. Thanks to the indefatigable devotion of our young collaborators and to the invincible obsti- nacy of Monsieur Dieulafoy, we neverthe- less got the better of difficulties which seemed at first to be insurmountable. We made carts and harness; the mules learned to draw; and the men, who were even more frightened than the quadru- peds, learned to drive the teams; the riv- ers had to be crossed without the aid of bridges. During a journey of nearly two hundred miles, night and day, we were obliged to drive away the robbers with gunshots; and in spite of the nomads in spite of the difficulties inherent in the soil, and in spite of the temperature, which reached no less than 120~ Fahr. in the shade and 163~ in the sun, we at last reached the Persian Gulf. Happily the cruiser of the squadron, Le Sand, was waiting for the mission at the mouth of the Shat-el-Arab. It took us on board, utterly worn out with our efforts, and at the end of June brought us within sight of Toulon. It was high time to return to our dear France: half the mission could not have endured a longer stay in Susiana. MEXICAN NOTES. 111.COATEPEC. BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER~ ONE inconvenience in travelling in Mexico is the bulky silver money with which the tourist must load himself down. Whenever I moved any distance from the capital I carried a shot-bag full of the cart-wheel dollars, which were worth from nineteen to twenty-four cents less than United States money. The Bank of London and South America, in Mexico, issues notes which are current in the states of Mexico and Michoacan, and perhaps elsewhere, but not good in the state of Vera Cruz, although the bank officials as- sured us they were. Consequently we have this anomaly, whic.h is characteristic of Mexico, that while the railway company of the Mexican IRailwav received these notes for fare at the Mexican end, they would not take them at all at the Vera Cruz terminus. The first-class fare, in an ex- ceedingly roomy and comfortable coach 263 miles in about fourteen hourswas sixteen dollars. In the train was a car- load of soldiers in white cotton uniform a precaution against robbers which the government takes on no other railway in the republic. At every station, also, a guard of half a dozen soldiers appeared on the platform, saluting as the train drew up. On the higher table-land these guards were mounted, and in their fine appearance reminded one of the famous Guardias Giviles of Spain. The morning (February 26) was bright and a little cool; the twin snow peaks sparkled crystal white in the clear air. The road runs in the Mexican basin north of Lake Tezcoco, through a region highly cultivated, bristling with cacti of gro- tesque forms, the fields marked by lines of the maguey plant, frequent adobe vil- lages, with clusters of the stately organ cactus grouped about the huts, the whole plain full of the stir of agricultural life and movement. As we rose among the hills the clean maguey plant was more

MEXICAN NOTES. 23 of sculptured stones, funeral inscriptions, etc. 13. Susian inscriptions which have been buried from 1700 to 2000 years. 14. Plaster casts of the large bases of the palace, Qf their inscriptions, and of other objects too heavy to be transported. 15. A series of photographic views of the most important aspects of the tumuli, the works, and the native types of Susiana. 16. A relief plan of the tumulus and of the excavations, made by Lieutenant Babin. Our establishment at Susa and the work of excavation presented great difticulties. Nothing, however, in all the trials which the mission had endured there is worthy to be compared with the anxiety of all kinds and with the material suffering which the transportation of our treasures caused us. We had to pack and drag nearly fifty tons of boxes some of which weighed not less than three tons across a pathless desert continually scoured by nomads living exclusively on plunder, and that too with the aid of men and ani- mals who had not the most elementary ideas either of carts or harness. Thanks to the indefatigable devotion of our young collaborators and to the invincible obsti- nacy of Monsieur Dieulafoy, we neverthe- less got the better of difficulties which seemed at first to be insurmountable. We made carts and harness; the mules learned to draw; and the men, who were even more frightened than the quadru- peds, learned to drive the teams; the riv- ers had to be crossed without the aid of bridges. During a journey of nearly two hundred miles, night and day, we were obliged to drive away the robbers with gunshots; and in spite of the nomads in spite of the difficulties inherent in the soil, and in spite of the temperature, which reached no less than 120~ Fahr. in the shade and 163~ in the sun, we at last reached the Persian Gulf. Happily the cruiser of the squadron, Le Sand, was waiting for the mission at the mouth of the Shat-el-Arab. It took us on board, utterly worn out with our efforts, and at the end of June brought us within sight of Toulon. It was high time to return to our dear France: half the mission could not have endured a longer stay in Susiana. MEXICAN NOTES. 111.COATEPEC. BY CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER~ ONE inconvenience in travelling in Mexico is the bulky silver money with which the tourist must load himself down. Whenever I moved any distance from the capital I carried a shot-bag full of the cart-wheel dollars, which were worth from nineteen to twenty-four cents less than United States money. The Bank of London and South America, in Mexico, issues notes which are current in the states of Mexico and Michoacan, and perhaps elsewhere, but not good in the state of Vera Cruz, although the bank officials as- sured us they were. Consequently we have this anomaly, whic.h is characteristic of Mexico, that while the railway company of the Mexican IRailwav received these notes for fare at the Mexican end, they would not take them at all at the Vera Cruz terminus. The first-class fare, in an ex- ceedingly roomy and comfortable coach 263 miles in about fourteen hourswas sixteen dollars. In the train was a car- load of soldiers in white cotton uniform a precaution against robbers which the government takes on no other railway in the republic. At every station, also, a guard of half a dozen soldiers appeared on the platform, saluting as the train drew up. On the higher table-land these guards were mounted, and in their fine appearance reminded one of the famous Guardias Giviles of Spain. The morning (February 26) was bright and a little cool; the twin snow peaks sparkled crystal white in the clear air. The road runs in the Mexican basin north of Lake Tezcoco, through a region highly cultivated, bristling with cacti of gro- tesque forms, the fields marked by lines of the maguey plant, frequent adobe vil- lages, with clusters of the stately organ cactus grouped about the huts, the whole plain full of the stir of agricultural life and movement. As we rose among the hills the clean maguey plant was more 24 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. abundant, and at the first station on the plateau we were at the chief shipping point of the region for puique. Scores of casks of it were waiting shipment. It is from this station that a considerable por- tion of the thousands and thousands of gallons daily needed to supply the wants of the city are sent. At this station descended several passengers English, American, and Mexican gentlemen, who had business at some hacienda, or were out for a days shooting. Among them was a tall, bulky Mexican, with gigantic frame and a baby face, who would have excited admiration anywhere. He wore an enormous hat, hung with at least a hundred dollars worth of silver bullion, was armed with a revolver and a rifle, and had down each seam of his trousers a row of skulls and cross-bones in solid sil- ver, each skull as big as a dollar. Every- body enjoyed the appearance of this splen- did person, and no one more than lie him- self. At an elevation of some eight thousand feet we were running over a nearly level table-land, with high mountains in the distancea plain brown and cheerless. A strong wind was blowing, and the dust was intolerable. Soon the country be- came more broken, but with the same as- pect of winter barrenness, without a tree to relieve the prospect, and the landscape frightfully gashed and gullied by the heavy summer rains. After we passed Apizaco, whence a road branches off to Puebla, the long noble mountain of Ma- lintzi came in view on the south, and be- fore we reached San Andreas the mass of Orizaba loomed up in the east over the dusty plain, two peaks, as seen from this point, the higher a long ragged mass, ever snow-clad, rising in majestic beauty be- tween six and seven thousand feet above the enormous elevation of this vast wind- swept plateau. From the uplands, from the coast, from the tropical valleys, from all points of view, this seems to be the prince of Mexican mountains. At Esperanza we stopped for mid-day breakfast an excellent, civilized, well- served meal. Here the peach-trees were in full bloom. A little further on, at Boca del Monte, the road begins its rapid descent to the coast level. I doubt if any other railway in the world, certainly none in Europe or North America, offers so many surprises to the traveller, or scenery so startling and noble in character. At Boca del Monte he looks down upon a wilder- ness of mountains. He is on a wide ster- ile plain in the temperate zone; in two hours he will be hurled down into the warmth and luxuriance of a tropical vege- tation. Below are mountain~, precipices, deep valleys, clouds, mists, which part oc- casionally and show green fields through the rifts. The descent seenis impossible. But the train moves on in long curves round the edge of the mountain, doubling on itself, piercing a promontory, clinging to the edge of a precipice, leaping by a slender bridge from one hill to another, running, backward and forward, but al- ways down, down, until the mountains, nobly wooded, begin to rise above us: at one point we look sheer down the preci- pice upon the plain and town of Maltrato, 2000 feet below. At Bota, a picturesque station clinging to the precipice, there are crowds of women and maidens offering fruits of all sorts, and pulque, which is not good lower down. Before we know it we have dropped down to Maltrato, a lit- tle interval green with grain and trees, hemmed in completely by steep mountains, a thriving town with ninny spires, 1t691 metres above the sea. From this little mountain plain we drop to a lower level, through a wonderful de- file, narrow, rocky, with a clear impetuous stream at the bottom; and as we go down there is not so much the sensation of sink- ing as that the mountains are rising around us. The level to which we come is the fer- tile plain of Orizaba, 1227 metres above the sea. In the midst of it stands the hand- some and highly civilized city of Orizaba city and valley shut out from the world by immense mountain walls. On this plain we ran into the clouds that we had seen from the heights above, and passing it, we went swiftly down a broad valley, all grain, grass, turf even, pasture-lands, mea- dows, luxuriant cane fields, well watered and vernal, not unlike the valley of the Connecticut, except for the yucca and cac- ti and strange plants and flowers. Prom this valley we dropped again down a nar- row, rocky defile, passed through a tunnel, and came into a lower valley that leads to the city of Cordova. The whole of Mexico has this terrace character. It had rained a little at Cordova, and the vegetation showed a climate different from that on the west of the great mountain chain. All the east side of the mountains is liable in winter to northers, which bring lower MEXICAN NOTES. 25 temperature, clouds, and occasional rain, so that the whole state of Vera Cruz is less brown and sere in the dry season than the western uplands. At Cordova we were in a semi-tropical region, 827 metres (about 2600 English feet) above the sea; we had dropped from winter into summer. On either side spread acres and acres of ba- nanas, wide coffee plantations, agaves and pines, and brilliant flowering shrubs; one, the tulipan, as large as a peach-tree, with splendid scarlet flowers like the tiger-lily. At the station, pineapples and oranges in heaps were for sale. As we went down through the foot-hills, passing a finer gorge than any above, with a lovely water-fall, the foliage became more and more tropi- cal; big-leaved plants grew rank along the way, and enormous convolvuli adorned the trees and hedges. It was eight oclock when we reached the absolute sea-level and Vera Cruz, and were driven in a rickety carriage through a broad business street of two-story houses to the Hotel iDiligencia, on the little plaza. The hotel, over the first story of shops, is entered by broad stone stairs in the inner court, and is itself an open hail about a court, the hall serving as assembly-room and dining-room, the chambers opening out from it. All the floors are brick. The rooms on the plaza front have balconies, and are primitively furnished, though comfortable enough, the beds being well protected by mosquito - netting. Rooms, furniture, attendance, all bespeak the neg- ligence of a warm climate; it is, in short, a thoroughly Spanish-Mexican inn, and the table sustains its reputation. Vera Cruz has a bad repute, and I sup- pose that, travestying the remark about Naples, I am expected to exclaim, Smell Vera Cruz and die. But I found the lit- tle city of ten thousand people rather agree- able. It is, to be sure, when you are in it, an uninteresting city of two-story build- ings of coral limestone, right - angled streets, perfectly flat, built on marshy ground, and the gutters are open and un- sightly. The sidewalk crossings of the principal streets are peculiar ; they are small bridges thrown over the gutters, but instead of being on the line of the sidewalk, they are set back in the side street, so that the heedless pedestrian is likely at any moment to step into the ditch. But the houses are solid; many of them have pretty courts, and arcaded fronts are frequent. Shabby or elegant, it is thoroughly foreign and picturesque. By daylight it is shabby. The most pleasing view of the town is from the sea, with the castle of San Juan de Ulua in the foreground, and the water-line of ar- caded buildings, with the towers and cathe- dral dome, behind. But the view of the blue Gulf, with its islands and sails, from the long pier, is as lovely as that from al- most any Mediterranean port. The air was delicious, mild and yet not enerva- ting. With the sea on one side and the mountains so near on the other, Vera Cruz ought, with a little engineering skill for drainage, to be perfectly healthful. But no summer passes without sporadic cases of yellow fever, and once in three years it is epidemic. To my senses the climate was most agreeable, and it was luxury to breathe the air after the thin atmosphere of the table-land. Indeed, I met many foreigners who are charmed with Vera Cruz. I know Americans who go there without fear in the summer, for the bathing, and find their stay most agreeable. The scene on the plaza, which was brill- iantly illuminated with both gas and the electric lights, was exceedingly gay. The strong light brought into relief the cathe- dral dome and spires, the arcaded shops, and masses of shrubs and flowering plants, and the swaying arms of the whispering palms. It is thronged with promenaders. with loafers, with children, with ladies in fashionable attire, with officers and sol- diers and servantsa thoroughly demo- cratic assembly. The cool evening is the time for enjoyment and recreation, and everybody was out-of-doors; ladies in light muslins, armed only with the fan, went round and round arm in arm, chat- ting and laughing, never the sexes ming- ling in the tread-mill of the promenade, except in case of family groups; children, small girls and boys too young to be out without their nurses, were jumping the rope and playing other noisy games in a part of the plaza till after nine oclock; men of the lower orders lounged about clad only in under-shirts and drawers, or their cotton trousers that had the effect of drawers ; the clerks in the shops, dressed in the same summer style, and invariably with a cigar in the mouth, waited on their customers in languid in- difference. All the wine shops and sa- loons were open and thriving; small ta- bles encumbered the sidewalks, where the 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. citizens sat in cool costume sipping mild potations. Everybody had the free and easy air which is always begotten by confidence in steady good weather. The prominent impression, however, was of the mixed, mongrel race, a population lacking stamina, with Central American morals and Cuban inertia. We were called at four oclock of a foggy morning for the five-oclock train to Jalapa. This journey is unique, for the whole distance of seventy miles is by tramway, except the first sixteen, to Paso de San Juan, on the Mexican Railway. At San Juan the tram-cars were wait- ing, two, a first and a second class, each with four mules. Our car was very com- fortable, roomy, with broad leather-cush- ioned seats, open at the sides, with a can- opy to keep off the sun. At the signal the mules were let go, and they started on a run; they had their ten miles to make, and seemed bound to do it at a spurt. This is the old national road, the route of General Scott to the city of Mexico, fol- lowing most of the way the ancient Span- ish highway, often paved, and with sub- stantial bridges. The old Spaniards had energy, and built roads and churches; the Mexicans have let them decay. When the fog cleared, the sky was deep blue, and the air delicious. The peak of Orizaba appeared a white mass in the blue horizon, the base hidden by mountain ranges. The Puente Nacional is a fine, picturesque Spanish bridge with parapets, and here is a collection of mean adobe houses, and near them, in a thicket of cacti, the white palace of Santa Anna~, fall- ing to ruins. Here he had a considerable plantation. We passed in sight also of the battle-field of Cerro Gordoa cheer- less region. The villages on the line are much alikeusually one shabby street with a mongrel population. The most curious shops are the butchers; the meat hangs before the door in long strips, is usually black, and sold by the foot. At Rinconada, where we met the down train, we stopped an hour for breakfast--a very palatable meal, with Mexican dishes, that are not bad, if you can make up your mind to them, especially the garnachas, com- pounded of maize, chopped meat, cheese, chiles, tomatoes, and onions. It is as good as the famous enchilada, which is chopped meat, raisins, almonds, and other condi- ments rolled inside of a tortilla. The pas- sengers whom we met were covered with dust, and we were in the same state. The road had begun to ascend rapidly, and there were long stretches where we dragged slowly up the grades, in sun and dust, with only occasionally the exhilara- tion of a dash down-hill. The views be- came finergreat sweeps of rounded hills, with few trees, and mountains in the dis- tance. Occasionally a hacienda was seen perched on a hill, or the square tower of an old church, but for the most part the country was monotonous in its winter bar- renness. Still it was all novel, and our interest in the drive scarcely flagged when, at six oclock, we galloped through the paved streets of Jalapa, and knew that we were 4000 feet above the sea. Jalapa, the capital of the state of Vera~ Cruz, and the residence of the Governor, is an exceedingly interesting and pretty city, well paved, solidly built, picturesque- ly situated on the foot-hills, and surround- ed by giant mountains. The region is fer- tile, and it is just the right elevation for a delightful summer and winter climate. The views from the neighboring hills of the town, the uneven landscape, the semi- tropical vegetation, the snow mountains, are of almost incomparable beauty. The town itself, though the streets are wind- ing, and many of them steep, and the houses have no great architectural pre- tensions, is clean, thrifty, and has a high- ly civilized aspect. There are many fine, substantial residences, which make no ex- terior show, but have lovely interior courts adorned with flowers, and vocal with foun- tains and the singing of birds. The rich interiors are evidence of wealth and re- finement. The cathedral, a noble, hand- some building, stands on a pretty plaza, but its situation on the side of a slope gives a unique effect to the interior. The floor, which is beautifully paved with tiles, slopes up to the altar at a decided angle, so that the worshipper, in advancing to the apse, has a sense of going up to the house of the Lord. From the end of the street on which it stands, and indeed from other streets, there are charming vistas of the country, a country tropical in its foliage, and always with the back- ground of purple mountains and snow domes. The noble Orizaba is the chief attraction, but the long range of the near- er Cofre de Perote, which bars the way to the west, tawny and full of color, may be fairly termed magnificent. Its sharp ridges, 14,000 feet above the sea, are just 27 MEXICAN NOTES. low enough to escape the crown of per- petual snow. The great market-place on Sunday morning presented a very animated spec- tacle. In the centre of the square, sur- rounded by arcaded buildings, is the mar- ket itself, a structure of pillars and roof; but the traffic was not confined to it. The whole plaza and all the surrounding cor- ridors and the side streets were covered with goods, merchandise of all sorts, fruits, vegetables, pottery, and swarmed with buyers and sellers. This is the day when the Indians from the mountain villages come in with their grain, tor- tillas, preserves, basket-work, pottery, and truck, and we saw here specimens of three or four tribes who adhere to their own dialects, and speak Spanish not at all, or very reluctantly. The Mexican men wore usually white trousers and white shirts, with perhaps a gay serape flung over the shoulders. The women, in plain frocks and the invariable ribosas, add lit- tle in the way of color to the scene, and almost nothing of beauty. They are not pretty; but so productive! Children swarmed. And the sad pity of it, to think that they will all grow up and become Mexicans! There was a circus in town, and the members of it were making an ad- vertising parade, riding about through the dense crowd, bespangled, brazen women and harlequin men, greeted with shouts and laughter. There is certainly nothing gloomy about Sunday in Jalapa. We breakfasted with Colonel Thrailkill, the superintendent of the Jalapa road. The table was set in a veranda opening upon a pretty garden. Our host is a bird- fancier; but most residents in Mexico fall into this fancy, for in no other land are there birds of more delicious song and exquisite plumage. In shops, in house courts, in hotels, in bath-houses, every- where one hears the music of caged birds. Dozens of cages hung about the veranda and in the garden, an unrivalled aviary of color and song. There were many brilliant small birds, but the favorite for its songindeed, the queen of all Mexican singing birdsis the clarin. This is a shapely brown bird, in size and form not unlike the hermit-thrush, but its long, liquid, full-throated note is more sweet and thrilling than any other bird note I have ever heard; it is hardly a song or a tune, but a flood of melody, elevating, in- spiring as the skylark, but with a touch of the tender melancholy of the nightin- gale in the night. There was one of these birds filling the court with melody when I went to take a bath in Jalapa. Mexico has one evidence of civilization that some other civilized countries lack. In every city, in nearly every town, there are attractive bath- houses. However mean the town may be otherwise, the public bath - house is pretty sure to be neat and attractive, and is often highly ornamental and luxurious. There are bathing places of various de- grees of cost, some plunges and pools where the populace can take a dip for a tlaco (about a cent and a half), and others more exclusive, where the common charge for hot and cold water, linen, soap, rub- bing fibre, and oil is twenty-five cents. There is an inner court, luxuriant and beautiful with flowers and tropical foli- age, surrounded by galleries in two stories, in the arches of which stand hundreds of the red flower-pots of the country brilliant with gay flowers. A fountain splashes in the centre, and caged birds, fluttering in the sunlight, sing, and add the element of gayety to the pretty scene. The bathing- rooms, opening on the gallery, are primi- tive, but clean; and if they were ruder than they are, the bather has so many senses gratified that in this respect at least he is willing to confess that the Mexicans excel us in civilization and refinement. At Cua- utla I saw a substitute for the Turkish bath, used sometimes also by our northern Indians. This was a stone structure, some- where in the shade of the house enclosure, in shape like a long, low oven, with an opening in front large enough for a per- son to crawl in. In the interior are placed hot stones, water is poured upon these till the oven is full of steam, and then the pa- tient crawls in, closes the aperture, and takes his steam bath. From Jalapa the tramway extends nine miles south west to Coatepec, which lies 500 feet lower than the capital, and enjoys a somewhat warmer climate. I went down there and spent some days with American and English friends who are engaged in coffee planting and in the preparation of the berry for the market. Coatepec is a typical Mexican town of the better sort, where nobody is very rich and nobody very poor. It is quite withdrawn from the world and its excitementshas no newspapers, io news, no agitations. The houses are mostly of one story, the streets 28 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. are broad, well paved, and clean, and the country about is well cultivated. With the exception of the family with whom I staid, and a Belgian who has lived there many years, I believe there are no foreign- ers. Society can hardly be said to exist, but a club had recently been formed; in the bare rooms it occupied there were nei- ther newspapers, books, nor any of the common paraphernalia of club life. So far as I could judge, the Mexicans here, who are of the ordinary yellow variety, have little intellectual life or ambition, or knowledge of the world. The chief occu- pation is coffee raising; all about the town are large and small plantations of it, in- termingled with the banana and the plan- tain. The coffee-trees are seen in all the town gardens; and at this season, in the streets and court-yards, the coffee berry spread on mats was everywhere seen dry- ing in the sun. The house where I staid, perhaps the most commodious in the place, is worth a line of description as typical of the better sort in Mexico. On the street it has a solid two - story front, with windows of glass, and is built around three sides of a very pretty court, which has a fountain, tropical plants and flowers, and singing birds in cages. Most of the houses have no glass, and the window openings, which close with inner shutters, are protected with bars of iron or wood, Spanish fash- ion, and the inmates have the appearance of being imprisoned. A gallery runs round the inner second story of the house I speak of, and is a most agreeable loun- ging - place day and evening. Here are books, music, the latest English and American newspapers. In the sitting- room is a Steinway grand, which in this equable climate always keeps in tune. Every evening when there is music there is an orderly crowd in the street below. From this gallery is one of the most love- ly prospects. One looks over the court and the garden beyond, over the huddled brown roofs of the town, the cathedral towers, the tall trees of the plaza with its arcaded buildings, over the rising nearest foot - hills and their semi - trop- ical vegetation, to the vast ridge of the Cofre de Perote, purple against the sky. Almost every feature of the landscape is Italian, and the view is wonderfully like that from the Villa Nardi in Sorrento of the gardens and amphitheatre of hills. But in one respect it far surpasses the fa mous Italian landscape. For there to the left rises in the blue sky the great dome of Orizaba, pure white, stainless, towering up like a cloud, its purity glowing in the rosy light of morning, or taking on a pur- ple hue at evening. The place has alto- gether an air of repose, of stability, of softness, an indescribable charm. This region is a paradise for the natu- ralist as well as the sight-seer. I could see, but cannot describe, hundreds of nov- el wild flowers and plantsplants aromat- ic, plants and vines with strange and brilliant blooms, tree-ferns, and all sorts of feathery and graceful growths. My friend had a collection of butterflies and moths dazzling to the eyes of a novice, but of still more interest to the student; his explorations of the hills have discov- ered many species hitherto unknown to science. Not only the naturalist, but the ordi- nary traveller, would find much that is in- teresting in exploring these mountains. In their recesses are villages that retain all the simplicity of primitive communi- ties. It is an unexciting life that one would lead at Coatepec amid all this natural beauty. Even the jail, which stands on one side of the plaza, has a friendly aspect. It is a two-story edifice, with pillars sup- porting the upper gallery. In the upper story is a rude hospital. The lower story consists of one long, obscure room, with a floor of earth, in which all the prisoners are huddled together. The guards pace the corridor outside, and watch the inmates through the grated windows. Prison re- form has not yet reached Mexico. There is one person in Coatepec who has ideas and tastes above his fellows. This is an honest carpenter, who is the anti- quarian of the region. In his little stone cottage, overrun and half hidden by vege- tation, he has collected Indian relics, stone idols and images, a few manuscripts and books, and a great variety of natural curi- osities. The house stands on the slope of a pure and pretty stream that runs through the village, and here he has laid out a gar- den that is unique. It is a miniature museum out-of-doors, planted with trop- ical shrubs and flowers, intersected with winding walks, along which stand Indian idols and fragments of antique sculpture, leading to quaint grottoes, paved and set with old tiles, bits of glass, and odd pieces of plate. The whole effect is fantastic STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 29 and curious. This carpenter is an artist as well as antiquarian. A little while be- fore my visit he had the misfortune to lose his third wife. A few days after he brought to my friend a skull and cross- bones. life size, beautifully carved in woodperfect imitation of these emblems of mortality. The carving of these me- mentos was his grim way of taking con- solation in his bereavement. The country about Coatepec might well detain the traveller for weeks in agree- able excursions. The only drawback to riding is that all the roads are paved with round stonesat least all the roads con- necting the principal villages. This is no doubt necessary in the rainy season, but it makes rough travelling. We rode one day over the rolling land, up hill and down, half a dozen miles to see the barran- ca of Tecalo. This is one of the minor barrancas, but it gives a good idea of these peculiar formations. A barranca is of the nature of a cafion; that is to say, it is a deep gorge, abruptly sinking below the level of the surrounding country, and has a stream at the bottom. We had no sign of the barranca of Tecalo until we stood upon its brink, and looked down the rugged chasm a thousand feet. It is not a straight cut in the land, but winding, as if the stream had made it by slow process and irregular flowing, but its rocky sides are nearly perpendicular. We made our way by a zigzag path down one of the faces to the bottom, where we found a substantial bridge and a clear, rapid stream. Looking up the walls on either side we had a vision of wild and exquisite beauty. The sky was a narrow strip above. The walls of rock that shut us in were completely clad with vegetation, luxuri- ant, and wonderful in color. I know no- thing to compare with it except the Lato- mia of Syracuse, in Sicily. Every foot of the precipices was covered with creepers, hanging vines, ferns exquisite in fineness, a mass of green and gray, in which gleam- ed flowers of scarlet and of a dozen bright hues, and here and there from ledges hung vegetable cables, ropes swinging freely in the air, with flowering plants at the end, like baskets let down. As we ascended from this bewildering vale of beauty, there was great Orizaba hanging like a thunder- head in the sky. Coatepec, Jalapa, all the eastern slope of the great mountains have a delightful winter climate, warmer than the Mexican table-lands by reason of the lower alti- tude, but, as I have said, not so arid, for the northers bring occasionally clouds and a damp atmosphere, which freshens the vegetatioa a little. STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. BY HOWARD PYLE. I. I WAS born nigh to Mackworth, in the county of Worth, where my fathers estates were coadjacent to those of Sir William Whalley, betwixt whom and my father was a friendship of long and ear- nest standing. My father was a sincere professor in the truth of the Lord, a seri- ous and melancholic man, and did take at an early day a high stand amongst those who at that troublous time adhered unto the Parliament. Now Sir W. Whalley also inclined toward the Parliament side, although my Lord Mackworth, his brother-in-law, used all of his power to tend him into the oth- er path. Methinks it was through my fathers inifuence that Sir W. Whalley took the stand which he did against the Kings prerogative, for, though my father was of humbler birth and station, he was the stronger character of the twain, and inclined Sir Williams mind greatly unto his own opinions. I was oftentimes at Whallington House, and though of humbler birth, was strong in my friendship for the little Mistress Margaret, his daughter, and she with me. Neither did Sir William set any check upon our acquaintance, only the old Lady Whalley looked with disfavour upon it, and would sunder us whenever she would see us together. This woman was Sir W. Whalleys mother, and had abided at Whallington House ever since my Lady Whalleys death. She was a hot royal- ist, and as strong for prero,,ative as my father was for privilege. Besides the old Lady Whalley, there was another at Whallington House, who looked with still stronger disfavour upon my acquaintance therein. This was Har

STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 29 and curious. This carpenter is an artist as well as antiquarian. A little while be- fore my visit he had the misfortune to lose his third wife. A few days after he brought to my friend a skull and cross- bones. life size, beautifully carved in woodperfect imitation of these emblems of mortality. The carving of these me- mentos was his grim way of taking con- solation in his bereavement. The country about Coatepec might well detain the traveller for weeks in agree- able excursions. The only drawback to riding is that all the roads are paved with round stonesat least all the roads con- necting the principal villages. This is no doubt necessary in the rainy season, but it makes rough travelling. We rode one day over the rolling land, up hill and down, half a dozen miles to see the barran- ca of Tecalo. This is one of the minor barrancas, but it gives a good idea of these peculiar formations. A barranca is of the nature of a cafion; that is to say, it is a deep gorge, abruptly sinking below the level of the surrounding country, and has a stream at the bottom. We had no sign of the barranca of Tecalo until we stood upon its brink, and looked down the rugged chasm a thousand feet. It is not a straight cut in the land, but winding, as if the stream had made it by slow process and irregular flowing, but its rocky sides are nearly perpendicular. We made our way by a zigzag path down one of the faces to the bottom, where we found a substantial bridge and a clear, rapid stream. Looking up the walls on either side we had a vision of wild and exquisite beauty. The sky was a narrow strip above. The walls of rock that shut us in were completely clad with vegetation, luxuri- ant, and wonderful in color. I know no- thing to compare with it except the Lato- mia of Syracuse, in Sicily. Every foot of the precipices was covered with creepers, hanging vines, ferns exquisite in fineness, a mass of green and gray, in which gleam- ed flowers of scarlet and of a dozen bright hues, and here and there from ledges hung vegetable cables, ropes swinging freely in the air, with flowering plants at the end, like baskets let down. As we ascended from this bewildering vale of beauty, there was great Orizaba hanging like a thunder- head in the sky. Coatepec, Jalapa, all the eastern slope of the great mountains have a delightful winter climate, warmer than the Mexican table-lands by reason of the lower alti- tude, but, as I have said, not so arid, for the northers bring occasionally clouds and a damp atmosphere, which freshens the vegetatioa a little. STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. BY HOWARD PYLE. I. I WAS born nigh to Mackworth, in the county of Worth, where my fathers estates were coadjacent to those of Sir William Whalley, betwixt whom and my father was a friendship of long and ear- nest standing. My father was a sincere professor in the truth of the Lord, a seri- ous and melancholic man, and did take at an early day a high stand amongst those who at that troublous time adhered unto the Parliament. Now Sir W. Whalley also inclined toward the Parliament side, although my Lord Mackworth, his brother-in-law, used all of his power to tend him into the oth- er path. Methinks it was through my fathers inifuence that Sir W. Whalley took the stand which he did against the Kings prerogative, for, though my father was of humbler birth and station, he was the stronger character of the twain, and inclined Sir Williams mind greatly unto his own opinions. I was oftentimes at Whallington House, and though of humbler birth, was strong in my friendship for the little Mistress Margaret, his daughter, and she with me. Neither did Sir William set any check upon our acquaintance, only the old Lady Whalley looked with disfavour upon it, and would sunder us whenever she would see us together. This woman was Sir W. Whalleys mother, and had abided at Whallington House ever since my Lady Whalleys death. She was a hot royal- ist, and as strong for prero,,ative as my father was for privilege. Besides the old Lady Whalley, there was another at Whallington House, who looked with still stronger disfavour upon my acquaintance therein. This was Har 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ry Lynne, my Lord Mackworths son, a lad some five years older than myself. He was mightily proud, and though so young, a rank royalist, for lads are ever hot and unreasoning in their beliefs. This lad was always thrusting at me with gibe and jest, and was forever striv- ing to divert the little Mistress Marga- rets friendship from me (though he nev- er could do so), telling her that it was shame for her, the granddaughter of Richard Lynne, to hold me, the son of a crop-eared Puritanic psalm-singer, in such high esteem. So we all waxed in age together until the time came when Harry Lynne gibed at me no longer. At that time I was about fifteen years old, and he was about twenty, and Mistress Margaret about elev- en years old. One fine morning, Mistress Margaret and myself being in the garden appertaining to Whallin gton House, comes my young lord, and fell to gibing at me as he had always been used to do. At last my heart rose in rebellion, and I could abide his mocking no longer. Sir, said I, we be boys no longer; therefore beware how that you scorn me, lest I some time do you a harm. He looked at me scornfully from head to foot. How now ? cried he; wouldst thou talk so to me? Why, thou oaf, thou penny jug, thou Puritan spawn, who art thou to ruffle it so before a gentleman such as I ? More he might have said, but I gave him not the chance. All blinded by my rage, I catched him by the collar, and fell to twisting it as though to choke him. He did not use the sword which hung by his side, but began buffeting me like any young Hodge, and I him as heartily. Then, his foot slipping, we rolled upon the ground together, buffeting and cuff- ing with right good will. All this time Mistress Margaret was screaming, so that in a little while the gardener and his boy came running to us, and drew us apart. Then straightway, when this man had sundered us, befell to cuffing me over the head, asking me who that I was, thus to maltreat my young lord. As for Harry Lynne, never did I see one madder than he. He had drawn his sword, and I do verily believe would have run me through with it, had not Margaret held him by the arm, and the gardener stood betwixt us. Then the gardener and his boy hustled me from the place, and I gat me home, though in sad perturbation of spirit. I told my father all that had happened, and he took me to Whallington House, and before Sir W. Whalley and my young lord. I had to humble myself unto them both, and truly I know not which was the most galling to me, Sir William Whalleys laughter over the business, or my young lords scornful smiling at my father and myself. About a year after that time came the first great trial of my life, for I cannot clearly remember my mothers death, be- ing too young at the time. This was the sudden death of my father, who was taken with a disease mightily like the plague, whereof he died in three days time. Thus I was left without a relative in all of the world, saving only one Edward Wycher- lie, a master glover at the sign of the White Doe in the Fleet. Sir William Whalley took oversight of my fathers estate, but what with fines and other causes there was little for me in all that my father had left. I abided in Sir Williams household for nigh to a year, when, being close upon seventeen years of age, I was sent first to a good school, and then to Cambridge. When I came of age and unto mine estates, there was but a bare pittance re- maining unto me, whereupon Sir William offered me the post of secretary to him- self, which I accepted, and gladly. In all that four years I had not been once to Whallington House, so that ev- erything seemed strangely new to me as I took the foot-path from Mackworth that led past the common moss-side, and so to the gardens of the house. Thus I came to the garden gate, and so within. Now this was in the early summer, and all of the many roses in the garden were in full bloom. As I went forward be- twixt two plats of these roses I was aware of two women standing before me in the pathway. One of them was a serving- woman; the other was a lady, andyoung. She was busy gathering a garland of roses, and when I had come nigh enough to her for her to hear my footsteps, she turned her face to me. Then I saw that it was Margaret Whalley, but so changed that it was only by sundry small things that I might know her. For a space she looked earnestly at me, and with wide- 31 STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. opened eyes, and I, poor fool, stood as dumb, looking upon the ground, for I was utterly abashed before her. And this was whythat she had grown the fairest maid that ever mine eyes had looked upon. It was she who first spake. Are you not Master Stephen Wycherlie l said she. Then I answered, Yes, lady, for I could find no other words to say, though I did hate myself for my dulness before her. But she, with gentle courtesy, came straight to me and took me by the har~d. Then, said she, am I right glad to welcome so old and so dear a friend. I may not rightly know what I answer- ed, but some poor words I said, though so foolishly that I felt that she must scorn me for my staleness of wit. She then said that her father expected my coming; thereupon, she leading the way and I following, we went together to the library-room of the house, and therein found Sir William. He was mightily changed, and I marvelled great- ly to see how white his hair had grown, and how thin his cheeks. Mistress Mar- garet stood behind her father as he talked to me, and truly I looked more at her than I did at him, for it was a fair sight to see her smooth his thin locks with her white hand. I was sorely grieved to perceive that Sir William Whalley had fallen away so mightily in grace and in the light of the Lord as to be dubitating betwixt the Par- liament and the King. Then I saw that he was truly a weak vessel, and that it had only been my fathers will that had held him to his course in all the time past. I soon saw why it was that he so dubitated, for my young lord, Harry Lynne, was ever coming and going betwixt Worthing- ton and Whallington House, as though he was verily one of Sir Williams family. I also grieved to see that Mistress Mar- garet inclined toward the royal side, and in this I beheld the finger of the old Lady Whalley. I strove earnestly with Sir William to draw him back to the fold of truth, and after a time I perceived with gladness that he inclined his ear more unto me than to Harry Lynne, in spite of all his wit. So passed three months, and in that time I was the happiest of any time in all of my life, for Mistress Margaret showed such friendliness toward me as she had been used to do when we were children together. She was wont to call me Ste- phen, and I called her Margaret, and, poor fool that I was, it made my heart tremble when I heard her speak my name, or when I spake hers. Often in our talking she would look earnestly upon me, though I might read nothing in her eyes but great friendliness. At times I was nigh mad that she should thus look upon me and not behold the great love that was wracking my heart. But at last came an end to my life in this fools paradise, the door whereof was clapped in my face with no friendly hand. And thus it was: One day Mistress Margaret and I sat in the garden together upon a stone bench. We were saying nothing at the time, but I, with my cheek resting upon my hand, sat gazing upon her as she leaned forward stroking the head of a great stag-hound that lay at her feet. Into the garden came my young lord, Harry Lynne, though without our knowing anything of it until he had come close to where we sat. I know not how long he stood there gazing at me, but presently looking up, I saw him, and straightway gat upon my feet. He spake no word to me, but turned from me with such scorn in his face that I felt as though he had thrust a knife into my breast. Good-morrow, cousin, said he to Mistress Margaret, who sat looking from one to the other of us as though wondering what was toward. Then,with- out turning to me, he said, Sir, you may go into the house; your master waits for you in the libraryroom.~~ It was mightily upon me to answer him, but my wits were all gone astray in my confusion that he should have read my heart, as I saw that he had; therefore I turned and left them. When I had come to the garden gate I looked back, and saw that they were still talking, but that Mistress Margaret had arisen, and was holding tight to the back of the bench whereon we had been sitting. V~Then next I met her she hurried by me without speaking, and with a bowed head, albeit her forehead and her face were rosy. Thus it was that I was awakened from my dream of a fools paradise, and might never hope to enter into it again,for I saw that in some manner Harry Lynne had closed the gates thereof against me. 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. At times I was sorely beset, for it seem- ed to me that Mistress Margaret was be- ginning to hold me in contempt herself, because of the singular coldness with which she treated me. Indeed, the only joy which I had at this time was through the friendliness of Sir William Whalley, which ever waxed stronger, in spite of all my young lords striving. Yet was this poor comfort, and at times I felt my life a burthen unto me, though I could not tear myself away from that place,because of my foolish love. At last the time came when the comfort of Sir Williams friendship, such as it was, was taken from me, and my life was turned elsewhere than where it was then moving. This happed upon the third or fourth day of February, in the year of our Lord 1649. It was maybe ten of the clock in the morning, and Sir William and I were sitting in the study-room together, when there caine of a sudden a loud scream, and then the sound of a fall, and then the sound of hurrying feet. Sir William turned as white as wax, and then he and I together ran from the room, and into the hall, where we found sundry of the servants gathered around the old Lady Whalley, who lay upon the ground in a swoon. Mistress Margaret sat upon a chair near by, as white as death, and the tears ran down her cheeks in streams unheeded by her. My young lord, Harry Lynne, stood in the middle of the room, looking gloomily upon the floor, neither did he look up when we two came in. Poor Sir William was as one distracted. What is it? what is it ? he cried con- tinually, wringing his hands the while. Then Harry Lynne looked up, and spoke in a loud voice. It is this, he cried: King Charles is dead murthered by traitors ! and truly I did never think to see him so moved as he was at that time. Even now I can see how poor Sir Wil- liam clutched his hand to his bosom. My God! Harry I he cried, sure this cannot be. Thereupon he sank down upon a chair, covering his face with his hands, and presently fell to sobbing. Then of a sudden my young lord turn- ed upon me. Sir,have you nothing to say to this ? he cried. I knew not what to answer to him, but stood for a little time looking down upon the floor. Then he asked me, in a louder voice, and for the second time, Sir, have you nothing to say to this ? Then I did scorn myself that I should be afeard to speak according to my true belief. Thereupon I looked up, and said, boldl.y, No, I have nothing to say. And do you not grieve that your King should have been murthered ? cried he. I grieve for this, said I, that good men should be so driven to adjudge him unworthy to live. My young lord would have spoken further, but Sir William arose of a sud- den, and pointing sternly to the door, bade me to begone. Thereupon I turned upon my heel and left them all, going to my chamber in the western tower. I straightway gathered together those few things which belonged to me, for I knew that I might abide in this place no longer. Amongst my goods was a Testa- ment writ in Greek which had belonged to my poor father. Within was a faded rose pressed betwixt the leaves of the book, it being one that Mistress Margaret had given unto me upon a certain time. I oped the book and looked long upon this poor flower, and as I looked and be- thought me of that happy time before Harry Lynne had taught her to shun me, mine eyes blurred so that I had perforce to shut the book lest I should shame my manhood. Then I went down into the great hallway that led from the house, for I had thought that I would go forth quiet- ly, saying nothing to any one, albeit it was as though tearing my heart out by the roots to do such a thing. But I gat not so away, for in the hall I came of a sudden upon two people; one of them was my young lord, Harry Lynne, and the other was Mistress Margaret Whalley. I was about to pass them without words, but with a beating heart, when Mistress Margaret spake to me, saying, Where are you going, sir ? I know not, lady, said I, but away from this house. At this my young lord laughed harshly, and set his back against the door. Nay, said lie, you get not away so easily as all that. The lads of Mackworth shall give you a taste of the horse-pond by way of a stirrup-cup for a snivelling Puritanic psalm-singer. But Mistress Margaret turned upon him haughtily. Sir, said she, this gentle- man is my fathers guest, nor shall any one stay him in his going, if I can help. STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 33 The red came up in my young lords cheeks, and he made as though he would say something further, but he seemed to think better of it. Nay, Madge, said he, if you wish the knave to go scot- free, a Heavens name let him go. I paid no heed to him nor to his speech, for in all the world mine eyes saw no one but her, and mine ears heard nothing but her words. Lady, said I, I quit this house, and may never see you again. We were sometime dear friends; will you not grant me your hand at parting ? She reached me her hand silently, and I took it in mine own, and lo! it was as cold as ice. Then, holding it, I looked steadfast- ly into her eyes, and they fell before mine. In parting from you, I said, I leave behind me all that I love in this world. Nor may you hope ever to have greater love than mine, for truly I would lay down my life for you. When I had so spoken she raised her eyes, and looked into mine in a passingly strange manner. I bent and kissed her hand, and she drew it not away from me; thereupon I turned and left her without another word, pass- ing out of the door where my young lord stood without thinking of him or looking at him. Thus it was that I left my love and sorrow and happiness at that place. But I was not to get away without more happening. As I walked along the high-road that led to the village, I was aware of the sound of a horses hoofs fol- lowing, and presently of one calling my name. Upon this I turned, and saw that it was my young lord who called me. When he had come to where I was, he leaped from off his horse and drew his sword. Thou villain ! he cried; didst thou think to come off thus easily? Draw thy sword and defend thyself. Then my heart leaped within me for joy, for I felt that now I might have reckoning of him for everything which he had done unto me. But of a sud- den it came to me how that I had just told Margaret that I would lay down my life for her. Then I said to myself: Lo, if I slay this man, I will bring bit- ter sorrow upon her. I will not do this thing. Thereupon I drew my hand from my sword, and said, I may not fight you, Harry Lynne. Then he cried in a scornful voice, Art thou afeard ? At this a great trembling fell upon me, and I wrestled grievously with myself; still I made shift to say, in a muffled voice, I may not fight you, Harry Lynne. Then he drew the glove from off his hand. Thou coward ! he said, and as he spake he smote me full in the face with it. At this the ground seemed to rock beneath my feet, and I was fain to lean against a stile near by least I should fall. Then I shut mine eyes, and said within mine heart, Lord! Lord ! and the Lord heard me. Then for the third time, and in a loud voice, I cried, I may not fight you, Harry Lynne. Then go thy ways, thou coward, said he, in bitter scorn of me; whereupon he mounted his horse and left me. And behold, I was as one broken-hearted. Thereafter I went to London, and took up with the army of the Parliament, which was an army of saints rather than of men. It was about this time that the light of the Lord was given to me, and I saw how vain had been my life, and how utterly given up to the selfishness of ease and the lusts of the flesh sent by the devil. No one may know what my torments were at this time, for I knew not where to turn for ease or peace. I bring to mind that in the bitterness of my fermenting spirits I could not abide to see men either laugh or smile, for, lo! I beheld Death lurking everywhere, and their mirth seemed to me to be like the grinning of skulls. I wasted away in flesh as though with a grievous sickness, and verily believe I would have died had I not fallen in with a certain saintly professor, one Trust - in - the - Lord Huckkleback. This was the man sent to me by the Lord in mine hour of need, and he ministered unto me, and so brought me into the bliss of true light and into the right path, though mightily wasted and worn. And now the word of the Lord was so breathed into me that it was upon me to preach for the comforting of others. Thus I became a preacher of His truth, and tru- ly it was great joy to see others drinking of that fountain which lie had implanted in my breast. Yet there were times when I was sorely beset with doubts and temptations. In these seasons of weakness my heart would yearn most sorely for the love that had been taken from it, and other seasons when it seemed as though all my minis- trations were only for mine own selfish- ness. 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. II. Now I do pass by that year and more of service, during the which I did labour in the army of the Lord, both in Ireland and at the great fight at Dunbar. Only this will I tell, that at that latter place I was called upon by the Lord to save the Lord Generals life, which I did in the charge when one of the enemy would have run him through with a pike only for me. Because of this matter I was raised to the post of captain, and that in the Lord Generals own regiment, called the Ironsides, because of their steadfast- ness in the hour of battle. Now, upon the ninth day of August, in the year of our Lord 1651, it being nigh to eleven months after the time of the fight at Dunbar, there came one to me aiid bade me to gird up my loins and go up unto the Lord General, for that he would have speech with me. When I had come to him he bade me to make ready straightway for a journey- ing, for that I was to take three women, two ladies and a serving-woman, to the Oouncil of State at Whitehall. He told me that the two ladies were of the family of a certain gentleman who had once been well inclined to the Parliament, but who had dubitated. and had joined with the young Charles Stuart, and was now with him in his intrenchments at Sterling. These two ladies, he told me, had been chief in holding out a certain place called Needham House against two regiments sent against them by the Parliament, but had been overcome, and were now held as prisoners by Colonel Williamson, whose quarters were at the sign of the Black Swan in Edinburgh, where I would find them. He furthermore charged me to be careful of the women in all due measure, and told me that I should choose me a company of eight men as a guard, for that there were rumours of a great move- ment of the enemy at Sterling, and it was said that they were about going south- ward into England. I asked him when I should undertake the journey, and he told me upon the morrow. Therefore I straightway set about choosing the com- pany of eight men as I had been bidden to do, and chief amongst them I chose Trust-in-the-Lord Huckkleback. The oth- er seven likewise were sober and mightily steady, so that I had with me the flower of a lovely and godly company. The next day against high noontide we had come to the sign of the Black Swan at Edinburgh, and I gave the order of transfer to Colonel Williamson, who said that the women should be brought forth without loss of time. So we all stood about the door in the glaring sunlight awaiting the coming of the prisoners, for whose use we had brought with us three pad - horses of smooth gait, such as women might easily ride upon, and with some comfort. At last the door opened, and they came forth from the house. Now I was sitting at a little distance upon my horse, and hearing the sound of their coming, I lifted up mine eyes and saw them. Then of a sudden it was as though my heart stood still within me, and I catched hold of the pommel of my saddle to stay myself from falling. I could scarce forbear to cry out aloud, for ho! who should come but Mistress Margaret Whalley and her waiting-woman, with the old Lady Whalley walking between them! They looked at me, but knew me not, for I had mine iron cap upon my head, and the nose and cheek pieces were down. The soldiers helped them to their horses, but all the time I sat as though of stone. I watched Mistress Margaret as she stooped and smoothed the folds of her habit, and when I beheld how white and thin her face had grown, my heart yearned over her as the heart of the ewe yearneth for its lamb. Then all my company mounted, and we rode away, Master Huckkleback and I riding behind the rest. In this order we rode on until we had come a mile or so from the town, when I bade Master Huckkleback leave me whilst I watered my horse at a certain fountain. When lie had gone, I sat me down and tried to think, though I could not clearly do so in my bewilderment. It came to me that this was set upon me as a trial of my strength, and that I must either go forward and do as the Lord had set upon me, or turn back and approve myself a coward to my trust. As I sat there in great trouble of spirit, I beheld a carrion- crow fly across the hill. Then I said to myself, If there conies another crow, I will go forward; if there comes not an- other, I will turn back again. So I watch- ed for a little time, and lo! another crow came across the hill, whereupon I mounted my horse and rode after the others, and so came up with them in a little time, for they moved but slowly. STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 35 Upon the tenth day of our journeying we had come near to Leicester town, and in all that time I had kept the women in avoidance, nor had I come nigh to them nor spoken unto them. Now about four of the clock in the afternoon we fell in with a party of foot-soldiers betaking their way to the westward. Master Huckkle- hack and I held converse with them, and they told us that they were upon their way to Worcester, that Charles Stuart was about setting up his standard at that VOL. LXXV.No. 4453 THEREUPON LIFTING UP HIS EYES AGAIN, HE BEGAN ONCE MORE WRESTLING WITh THE SPIRIT IN PRAYER. [SEE PAGE 37.] 36 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. place, and that the vanguard of the Scotch army had already taken up their quarters in the town, which had been opened to them. As we stood thus talking, the day being warm, I had taken off my iron pot and was wiping my forehead. Now Master Huckkleback and I had been riding ahead of the others about the distance of a fur- long, and as we stood talking to this com- pany we were not aware that the others were so near to us until they came upon us suddenly around the bend of the road. At most times my company rode some be- fore and some behind the women as a guard; but this day, I know not why, the women rode first of all. I strove to clap my cap upon my head before they should know me, but Mistress Ann, the waiting-woman, catched sight of me and knew me, whereupon she cried out in a loud voice, My lady! my lady! you is Master Stephen Wycherlie for sure ! Then I saw that I might not hide myself from them longer, so I stood be- side my horse, my head bowed doxvn upoii my breast. When they had come to where I was standing, the Lady Whalley drew rein, and the others with her. She looked upon me scornfully for a little time, with- out speaking, and then she said: You may well seek to hide your face, sir. You may well seek to hide your face, Stephen Wycherlieyou who take the mother and the daughter of your fathers dear friend to such a bitter judg- ment as we are like to suffer before your Council of State at Whitehall ! Then, in my agony of shame at being so humiliated before all who were there, I looked up and cried, I may not answer you, Lady Whalley; I may not answer you. Mistress Margaret, with bowed head, was looking away, but Lady Whalley looked straight at me and smiled in such a manner that I would rather she had struck a dag~er into me. Sir, said she, you cannot answer me. Then she rode on, and left me standing where I was, with the poison of her words seething within me. After that time I took no pains to ride apart from my company, so in the after- noon, seeing that Mistress Margaret rode a little way behind her granddame, I could forbear no longer, but came and rode be- side her. She did not look up at my coming, but I saw that the red came into her face and spread until even her neck was coloured therewith. For a long time I could find no words to speak, but rode on in silence. At last I said, but as though my voice was stifled within me, Do you not hate me for this thing, lady ? Nay, Stephen, she said, I hate you not. And do you not think me cruel to you ? I said. Thereunto she answered nothing, and I saw that she did so think of me. Then I clasped my hands together and spoke pas- sionately, though in a low voice, lest the others should hear me. I told her that this was death to me, and that it broke my heart to do it, for that I loved her, and always had loved her, beyond all of the world. She raised her eyes and looked at me when I had spoken, but there was no an- ger in her gaze. Why, then, do you take us to London ? said she. Because, I answered, the Lord bath set upon me this bitter burthen, and I must bear it for His sake. She looked steadfastly upon me for a space; then she said, Is it indeed for the sake of the Lord that you do this thing, or because of the sternness of your pride, and because you would rather sacrifice us than it? When she so spoke I bowed my head, and said, in a low, smothered voice, Wo- man! woman! you know not what you say. It was strongly upon me to tell her how I had borne shame at the hands of her cousin for her sake, yet I forbore to do so. She was still looking at me when I looked up, but her eyes were full of tears. Oh, Stephen! Stephen ! she said, what is this trouble which hath come upon us? Truly I do pity you more than I do mine own self! To this I could say nothing but, Mar- garet! Margaret ! for my heart was ii yen at her words. She reached me her hand, and seeing that the soldiers behind were hidden by the hedge-row at the turning of the road, I pressed it to my lips in a passion of love. Therewith she drew her hand away, and I fell behind and joined my company, albeit I was as one blinded. That night I ate my victuals by myself, and not with my company as I had done heretofore. So I sat all alone until, after a little while comes a knock at my door, STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. and upon my bidding him enter, comes in Master Trust- in - the - Lord Huckkleback. He said nothing to me immediately, but stood with his hands clasped and his eyes raised as though wrestling with the Lord in prayer. Then in a loud voice I bade him tell me what he meant by all this, whereupon he said that he and those with him had seen me kiss the hand of Mis- tress Margaret in the narrow way that af- ternoon. At these words the blood rushed to my cheeks in a torrent, and the grace of the Lord all fell away from me and lift- ing up my voice, I bade him sternly to be silent. He answered me that he shaped his foot- steps according to his light, nor would he turn aside iii the Lord~s work because of any mans auger. Thereupon, lifting up his eyes again, he began once more wres- tling with the spirit in prayer. I could abide this no longer, but went forth bareheaded into the night. There I walked up and down unceasingly, for my soul was tossed as though with a tem- pest, and I wrestled within myself as Jacob wrestled with the angel, so that at times the sweat ran down my face with the greatness of my struggles. Truly it seem- ed as though the Lord had deserted me, and as though I stood alone. I went down on my knees in the kennel and prayed aloud, but I had no answer to my prayers, for this thing dave unto my very bowels. So I struggled unceasingly un- til the dawning of the day; then I arose to my feet, and said, Lo! I, who thought myself so strong, am passingly weak. Now I will struggle no longer, for it can be of no avail, but will do that thing which I have in my heart. Thereupon peace came to me after a certain kind. That day we reached Coventry in our journeyin~, but not nutil nigh dark, and finding the town full of soldiers on their way toward Worcester, we had to ride further to find some place of shelter for the night. When we had gone about two miles from the town we came to a neat- herds hut, built against the side of a hill. Here the women might find lodging, and there we abided for the night. That evening I could eat nothing, but up and down continually, because of the trouble that was upon me. After the darkness had come I went aside into the thicket and kneeled down. But I could not pray, though I strove to do so. Then I cried aloud, Lord! Lord! hast Thou 37 indeed deserted me ? Then I waited awhile, but the Lord answered me not. When I arose and came forth out of the thicket it was midnight, and I found that my cheeks were wet with tears. I found all of my company around the fire, which shone as red as blood on their back and breast pieces and their iron caps. All were sleeping soundly only Master Huck- kleback, who sat as though carven of stone beside the door of the hut wherein the women lay. The light of the fire shone dim upon him where he sat, and beside him lay a brace of pistols. Then I went to him and asked him whether he was aweary, and he answered nay. Then with a beating heart I told him to go and lie down, and that I would watch in his stead, for I, being the youngest, needed the least sleep. He looked at me sternly and said, No; I will abide by my post, and watch the women. Then I said, harshly, Do you doubt mine honour and my truth ? When I so spoke he arose slowly. I will do as Jam bidden, said he. I will leave you to watch the women, and II too will watch. He went to the fire and raked it togeth- er into ablaze; then he drew forth a Bible from out his bosom, and oped it, and be- gan reading it by the light of the flames. Where I sat I could see his lips move as he repeated the words unto himself. So we sat for a great long time, he reading and I watching him. At last I beheld the book wavering in the old mans hands, and then my heart leaped within me, for I knew that sleep was settling upon him. Thrice he aroused himself, but at last the good book sunk upon his knees, and he slept. This was nigh upon two of the clock in the morning. And now I knew that my time had come, and I arose to my feet. The sweat trickled down my face, and my knees smote together beneath me, so that I was fain to lean against a beechen tree that stood nigh. Then I said, Lord! Lord! Lord ! three times, and waited, but the Lord sent no sign unto me, and I saw the word Traitor writ as in words of fire be- fore mine eyeballs. So I stood for a time, my heart beating as though it would smother me. Then I stooped and looked within the door of the little lint wherein the women lay. I could see by the light of the fire that the waiting-woman lay 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. nighest to the door, and that Mistress Mar- garet Whalley lay next to her. All were sleeping deeply, so I drew off my shoes, and stepped within, and across the wait- ing-worn an, who stirred not at my pass- ing. I kneeled down beside Mistress Mar- garet, and of a sudden pressed my hand tight upon her mouth, that she might not cry out and alarm the camp. Instantly I touched her she oped her eyes, and I could see that a great terror fell upon her heart. Then I spoke to her in a voice that sound- ed strange even in mine own ears, telling her that I came to save her, and bidding her arouse the others silently, for the sol- diers slept, and that they might now de- part thence. Thereupon I freed her, and stepped quickly out of the hut, and stood listen- ing, albeit my heart was filled with the bitterness of despair, for now had I taken that first step whence there was no re- turning. Presently one spake my name in a whisper, and I went forward, and saw that it was the serving-woman who spake it. Then in a whisper I bade them come forth, and they did so tremblingly. We stepped silently amongst the sleeping sol- diers, who stirred not at our passing, and coming through the long grass, gat upon the highway, which was not more than twenty paces distant. Then we turned our faces to the westward, and walked along rapidly. Once Lady Whalley would have spo- ken, and once Mistress Margaret would have done the same, but in both cases I bade them sternly to hold their peace, whereupon they made no further move to break the silence. After we had gone about six miles upon our way, the day having pretty well bro- ken against that time, and we having come to a thick woodland, I bade them halt, for we should have to lie hidden during tbe day,because of the Parliament soldiers abroad upon the roads. There- fore we left the high-road, and took to the woods for safety. But when Mistress Margaret saw that we were safe, she came to me, and catch- ed me by the hand. She strove to speak, but could not do so, and then she pressed my hand to her lips, she being shaken all the while with mighty fits of sobbing. But when I felt her kiss upon my hand, I snatched it away as though it had been seared, and ingeminating in a loud voice, Lord, what have I done? Lord, what have I done l I turned and fled through the woodland as one possessed of a mad- ness. Neither did I returu to them until nigh noontide, when I brought food to them that I had garnered. Thus we travelled for three nights, abiding in some place of hiding during the day. Now just at the grey of the dawning of the third day, and when we had come about a mile without Abbots- Morton, we heard in the silence of the ear- ly morning the clattering of a party of troopers, and likewise the ringing of their weapons and of their armour. So soon as they had come nigh enough to us I knew by their cursing and swearing that they were Kings men, for our troopers did nev- er swear, either in encampment or upon the march. Then straightway I stood upon a stone wall and called to them, and in a little while they came forward to us through the morning mists, and demanded of me what manner of people we were. I told them in as few words as might be who the ladies were, and what had befallen them, albeit I said nothing as to mine own self. The captain of the band, who was a youth of about mine own age, mounted the three women behind as many of his troopers, and me behind another, and so we rode away, and had come into the Scottish lines before Worcester about six of the clock in the morning. As for me, I had no speech with the ladies after the time that we fell in with these troopers, but rode with my head bowed upon my breast, as one stupefied with his despair. I parted from the com- pany as soon as we had come into the town, and I knew not where the ladies were to take up their abode, though I heard one of the troopers say that Sir William Whalley was within the walls, with the young Charles Stuart and the nialignant army. I took up my lodgings in a penny room, and so lived on in the town in a listless fashion, for I had scarce spirit to leave my abiding-place. My only joy in this dull time of bitter despair was the thought that I had given up everything in the world for my love, and had taken not one jot or one tittle in return from her or any who belonged to her. Thrice a messenger came from her with a packet, beseeching me to take it and read it; yet I would not do so, neither would I send word to her nor write to her. All this had that cer STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 39 tam pleasure to me that one feels in press- ing an aching wound, that the agony may be the sharper and the more easy to bear. III. So I abided in this place in a listless, hopeless fashion. At times it came strong- ly upon me that the right thing for me to do was to go and give myself up to the army of the Lord (now gathered in great numbers about the town), there to suffer the due and fitting punishment for the betrayal of the trust imposed upon me by the Lord, and by his right hand, the Lord General Cromwell. Yet I was sunk so low that I had not the spirit to do that which my conscience told me was the right thing. Moreover, though I scorned myself therefor, I felt in my heart that it was put beyond me to do this thing, and to humble myself in the sight of all those who had held me to be a great and shining light. So came the morning of the third day of September, which day was the last of life for many souls in that town, for it was plain that a great battle was to be fought before nightfall. All was confusion and hubbub of peo- ple going hither and thither, soldiers and townsfolk; many laughed, many cried, and many made themselves drunk at the tap-houses who were to drink their last cup that day. So came about two oclock in the after- noon. I was standing in the doorway of my lodging-place when there came of a sudden a heavy boom, whereat the win- dows near by rattled as though a heavy weight had fallen. Then I knew that the battle had begun, and that it was the sound of cannon I heard. And lo! at the sound my heart beat quick within me, and the fire of battle rose in my cheeks, whereat I marvelled, seeing that I might not hope to lift a hand that day to be the executioner of the Lord his enemies. Then I said to myself, I will go to the ramparts, that I may at least behold the might of the Lord in the hands of His chosen people ! So I came up to where I might see the fighting around Fort Royal. A great crowd of people were gathered upon the ramparts at this place, and there was much talking, whereat I might smile, they being so simple and unlearned in the movements appertaining to a battle. I told them many things, and they presently crowded around me, both men and wo- men, asking me all manner of questions, the which I strove to answer. As I stood thus talking to those who pressed about me, I heard of a sudden a noise of many men below. Thereat I looked, and lo! the streets behind and within the walls were presently full of soldiers, horse and foot, all moving in one direction, and that for the gates which opened toward the royal forts. So they passed by troops and by companies out of the town and up the hill and over the brow thereof, and presently the noise of battle rolled up louder than ever to the ears of all that stood there listening. At last the hill was bare, only for a few stragglers who followed the rest at a distance. This was the last and greatest sally of that battle. So maybe two hours passed, and the number of those who stood upon the ram- parts waxed ever greater, nor did any know for certain what was happening over the hill. Some of them that were new come said that the Parliament army was broken, and others that the Kings men were being borne back. And truly I did incline unto that latter belief mine own self, for methought that the sound of battle was nearer than it had been at first. Now of a sudden, as we stood so listen- ing, I beheld a single horseman come ri& ing with might and main, bent over his saddle-bow. Then my heart leaped within me, for I knew what was come. I turned away, but even as I turned I catched sight of a great crowd come pouring over the hill in a broken rout, horse and foot com- mingled together in a great and ragged. crowd. So I came down from that place, and all of the others who were there came along with me, and the men shouted and swore at those who stood in the way, and the women screamed so that it was most grievous to hear. When I gat again to the streets, the first of the routed cavalry came riding into the town, crying in loud voices, All is lost! all is lost! And those who were there took up the words, calling, All is lost! all is lost! Many ran hither and thither as distracted, and the women and the children wailed and shrieked, for the terror of the Lord was upon them, many bearing in mind the fate of Weckford, where the wrath of the Lord had consumed all, even the babe and the woman who was quick. 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Now in all of the time that I had been standing upon the ramparts my mind had been so bent upon the battle that was to- ward that I had thought of nothing else. But of a sudden a great terror fell upon me, when I brought to mind that like enough there was now no oiie who might sufficiently aid Margaret Whalley in the hour of need that wa~ close at hand. For I doubted not that Sir William must be with those who led this last attack, for I had heard this much of him, that he held a commission in the Royalist army. Then I saw how the Lord had punished me for the pride I had shown in sending back those letters she would have had me read, for had I so read them I would have known the place where she abided, and might now have gone directly to her. At this I was as one distracted, and began running hither and thither as possessed, calling upon all to tell me where Sir Wil- liam Whalley and those with him abided. But such was the terror upon every one that none would stay to listen to me or give me any answer. And now at sundry places the streets became full of people, who came forth from the several houses, and the fleeing soldiers coming into the town in great numbers. All was a mighty uproar of terrified people, both the young and the old, the meii, the women, and the chil- dren. And truly it was grown a fearful sight, for companies of horse and dra- goons rode down the middle of the street, and upon and over all such as stood in their way, and if any tried to oppose them in their course, them did they sniite with their bloody broadswords, and so made way for themselves. And now was the mercy of the Lord shown to me more than ever in all of my life before, for as I ran into a certain nar- row way I came against an old man going upon another path. He called me by my name, and lo! I saw that it was Master George Markham, Sir William Whahleys body-servant. I caught him by the arm and asked him what he did thus away from his la- dies and in the streets at such a time. He said that hearing certain report that the Kings army was beaten, he had come forth to find whether lie could gather news of his master; that lie had got into a great crowd at one place, so that for a while he could neither go forward nor come thence again. Then I cried out to him that there was no time to find his master now, but that he must aid me to get the women away, and trust in the Lord to bring Sir William Whalley unto them. I bade him to take me to the ladies; so straight- way we left that place, and hastening for- ward, came after a while unto a certain street wherein the old man said they abided. It was a side street, and though many people were hastening along it, yet was it quieter than others that I had been in that day, nor did I see a crowd upon it anywhere that niight block it. At last we came to a considerable inn, known as the Swan of Severn, which was the place wherein they dwelt. There we went through a great stone archway and into a paved court-yard within. All around this court-yard ran a covered gallery of stone, with the doors of the several apart- ments opening upon it, after the fashion of old priest-houses, whereof this had been one. Having come into this court-yard, I bade the old man hasten to the women, and to tell them to make ready straight- way for their going forth, and that I would go to the stable and would see that the horses were prepared for their journey- ing. Thereupon he left me, and I to the stable-yard, where I found two men en- gaged in saddling a pair of nags with all the speed that they might. I knew them, and that they were two grooms appertaining to Sir W. Whalleys household, whereupon I asked them what it was that they were bent upon doing. They told me that they were about to take themselves away, as the Ronudhead army was coming. I ask- ed them whether they were not ashamed to run away and to leave their ladies to their own devices. They answered nay; that it behooved each to shift for himself at such a season; that a mans skin was dear to him, for, were it spoiled, he could not easily get him another. I said that this was so, and to bear it well in mind; thereupon I drew one of my pistols (which were snaphances*), and said to them that the first man who mounted his horse, him would I shoot. They were mightily dis- turbed in their spirits at this, so much so that they waxed pale, and looked hither and thither, as not knowing whither to turn. Then I bade them to bring forth the other horses and to saddle them also, and tIPs they did, and were glad enough to get away from me and into the stable. The early fcrm of flintlock. STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 41 They brought forth the horses and made them ready, as I had bidden them to do; and then they and I out and into the court- yard again before the women had yet come down. There I spake to the men, and told them to keep together with the others when that they had come forth from that place, for that that was the surest xvay to safety. By this time the noises of firing and of shouting had grown loud in the streets; whereat these lackeys seemed so mightily disturbed that they scarce listened to that which I said unto them. At last I heard the sound of voices, and lifting up mine eyes, I saw where the old serving-man came along the gallery with the two ladies and the maid-servant. The old Lady Whalley leaned on his arm, and Mistress Margaret and the other came behind them. As I looked upon Margaret I saw that she was mightily pale, and my heart all fell away with- in me because of my tenderness for her; likewise it did beat within my bosom so unsteadily that I was fain to lean against the horse nigh unto which I was standing. The Lady Whalley saw me first, and spake to the others, whereupon Mistress Margaret looked up, and her eyes met mine. Then straightway the blood came into her pale cheeks, and even into her forehead and neck, which were coloured therewith. And as I leaned upon the horse beside me I said in my heart, Oh, my love! my love ! For I was again weak in all the joy of finding her, and of being her aid in the time of her peril. Then the old Lady Whalley came forward and said, So, sir, you are again our preserver ? More she would have said, but I stayed her, and bade her to listen to the shouts and the firing, and to how nigh the battle was come, and then she might know what lit- tle time there was to lose in vain talking. Thereupon, and without further speech, I ~bade the old man-servant to aid her lady- ship to her horse, and one of the lackeys the waiting - woman. I myself brought Mistress Margaret to her nag, and aided her to mount; but in all that time we had said nothing unto one another, nor could I have done so had I chosen. Then, after she had mounted, she looked around, and turning to i~ne, she said, Where, then, is your horse ? I told her that I had no horse. She looked into mine eyes at this, and all the blood that was in her cheeks again left them. Then she said, but in a low voice, Do you not, then, go with us I answered no, that I did not go with them. But the Lady Whalley heard that which was said, and she cried out in a loud voice: Surely you will not stay in this place! You will not remain here to meet your certain death! Do we not need a pro- tector? May not our helplessness move you to your own good? Do not foolishly cast away your life when that it lies with- in your own hands to save it ! Then I lifted up my voice and cried aloud: Lo! I am fallen from mine estate of honour and of rectitude, therefore I will remain and submit me to the Lords judg- ment, and if it so be that He taketh my life, then is He welcome unto it, by way of rep- aration for that wherein I have erred. Then, seeing that she was about to urge me further, Urge me not, I said, for I am not to be moved in this thing, and you do but waste your words. Listen; the battle is near unto you, and if you do not take yourselves away you are certain- ly lost. Then I turned to the old man-servant and gave him the two pistols that I had with me, and told him to shoot either of the lackeys if they made a move to leave the women. Then I bade them to ride forth and to get them away, nor lose time in the doing thereof. Now all this time Mistress Margaret had sat upon her horse, pale and silent as though of stone; but of a sudden she spake aloud, and bade them stay whilst that she would hold speech with me. Then she called unto me, and I came and stood be- side the horse whereon she sat. She bent down unto me, and leaning both hands upon my shoulders, looked steadfastly into mine eyes, whereat I fell to trem- bling throughout all my body. Then she said unto me, in a low voice, Will you not go with me, then ? And I answered, No, lady. Then, still leaning with her hands upon my shoulders, she brought her face close to mine and said, in a voice so low that none that were by might hear, Stephen, I love you: will you not go with me Then my heart stood still within me; and in all of the world I saw no one but her. So I stood for a timne looking into her eyes. Then, hearing of a sudden the rattle of musket shots that sounded might- ily nigh unto us, I awoke as though from a dream, and it came to me that they must away if they hoped to escape. 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Then I shut mine eyes that I might not see her, and cried out in a loud voice, Woman! woman! as the Lord livetli and as my soul liveth, I will not go ! Thereupon I oped mine eyes again, hav- ing so spoken. Still she looked upon me, though silently and as pale as death; then, and before all who were looking upon us, she stooped and kissed my forehead and then my lips. Then she turned and rode away, with her head bowed upon her bosom. The others followed, leaving me stand- ing in the middle of the court-yard. How long I stood there I know not, but suddenly it came upon me with a great wave of desolation that she was gone from me, and crying aloud, I ran out into the street; but she was gone, and I saw her no inure. Iv. There being nothing left to keep me in that place, I went away and amongst the people, thinking nothing of them nor of the fight that was going on about me. By this time it was the grey of the even- ing, the sun having set. So I came into one certain street which was straight and wide, and wherein, over beyond me, was loud noise of fighting. Along this street were hurrying soldiers and town s-people, screaming and crying for quarter, though no one was immediately nigh to harm them. Here I found the press so great that I gat from out it, and sat down upon the step of a doorway, leaning my head upon the frame of the door, for I felt strangely weary. Thus I sat until sud- denly the noise of fighting at th~ further extremity of the street waxed louder, with the sharp crack of pistol shots and the sound of the clashing of swords ringing from wall to wall. Where I sat I could see that it was a company of our horse, and that they charged the hapless crowd that was packed within the street, rolling it up upon itself. Thus the poor distracted wretches were pushed past where I sat in one solid mass, those who fell being tram- pled beneath the feet of the others, nor was there mercy of any kind nor pity shown unto them, for the horsemen of the Lords army drave them, sniiting unceas- ingly, yet were they constrained to move slowly, because they could not urge the groaning crowd faster upon its way. So they passed, and did not seem to see me where I sat, they being otherwise en- gaged. After they had gone the street was cleared as though swept by the wrath of the Lord, it being empty for a great dis- tance, only for those who lay upon the stones in the grey of the twilight, some groaning and some lying still. Here and there was one who crawled from the mid- dle of the street, where the horses were like to pass shouldst they return, and so gat to the side thereof, where they were more safe. As I looked I saw one arise of a sudden and come staggering up the street, sway- ing this way and that as though he were drunken, and I knew, because of his armour, that lie was a soldier. When he had come nigh enough unto me to see him, the light of the twilight being still strong, I beheld in amazement that it was Harry Lynne. His morion was clo- ven in, and the blood ran all down one side of his face and over his collar and his armour, so that he was blinded therewith upon that side where it flowed. When he had come over against me in the street he sank upon his knees, for he was weak from the stunning of the blow and the loss of the blood; but presently getting to his feet again, he staggered across the street, and so came to a door that led through a wall, and there sank down upon the step and sat. Now all along that side of the street over a~ainst me ran a wall of brick, and within was a garden, and a single door did pierce this wall, upon the step where- of Harry sat. So I sat gazing upon him, and moved not so much as a finger, for, seeing him there, and to what a pass he had come, two voices began crying out within me. The one said, Stephen, Stephen, go unto thine enemy, for I saw that if I could take him through the gate and into the garden (which he might not do himself,being too weak), lie would be saved. The other voice cried, Lo! yonder is a malignant, even one of the enemies of the Lord, therefore let him suffer the judgment of the ungodly, nor stretch forth thy hand to come betwixt him and the wrath of the Lord. So I sat communing with myself, until of a sudden the Lord saw fit to un- fold His light unto me, and I saw thereby that it was not to the wrath. of the Lord that I would commit hum, but unto mine own hatred. Then I gathered myself to- gether and went unto him, and saw that whilst he was faint from the blow and STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 43 the loss of blood, the wound was not oth- erwise of great matter. He paid no heed to me as I stooped over him, for his eyes were shut, and he knew naught of what was passing about him at that time. Then I tried the latch of the gate, and found that it was unbolted. Within was a come- ly and considerable garden, with flowers growing in plats, and fruit trees trained against the walls. Thither in the gloam- ing I carried the wounded man, bearing him in mine arms as though he had been a child, and so coming within, shut and bolted the gate behind me. Then I went unto the house appertaining to the gar- den, but found no one therein. I caine across a pail, and going to the well back of the house, filled it with water, and bore it unto the wounded man. I gave him to drink, and then dressed his wound as well as I could, for night had fallen against this time, and there was no light but that of the stars. I bound up the wound with the sleeve of my shirt, which I tore into strips. Now it being dark, and he not knowing me, he presently asked me who that I was. I told him, and thereat he was silent, nor did he speak again till I had washed and bound up his wounds. Then I arose, and said that it was time that I should go. He asked me whither I would go, and I told him I was about to deliver myself up, that I might suffer judgment for my shortcoming when the Lords time should come. Then he cried out upon me that I was a fool not to seek to escape whilst there was yet time, for surely I would not forego the joy of life when I might hold such a sweet mistress in my arms as Margaret Whalley. At these words I fell to trembling all through my body, but presently I lifted up my voice and bade him sternly to tempt me not, and after that I went forth from the garden again, and shut the door behind me. I sat me down upon the step of the gar- den gate, for once more, as at the inn, the devil came and tempted me, and wrestled with me so grievously that I was like to have failed in that which I had set upon myself to do. Then once more I cried out, as at the court-yard of the inn, As the Lord liveth, and as my soul liveth, I will not go ! Neither did I do so. I sat me down on the step of the garden gate, and waited for what should hap to me. By this time the fighting was all over in this quarter of the town, and now and then troops passed by me along the street. So I sat there until about eight of the STILL SHE LOOKED UPON ME, THOUGH SILENTLY AND PALE AS DEATh. 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. clock had come, when I beheld a com- pany of men come into the street below me, some bearing torches and some bear- ing hand-barrows, and I saw that they were gathering up the wounded. Thus they came slowly onward, certain of the company bearing the wounded away so soon as they were gathered up. Then my heart beat thick within me, for I knew that now, at last, my time had come. So after a while they came nigh to me, and then I saw that certain of them were of the regiment of the Ironsides, and that foremost of all in the company was Mas- ter Trust-in-the-Lord Huckkleback. Then I said unto myself, Lo! how wonderful are the ways of the Lord, for who should be fitter for His purposes than that man to bring me unto my judgment and unto my punishment ? Now when they were over against me in the street, the light from the torches falling upon me, one presently cried out that yon- der was a wounded man sitting in the doorway. Whereupon I answered nay, that I was not wounded; that I was one in sore affliction of heart, and sat there awaiting the coming of the judgment of the Lord. Then two of them came to me, and one of them was a young man of mine own company of the Ironsides, and when he saw who I was, he cried out in a loud voice, as of one who marvelled greatly, that it was Captain Wycherlie. Now Master Huckkleback was about midway in the street, stooping over one who lay upon the ground sore wounded. When he heard them speak niy name, he straightened himself up and turned his face unto me, and the light from the torch that he held fell upon his face, and I could see that it was set and hard as iron. He came slowly across the street and stood in front of me, holding the light of his torch close unto my face. Then lie said, but as though unto himself: Is it indeed Stephen Wycherhie? Is it indeed that poor backsliding creature, that defiled vessel, one time of grace? Is it he that did tempt me, an old man, unto the neglect- ing of my post and of my duty, throwing potent spells upon me, so that I slept upon my post and upon my watch ? Then raising his eyes, he lifted np his voice and cried aloud: 0 Lord! how wonderful are Thy providences that Thou shouldst bring me unto this man! Lo! it is upon nie that Thou wouldst have me, even me, to be the executioner of Thy wrath and of Thy judgment! Therefore steel my heart that I may do Thy will concerning this thing ! Thereupon he drew a great pistol froni his belt, and looked carefully to the match and the priming thereof. Then one asked 1dm what it was that he would do, and he answered that he would even do that which the Lord had set upon him to do, that he would be my executioner, for it was manifested unto him that the Lord had brought him thith- er for that purpose, nor might he doubt that this was so. Then many cried out against him that he should not do this, but should leave me unto the judgment of those in authority; these he answered sternly, asking them whenever had they seen him fail in the bidding of the Lord, and was it not strangely apparent that the Lord had set upon him to be mine execu- tioner. And all this while I sat there, nor spoke nor moved. So he came forward, and pressed the nozzle of the pistol against my forehead, and thereat I shut mine eyes, nor could I keep them opened. There was a great hiss- ing and ringing in mine ears, and my soul shrank together within me. I wondered foolishly how the bullet would crash through my brains, and whether I would feel the agony thereof, or would be sud- denly stricken without feeling. All the others stood about without speaking, nei- ther did they interfere, for Master Huck- kheback was great in the grace of the Lord, and a chastened vessel amongst them; therefore they would not stay his hand. So a considerable time passed, until I could bear the agony of waiting no long- er, but cried out in a loud voice, bidding him to kill me, but to keep me not thus waiting. Then I heard him saying, as though to himself, 0 Lord, what weak- ness is this that is upon me? How is mine arm slackened in the doing of Thy will! Give me, 0 Lord, a sign whether I am indeed to be the executioner of this man, and whether it is set upon me to de- stroy one thus dear to my heart ! Then did hap a most wonderous thing, for, as in my very ears, there rang the sharp report of a pistol, as though to deaf- en me. But still I did keep mine eyes shut, and did wonder foolishly, for I was sorely bewildered, whether Master Huck STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. kieback had fired, and whether I was now dead without feeling aught of pain in my dying. But in a moment came a deep groan, and one fell against me and upon me, and then I oped mine eyes a~ am, and saw that it was Master Huckkleback, and that he lay across my knees, and that the dark blood ran slowly from beneath him and across the step whereon I sat. Thereupon I sprang to my feet, and the body rolled from my knees and from the step, and lay all in a heap upon the ground. I beheld a puff of smoke drifting across The dark street, and raising mine eyes, I saw for a moment, and by the light of the torches, the face of Harry Lynne over the top of the wall of the garden. Those who stood around had also heard the shot, and had seen wherefrom it had come, and likewise the face of the young man. Then divers of them ran, shouting, and came against the gate of the place and burst it open, and so within; I heard an- other pistol shot, and then the clashing of steel, and presently all was still. Then those who had gone within came forth again, and one of them wiped a bloody word ere he thrust it back into the scab- bard, and I knew that poor Harry Lynne had given his life for mine, and so was quit of all debt unto me for whatsoever I had done for him. In the mean time came two forward and turned Master Huckkleback over, but found him dead, for the bullet had entered the body just betwixt the neck and the shoulder, and the pistol had been held so close unto him that his buff coat was black- cued by the burning powder therefrom. Then two of them lifted the body and laid it upon one of the hand-barrows, and bore it away, and two of the others took me un- der guard and brought me to the cathe- dral, wherein were quartered many of the prisoners that had been taken in the fight that day. I was not in the place for a great while, for, against an hour had passed, I saw two men come in, bearing the one a musket and the other a pike, and he that bore the musket was the young man of mine own ~company who had first seen me where I sat upon the step. After a while they ~catched sight of me, and came unto me, for it was Ii whom they sought. They took me thence and through the dark streets, and I wondered whether they now took me unto my death. But they did not do this, but brought me unto another place, and there confined me in a room by mine own self; and the place whereto they brou~,,ht me seemed to be a prison of some sort, for the windows thereof were barred across, as I could see, looking out against the starry sky. There was no light in this room, but I felt about and s~ came upon a table and a chair and a bed, where- upon I lay myself down, for I was aweary. Mine eyelids feeling heavy, I closed them, and was presently asleep, for now that the Lord had taken me into His own hands, there was peace within me. Methinks I had but just fallen into this slumber when I was aware of a light in the room, wherefore I unclosed mine eyes and looked up. Then I leaped unto my feet, for, lo! it was the Lord General himself, and he sat upon the chair, looking at me by the light of a caiidle that stood within the window- place. Then I stood before him, albeit I was as drowned in wonder that he should have come unto that place and at such a time of the night. Then he spake unto me in his harsh voice, saying, Truly you sleep soundly for one who is like to die upon the mor- row ! To this I answered nothing, nor could do so for the wonder of the thing, that the Lord General should have come unto me, a poor captain, for no other rea- son than to say such things to me. So I stood silently before him, whilst he looked upon me as though sunk in thought. After a time he said, but as though to himself: Truly I am not given to such weakness, and yet this youth of so much promise did save my life. It would be a grievous shortcoming to do the like by him, and yetand yet Here- upon lie brake from his musing, and spake directly to me again in his harsh voice. He said that whilst it might not be right for him to say it, who had never overlooked such a thing as I had done in all of his life before, yet he was grieved to the heart that I had not escaped whilst that the chance had been open to me. But now, said he, you are in prison, and with no chance of escape, and the judgment for your wrong - doing is surely come upon you; yea, you are all encompassed about with perils. Now had you a cloak to wrap yourself in, and did you find the door of this place open and the sentry asleep, and if coming forth hence you should look around and should 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. perceive a horse ready saddled standing at the end of the street, and if you mount- ed thereon, then indeed you might escape, provided that you knew the pass-word, which is The Lord of Hosts. This would bring you safe through the lines of the outposts; but all these things would have to happen before you could escape the dan- ger that is upon you. Having so spoken, he arose from his place without another word, and left me standing where I was, and, lo! the cloak that he had worn lay upon the back of the chair whereon he had sat, and the door of the place was ajar. Then, for the last time that day, did temptation catch hold of me and wrestle with me as it had not before done, for I saw the meaning of all that he had said unto me, and that he himself had bidden me to go forth from out of the perils of the Lords judgment. I le~ned against the wall of the place as in an agony, and called unto the Lord, and He heard me. Then I catched up the cloak from the chair and ran forth from the room. The sentry that stood at the door was as asleep, leaning upon his musket and against the door-post. His eyes were shut, neither did he arouse at my going forth. So out and into the night, and found the Lord General just mounted upon his horse, and one other with him. Straightway I ran to him, crying, Sir! sir! here is your cloak, which you have forgot ! and so thrust it into his hands, and he took it without a single word; then, turning, I went back into the place again. The sentry that had been leaning against the door-post was awake, neither, in truth, do I believe that he had slept at all. He looked upon me as all in amaze, neither did he say anything unto me, and so IL went back into the room again and shut the door behind me. The next morning, about nine of the clock, I was taken from my place of cap- tivity, and was brought before a court of martial that sat at the same inn where- from I had aided Mistress Margaret and the others to escape. The Lord General was there, at the head of the table, albeit he took no part in any- thing that passed, but sat as apart-froiri the others; neither when they spake together did he say aught unto them. Then, after divers witnesses had been examined, the president of the court turned unto me, and I arose and stood with clasped hands, for I felt that now surely was the time of my reckoning come. But when he spake I was as one that heard not, forthis was the judgment that lie rendered: that as I had not deserted to the ener~iy to take up arms with him, but had only failed in my undertaking, I should be stripped of mine office, and dis- honourably dismissed from the army in the presence of mine own regiment. I stood as though stricken dumb, for it was another judgment than I had thought would be passed upon me, and for which I had looked, and in this I saw the hand of the Lord General. But when it came fully unto me what this judgment meant, and that I was to be dishonoured and dis- graced before those who had held me in such hi~,h regard, I smote my palms to- getheP, and called upon them to slay me, but not to bring that upon a soldier which was so much more bitter than death. But the Lord General brake in before that I had ended mine outcry, and in a harsh voice commanded them that guarded me to take me thence, and they did so. What happed thereafter and the dis- honour that was brought upon me I speak not of, for there is no need that I should wrack myself and ope my partly healed wounds in the recounting thereof. After that I had been so shamed and brought low I departed thence, though with a broken heart, and so came across the seas and into Holland, for I could bear to live no longer in my native land. There I abided in a humble way, gaining a livelihood by teaching unto others the art of fence and the use of the broad- sword, being greatly skilled therein. So I lived in comfort and peace, after a fash- ion, though with a melancholy soul and a heart sorely beset with sorrow, for all hope and earnestness had been shorn away from me. So cometh nigh the end of my story with this to tell: One day, going out from my place of abiding, I came face to face with Sir William Whalleys body-servantthe same whom I had met in so passing strange a manner at Worcester, now a year and more gone. So soon as he had caught sight of me lie knew me, and called unto me in a loud voice to stay. But I hurried away from him as fast as I could, though he ran after me, still calling my name. But the next day, being in my room, where I sat reading my Bible, there came a knock at my door, and I, going there- STEPHEN WYCHERLIE. 47 unto and opening it, found myself face to face with Mistress Margaret and Sir Wil- liam Whalley. She was mightily pale, and clung unto her fathers arm as though she would fall. Then, I standing bereft of speech, they caine into the room with- out word; nor could I stay them in their coming. Then came Mistress Margaret unto me and put a letter into my hands, and be- sought me that I should read it, albeit her voice was only a breath that I could scarce hear. So, all enwrapped in won- der, I went unto the window and oped the letter and read it; and thus it ran, for I have kept it by me ever since that day: Sin,I do write these unto you which at most times it were unbefitting for a maid to do, yet can I not forbear from so writing because of those sacrifices that you have made unto me for my sake, and of which I have had certain knowledge. Sir, you have told me that you do love me, and you do well know that which I one time said unto you. Therefore this: if that I can render unto you aught by way of return for all those things which you have done for me, then am I ready to do so, and to bring such joy into your af- flictions as may lie within my power. Tl~ese I do indite, because that I may not speak them unto you. MARGARET WHALLEY. When I looked up from the reading thereof, I saw that Margaret sat over against me at the table, with her face bur- ied in her hands, and it was now as rosy as it had been white before. And I knew that it was all for maidenly shame that she should so have seemed to seek me. Then I came to her and kneeled down beside her and took her hand (though for a while she strove to withhold it), and set it to my lips; but all that I could find to say was, Margaret! Margaret ! and Margaret! Margaret ! Yet she seemed to comprehend me, for by-and-by she looked up and smiled upon me through her tears. Come, said Sir William at last, let us be going. And so all three of us presently went forth together, and as I shut the door be- hind me, it seemed to me as though I shut it upon all of my troubles that had gone before. THEN CAME MISTRESS MARGARET UN~TO ME AND PUT A LETTER INTO MY HANDS. THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. BY JOHN MASON BROWN. THE traveller who stops for a day at the pleasant and picturesque little city of Frankfort, Kentucky, will be rewarded with the view of a landscape of surpass- ing loveliness. From the brow of a lofty hill, reached by a broad smooth turnpike that has replaced the ancient buffalo trace, he will look down upon the thriving town that fills the valley. A railway, crowded with busy trains, skirts the base of the em- inence. To the right and the left extends the limpid blue Kentucky IRiver, losing itself on either hand in graceful curves behind the wooded hills, and in the dis- tance fields and pastures terminate the view. The observer stands at the grave of Daniel Boone. Here was the favorite resort of the famous pioneer of Kentucky, and here was he in 1845 interred. His bones were brought back to the State which he founded, and laid in this last resting-place. The outlook from his grave is toward the west, in keeping with the adventurous story of his life. The mod- est monument that marks the place is carved with scenes of pioneer lifethe hunters camp, the settlers cabin, the Ind- ian combat; and around it the trees grow, secluding the spot from the military cem- etery that lies beyond. The story of Boone and the Kentucky pioneers has passed almost into the do- main of romance. They are thought of and spoken of, when remembered, in a vague way as Indian fighters and hunt- ers. They are scarcely ever credited with an idea or aspiration higher than the lust of the chase, or with a nobler quality than personal courage. It is too often forgot- ten how they framed, unassisted, the Constitution and policy of a State, how they conquered for their parent common- wealth,Virginia, the great Northwest Ter- ritory, and how they endured through unexampled trials the hardships of the frontier. The entrance of the pioneers into Ken- tucky must be by one or the other of two routes. The parallel ranges of the Alle- ghany and Cumberland mountains, and the wild precipitous country between, made a march directly westward and across them impossible. It is still beyond at- tempt. From the frontier settlements of Virginia the pioneer would take his way southwestward, following the trend of the mountains and the valleys, till East Ten- nessee and the valley of the Holston were reached. Then an arduous journey across the Cumberland Gap and the rugged hills beyond it brought him, as he kept toward the northwest, to the waters of the Ken- tucky and of Salt River, and to that plea- sant land of the Kentuckian, the Blue- grass. But the journey was one of quite six hundred miles, and it traversed an inhospitable and dangerous region. No white inhabitant was to be found in all its length. From the Holston River to the Kentucky hostile Indians were nu- merous. There was no road, and the di- rection of the trail was only indicated by occasional choppings made upon the trees. It was in 1775 that this marking the road was done by Boone, to serve for others use. For him neither marks nor compass nor directions were necessary. His instinct served him better than any such aids. It was by this route that Boone and his comrades entered Kentucky, and by it came most of the early pioneers. It was aptly called, by a name that still adheres to the excellent thoroughfares that have supplied its place, the Wilderness Road. The other mode of reaching the Ken- tucky hunting grounds was one less con- venient and even more dangerous. It was to proceed from the interior settle- ments to Fort Pitt, and from that place float down the Ohio in a flat-boat of rude construction. Such journeys were once or twice made, without serious loss, as far as to the falls of the Ohio (Louisville), but they generally ended, if the adventurers succeeded, at Limestone, where Maysville now is built. Thence by overland march through the canebrakes the emigrant would, if not waylaid by Indians, join the little settlements at Boonesborough, or Harrodstown, or St. Asaph. This river route was, however, exceedingly hazard- ous. The Indians who occupied Southeast Ohio watched the banks for plunder and scalps. The flat-boats were necessarily small, and could not be sufficiently manned to repel attack, and were so rude- ly framed that they could not be mano~n- vred to escape the swift canoes paddled by full crews of well-armed warriors.

THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. BY JOHN MASON BROWN. THE traveller who stops for a day at the pleasant and picturesque little city of Frankfort, Kentucky, will be rewarded with the view of a landscape of surpass- ing loveliness. From the brow of a lofty hill, reached by a broad smooth turnpike that has replaced the ancient buffalo trace, he will look down upon the thriving town that fills the valley. A railway, crowded with busy trains, skirts the base of the em- inence. To the right and the left extends the limpid blue Kentucky IRiver, losing itself on either hand in graceful curves behind the wooded hills, and in the dis- tance fields and pastures terminate the view. The observer stands at the grave of Daniel Boone. Here was the favorite resort of the famous pioneer of Kentucky, and here was he in 1845 interred. His bones were brought back to the State which he founded, and laid in this last resting-place. The outlook from his grave is toward the west, in keeping with the adventurous story of his life. The mod- est monument that marks the place is carved with scenes of pioneer lifethe hunters camp, the settlers cabin, the Ind- ian combat; and around it the trees grow, secluding the spot from the military cem- etery that lies beyond. The story of Boone and the Kentucky pioneers has passed almost into the do- main of romance. They are thought of and spoken of, when remembered, in a vague way as Indian fighters and hunt- ers. They are scarcely ever credited with an idea or aspiration higher than the lust of the chase, or with a nobler quality than personal courage. It is too often forgot- ten how they framed, unassisted, the Constitution and policy of a State, how they conquered for their parent common- wealth,Virginia, the great Northwest Ter- ritory, and how they endured through unexampled trials the hardships of the frontier. The entrance of the pioneers into Ken- tucky must be by one or the other of two routes. The parallel ranges of the Alle- ghany and Cumberland mountains, and the wild precipitous country between, made a march directly westward and across them impossible. It is still beyond at- tempt. From the frontier settlements of Virginia the pioneer would take his way southwestward, following the trend of the mountains and the valleys, till East Ten- nessee and the valley of the Holston were reached. Then an arduous journey across the Cumberland Gap and the rugged hills beyond it brought him, as he kept toward the northwest, to the waters of the Ken- tucky and of Salt River, and to that plea- sant land of the Kentuckian, the Blue- grass. But the journey was one of quite six hundred miles, and it traversed an inhospitable and dangerous region. No white inhabitant was to be found in all its length. From the Holston River to the Kentucky hostile Indians were nu- merous. There was no road, and the di- rection of the trail was only indicated by occasional choppings made upon the trees. It was in 1775 that this marking the road was done by Boone, to serve for others use. For him neither marks nor compass nor directions were necessary. His instinct served him better than any such aids. It was by this route that Boone and his comrades entered Kentucky, and by it came most of the early pioneers. It was aptly called, by a name that still adheres to the excellent thoroughfares that have supplied its place, the Wilderness Road. The other mode of reaching the Ken- tucky hunting grounds was one less con- venient and even more dangerous. It was to proceed from the interior settle- ments to Fort Pitt, and from that place float down the Ohio in a flat-boat of rude construction. Such journeys were once or twice made, without serious loss, as far as to the falls of the Ohio (Louisville), but they generally ended, if the adventurers succeeded, at Limestone, where Maysville now is built. Thence by overland march through the canebrakes the emigrant would, if not waylaid by Indians, join the little settlements at Boonesborough, or Harrodstown, or St. Asaph. This river route was, however, exceedingly hazard- ous. The Indians who occupied Southeast Ohio watched the banks for plunder and scalps. The flat-boats were necessarily small, and could not be sufficiently manned to repel attack, and were so rude- ly framed that they could not be mano~n- vred to escape the swift canoes paddled by full crews of well-armed warriors. THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. The great Warriors Path of the Shawnees extended through eastern Ken- tucky, from Chickamauga to the Scioto, and along its length war parties incessant- ly moved. The hunter who had safely passed these dangers, and reached the beginnings of the settlements, found return to Virginia quite as dangerous as it was to remain in his new home. He was thrown upon his own resources for everything, and neces sity developed him into soldier, politician, farmer, and lawyer. The pioneers were in many instances men of much more information and cult- ure than is generally supposed. Boone was much more than a mere deer-slayer and Indian II hter. He was just and kindly, faithful to friend and fair to foe. Althou~h his name is the synonym for adventure, his bravery was never that of violence. The Indians admitted that. GRAVE OP DANIEL BOONE. 50 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Boone, their most skilful foe, had no ma- lignant revenge in his nature. They sev- eral times captured him, and always treat- ed him with a certain rough kindness and distinction. He was the greatest of the hunters, yet he never killed game needlessly. His singular nature was a compound of bravery without rashness, ad- venture without personal ambition con- stant conflict without a trace of cruelty. He possessed a placid and gentle mind that often showed the poetic temperament. He spelled badly, and wrote an ill-formed hand; but he enjoyed reading, and ex- pressed himself with grace and facility. It was in 1769 that he first entered Ken- tucky, and these are his own words in speaking of the event: On the 7th June, after travelling through a mountainous wilderness in a western direction, we found ourselves on the Red River, where John Finley had formerly been trading with the Indians, and from the top of an eminence saw with pleasure the beautiful level of Kentucke. It will surprise many readers to learn that Boone and his comrades in their ear- liest explorations carried a book or two to amuse themselves with. The little pack that contained the precious reserve of pow- der and bullets, the scant supply of cloth- ing and the blanket of the pioneer, held also the reading matter that was to en- liven the hours in camp. Commonly it was a Bible or psalm-book, and from these in the solitudes of the wilderness they would read to each other or sing together. At a time when there were not ten white men in Kentucky, Dean Swift was read in the hunters camp on a tributary of the Kentucky River. In a deposition given by Boone in 1796, as evidence in a land suit, he makes this statement: In the year 1770 I encamped on Red River with five other men, and we had for our amusement the history of Samuel Gul- livers Travels, wherein he gave an account of his young master Glumdelick carrying him on a market-day for a show to a town called Lulbegrud. A young man of our Company called Alexander Neely came to camp one night and told us lie had been that day to Lulbegrud and had killed two Brobdignags in their capital. The mistakes of names and orthography may be pardoned the old hunter, deposing from memory twenty-six years after the event. The name thus used by young Neely has clung to the locality. A creek that waters one of the most beautiful parts of Kentucky still bears the name of Lul- begrud, and the lands along its borders are still called the Indian Old Fields. They are the site of what was almost certainly the last fixed town that the Indians occu- pied in Kentucky. Long years after the pioneer days were over, an aged chief, the renowned Catahecassa, or Blackhoof, came to revisit the scenes of his youth. He had been born at the Shawnee town on the Lulbegrud, and had marched when far past middle manhood to take part in the fight where Braddock was defeated and slain. He was threescore when Boone first saw Kentucky, yet he survived the entire generation of the first pioneers, his old foes, and died in 1831, at the great age of one hundred and twenty years. The sons of the pioneers received hini with honor and hospitality, and the old chief was made a welcome guest in the home of his childhood. His people were gone, the vestiges of their former occupancy oblit- erated, and the names of places and braves forgotten. A chance word froni a chance book had given a new and strange name to the place of his birth and the long-ago home of his people. John Floyd, the early companion of Boone, was a typical pioneer. He was educated, brave, and adventurous. Him- self and two brothers fell by the Indians rifle. Two of his brothers-in-law shared the same fate. At twenty-four years of age he was with Boone in Kentucky, and next year took part in the deliberations at Booneshorough. He hastened back to Vir- ginia in the autumn of 1776, and with per- fect confidence in his own resources fitted out a privateer and cruised as its com- mander. His checkered career brought him to Dartmouth as a prisoner of war, thence, by a daring escape, to Paris, where, as he afterward said, he wandered un- known, and wondered if there was in all the woi~ld a man so lonely as he. Franklin met him, and conceived a strong esteem for the bold and handsome and courtly young hunter. He was received with marked interest at Versailles, and was the lion of the hour. Again he found his way back to Virginia, and rejoined Boone and Harrod in Kentucky in 1779, to lose his life soon afterward by a bullet from an ambuscade. Another of the group was that great soldier George Rogers Clark, whose gen- ius foresaw the importance of the North- THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 51 west, and whose prowess and skill con- heusive mind of Jefferson. The achieve- quered for the new republic that empire ment is a romance of war yet to be ade- where now are established the great States quately told. His younger brother was of Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan. The of the same mould, and will be remember- magnitude of the conception was appreci- ed for the marvellous expedition which, ated by none but himself and the compre- commanded by himself and his brother VOL. LXXV.No. 4454 SYCAMORE ON LULBEGRUD CREEK. 52 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. officer Lewis, crossed the continent to the mouth of the Columbia River. The most accomplished of the pre-Revo- lutionary pioneers was doubtless Colonel John Todd, who fell afterward at the bat- tle of the Blue Licks. Besides being a thorough woodsman, he was a classical scholar, had been trained to the law, and had seen service as a soldier. Though only thirty-two years of age at the time of his death, in 1782, he had assisted in subdu- ing the Northwest, and filled the position of Military Governor of the Illinois. He had also inaugurated a scheme for the extirpation of slavery, and first con- ceived the great ordinance of 1787, and de- vised, in the midst of frontier alarms, a comprehensive system of public aid to schools by grants of lands. lie and Boone and Floyd, with others, among them Parson Lythe, an adventu- rous preacher, were members of the first legislative body that met west of the Al- leghany Mountains. It gathered at the stockade called Boonesborough, on the banks of the Kentucky, in May, 1775, and seventeen pioneers took part. The delib- erations were opened with divine service, and the sessions were held under a great elm. The curious record has been pre- served, and shows such characteristic en- tries as these: On motion of Mr. Daniel Boone, leave is given to bring in a bill for preserving game On motion of Mr. Lythe, leave is given to bring in a bill to prevent profane swearing and Sabbath- breaking. Mr. Lythe, as has been men- tioned, was the preacher-hunter. The two bills were perfected, and were the first laws of the new community. Along with them were resolutions looking to the es- tablishment of courts of justice, and the oroanizing of a militia. The Kentuckian, as has often been good- humoredly remarked, is nothing if not parliamentary. He loves debate and the forms of debate, and best of all political debate. It was even so with his progen- itors. The orderly and strictly parlia- mentary way in which the little conven- tion at Boonesborough proceeded with its business is quite surprising when the sur- rounding dangers and the remoteness of the spot from all civilized aid are remem- bered. During all the years up to the sep- aration from Virginia there was indispen- sable need of a certain self-constituted au- thority. The parent commonwealth was remote and feeble, its officials too often careless of the struggling and distant com- munity. Yet every forni of law and pro- cedure was scrupulously observed. The heads of settlements would recommend the militia officers to cause delegates to be chosen from their companies, and these would convene in due form, and call on the people to choose representatives in a legislative body, by whom the affairs of the district could be considered, and prop- er action recommended. Thus delegates to the Virginia Assembly were selected, provisions for future conventions made, and the comnion interest cared for. It may safely be asserted that the gravity, moderation, and patience which were ex- hibited are unsurpassed in the earlyhistory of any of the commonwealths. It is strange to picture this curious phase mn the pioneers history. Their daily life was one of danger, and combat with a foe that gave no quarter. They were advent- urers upon the limitless West, and the animating spirit of each was that of per- sonal independence. There was no organ- ized force or sanction of law. Those that first camne had not even a recognition from King Georges Governors, nor a charter of permission. Yet these men, usually es- teemed so rude, and scarce one of whom had ever witnessed a legislative session, instinctively laid the foundation of their occupancy in a y~rell-considem.ed and ad- mirably expressed treaty, by which right of occupancy was formally secured, and upon that basis commenced of their own motion a political organization. When the Revolution dissolved their English al- legiance, and private treaties with Indians were repudiated by Virginia, they careful- ly establislmed by chosen delegates their relations with Virginia, and scrupulously sought lawful commissions to issue to the few officials required for their simple yet urgent needs. As they emerged from the hunter life, and agriculture began to flour- ish and accumulations for commerce to grow, they never lost sight of the lawful forms of procedure; and in a matter of such vital importance as the navigation of the Mississippi they held their hand, in constant deference to the constituted pow- er of the land, though tempted by every consideration that could sway men to take by strong arm the rights so essential to their prosperity and comfort. That they showed capacity for organization is not to be so much wondered at such is the Eng- lish characteristic; but that they should THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 53. have restrained their organization so strict- ly by the forms of traditional law, under circumstances of so great and long-con- tinued discouragement, is wonderful. The public opinion of the settlers was stronger than any statute. Their rela- tions were for years those of assent to a common law of the country, which no man presumed to vioJ ate or thought of questioning. So simple and obvious were its necessary points that they were not even codified. Its chief and essential principle was that every man should assist in the common defence, and render prompt aid to his neighbor. Debts there were none, for property had not yet accumulated. There was no use for money, and conse- quently no money-lenders. Land was not as yet the fruitful source of litigation, for it lay free to all who were hardy enough to take and hold it. The authority of the militia officers, and the supremacy of the Connty Lieutenant, as he was called in the Virginia law, were the most important mat- ters of public concern, and to the orders and suggestions of these uniform defer- ence was paid. For the redress of purely personal grievances their public appliances were inadequate, and the habit of self-re- liance seemed to make them unsuitable. Men were left to maintain by their own strong arms many rights which in older GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. Photographed by L. Bergman, Louisville, Kentucky. 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. and quieter communities were vindicated by money damages at the hands of a jury. Public opinion committed the honor of fe- males to the keeping of their armed kins- men, and would have scouted appeal to a court for redress upon a wrong-doer. Each was competent to protect himself and that which personally concerned him, and was expected to do so; and this received no- tion gained such general and sure footing that an almost ceremonious regard for oth- ers feelings and others persons became universal. The violent were better re- strained by the certainty of condign pun- ishment at the hands of the outraged than they would have been by any mulct or fine. Contrary to what the moralist might perhaps have predicted, the idea worked well. The result was,for the public, prompt and well-concerted response to public duty; for the individual, great self-reliance in all that concerned his family or his honor, and an unwillingness to trouble the neigh- borhood with a trial of any infringement of his personal rights as distinguished from property rights. Some of the in- herited results of this peculiar society are observable to this day. Among those who aspire to be considered the better class, suits for slander are unknown. In the history of the State there has not been a crim. con. trial. The slayer of a seducer has never been punished. And this re- mark applies to the best population of Kentucky, as distinguished from a class that is degraded and inferior, so often con- founded with it, but which is in no sense of pioneer origin. The little fort at Boonesborough was in an almost constant state of attack, and the increasing numbers and strength of the Indian war parties caused Boone and his comrades to enlarge it to such propor- tions as would give a refuge for those who ventured to clear land and plant corn in the vicinity. It may well be considered as the central point of early pioneer life in Kentucky. The walls of the fort were in part composed of the log cabins in which the pioneers lived, and constructed partly of tall palisades. At the four cor- ners the cabins projected like bastions, and enabled the defenders to resist at- tempts to scale or burn the defences. Within the enclosure, as in the other earliest settlements, there was collected the little wealth of the adventurers. The pots and pans brought with such toil from Virginia upon the pack-horse were, next to the gun and axe, their most valued pos- sessions. They came along with the first wives and daughters of the pioneers, of whom there were as many as seven fami- lies within the area of Kentucky in 1775. These brought, too, the spinning-wheel, with which coarse yarns were made from buffalo wool; and it was not long before a few rude looms were improvised, that served for weaving a rough cloth suitable for the mens winter wear. The name of William Poague, who first made noggins and buckets, has been preserved, coupled with that of his ingenious daughter, who discovered that a fibre for-weaving could be beaten from nettles and woven in the loom which her father made. Buckskin was the usual outer garb of the men as well from choice as necessity. Their rough marches through thickets and cane would soon have destroyed a less strong -material. The cotton cloth for under- clothing was painfully brought from Vir- ginia along with the occasional supplies of ammunition. The wives and daugh- ters of the pioneers were more carefully provided for. They were apparelled in woollens and cottons, and wore shoes, brought over the Wilderness Road. With- al there was comfort and plenty. The list of luxuries was a short one; the com- forts were substantial. Greatly prized among them was the cheerful fiddle that enlivened the long winter evenings, and relieved the tedium of their lonely life. For him who could make music with their favorite instrument there was always the heartiest welcome and the choicest seat near the great log fire that supplied alike warmth and light. The accomplishment was a rare one, and the merits of the best fiddlers were well known throughout the different settlements. The use of the fiddle and indulgence in the dance were general with all of the first settlers. For old and young alike it was the approved recreation. The prevailing religious sentiment was Presbyterian or Baptist, for in ost of the pioneers were from Rockbridge, or Augusta, or Botetourt, in Virginia, or the strong Dissenter commu- nities of Pennsylvania. They were rigid in their theology and strict in their ob- servances, but their strictness seems nev- er to have found fault with the innocent gayety of the neighborhood dance or the quilting party. Old Father Rice gave Presbyterian sanction by his presence, if not his participation; and so did the earlier THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 55 Baptists, represented by Squire Boone and such preachers. Upon the subject of psalmody there was a serious and much debated difference throughout the settle- ments. Very many of the first pioneers would never sing Wattss version, and made the rugged lines of Rouse a test of orthodoxy. But all allowed the dance and fiddle to the young and the gay, and cbeemd their own troubles with the sight and sound of innocent merriment. It is a curious fact that so sudden and radical a change should have occurred as mark- ed the state of public opinion at the end of Kentuckys first twenty years. The French Revolution had then brought ~migr~s even to Kentucky. The agents of the Directory were fomenting political discontent at Lexington and Danville. By a queer freak, the French divided pub- lic opinion politically and religiously. Those who shared the enthusiasm of the time for republican France became large- ly advocates of the infidelity then pro- fessed by representative Frenchmen, and imitators of their fashions and habits. And the social gayety of French manners became so thoroughly identified in the common mind with disbelief, that the inno- cent fiddle and the harmless dance were de- nounced as incompatible with avowed reli- gious convictions. It was about the year 1794 that the religious organizations made dancing a subject of discipline. The rule was iiiot relaxed in the sterner denomina- tions until a time well within the memory of men not yet old. And as a parallel fact it may be noted that from 1794 up to the wonderful religious excitement of 18034 there was, according to a most re- liable contemporary, such general depart- ure from the early ways that but a single lawyer in the State avowed a religious be- lief. In a MS. autobiography that has fortunately survived, a brave and useful and eminently pious old pioneer recounts the happy escape of a party of settlers, male and female, from an ambuscade of Indians. The Indians made a blind, or hiding-place of bushes, behind which they lay in wait for the whites who were to pass along the path. The young peo- ple went up a different ridge, in quest of wild plums, and so escaped the danger. INDIAN OLD FIELDS AND VIEW FROM PILOT KNOB. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. This event was always thereafter (says the narrator) regarded as an ex- traordinary interposition of Providence in their favour. For which many heart- felt thanks were returned to Almighty God by the Parents of these Young people, who amidst all their dangers did not for- get to Dance and Amuse themselves in the station whenever they could get the op- portunity. But the strict old Presbyterian elder in another place tells, with an almost re- gret for those days of his youth, how the young people in the stations enjoyed themselves wit~Dancin~ several tines t b~emse tves wital) ancing severa~ 1tunes each week. It was not then considered criminal, and it kept up their spirits and cheerfulness, in the wilds of the West, and it must be admitted that it added to the health and happiness of the young Peo- ple, and indeed it was not believed to be inconsistent with their religions duties. But after-times proved the necessity of limiting this amusement. But these after-times, as has been intimated, were not until the time of the French excitement. Their favorite dance was the reelthe Virginia Reel, as it is still called, and as it is yet danced in undiminished popularity throughout rural Kentucky. The facing lines of dancers, the alternate ad- vance and retreat of end couples, keeping strict time, and executing the pigeon wing and other intricacies according to the performers ability, the continual sway and marking the music by all the dancers, the hands all round, the right and left, made an enlivening scene. The quick, marked tune, in two-four time, emphasized by the stamp of the fiddlers foot, and by the nods and gestures of the spectators, was played with an expression that was exhilarating. Of all dances, none has the contagious good- humor and gayety that char- acterize the Virginia Reel, danced at a country house to the music of good country fiddlers. For the music of these has a swing of its own, and differs from the best or- chestra, just as the camp-meeting hymn moves the soul differently from the best performances of a trained and fashiona- ble church quartette. A negro slave owned by Captain Estill was pre-eminently the musician of the country in the earliest years. He was a person of greatest importance from the further fact that lie alone of all in the new country could make gunpowder. The cave where Monk leached the earth for salt- petre, and combined his dangerous mix- ture, is one of the well-known spots of his- toric interest in Madison County. He nos- sessed much intelligence ~nd w~s e~~een- sessect nuich. inte Lugence, and. was eccen- tric and reserved. He was treated with respect and consideration by whites and Indians alike. His freedom was given him in 1782 in recognition of his conspicu- ous bravery in an Indian fight. Thus, in addition to other points of interest, he was the first freed slave in Kentucky. His chemical secrethow to make gunpowder was never divulged by him, and in- sured him a consequence proportioned to 5UN5ET ON LICKING RIVzR. THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 57 the value of that indispensable article in a settlement of hunters and Indian fight- ers. But the powder made by Monk was no doubt below the standard of even those rude days. The supply was chiefly from Fort Pitt, and during the earlier years the expeditions to fetch it were care- fully planned, and intrusted only to the most daring and successful woodsmen. In June, 1776, the pioneers held a general meeting on the powder question, and sent two representati x~es all the way to Williamsburg, one of whose duties it was to procure from the Virginia Assembly a supply of ammunition. The five hundred pounds that were granted were carried on horses through the wilderness to Fort Pitt, and thence by night voyages in ca- noes to Limestone (now Maysville), and there secreted to await a favorable time for conveyance to the stations in central Kentucky. It cost the lives of several CAPTURE OF ELIZABETH AND FRANCES cALLAWAY AND JEMIMA BOONE. 58 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. with desperation. Their canoe was drawn ashore, and they were hurried off in rapid retreat toward the Shawnee towns in Ohio. Their screams were heard at the fort, and the cause well guessed. Two of the girls were Betsey and Frances, daughters of Colonel Richard Calla- way, the other was Jemi- ma, daughter of Boone. The fathers were absent, but soon returned to hear the evil news and arrange the pursuit. Callaway as- sembled a mounted party, and was away through the woods to head off the In- dians, if possible, before they might reach and cross the Ohio, or before the fatimue of their rapid march should so overcome the poor girls as to cause From painting SIMON KENTON. their captors to tomahawk owned by Robert Clarke, Cincinnati, Obio. them, and so disencumber their flight. Boone start- ed directly on the trail good men to accomplish the task. It was through the thickets and canebrakes. His in the same year that, in a similar errand rule was never to ride if he could possibly to Fort Pitt, a party of seven were all walk. All his journeys and hunts, es- killed or wounded, among them Colonel capes and pursuits, were on foot. His lit- Robert Patterson, the founder of the three tle party numbered eight, and the anxiety cities Lexington, Cincinnati, and Dayton, of a fathers heart quickened its leader, and who there received the tomahawk wound found a ready response in the breasts of which he bore to his grave, three young men, the lovers of the girls. The dangers which Boone and his com- Betsey Callaway, the oldest of the girls, panions encountered in the fields came to marked the trail, as the Indians hurried the very doors of their cabins, and con- them aloum, by breaking twigs and bend- stantly menaced their families. Indians ing bushes, and when threatened with the lurked singly or in parties to seize a pris- tomahawk if she persisted, tore small bits oner or take a scalp whenever an incau- from her dress, and dropped them to guide tious white should give the opportunity. the pursuers. Where the ground was soft Frequent combats (and each combat end- enough to receive an impression, they ed, as a rule, in the death of one or both would press a footprint. The flight was of those engaged) had habituated the men in the best Indian method: the Indians to danger. It was later that they felt the marched some yards apart through the danger of their wives and children, bushes and cane, compelling their cap- Late on a Sunday afternoon in July, tives to do the same. When a creek was 1776, three young girls ventured from the crossed they waded in its water to a dis- enclosureofBoonesboroughtoamusethem- taut point, where the march would be re- selves with a canoe upon the river that. sumed. By all the caution and skill of flowed by the fort. Insensibly they drift- their training the Indians endeavored to ed with the lazy current, and before they obscure the trail and perplex the pur- were aware of their danger were seized ~uers. by five warriors. Their resistance was It is well known to those who have ob- useless, though they wielded the paddles served Indian modes of life that the pur THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. suer always marches faster than the pur- sued, if the parties are at all equally match- ed ia woodcraft, To obscure a trail costs time. Unless it were perfectly covered it would never escape the eye of Daniel Boone; and the three young men strained every faculty to observe and keep the sign. The nightfall of the first day stopped the pursuit of Boone before he had gone far; but he had fixed the direction the Ind- ians were taking, and at early dawn was following them. The chase was continued with all the speed that could be made for thirty miles. Again darkness compelled a halt, and again at crack of day on Tues day the pursuit was renewed. It was not long before a light film of smoke that rose in the distan6e showed where the Indians were cooking a breakfast of buffalo meat. The.pursuers cautiously approached, fear- ing lest the Indians might slay their cap- tives and escape. Colonel John Floyd, who was one of the party (himself after- ward killed by Indians), thus described the attack and the rescue, in, a letter written the next Sunday to the Lieutenant of Fin- castle, Colonel William Preston: Our study had been how to get the prisoners without giving the Indians time to murder them after they discovered us: Four of us fired, and all of us rushed DANIEL BOONE. From painting by Chester Harding, owned by W. H. King, Chicago. Photographed by C. L. Moore, Springfield, Mass. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 60 on them; by which they were prevented from carrying anything away except one shot-gun without any ammunition. Col- onel Boone and myself had each a pretty fair shot as they began to move off. I am well convinced I shot one through the body. The one he shot dropped his gun; mine had none. The place was covered with thick cane, and being so much elated on recovering the three poor little heart- broken girls, we were prevented from making any further search. We sent the Indians off almost naked, some without their moccasins, and none of them with so much as a knife or tomahawk. After the girls came to themselves sufficiently to speak, they told us there were five Ind- ians, four Shawanese and one Cherokee; they could speak good English, and said they should go to the Shawanese towns. The war-club we got was like those I have seen of that nation, and several words of their language, which the girls retained, were known to be Shawanese. The return with the rescued girls was the occasion for great rejoicing. To crown their satisfaction, the young lovers had proved their prowess, and under the eye of the greatest of all woodsmen had shown their skill and courage. They had fairly won the girls they loved. Two weeks later a general summons went throughout the little settlements to attend the first wedding ever solemnized on Kentucky soil. Samuel Henderson and Betsey Cal- laway were married in the presence of an approving company that celebrated the event with dancing and feasting. The formal license from the county court was not waited for, as the court-house of Fin- castle, of which county Kentucky was part, was distant more than six hundred miles. The ceremony consisted of the contract with witnesses, and religious vows administered by Boones brother, who was an occasional preacher of the persuasion popularly known as Hard- shell Baptists. Frances Callaway became within a year the wife of the gallant Cap- tain John Holder, afterward greatly dis- tinguished in the pioneer annals; and Boones daughter married the son of his friend Callaway. The first pioneers were so successful in holding their settlements that others hast- ened to join them, attracted by the abun- dance of the game and the fertility of the soil. To some, no doubt, the element of constant adventure was a great i~~ce ment, and fully were they gratified. Some, like Simon Kenton, as a hunter and woods- man second only to Boone, seemed to seek hazard. He it was whose desperate ride, lashed to the back of an untamed horse, was the true original of Byrons Mazeppa. Unlike Boone, Kenton excited in his Indian foes the most exasperated feelings of vengeance. Aside from wounds received in fight, he was several times brought to the very verge of death while a prisoner in the Indians hands. On one occasion he was struck apparently dead with a tomahawk that clove his shoulder through the collar-bone; three several times he was bound to the stake to die by fire, and as often as eight times was he compelled t.o run the gauntlet. None of this generation will ever know in its true significance the horror of that word. There is now probably no man living who has run the gauntlet as an Indian prisoner. The venerable and reverend Thomas P. Dudley, of Lexington, Ken- tucky, now approaching his hundredth year, was sentenced, but reprieved. His comrades suffered the ordeal, while he in mere whim was ransomed for a pony and a keg of whiskey. The Indians ranged themselves in two lines, between which the prisoner was compelled to run for his life, eluding as best he could the blows of tomahawks and war-clubs that were aim- ed at him in his flight. Sometimes good fortune or activity saved the prisoner. Sometimes the Indians would in mere caprice use long sticks instead of deadly weapons, and in a few rare instances pure courage saved the victim. Kenton on one occasion won the applause of the head chiefs of the Wyandots, who inter- fered to save his life from their infuriated warriors. No sooner was he unbound to commence the fatal race than he seized a war-club, and dashed down the line strik- ing in desperation at every warrior armed with hatchet or club. Though covered with wounds, he reached the goal alive, still brandishing the weapon with which he had fought his way. The exploit was without a parallel in Indian experience; it won their admiration, and for that time saved him. The death by fire was seldom inflicted. The gauntlet was rare, but the stake even rarer. It was only under circumstances that to the Indian mind were exceeding- ly aggravating that a prisoner was burn- ed. Boone, like others, was in constant THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 61 warfare with them, and was several times their prisoner, yet the Indians used a sort of rude kindness toward him while in their power. The well- understood code of war was that actual combat was to the death, and that sur- prise and ambuscade were to be ex- pected, and the scalp of the slain went to the victor. During the period from 1783 to 1790 no less than fifteen hun- dred authenticated instances of death by the Indian rifle or tomahawk oc- curred; but they were, after a rough fashion, regarded as part of the risk that pioneers took. The Indians must have suffered as much or more, and they too regarded it as the fate of con- tinual war. But Kenton and a few others appear to have been considered as transgressors of the rules of fair fighting, and to them, when caught, extreme penalty was administered. This state of continual war and in- cessant activity made it of last impor- tance that the outfit of the hunter ROBERT rATTERsON. should be exactly suited to his sur- roundings. Like his Indian foe, he cut down his equipment to the minimum the curve of the body, that it might lie of bulk and weight, and experience soon close, and neither impede the use of the established what became the accepted uni- right arm, nor become entangled with the form. bushes or cane. Much care was bestow- A happy and artistic thought has pre- ed upon its adornment, and it was soften- served the authentic pioneer costume, ed by boiling to receive the desired shape sculptured upon the State Military Monu- and preparation. At the left side hung ment at Frankfort, from models prepared the tomahawk, a light hatchet with curved under the eye of pioneers that then sur- blade, useful in many ways about the ived. The coat, or hunting shirt, that camp, and a formidable weapon in close reached to the thigh, was of coarse cloth, combat. The knife lay across the chest or preferably of well - dressed deer - skin within ready grasp. Over his short trou- that turned rain, and was not readily sers and stockings the hunter habitually torn. Around the neck and shoulders wore deer-skin leggings that reached to was a fringe six inches long, not in- the middle thigh. These were prepared tended for ornament alone, but supplying of brain-dressed skins that perfectly turn- the strings so often needed by a hunter. ed the rain and dew. Along their outer The four pockets, two on either breast, edge were often fringes of strings hang- were exactly placed that the use of wea- ing for ready use. The feet were cased pons should not be embarrassed. A belt, in moccasins, to which soles of raw hide carrying tomahawk and knife, passed were sometimes sewed; but as a rule the through loops at the back, and was tight- soft elk-skin was preferred, for the face cued by a buckle or thongs. of the land was as yet unbroken turf or Beneath the right arm swung the bul- forest mould, soft and springy to the let-pouch, and with it the powder-horn, tread. Stone cropped out as cultivation In the former were carried the bullets, disturbed the soil in after-years. A cap, the cotton patching with which the brought from the eastern settlements, or balls were surrounded in loading, and the made of the skin of a coon or panther, precious extra flints, all enclosed and fast- completed the costume of the original cued in interior pockets, lest in rapid hunter of Kentucky. movement they might be lost. The pow- The rifle that the Kentucky pioneer 4cr-horn was selected with reference to ~as a weapon suited in every re 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. spect to the needs of the situation. The details of its length, calibre, weight, angle of stock, and arrangement of sights were greatly discussed, and the arguments were acrimonious over very small differences. A curious memorandum made at an early day perpetuates the views of sqme of the most noted pioneers. Charles Scott (af- terward a major-general and Governor) thought that a calibre of fifty bullets to the pound of lead was best. John Allen was emphatic that the barrel need never be longer than three feet eight inches, and preferred brass mountin~s, as more easily kept bright. Knox, the chief of the Long Hunters, explained that the gun- barrel should be chambered to receive the charge when rammed home, and that the hind sight should be placed one-third of the barrels length from the breech. Upon the theory of sighting, it was well agreed that the top of the breech, the fine slit of the hind sight, and the edge of the fore sight should lie in one line. This in- sured equal accuracy at any distance be- tween ten and one hundred and fifty paces. The material of the rifle barrel was soft iron, to permit easier manipula- tion; and as use dulled the grooves, the saws were run through, as the term was, enlarging the bore and restoring the accuracy of the gun. The Kentucky rifle of former days is now no longer made. Even those that remain have generally been supplied with percussion locks, and these in their turn are antiquated. In very early times an eccen- tric gunsmith named Graham built a soli JOhN BROWN. From the miniature by Colonel Trnmbnll in the Trumbnll Gallery of Yale College. THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 63 tary cabin on the waters of the Elkhorn, where he made the best gun in Kentucky. From habit more than public demand he pursued the trade till his death in 1820. He first introduced the trade-mark into the West. His rifles have alternate circles and stars stamped in the soft iron around the octagonal muzzle. The skill acquired by the Kentucky hunters in the use of the long rifle has not been exaggerated. Constant practice, and the fact that life depended upon it, made every man a marksman. The pe- culiarities of guns were as well known and as carefully observed as the idiosyn- crasies of men. Nowadays rifles are manufactured by the thousand, each a duplicate of every other, and each the perfection of mechanical excellence. The closest scrutiny will not detect a variation, and the tall and the short, the long-armed and the short-armed, the long-necked and the short-necked, use each the same wea- pon. But in the pioneer days, as each gun was hand-made in every respect, and each as a rule made to order, the owner caused his gun to be measured and shaped and weighted to suit its intended user. There was in those days a personal equation~~ of rifle as well as of rifleman. Ifnd con- ~stant and careful practice made each man the perfect master of his own weapon. The story is authenticated by the late Chief- Justice Robertson of a wife who recog- nized the peculiar report of her husbands rifle as he returned home after a year s absence in Indian captivity. The life of the hunter was, as has al- ready been said, one of unceasing vigilance and activity. It involved every possible danger and fatigue, and called for the highest qualities of courage and endur- ance. Every out-door occupation carried with it the risk of death or captivity. Boone, with all his craft, became a prison- er, and was carried as far as Detroit. He had the tact to ingratiate himself with his captors, who were especially gratified at a victory by some of their chiefs in trials of skill with the rifle. Boone was prudent enough to suffer himself to be beaten, and by a margin so narrow as to enhance the triumph. The distinction of excelling the great white hunter with the rifle filled the Indian soul with pride. At the Shawnee town of Chillicothe, Boone discovered that an expedition was preparing against his own station. Re- solved to save his family and friends at every hazard, he escaped from the Indian town, and in four days reached Boones- borough, one hundred and sixty miles dis- tant. The toilsome and perilous march was made in safety, across rivers and over prairies and through woods and cane- brakes. The famished traveller tasted but a single meal during his journey, and he appeared like a spectre to his friends, who had reckoned him dead. The alarm of the approaching attack was speedily given. The settlers collected and strengthened the stockade, the cattle and horses were secured, and every preparation perfected for a vigorous defence. But the Indians BRYANT STATION. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 64 delayed; the escape of Boone had discon- certed their plans. Again the indefatiga- ble backwoodsman hurried to the banks of the Scioto, taking with him a small party of riflemen. There he surprised a detachment of the Indian force, and in- stantly fell upon the rear of the body that had already started for Boonesborough. Following the trail with consummate rapidity and skill, he overtook and by a circuitous march passed his enemy, reach- ing the fort first by a days time. The Indians were beaten in their own tactics. They had been overreached in skill and overcome in endurance. Boone had twice passed them, and their medita- ted surprise was a failure. But they num- bered more than five hundred well-armed warriors, and were commanded by Cana- dian officers appointed by Hamilton, the British Governor of the Northwest. The British flag was displayed, and a de- inand for immediate surrender made upon Boone, coupled with a threat of massacre by the tomahawk if it were not complied with. Boone asked time to consult with his comrades, and employed the delay thus secured in preparing for the siege. The pioneers resolved unanimously to fight to the death. Captain Duquesne, the commandant of the Indians, disap- pointed in his hopes of surprise or surren- der, next asked a conference with nine of the pioneers. Strange as it may appear, Boone, for the only time in all his fron- tier experience, was deluded by the shal- low artifice. Accompanied by eight oth- ers, he went out from the stockade to treat with the enemy. A crowd of Indians immediately surrounded the little party, while Duquesne attempted to engage their attention with talk about surrender of the post. At length it was suggested that a solemn custom of the Indians should be observedthat the hands of each white man should be grasped by two warriors in token of permanent friendship. Boone acquiesced, and the warriors approached. Instantly the pioneers broke through the surrounding crowd, and ran for their lives to the fort. But one man was wounded by the volley that followed their flight, and the cover of the stockade was regain- ed. The incident brought upon Boone for a time a suspicion with some that he was not at heart true to his fellow-pio- neers. Even his friend Callaway for a time shared this belief. But the injurious thought was soon dismissed, and Boones frank explanation that he didnt know how it happened, but he had played the great fool, was accepted as true. It was the first time and the last time that the old pioneer lost even for a moment his sagacity and self-possession. He had the singular gift of becoming more discreet and resourceful, and at the same time more daring, as danger became more pressing. His faculties were now all alive. The Indians, under the direction of their Canadian officers, attempted to run a mine beneath the stockade, and so gain an entrance. They worked secretly and diligently, but the earth that they cast into the stream discolored the water and revealed their plan. Boone counter- mined, digging with such tools as his lit- tle stock contained, and taunting his foe with the discovery of their scheme. The contest then became one of sharp-shoot- ers, and the enemy were beaten off with loss. The stockade stations served excellent- ly well their purpose. They were proof against rifle shot, and gave good cover to an inferior force resisting an attack. Sometimes a bold marksman would climb into the top of a neighboring tree, and from his elevated perch would pick off the men within the fort. But his posi- tion was as dangerous as it was advanta- geous, and he soon became the target of unequalled riflemen. The tree still stands at Harrodsburg from the forks of which McGary, by a wonderful shot, brought down an Indian sharp-shooter. But the mere power of numbers was counterbal- anced by the slight defences, and the con- test was mainly of individual skill, endur- ance, and strategy. The English Colonel Byrd had entered Kentucky with a large force of Indians in 1781, bringing with him what had not be- fore been seen in Kentucky, a couple of small field - pieces. With these he sub- dued every station east of Lexington. Why he did not exterminate the settlers, as he might easily have done, has never been explained. One tradition has it (and we may hope it is correct) that Colonel Byrd was an officer schooled in a different style of war,and that the barbarities prac- tised by his Indians upon the inmates of Ruddles and Martins stations caused him to terminate his campaign abruptly and return to Detroit. The warning was enough for John Todd, who at once obtained authority THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 65 FORD AT BLUE LICKS WHERE BOONE CROSSED. from Jefferson, Governor of Virgin- ia, to erect at the public expense a fort at Lexington that should be proof against Swivels & small Artillery which so terrify our peo- ple. But the exchequer was low indeed, Emulation among the overseers & Re- and the Governor entreated Todd to re- wards in Liquor to the men proved pow- member the virtue of economy. erful Incentives to Industry. Being a A substantial structure on the creek side charge of an uncommon nature,I thought was soon built. Eight feet in the clear, it proper to present it to your Excellency walls 7 feet thick of Rammed dirt, inclosed & the Council, being better Judges of with good timbers 9 feet high only, from the Necessity & Expediency of the Work 4 feet upwards 5 feet thick. The top of than the Auditors, who are probably un- the wall is neatly picketed 6 feet High, acquainted with the Circumstances of this proof against Small Arms. Ditch 8 feet Country. By either of the Delegates your wide & between 4 & 5 feet deep. And Excellency may have an opportunity of from that time no large Indian force transmitting the money. crossed to the west of the Kentucky River. This apparently extravagant outlay, for The cost of this fort is worth notice. the payment of which Colonel Todd Colonel Todd reported it to the Governor pledged himself to the contractors dwin- almost in terms of apology. He wrote: dles, when examined, to amusingly small The whole expence amounts to 1l,34l~ proportions. The value of the currency lOs., as will appear by the account here- had been fixed by legislation of the pre- with Sent. It is in vain for me to assure vious year at one thousand of paper for your Excellency that Diligence and Econ- one of hard money, and the Virginia omy has been used in this business, as the pound was $3 33. The expenditure of Work so abundantly proves it. I believe public money in bard cash was therefore four times the expence never before made just $37 76! Well might Todd say, four for the Publick a work equal to this. An times the expence never before made for DEFENCE OF THE STATION. THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 67 the Publick a work equal to this. And well may the modern engineer consider the economy and efficiency of a defence that made tenable the whole State of Ken- tucky, and wonder if the days of common- sense and frugality in public outlays will ever return. The fort thus opportunely built saved the hamlet of Lexington from attack in the great expedition of the combined tribes against the Kentucky settlements. It was the supreme effort to drive out the white man, and with its failure Indian warfare became again a series of desultory forays and small but sanguinary combats. The ability of the renegade Simon Girty combined the warlike tribes beyond the Ohio in an expedition which he ably com- inanded. No name was more abhorred or dreaded than his. He was the incarna- tion of savage cruelty. He was one of the four sons of a drunken reprobate who wandered into the extreme west of Penn- sylvania, and was there murdered by some companion wretch. The chi?dren were made captives by a marauding band and carried off to the Indian towns. George, one of the boys, became a Delaware Ind- ian, and continued with them through life, abandoning all the habits of the white man, and forgetting the language of his youth. James was adopted by the Shawnees, and became an actiive and cruel foe to the whites. His delight was to in- vent new and lingering tortures and to superintend their application. After he became enfeebled by a disease that de- stroyed his power of walking, he would cause captive women and children. to be pushed within his reach that he might hew them with his tomahawk. Thomas lived and died with the Shawnees, an or- dinary Indian, unnoted for any marked traits of enterprise or ferocity. But Simon Girty became the representa- tive of all the most dreadful forms of Ind- ian cruelty and activity. He was adopt- ed by the Senecas, and except for a brief period, when in the employ of Lord Dun- more on the frontier, lie lived with them and the Shawnees. At one time he and Kenton were brother scouts, and the re- membrance of it induced him, in a caprice of mercy, to save his old comrade from the stake to which he was already bound. But the weakness was never repeated. He advised and witnessed the burning ~of Colonel Crawford, and laughed heart- ily at the wretched sufferers prayer that VOL. LxxV.No. 4455 his torments might be ended by a bullet. He was a slave to drink, and when under its influence it is said he had no compas- sion in his heart. Girty profoundly and sincerely hated the white man, and lost no chance of displaying his animosity. Assembling more than six hundred picked warriors of the Shawnees and neighboring tribes at the old Indian town of Chillicothe, he moved rapidly and se- cretly, crossing the Ohio where Cincin- nati now is built, and pushing toward the settlements in the Blue-grass. The capture of Lexington meant an extermi- nation of the whites north and east of th~ Kentucky River. To his chagrin, his spies brought word that the new fort was just completed and impregnable. The grand plan had to be changed. Northeast of Lexington, and about five miles distant, lay Bryants Station, a place that ranks in Kentucky annals second only to Boonesborough. It had been early occupied by Joseph Bryant, a brother - in - law of Daniel Boone, and around his cabin soon collected others whose numbers gave an effective force of forty-four riflemen. The quadrangular enclosure was like that at Boonesborough in part of cabin walls, and partly of strong pickets. It stood on a gentle ele- vation on the banks of the Elkhorn, look- ing out over the fairest land of the West. The bounty of nature embarrassed the pioneer with the luxuriance of forest growth and thick cane that sprang from the tall and matted grass. The industry of the settlers was but beginning to be ob- servable around the little fort. The great buffalo trace that led from the Blue Licks on the east, through the rich pastures of the Blue-grass, by the Stamping Ground and Drennons Lick, to that graveyard of the mastodons at Big Bone, had been made a pathway between the stations. The forest had been cleared away nearest the station, and small patches of corn waved their tassels close against the cane, whose dense growth proved the fertility of the soil. But between Bryants Station and Lexington the short five miles trav- ersed a yet unbroken wilderness. The rich and undulating acres, where now are found the manors of opulent stock-breed- ers, were as yet unbroken. A picket sta- tion, as it were, that Todd had located two miles southeast of Lexington, and held with a single family, was the only inroad upon the primitive forest in that direc 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. tion. Next to him lay the favorite feed- ing ground of the bison and the elk, where now are unrolled the pastures of Ashland and Ellerslie. Silently, on an August night, Girty with six hundred Indians surrounded the station. Within it there was activity and preparation, for the men were to start at early dawn to relieve Captain John H& lders little fort, across the Kentucky, which was reported as threatened; but no one dreamed that Girty was near. At dawn the riflemen set out from the east- ern gate, but fortunately a volley check- ed them before it was too late to regain the stockade. Elijah Craig was their commander, and from his experience of Indian tactics he guessed the force and plan of the enemy, and foresaw the siege that he was to repel. Fortunately there were provisions and ammunition, but by some improvidence the enclosure of the station did not take in the spring of water upon which the garrison must rely. Calling all the women together, he ex- plained that the Indians were concealed, as he believed, in force about the spring. But he thought that the ambuscade would not be developed until an attack by a smaller party on the other side of the stockade, intended to divert the pioneers attention, should first be made; and he asked the women to volunteer to fetch from the spring, before the grand attack commenced, the supply of water that was indispensable. It was naturally objected by the women that the men ought to go, but Craig rea- soned that the women usually weut to the spring with their buckets, and rarely the men; that the one would be regarded by the Indians as a proof that their ambus- cade and plan of attack was not suspected, while the other would bring on the attack in open ground. The crisis was urgent, the peril great; but the women speedily reached their conclusion. Thirty or forty women and girls went out through the western gate, each carrying her pail or bucket, and endeavoring by laughter or song to disguise the fear that penetrated every bosom. Across the open space and past the side of the canebrake they passed on to the bubbling spring that burst out from the foot of the knoll. Their faces betrayed no fear, their manner showed no agitation, their walk was not quickened, though they felt sure that the rifles of five hundred savages bore upon them, and that not one would survive a signal of attack. The buckets were dipped one after an- other in the spring, and loaded with their precious burden the brave women return- ed toward the fort. It was not until the thick cane was again passed, and the bush- es and tall weeds left behind, that their composure was disturbed. Then, safe from the tomahawk and the knife of the savages, and well within the protecting range of the rifles of their husbands and fathers, they hastened with trembling limbs toward the open gate, spilling in their safety part of the treasure they had carried so steadily through danger, and bursting into tears of agitation and pride and gratitude. Not a gun was fired at. them, nor did an Indian move, though the little company passed within twenty yards of five hundred. Craig had exactly guessed his enemys plan and forecast his action. It was the boldest of bold risks, bu~ it was confidently proposed and per- fectly carried through. Men often won- dered afterward what would have become of Craig had the Indians fired upon the women, or rushed out and captured them; but Craigs good-natured reply was that his good sense and the womens courage made the exploit a safe venture. As the fight opened, and the little gar- rison of forty men held out stoutly against such odds, two brave fellows, Bell and Tomlinson, mounted their horses to carry the news to other stations and bring up help. The gate was suddenly swung open, and they dashed at topmost speed into the very face of the Indian ranks, and were through and beyond, and into the cover of the waving corn that hid them from the aim of their astonished foe. Soon Todd and the men from Lexington came hurrying up, and the news went on to Boone, and from him to Trigg at Har- rodsburg, and still further on to Logan. Never had there been such a general up- rising. The word flew from settlement to~ settlement that every fighting man was needed. The response was instant and unanimous. The little garrison mean- while was sorely pressed, but activity and courage availed them.. The women moulded bullets and cut patching, and cared for the wounded and dying as they fell. The very children caught the inspi- ration of their parents courage, and ran from place to place with gourds full of water to extinguish the flames that the THE KENTUCKY PIONEERS. 69 fire-arrows lighted. An infant, destined to be the slayer of the renowned Tecum- seh, and to become a Senator and Vice- President of the republic, slept peacefully in his cradle in care of a little sister, whose fidelity to that tender duty still left her time to carry ammunition to the men. It was indeed a gallant fight. The ar- rival of Boone and Todd caused Girty to draw off his force and retreat toward the Ohio; and then followed the pursuit that ended in the battle of the Blue Licks and the death of so many of Kentuckys best men. The pursuers felt sure of a victory over the repulsed Indians, and insisted upon a rapid march and a fight. The prudence of Boone and the cool judgment of Todd were overborne by the rash and insubor- dinate courage of McGary, who rusbed into the ford, carrying with him the ex- cited and shouting hunter-soldiers. How Boone endeavored to retrieve the error, and how Trigg and Todd and scores of others, the best men of the country, fell, has often been told. How Netherland held the ford single-handed, and rallied the routed force, is a landmark of Ken- tucky heroism. How Aaron Reynolds saved his captain, Robert Patterson, dis- mounting and giving his horse that his friend might escape the massacre, while lie bravely took all the chance of death, is told in every story of the infant State. The gratitude of the rough woodsman, whose profanity had been rebuked by Pat- terson in a former campaign, and who had become deeply religious, was there proved. The reason for it was given in simple words in after-years: He saved my soul, and I felt I must save his life. It was the last great Indian battle on Kentucky soil. Girty retired with num- berless scalps to the Scioto towns, and for weeks there was savage revel and joy throughout the tribes. But the life of the Kentucky pioneers, though full of adventure and danger, had other features than -those of Indian war- fare and hunting buffalo and deer. There were from the earliest days a few good books to be found even in the poorest camp, and immigrants as they came west- ward over the Wilderness Road brought with them Bibles and psalm-books, and standard works, even then somewhat out of date, that served to make up little li- braries for the stations. School-books were usually in manuscript, but the read- ing of the older people was generally well selected for the reason of its scarceness. Marshall, the bitter personal enemy of Harry Innis, and who wrote in his anger a history of Kentucky, dwelt with empha- sis upon the fact that a copy of The Senti- mental Journey belonging to Innis had been found in New Orleans, and argued from that circumstance in support of his charge that Innis and others whom Mar- shall disliked were in treasonable corre- spondence with the Spanish authorities. The unfounded charge has long since been abundantly refuted, but it is signifi- cant that the ownership of a book should have cut so great a figure in the most violent politics of the infant community. The character of Inniss book, like Boones possession of Gullivers Travels, hints the kind of reading that the pioneers of Ken- tucky were familiar with. The little stations were at first the camps of hunters who in groups of five or ten ventured into the wilderness. As fami- lies came from the eastward, the little communities insensibly took form. By common consent some competent pioneer was recognized as chiefBoone at Boones- borough, Logan at St. Asaph, Harrod at Harrodstownand to his orders every man held himself bound in cheerful obe- dience. The gathering for safety within the enclosures of the stations created a feeling of almost kinship among the in- mates. Their fears, hopes, dangers, were all in common. The meat brought in by the hunters was free to all; the corn, planted under range of the rifles, was cul- tivated in common, and gathered for the winter use of all. The claims and pre- emptions were marked to await the time when the owner could safely take posses- sion and live upon them. As has already been said, the antece- dents of the pioneers made them nearly all a strongly religious people. In the large majority of instances they adhered to the Baptist or Presbyterian denominations, and from the earliest days of the immi- gration there was in almost every station a preacher, volunteer or ordained, whose flock was the little community. Squire Boone, pious and brave, preached the Hard- shell faith at Boonesborough; Elijah Craig was the spiritual leader as well as the com- mandant at Bryants Station. Neither had warrant from any organization, but they seem to have done much good in spite of that informality. At length Lewis Craig 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. came with a Baptist commission, and Da- vid Rice with Presbyterian credentials, the first commission-bearing preachers since the day when Parson Lythe read the Epis- copal service beneath the elm at Boones- bGrough. The narrative left by Robert McAfee, and still unpublished, gives a striking picture of the primitive and ro- bust piety of those days. The observance of family worship and public services of religion were almost universal. An increasing sense of security and the gradual growth of population brought new and in~portant measures to their notice. The need of a separate State organization was becoming daily more apparent. The navigation of the Mississippi largely en- gaged attention, for the settlers were be- ginning to produce corn and tobacco that required a market. The relations of the West to the old Confederation and to the proposed Union, and the terms of the Con- stitution, were deeply pondered by a com- munity that as yet had no newspaper, whose nearest station was hundreds of miles from the seat of government of the parent State, and whose daily life was one of hazard and hardship. But, as has al- ready been remarked, the pioneers were, as a rule, superior and well-informed men. A sample of their intellectual life has recently been discovered. It is the jour- nal and memoranda of debates of the Po- litical Club, as it was called. This body held its meetings at Dan ville, and pro- ceeded with an almost amusing formal- ity and punctilio. Among its members were some of the most conspicuous men in Western history. There were Christo- pher Green up, who afterward became a Congressman and Governor; Harry In- nis, United States District Judge; James Speed and his brother Thomas, afterward an influential Congressman; George Mu- ter, Quartermaster of Virginia during the Revolution, and who was Chief-Justice of the district; Thomas Todd, subsequently a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States; John Brown, who, after serving as Lafayettes aide, became a member of the Continental Congress, and for many years was Senator; James Brown, his brother, afterward Senator from Louisiana, and long - time Minister to France; Samuel McDowell, who became a judge, and was conspicuous in the conventions and de- bates that led up to the formation of the State Constitution; besides others more or less influential in public affairs. The debates were upon such topics as the right to navigate the Mississippi, and the political modes by which it should be obtained; the treaty which Jay proposed to make with Spain; the condition of the Continental currency; the erection of Kentucky into an independent member of the Confederacy; the nature of the Ind- ian title, and the just and expedient treat- ment of the Indian. At a later day the club took up the pro- posed Constitution of the United States, and discussed it, section by section, through a series of meetings. The secretary with scrupulous exactness noted the arguments of the debaters and the resolutions of the club, and reduced to order the alterations which seemed to these men of the remote frontier expedient. Among them were several that would radically affect prac- tical politics. They thought that a Sen- ator of the United States should be ineli- gible for re-election until three years next after the end of his term. They wanted the President debarred from re-election un- til at least four years should have inter- vened between the terms. They were op- posed to the constitutional recognition of the slave-trade embodied in the prohibi- tion of any legislation prior to 1808. A n~ost acute argument is found upon that grant of power which provides for calling forth the militia to execute the laws of the Union. The Kentucky critics thought it would be better that the power should be to call forth the militia to enforce obedience to the laws of the Union, and the distinctions were taken and maintain- ed with exceeding clearness and force. One of the occupations of this body of frontier philosophers was to prepare the plan of a Constitution for the State that they hoped soon to organize, and they ar- gued with earnestness the distribution of governmental powers and the limits upon them. Doubtless there were other clubs or occasional assemblings in which these and other pioneers debated matters of public welfare, but the memory of them has per- ished. There was no newspaper in which Coriolanus or Vindicator could con- tribute an anonymous opinion or admin- ister irresponsible abuse. The opinions of men were thoughtfully formed, and of ne- cessity had to be personally declared. The result was an intellectual self-reliance very like their self-reliance in physical affairs. The training made men of power and pru- dence and resource; and their discussions SOCIAL STUDIES. 71 were conducted by men whose every-day life was one of bodily peril. As they rode to their meetings they were in danger of Indian attack. Not a week passed but some friend fell under the tomahawk. They were all subject to the call of the County Lieutenant or the militia captain at a moments notice. The chief judge and the delegate representing the district in the Continental Congress were privates in the militia of their neighborhood, and continually served with their neighbors on scouts and guards. Not one of them but knew the perilous life of the frontier. Yet, surrounded by danger, beset with anx- ieties, remote from all contact with cur- rent events, they thought upon important topics and wrought out for themselves their own safety and that of their fire- sides, and a stable, well-ordered, and well- considered polity. With easy transition they passed from the frontier station to the halls of the Senate and to diplomatic missions. They had undergone a train- ing as youths and men that gave them power and poise and courage. The pioneers of Kentucky were, in brief, an intelligent, honest, and hardy race, strongly imbued with religious sentiment, 0 and trained in a rugged but manly ex- perience. Their private virtues were hos- pitality, courage, fidelity; their public vir- tues were patriotism, love of order, readi- ness for the most arduous public service. What they did speaks in their praise. What they were so self-contained as not to do speaks an even more emphatic eulogy. The fair fame of the State they founded has sometimes been tarnished by violence and lawlessness, and at times shame has come upon many for the wickedness of the very few. But he who will carefully search out the history of her populations and the antecedents of Kentuckys wrong- doers will discover in them a class differ- ent from the blood of the pioneers. He will find that the too frequent homicides of certain neighborhoods have an origin altogether different, drawn from an origi- nally immoral class, and justifying the law of heredity. But in those areas where the original and true pioneers made their lodgement, and held it, the stamp of their qualities may still be observed, modified by the lapse of years, but the sanie in essentials: the badges of a martial, hospitable, truth- ful, and self-reliant people. SOCIAL STUDIES. ~econb ~ettes. 11.THE GROWTH OF CORPORATIONS. BY RICHARD T. ELY. ONE hundred years ago the opinion was often expressed that corporations could not suc~eed,because the practical dif- ficulties inherent in that form of organiza- tion of business were too great to be coun- terbalanced by any theoretic4 advantages which it might offer. In- the note-books of his grandfather, who graduated at Princeton College about 1785, Major Rich- ard Venable, pf the Law School of the University of Maryland, Jinds it stated as a fact beyond controversy that corpora- tions must fail in competition with ordi- nary private business, concerns, because the stimulus of self-interest does not act with the same force on those who manage corporate enterprises as on those who con- duct their own affairs in their own way for their own profit. This seems to have been a common assertion of lawyers, and was indeed occasionally heard proclaim- ed from the bench as an axiom of politi- cal economy, much as it is ROW a favorite saying of many who love dogma rather than fact tbat public undertakings never succeed so well as private ventures. Adam Smith joins in the condemnation of cor- porations which was so general in his day. A few sentences from his immortal Wcalth~ of Nations, published, it will be remem- bered, in 1776, will help us better than pages of explanation to understand the feeling of the time with respect to the cor- porate principle. The trade of a joint- stock company is always managed by a court of directors. This court, indeed, is frequently subject in many respects to the control of a general court of proprietors. But the greater part of those proprietors seldom pretend to understand anything of the business of the company.... The di- rectors of such companies, however, being

SOCIAL STUDIES. 71 were conducted by men whose every-day life was one of bodily peril. As they rode to their meetings they were in danger of Indian attack. Not a week passed but some friend fell under the tomahawk. They were all subject to the call of the County Lieutenant or the militia captain at a moments notice. The chief judge and the delegate representing the district in the Continental Congress were privates in the militia of their neighborhood, and continually served with their neighbors on scouts and guards. Not one of them but knew the perilous life of the frontier. Yet, surrounded by danger, beset with anx- ieties, remote from all contact with cur- rent events, they thought upon important topics and wrought out for themselves their own safety and that of their fire- sides, and a stable, well-ordered, and well- considered polity. With easy transition they passed from the frontier station to the halls of the Senate and to diplomatic missions. They had undergone a train- ing as youths and men that gave them power and poise and courage. The pioneers of Kentucky were, in brief, an intelligent, honest, and hardy race, strongly imbued with religious sentiment, 0 and trained in a rugged but manly ex- perience. Their private virtues were hos- pitality, courage, fidelity; their public vir- tues were patriotism, love of order, readi- ness for the most arduous public service. What they did speaks in their praise. What they were so self-contained as not to do speaks an even more emphatic eulogy. The fair fame of the State they founded has sometimes been tarnished by violence and lawlessness, and at times shame has come upon many for the wickedness of the very few. But he who will carefully search out the history of her populations and the antecedents of Kentuckys wrong- doers will discover in them a class differ- ent from the blood of the pioneers. He will find that the too frequent homicides of certain neighborhoods have an origin altogether different, drawn from an origi- nally immoral class, and justifying the law of heredity. But in those areas where the original and true pioneers made their lodgement, and held it, the stamp of their qualities may still be observed, modified by the lapse of years, but the sanie in essentials: the badges of a martial, hospitable, truth- ful, and self-reliant people. SOCIAL STUDIES. ~econb ~ettes. 11.THE GROWTH OF CORPORATIONS. BY RICHARD T. ELY. ONE hundred years ago the opinion was often expressed that corporations could not suc~eed,because the practical dif- ficulties inherent in that form of organiza- tion of business were too great to be coun- terbalanced by any theoretic4 advantages which it might offer. In- the note-books of his grandfather, who graduated at Princeton College about 1785, Major Rich- ard Venable, pf the Law School of the University of Maryland, Jinds it stated as a fact beyond controversy that corpora- tions must fail in competition with ordi- nary private business, concerns, because the stimulus of self-interest does not act with the same force on those who manage corporate enterprises as on those who con- duct their own affairs in their own way for their own profit. This seems to have been a common assertion of lawyers, and was indeed occasionally heard proclaim- ed from the bench as an axiom of politi- cal economy, much as it is ROW a favorite saying of many who love dogma rather than fact tbat public undertakings never succeed so well as private ventures. Adam Smith joins in the condemnation of cor- porations which was so general in his day. A few sentences from his immortal Wcalth~ of Nations, published, it will be remem- bered, in 1776, will help us better than pages of explanation to understand the feeling of the time with respect to the cor- porate principle. The trade of a joint- stock company is always managed by a court of directors. This court, indeed, is frequently subject in many respects to the control of a general court of proprietors. But the greater part of those proprietors seldom pretend to understand anything of the business of the company.... The di- rectors of such companies, however, being 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the managers rather of other peoples mon- tors, and not to ones own virtue. Pri- ey than of their own, it cannot well be mogeniture and the transmission of wealth expected that they should watch over it by entailinents were abolished, and the di~ with the same anxious vigilance with vision of estates encouraged, in order, on which the partne4is in a private copart- the one hand, to prevent the absorption of nery frequently watch over their own. any considerable portion of the national Like the stewards of a rich man, they are resources by a few; on the other, to make apt to consider attention to small matters wealth the reward of ones own frugality, as not for their masters honor.... Negli- diligence, and ability. Yet these men gence and profusion, therefore, must al- who so jealously guarded the rights of the ways prevail, more or less, in the manage- many passed no laws and created no in- ment of the affairs of such a company~.... stitutions designed to defend the American That a joint-stock company should be able ~.people against artificial persons devoid of to carry on successfully any branch of for- soul, gifted with immortality, and devoted eign trade, when private adveiiturers can to the sole purpose of gain. Surprise is come into any sort of open and fair com- expressed at this, and, we find it difficult petition with them, seems contrary tQ all to understand the strange oversight when experience. ... The only trades which it we read of scli~mes for the purchase of seems possible for a joint-stock company the municipal gas-works of Philadelphia to carry on successfully, withont an ~x- by a gigantic corporation, hear rumors of clusive privilege, are those of which all avaricious syndicates whose covetous eyes the operations are capable of being re- are fastened on the water-works of that duced to what is called a routine, or to same city, and are occasionally aroused to such uniformity of method as admits of indignation by evidences that private cor- little or no variation. The trades in- porations are usurping the functions of eluded by Adam Smith within this class government by mai~ntaining armed bands were these: first, the banking trade; sec- of hirelings to shoot down rebellious work- ond, insurance fro~ffi fire, from sea risk, ing-m.n whom their own greed may have and capture in time of war; third, the whipped~nto revolt. When, however,we trade of working and maintaining a ca- learn tjat in the time of theDeclaration of nal; fourth, the trade of bringing water Independence it was supposed thatcorpora- for tbe supply of a great city. But Adam tions could never succeed in competition Smith held that even the possibility of with individual enterprise, it becomes easy success could not justify the creation of a to comprehend the failure of the meti of joint-stock company unless the business 1776 to guard against resent dangers. which it was proposed to prosecute by a These dangers did not exist then. In corporation was of more than ordinary thirty years, in the second half of the utility, and at the same time required a eighteenth century, only one corporation greater capital than a private individual or wa~s foimed in Massachusetts, and that was copartnership could command. He knew of an eleemosynary ch.aracter. When of no trade except the four mentioned AlexanderHamilton vrote.his celebrated which combined all the circumstances req- report on the establishpcient of the First uisite for the justification of a joint-stock United States .Bank in 1790 there existed company; and by way of illustration he only three .banking corporations in the cites several instances of failure. Manu- United States. Some estimate that rail- facturing corporations, he held, scarce way corporations own one-fourth of the ever fail to do more harm than good. wealth of the coufitry, but they did not It is often remarked that the fathers begin to exist until more thjvn half a cen- of the republic endeavored to create such tury had elapse~l after the promulgation institutions as would prevent the accumu- of the Declaration of Independence. Gas lation of wealth and power in the hands companies, which have been so fruitful a of a few individuals or families. The saurce of corruptic~n in States and mum- general aim was to make distinction per- cipalities, did not exist at all in the eigh- sonal. Each one, it was held, should teenth century, and not in large numbers have, so far as practicable, the same op- much before 1830. Manufactures were portunities, andshould make the best use carried on in the last century in insignif- possible of these. Hereditary titles were icant shops by men of little wealth, and abolished because they confer marks of of no great social importance. The word distinction due to the merit of ones ances- manufacturer, in Adam Smiths Wealth of SOCIAL STUDIES. 73 Nations, did not mean a great proprietor, like too large an estimate. Probably one- but a man who worked with his own fifth would be more accurate, while one- handsa humble artisan. The wealth of eighth is a low estimate. But without the civilized world was largely agricultural going into details, hardly called for in a until this century, and great land-owning study like this, it may be safely said that -corporations were then of less significance when we add the capital of manufacturing than nowat any rate, of different signifi- corporations, mines, insurance, telegraph, ~cance. Three-fourths of our population telephone, and gas-light companies, ca- was rural when our first census was tak- nals, street-car corporations, steam-ship -en, and the Physiocrats had in France companies, land-owning corporations and recently advanced the theory that agri- syndicates, and the various other classes culture was the sole source of wealth. of corporations, it will be found that it is The contrast with the present time is so within the bounds of moderation to esti- marked that it is patent to all, and scarce- mate the wealth of corporations as one- ly needs mention. Take the item of fourth of the total value of all property in banks. Instead of three banking corpo- the United States. The most significant rations, we have nearly if not quite a fact, however, is the rapidly increasing thousand times as many organized under proportion of all the resources of the coun- national law, to say nothing about those try which belongs to corporations. Hon. -organized under the laws of the various Abram S. Hewitt stated a few years ago ~States. Instead of one charter in thirty that corporations were modern institu- years in one State, we find that in the sin- tions, that private corporations did not gle commonwealth of Texas eighty char- exist fifty years ago, but that they now ters were granted in ninety days in 1885. owned from one-third to one-half of the It is unfortunately not possible to state capital of the civilized world. This is not exactly how much money is invested in accurate in every respect, but it is impor- corporate enterprises in the United States. tant as registering the results of the oh- In England there is an office called the servation of an active business man. An- Registry of Joint - stock Companies, to other authority has estimated that the which returns are made, and which is able wealth of corporations in the United to furnish accurate statistics about corpo- States is increasing three or four times rations; but this could be done only in as rapidly as that of private concerns. very few, if any, of our States. This in- While opinions like these are more or less formation is of importance, and the im- uncertain, they are of value because in the possibility of a~scertaining exact data is main they harmonize with the results of -one among the evils of the absence of uni- all investigations which have been made. formity of statistical methods, and of the It is interesting to notice the increasing lack of publicity concerning corporate af- importance of corporations in other coun- fairs prevailing in this country. Howev- tries, as it indicates a world-wide move- -er, data can be procured for certain classes ment which is even more marked in -of corporations, and a rough estimate suf- America than elsewhere. According to ficient for present purposes can be made an estimate made by the English Econo- - as to the relation between our total wealth mist of November 6, 1886, the accumula- and that part of it invested in corporate tion of capital in England between 1875 and -enterprises. We have, for example, ex- 1885 amounted to nearly 1,000,000,000, cellent laws for those corporations known of which 186,000,000 was attributed to ~as national banks, and to enforce them is home railways, and 200,000,000 to the special duty of an officer called the other joint-stock companies, or nearly for- Comptroller of the Currency. His last re- ty per centum of the increase belonged to port shows that the capital -stock paid in corporations. If the amount invested in of national banks amounted to nearly foreign corporations by English capitalists $550,000,000. For private purposes statis- should be added, it would doubtless bring tics of railway corporations are laborious- the per centum up to forty-five. A very ly gathered together. It has already been considerable proportion of the increase mentioned tha-t, according to some esti- consisted of money lent to local govern- mates, one-fourth of the property of the ments, to the general government, and to country, or a valuation of ten thousand foreign countries. It is thus manifest that millions of dollars out of forty thousand if the table printed by the Economist is cor- millions, belongs to them. This seems rect, the capital of business organized on 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. a corporate basis is in England growing more rapidly than that of business organ- ized on a private basis. Every observer of English economic life remarks on the conversion of private business enterprises into joint-stock companies as one of its most marked features. The Economist of October 30, 1886, says that there had been nearly one hundred such conversions dur- ing that year, and opens its article on Recent New Capital Creations with the remark, Throughout the present year company promoters have been very active, and there are not wanting evidences that before long their activity may be consider- ably increased. The former distinguished chief of the Prussian Statistical Bureau, Dr. Engel, has given us some valuable statistics of 1267 joint-stock companies in Prussia. The ta- ble which he prepared is sufficiently in- teresting to justify its quotation: Number of Joint-stock Capital. Date Companies Thalers. created. Before 1800 5 467,000 18011825 16 11,454,265 18261850 102 112,665,085 1851July, 1870 295 801.585,105 July, 1870December 31, 1870 41 59,024,150 1871 225 375,952.533 1872 500 543,095,542 1873 72 :305,780,500 1874 19 146.073,200 Of the 1267 companies, 410 were formed before July 30, 1870, whereas in the four and a half years following 857 companies were created, or more than twice the num- ber, manifestly a most enormous increase. In the single year 1872 more corporations were formed than in the first seventy years of the century. The private corporation created for busi- ness purposes, although of great impor- tance only in recent years, has existed for four hundred years or more. Some trace it back to Rome, but this is doubtless an error. The companies which bought the revenues of that republic, the farmers of the revenues, called societates vectiga- hum pu~lico~um,to which reference is usually made, differed in essential par- ticulars from a modern joint-stock com- pany. The earliest home of the corpora- tion engaged in the pursuit of gain appears to have been Italy. In the fifteenth cen- tury creditors of the state put together their claimstheir bonds, as we should say and used them as th~ basis of a banking business. The first one of these banking corporations was the Bank of Genoa, founded in 1407. The seventeenth cen- tury is remarkable for the number of celebrated, indeed, one may say epoch- making, joint-stock companies for foreign trade, created in Holland, France, and England. The first of these great corpo- rations for international trade was the~ Dutch East India Company, founded in 1602. Other companies followed in Hol- land,and the English East India Company, destined to play a rUe in the worlds his- tory, was established in 1599, and received a charter modelled on that of the Dutch East India Company in 1613. Other com- panies were soon formed, and some of them assisted in the development of th& American continent. The London Com- pany, the Plymouth Company, and the Hudson Bay Company may be mentioned. France followed in 1628 with the Coin- pagnie des Indes Occidentales, and in 1664~ with the Compagnie des Indes Orientales. Germany did not begin the creation of trading corporations so early, and there~ appears to be no record of any such insti- tution before the foundatiou of the Wiener~ Orientalische Compagnie in 1719. Banking corporations were created in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. in Sweden, England, Germany, Holland, and elsewhere. Some of these banks were~ of vast national and international impor- tance, but there were comparatively few of them. Burke tells us that in 1750 ther& were in England not more than twelv& bankers shops out of London. Stock-jobbing and corporate swindling~ flourished at an early date. Laws wer& passed in Holland in 1621, 1624, and in 1677 to check speculation and to protect. the public. In 1720 we have in Franc& the disastrous failure of John Laws no- torious Compagnie des Indes, better known as the Mississippi Company. A worse case of fraudulent inflation of values and a more terrible collapse has never been revealed by the subsequent history of cor- porations. About this same time joint- stock companies in England reached th~ conclusion of the first period of their his- tory in a panic, in which the South-sea~ Company played the most prominent part. In 1720 its stock was selling at 1000, and it guaranteed an annual dividend of fifty per centum, which was a better promise than Laws company had ventured to make, for that engaged to pay only twelve per cen- tum. A fever, a kind of insane epidemic of speculation, seized the people. This wa~ SOCIAL STUDIES. the time of the creation of bubbles, as the unsound joint-stock companies of the period were called. Among the enterprises proposed were schemes for extracting sil- ver from lead, for melting shavings and casting good boards out of the fluid, for the discovery of a perpetual motor, for making salt-water fresh, and for making oil from sunflowers. One promoter came forward and invited subscriptions for an undertaking which shall in due time be revealed. Even he was able to decamp at night with 2000 as the result of one day*s exertion. The news of Laws fail- ure in Paris increased the suspicion al- ready aroused in London, and alarm soon terminated in a panic which ruined thou- sands of families. It is worthy of notice that when the investigation ordered by Parliament into the affairs of the South- sea Company revealed fraud and corrup- tion, the estates of the directors were confis- cated, and used for the benefit of those who had suffered by the speculation. Would that this just course had always been pur- sued! The reaction against corporations was so extreme in England that joint-stock companies, save such as should be char- tered by royal grant or by Parliament, were forbidden by the Bubble Act of 1720, and it was not until 1855 that associa- tions with limited liability could be call- ed into existence otherwise than by spe- cial act. While there is, then, a history of joint- stock associations of capital with limited liability, which may be traced back for four hundred years, and some features of which are still older, it is true that corpo- rations devoted to gainful pursuits h~ive only in very recent years assumed vast importance in the economic life of the world. The question now arises: What are the causes which have led to such momentous changes in the organization of industry during the past fifty years? The answer is not difficult. Owing to discoveries and inventions, especially the application of steam to industry and transportation, it became necessary to prosecute enterprises of great magnitude such as could not be compassed by the resources of an individ- ual or a combination of individuals in the ordinary copartnership. This applies es- pecially to the means of communication and transportation. To provide these in- struments of economic life has been gen erally regarded as one of the functions of government, municipal, State, and Feder- al. There were two alternatives. This. might be done either directly, or the duty might be transferred to private corpora- tions. There was in either case the same problem to solve, namely, the management of enterprises of unparalleled magnitude by delegated action. In one case managers would be chosen by the citizens to promote the welfare of the community. The elect- ors would have the prosperity of their busi- ness interests more or less at stake, and would in so far have a motive to induce them either themselves~to select good men to manage such important undertakings. or to see that their elected agents appoint- ed such men, as the case might be. The managers themselves would as citizens be interested in the success of the enterprises intrusted to them. On the other hand, there would be the danger of an abuse of public trust. In the case of the adoption of the corporate principle, the stockhold ers, in so far as their interests are not merely speculative, must desire to elect directors who will so manage their prop- erty that it will yield large dividends, while the directors, themselves stockhold- ers, wish a return on their investment. On the other hand, as has already been pointed out, the interest of the directors. is often not identical with that of the property which they manage, and they are, as experience demonstrates, oftener faithless to their trust than public ser- vants,while the opportunities for their ex- posure and punishment are less favorable. They may wish to injure the undertaking in which they exercise control in order to~ buy shares at a lower price than they are really worth, or they may desire to sacri- fice its future to the present for the sake of high dividends, so that the price of stock may rise unduly, thus enabling them tc~ unload with profit on a too credulous public. Again, directors may find it t& their advantage to neglect their interests. as stockholders in a corporation in order to promote their interests as individuals. or members of a firm engaged in some other enterprise. An example is seen in railway directors who give themselves. special freight rates. It is thus seen how similar was the prob- 1cm in both cases. Whichever horn of the dilemma was grasped, it was necessary to learn how to manage great properties. of a new kind by new methods; and as cx- 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. perience more and more confirms the gen- eral principle that all governments should perform their functions by agents directly under their control, it cannot be said that it was easier for men united in corpora- tions to learn how to construct and carry on those vast undertakings of a public nature which have been handed over to them. But fifty years ago the Manches- ter theory of political economy was un- fortunately in its ascendency, and its one practical maxim inculcated the reduction of the functions of government to a mini- mum. The Free Trade Advocate and Jour- nal of Political Economy, devoted to the science of Political Economy, edited by Condy Raguet, was started in Philadel- phia in January, 1829, with the motto, Laissez nous faire. The first num- ber of The United States Magazine and Democratic Review, published in 1838, bears the anarchistic motto, The best government is that which governs least. Then followed the triumph of free trade in Great Britain in 1846, and in the rush of material prosperity which ensued, the policy of do-nothingisin for government seemed assured. What high hopes at- tended the introduction of free trade in Great Britain! Englishmen thought that nll the world would follow their example in less than a generation, and Richard Cobden, the great apostle of free trade, be- lieved that the conditions of perpetual peace had been established. The argu- ment was simple. Peace will be in the interest of nations which have large in- ternational dealings with one another, and they will follow the course prescribed by enlightened self-interest. Then our States had tried some experi- ~ments in internal improvements, including railway construction, and had encounter- ed, very naturally, grave difficulties. So in the enthusiasm for laissez faire, which it was held was certain to usher in an era of peace and wealth, we abandoned the attempt to perform many public functions which corporations were only too anxious to assume. We concluded that the way to improve administration was to abolish it. As Professor Henry C. Adams well says in his treatise on the Relation of the State to industrial Actionthe pro- foundest study in the English langua,e on that subject: The advocates of non-inter- ference have treated government as the old physicians were accustomed to treat their patients. Was a man hot, he was bled; was he cold, he was bled; was he faint, he was bled; was he flushed, he was bled; until, fortunately for him, he passed be- yond the reach of leech and lancet. This has been, figuratively speaking, the form of treatment adopted by the people of the United States for their local governments, and it has worked its natural result of fee- bleness and disintegration. Thus did we transfer to corporations our railways, and in general all the chief means of communication and transporta- tion, save the Post-office, upon which the covetous eyes of promoters have been fastened, happily in vain. Even our municipal water-works were occasionally handed over to corporations, gas supply was, as a rule, intrusted to them, and street-car lines without an exception. Well, corporations succeeded no better at the start than our States, and they have in the management of railways, gas- works, and street-car lines never attained the proficiency of many branches of the public service. Yet they were admirably situated for the promotion of their own welfare, even if not to the same extent for the advancement of the public weal, and they had every opportunity for a long career of experimentation. Private ad- venturers, to use Adam Smiths expres- sion, could not come into any sort of com- petition with them; the only kind of com- petition which could affect them, that of other corporations, was generally totally absent, sometimes legally excluded, and seldom worked otherwise than spasmodi- cally at intervals; and they were further intrusted with enormous powers, and gift- ed with extraordinary privileges by gov- ernment. Moreover, as they were not equal to the tasks they had undertaken~ they received enormous gifts from the public, including over two hundred mill- ions of acres of land, and more than one hundred and eighty millions of dollars in municipal bonds, and to these was fre- quently added exemption from the bur- dens of taxation. Adam Smith said of trading corporations that they rarely if ever succeeded without an exclusive privi- lege, and often failed even with one. This was the case with our great corporations. They frequently failed even when favored by a practical monopoly. Still, after great loss and suffering on the part of many, and waste of national resources, men are learning how to work advantageously to- SOCIAL STUDIES. 77 gether through corporations. Progress has been made in the art of the adminis- tration of economic interests by delegated authority. It has been found possible, in many cases, to interest managers in the permanent welfare of corporations, and large resources have purchased the best brains, which have often more than coun- terbalanced a weaker stimulus of self-in- terest. Men have also in time been raised up by corporate enterprises who thorough- ly understand how to manage them, just as the English co-operative stores have trained up a generation of able managers, to which fact their success is largely due. The habit of combination has become stronger, and the spirit of individualism, each man for himself, is being crushed out. Co-operation of one kind or anoth- er is taking its place among the employ- ers and great leaders of commerce and in- dustry as well as among laboring-men. The success of corporations in every field is the result of this evolution. Adam Smith said that manufacturing corpora- tions were almost invariably a failure, as has already been stated, whereas Arnold Toynbee, in his excellent work The In- dustrial Revolution in England, pub- lished in 1884, remarks that in the recent depression of the iron trade the iron-works of Dowlais, managed on the joint-stock system, alone remained successful amid many surrounding failures, and that be- cause they had the ablest man in the dis- trict as manager. A German student, Dr. R. Van der Borght, concluded, in 1883, as a result of statistical investigations, that brewing was not a suitable industry for a joint-stock company, but the success of the brewing corporation Guinness and Company, with a capital of 6,000,000, has recently attracted attention in Eng- land, and given a decided impetus to in- corporation. It is difficult to say in what department of economic life in our own country corporations are not successful. The undoubted truth is this: failures and disasters of one kind and another occa- sionally stein the tide perceptibly, but, on the whole, corporations continue to absorb an increasing proportion of the national resources. One branch of economic life seems com- paratively free as yet from their activity, and that is commerce. The great mer- cantile establishments of the world are still conducted on the individual basis. Yet even here a conclusion must not be too hastily drawn, although the necessity of quick, alert, and uncontrolled action is such that commerce, in the shape of either wholesale or retail trade, seems less adapt- ed to the joint - stock principle than any business not purely speculative. In Eng- land co-operative undertakings have made very serious inroads on the domain of the mercantile community. We have the great English Co-operative Wholesale So- ciety, Limited, in Manchester, with two branches, and sixteen purchasing and for- warding depots in five countries. When it celebrated its coming of age, its twenty-first anniversary, in .1884, it re- ported ownership of several manufactur- ing concerns and of four steam-ships. Its sales, growing rapidly, had amounted to 38, 604,674, and were then at. ~he rate of 5,000,900 per annum. Scotland also has its great co-operative wholesale house, while 962 societies in England~ in 1882 sold goods valued at 22,854,434. The conditions are just beginning to become ripe for co-operation in the United States, and this form of industry and commerce is only in its infancy with us. But re- cent investigations have shown that it is growing, and sales of co-operative stores in New England now amount to over $2,000,000 per annum. Agricultureanother great national in- terestis still pursued on the individual basis almost exclusively. We have some live-stock-raising corporations of impor- tance, and a few prosperous co-operative agricultural communities in the commu- nistic settlements in various parts of our land; there are one or two co-operative agricultural colonies, not communistic, which have recently started, and still share the uncertain fate of all new enter- prises. These are, of course, comparative- ly unimportant, and it is still too early to say whether they point to any future na- tional movement at all ornot. It may be that corporations will yet play a r6le in agriculture, yet it seems altogether prob- able that the individual farmer will for many years keep the field to himself. Again we have to call attention to the significance of this industrial revolution in the midst of which we are living. I have spoken of it as the crushing out of individualism in the sphere of economic life, or, as we sometimes term this life, industrial society. Perhaps it would be more correct to speak of it as the crushing out of isolation. At any rate, this opens 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. up the whole question of the chance of the individual. How is the individual affected? Our first answer is apt to he: Unfavorably. Individuality is likely to disappear, and civilization to deteriorate. It is one part of the all-pervading level- ling tendencies of our age, which will never cease to attack superiority until all eleva- tions are removed. Society is becoming more and more one dreary plain, from which all peaks and mountains have dis- appeared. Yet I venture to believe that this first answer is erroneous. It is doubtless true that the single individual is of less impor- tance to the world than formerly. It is true that the single individual must put himself in connection with others, and work with them, if he would accomplish anything. This is even so in science. Professor Justin Winsor, to give the world a satisfactory history of America, seeks the co-operation of historians in ev- ery part of the country. To write a trea- tise on political economy, twenty-five of the best scholars in Germany combined the results of their acquisitions. Ameri- can historians have found it desirable to co-operate in the American Historical As- sociation; the political economists thought it advantageous to form the American Economic Association; and the students of modern languages followed with the Modern Language Association. If these societies are not legal corporations now, it is not improbable that they will become incorporated in a near future. The su- premacy of the individual is disappearing. We have now no more Platos and Aris- totles; it is probable that in industry, commerce, and transportation our Van- derbilts and A. T. Stewarts will hereafter disappear. Already the railway system which is in many respects the best admin- istered of all in the United StatesI mean the Pennsylvania systemis not identi- fied with any single person. But this does not mean a levelling down; it means a levelling up. One tree does not pro- ject its head above all the other trees in the forest, because it is a magnificent for- est full of tall trees. The evolution of the race has reached that point where the su- premacy of the irld]vidual is neither need- ed nor desired. What we seek now is not the chief, but the brother. We have a Father in heaven, but grown people who have attained to the stature of our nine- teenth-century civilization do not want paternalism. We crave fraternalism, and without it we would perish. Here again we arrive at our democracy, in which we rejoice. But what is the basis of true individu- alism ? It is not isolation, for that means barbarism. Is it liberty, freedom of movement? Doubtless the largest practi- cable amount of liberty for the free devel- opment of all our faculties is of the ut- most importance. Yet perfect freedom is a complete Utopia. Let the anarchist. dream of it. We shall never see it. Re- straints too are useful within certain lim- its. Obstacles to wrong-doing may be welcomed. Perhaps the highest ideal is perfect freedom to do the right thing in every case. We are told, however, that co-operation either through some public~ body or through some voluntary agency involves curtailment of individual rights. Is this so? The writers of the day seem to forget that freedom is limited by the laws of nature, and that subjection to them in a state of isolation is often worse than hu- man slavery. I must eat to live. This is a terrible and inexorable law. It may chain me in subjection to the most inhuman master. Am I free? No human statute~ compels me, but the laws of my physical being transcend the enactments of legisla-~ tures. I form a co-operative society for~ productive purposes. With my fellows I agree to certain rules and regulations. These did not exist for me before, yet II am a thousand times freer. I have gain- ed a control over nature. Her laws bear- less heavily upon me. Take another case. Here is a little boy hard at work in a factory eleven hours a day. His body will be dwarfed, the growth of his mind will be stunted, it this continues. Certain men meet in le- gislative assembly and decree the release of the child. They say that the child has rights, and they take measures which secure for him opportunity to develop his body in play and his mind in school. Now he will become a sturdy, vigorous man, with trained intellect, able to main- tain himself among men. Has the law of man increased or diminished freedom? So, as I take it, through co-operation by means of governmental agencies and through voluntary working together in corporate and co-operative enterprises, we are gaining a control over the forces of nature for all men such as never exist- ed before. We are thus opening the way~ ON KEEPING BIRDS. 79 for a more remarkable growth of individ- uality than this world has ever seen. Again, this material economic life of ours, this production of goods, this buying, selling, and getting gain, it must ever be remembered, is not an end in itself. It is but a means to an end. It is the basis of our higher life, and is to be valued merely as such. The noblest development of our being, the grandest triumphs of freedom, must be sought in other domains. The entire life of a people has been divided into eight departments or territories, if these expressions may be used. They are the following: first, language; second, art; third, science and education; fourth, the family life; fifth, social life; sixth, the re- ligious life; seventh, political life; eighth, the economic life. Now we observe such a measure of freedom, of opportunity for individuality, in the seven higher spheres of life as never could exist before. The eighth is merely basic, its purpose is to sub- serve most effectively the other spheres of life. That it accomplishes, on the whole, better than formerly. If the amount of freedom appears to diminish with prog- ress, the appearance is deceptive. Some measures which we now advocate, as the abolition of child labor, restriction of the labor of women, inspection of factories, sanitary regulation, and the like, may lessen the amount of theoretical liberty; but they increase control over nature in the individual, and promote the growth of practical liberty. / ON KEEPING BIRDS. BY w. T. GREENE, MA., r.z.s. WHO was the first person that put a bird in a cage? and what was the motive that prompted him or her to do so? In all probability it was a woman, who, moved by a feeling of tender pity for the sufferer, rescued some poor victim wounded in the chase, or maybe by a bird ~of prey; and the first cage was doubtless ~ slight affair, rudely built of rushes, or perhaps of willow rods, by loving hands, to shield the injured prisoner from fur- ther ill; but soon the desire to possess a bird of ones own must have taken pos- session of other people, and led to the na- ;tive songsters being trapped and caged; for Venus, we are told, had her doves, and Lesbia at least one sparrow. Yes, it must have been a man that first .~caged a canary or a nightingale, in order to enjoy the pleasure of listening to its sweet notes in full security at home,with- ~out the necessity of dangerous rambling through dense woodlands infested by beasts of prey; and if so, I am not pre- pared to affirm that he did wrong, but on the contrary am exceedingly obliged to him for setting me an example I do not hesitate to follow, although I might not have had the moral courage to have taken the initiative in the matter, and been the first to cage a bird, which at first sight ap- pears a questionable thing to do; but, af- ter all, is it treating birds unkindly to put them in a cage? On the whole, I think knot. See what they suffer when they have their liberty out-of-doors: the rain drenches them, the wind buffets them, the cold of winter benumbs them, and when the ground is mantled in a garb of spotless snow, many thousands .of them die of hunger, or become so weak from prolonged fasting that they fall an easy prey to rapacious birds and beasts; while in a cage their every want is anticipated and provided for, and in the society of the beloved lady who watches over them with tender care they find more than compen- sation for the doubtful boon of liberty that they have lost. So true is this that I have known of more than one poor bird that actually died of grief when it no longer beheld the dear familiar form of the owner who had caressed and fed it. There is no animal with which I am acquainted, not even that friend of man the dog, that forms so firm, so devoted, so tender an attachment for its master or mistress as the bullfinchthe naturally shy and wood-loving bullfinch, that al- most dies of terror when first caught, but becomes more readily reconciled to cap- tivity than any bird I know. A word, however, to my readers here: do not buy one of these too charming birds unless you have leisure and love enough to make it your companion, to keep it on your study table or in your boudoir, talk to it, whistle to it, feed it with tidbits, and teach it to love you.

ON KEEPING BIRDS. 79 for a more remarkable growth of individ- uality than this world has ever seen. Again, this material economic life of ours, this production of goods, this buying, selling, and getting gain, it must ever be remembered, is not an end in itself. It is but a means to an end. It is the basis of our higher life, and is to be valued merely as such. The noblest development of our being, the grandest triumphs of freedom, must be sought in other domains. The entire life of a people has been divided into eight departments or territories, if these expressions may be used. They are the following: first, language; second, art; third, science and education; fourth, the family life; fifth, social life; sixth, the re- ligious life; seventh, political life; eighth, the economic life. Now we observe such a measure of freedom, of opportunity for individuality, in the seven higher spheres of life as never could exist before. The eighth is merely basic, its purpose is to sub- serve most effectively the other spheres of life. That it accomplishes, on the whole, better than formerly. If the amount of freedom appears to diminish with prog- ress, the appearance is deceptive. Some measures which we now advocate, as the abolition of child labor, restriction of the labor of women, inspection of factories, sanitary regulation, and the like, may lessen the amount of theoretical liberty; but they increase control over nature in the individual, and promote the growth of practical liberty. / ON KEEPING BIRDS. BY w. T. GREENE, MA., r.z.s. WHO was the first person that put a bird in a cage? and what was the motive that prompted him or her to do so? In all probability it was a woman, who, moved by a feeling of tender pity for the sufferer, rescued some poor victim wounded in the chase, or maybe by a bird ~of prey; and the first cage was doubtless ~ slight affair, rudely built of rushes, or perhaps of willow rods, by loving hands, to shield the injured prisoner from fur- ther ill; but soon the desire to possess a bird of ones own must have taken pos- session of other people, and led to the na- ;tive songsters being trapped and caged; for Venus, we are told, had her doves, and Lesbia at least one sparrow. Yes, it must have been a man that first .~caged a canary or a nightingale, in order to enjoy the pleasure of listening to its sweet notes in full security at home,with- ~out the necessity of dangerous rambling through dense woodlands infested by beasts of prey; and if so, I am not pre- pared to affirm that he did wrong, but on the contrary am exceedingly obliged to him for setting me an example I do not hesitate to follow, although I might not have had the moral courage to have taken the initiative in the matter, and been the first to cage a bird, which at first sight ap- pears a questionable thing to do; but, af- ter all, is it treating birds unkindly to put them in a cage? On the whole, I think knot. See what they suffer when they have their liberty out-of-doors: the rain drenches them, the wind buffets them, the cold of winter benumbs them, and when the ground is mantled in a garb of spotless snow, many thousands .of them die of hunger, or become so weak from prolonged fasting that they fall an easy prey to rapacious birds and beasts; while in a cage their every want is anticipated and provided for, and in the society of the beloved lady who watches over them with tender care they find more than compen- sation for the doubtful boon of liberty that they have lost. So true is this that I have known of more than one poor bird that actually died of grief when it no longer beheld the dear familiar form of the owner who had caressed and fed it. There is no animal with which I am acquainted, not even that friend of man the dog, that forms so firm, so devoted, so tender an attachment for its master or mistress as the bullfinchthe naturally shy and wood-loving bullfinch, that al- most dies of terror when first caught, but becomes more readily reconciled to cap- tivity than any bird I know. A word, however, to my readers here: do not buy one of these too charming birds unless you have leisure and love enough to make it your companion, to keep it on your study table or in your boudoir, talk to it, whistle to it, feed it with tidbits, and teach it to love you. 80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. When you have won its confidence, which, with gentle perseverance on your part, will not take long, your care and at- tention will be more than rewarded by the empressement with which it will greet your return from your business or your pleasure; it will hop down to the door of the cage as soon as it sees you enter the room, and invite you with the most fasci- nating of bows to let it out and perch upon your finger, where it will talk to you in its sweetest tones, and rub its dear black velvet poll against your cheek or on your hand, purring the while with purest and most unalloyed pleasure. It will even try to feed you, and instead of feeling offended and annoyed-one lady who wrote to me used the word disgust- edby this profoundest mark of its af- fection, feel correspondingly grateful, and bless your stars that you have indeed a friend, one who would die for you, and will, too, if you are cruel enough or thoughtless enough to slight it or forget it. I do not say that there are no other birds capable of becoming devotedly at- tached to their owners, but I do affirm that not one of them equals the bullfinch in this respect. True, I have known par- rots that displayed quite a romantic affec- tion for their master or mistress, and yet, when parted from them, sulked perhaps for a few days, but in the end accepted accomplished facts, and, acting upon the advice of the poet, when they could not be near the dear ones they loved, made love to those tbat were near, which, un- der the circumstances, was doubtless the most sensible thing they could do. But Bully is compact of far other clay, and I again entreat my readers not to buy him unless they mean to love him, for to neglect him is to torture him, and most cruelly kill him too, What a pretty bird he is! and yet some writers have described him as clumsily made. Fie upon them! Can anything be more symmetrical than his form, or more quietly beautiful than the varied tints of his many-colored coat, or, I should say, costume? Velvety black and rosy red and delicate lavender gray form a charming combination of colors, not one of which is obtrusive or kills another, as the ladies say, but is rather enhanced by the rest, the three different shades form- ing a tout-ensemble that is simply perfect. A newly captured buH,finch may be purchased for three or four shillings, but one that has been tamed and educated will often be sold for twenty pounds, and I have no hesitation in saying that it is worth the money if it is like one dear bird I once possessed, that was as loving, sensible, and accomplished as a bird could be. I hope that he was happy while he called me master, and I believe he was; at least I know that he preferred my society to that of a lady of his own spe, cies, who was quite a beauty in her way, and a very clever little thing to boot; but he endured her, nothing more, and I nev- er even saw him kiss her once all the time they lived together, though he would have fed and caressed me all day long if I would allow him. The English robin is another charming bird that has until recently been very sel- dom caged; now, however, he has taken his place among our domesticated pets, and a most delightful one he is, if you have only one; for he is not good-temper- ed, I must confess, as a rule, and is, more- over, of a decidedly jealous and intolerant disposition as regards his fellows. He has peculiar tastes, too, in the matter of dietrepulsive, I might say, for a person of his sedate bearing and neat appearance. He is remarkably fond of those nasty wrig- gling creatures that make digging in the garden a horror for me, but afforded the- late Mr. Darwin material for an instruc- tive and interesting book. These eccentricities apart, however, the robin is a very desirable bird. I need not say that he is pretty; his red frontlet and breast and his dark olive-green coat tes- tify to that fact pretty plainly. He is very bold and familiar, and soon becomes quite tame, even to sitting on the hand of the person who feeds him; but it is all cupboard love on his part; he only pre- tends to be fond of his master for the sake of what he can get. The robins song is one of the prettiest to be heard in our English lanes, and ha& the further merit of being poured forth as frequently in winter as in spring or sum- iner. In the house he will sing almost the whole year round, except while actually moulting. His diet in-doors should con- sist of bread and milk, ants eggs, meal- worms, and a little lean meat occasionally, upon which he will grow tamer and pret- tier every day. It is a pity that two of these birds cannot usually be kept togeth- ernever, if they are both males, and not always even if they are a pair. ON KEEPING BIRDS. 81 Our English robin has many near re- lations abroad, among which I may men- tion the well-known American blue-rob- in, and that charming Indian bird com- monly called the Peking nightingale, which, it is scarcely necessary to observe, is a true robin, and not a nightingale at all. I have said so much about this bird, the leiothrix of scientific authors, in an- other place that I have but little to report about it here, except that tame and con- fiding, pretty and interesting, as it is in every way, it is nevertheless a perfect nuisance in a mixed aviary, where it will eat up every egg it finds that it is able to pierce with its orange-tipped dagger of a bill. The male leiothrix sings very pret- tily, but not as well as his English con- gener, the robin-redbreast. There are a great many fine songsters. There are the nightingale, queen (king?) of song, the mocking-bird, the leiothrix, the drongo, an Indian bird, and the pros- temadera, of New Zealand, where it is commonly called the tui, from its cry, or parson-bird, from two white plumes it wears beneath its chin. Well, I need hardly say that while an American would probably award the palm to his native mocking-bird, I as a British- er would vote for the nightingale, though I must confess that I think the blackcap runs Philomela very near, and my friend Sejior Leite would doubtless record his for the sabia of his native Brazil, where it sings all day on the top of the palm-tree, and ravishes all hearts with the charms of its soul-entrancing melody. The drongos minstrelsy I do not care very much about; it is starlingish rather, and somewhat loud; but the small body from which this music proceeds (it is not as large as a thrush) is worth more than its weight in sterling gold, seeing that the importer will not part with one of these birds for a less sum of money than thir- teen or fourteen pounds. Another Indian favorite is the mynah, a handsome fellow, rather larger than a starling, or perhaps I should say about the size of a jackdaw, clad in velvety black, with golden yellow wattles, legs, and bill. He is an accomplished linguist, it is generally allowed, and used at one time to be very dear, but now he can be bought for about twenty-five or thirty shillings, thanks to Mr. A. H. Jamrach, of Poplar, who has done so much to popu- larize exotic birds by bringing down the prohibitive prices formerly asked and ob- tained for them. These mynahs, however, notwithstand- ing their value as speaking birds, are not great favorites of mine, for from the na- ture of their foodboiled rice, fruit, meat, egg, etc.they require a very large cage and continual attention to keep them clean and presentable in refined society nor do I, for the same reason, much ad- mire the gorgeously plumaged cissa, or hunting crow, another magnificent Ind- ian; or the hoopoos, with their crown which they are said to have exchangedi for one of gold, or the jays of many kinds, that are certainly among the most beau- tiful of birds, and have their representa- tives in every land and clime. In their wild state all the members of the jay family rob nests and eat the eggs and young of other birds, our British rep- resentative of the order being very de- structive among youthful pheasants and partridges, for which reason he is perse- cuted by the game-keepers, who shoot him wherever found, while the gardeners bear him scarce less grudge for pilfering their fruit and pease. All the Corvidmie are capable of imitating the human voice, though perhaps the ra- ven is the most fluent speaker among them. I may add that I have never actually kept one of these ill-omened fowl, for that bird or fiend that sat above poor Edgar Poes chamber door, and would persist in croak- ing Nevermore, has prejudiced me against the whole race. I once saw sev- eral full-grown young ones in Leadenhali Market, one of which already barked in imitation of a puppy-dog, and I inquired their price of the attendant, who replied,. Thirty shillings each. How much for this bird ? I continued, pointing to~ the barker. Oh! that ones two pound, said the man. I thanked him and turned away. Ravens will breed, I have been told, in captivity, and if the progeny could be regu- larly disposed of at the price indicated, it would not be an unprofitable speculation to keep a few of them, with their wings cut, in ones back yard, for these birds will eat and thrive upon anything that comes to table, and as they are decidedly long-lived, it is reasonable to suppose that their progeny would be numerous. In England the raven is becoming scarce, but it is yet to be met with in Scotland in con- siderable numbers. $2 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The magpie is one of the Corvidie which it would be invidious to pass over in silence after mentioning the raven and the jay. True, it is not as big as the former nor as gorgeously apparelled as the latter, but it is a very nice bird nevertheless. The Australian magpie, or pied crow, is justly famed above all its congeners for its talents as a songster, no less than for the power of mimicry it also possesses. I might fill a good-sized volume with an- ecdotes of these birds, but must content myself at present with relating one or two instances of their sagacity. One that be- longed to a friend of mine in the colony of Victoria was allowed to ramble about the grounds at his sweet will, and would, when attacked by the wild crows, throw Thmself on his back and fight them with beak and claw; but presently finding that half a dozen to one was long odds against him, he would jump up and anathematize them in goodor badcolonial English, when his enemies immediately retreated in terror, and Jack returned jauntily to his masters residence, whistling the tune of Theres uae guid luck about the house, Theres nae guid luck ava. The same bird was a clever hunter after centipedes and scorpions, which he dis- played great ingenuity in extracting from their hiding-places. Another magpie I had the privilege of knowing was almost equally intelligent, and saved his mistress the trouble of call- ing the maid every morning by shouting out, as soon as it was day, Bella, get up, you lazy slut, and get Mickys breakfast ! He too had the run of the place, but dis- appeared at length. Whether stolen by a passing tramp, or a victim to domestic ~vengeance, who shall say? There are no singing-birds in Australia, we have often been told, but the assertion is of far too sweeping a description, for these magpies, or pied crows, really sing a loud, certainly, but a very charming whis- tling song that wonderfully relieves the monotony of the antipodean bush, and forms an ever-welcome contrast to the in- cessant chirp of the cicadas that abound in every tree, and make daylight hideous by their unbearable noise. The Australian bush, however, notwith- standing the cicadas and a few other draw- backs, is a charming placethat is, where its fastnesses have not been profaned by the advent of the almost ubiquitous pros- pector for goldand its feathered inhabi- tants are among the most delightful of pets. I shall not have a great deal to say about them here, however, although I cannot re- frain from briefly mentioning a few of the more desirable species, in addition to my old friend the magpie, or pied crow. Every one knows the budgerigaralso called the undulated grass parrakeetbut every one is not aware that he can by a little patience and perseverance be con- verted into a most charming pet, and taught to perform all sorts of clever and amusing tricks. One of these birds that I once pos- sessed had learned of his own accord to sing like a canary, and I have received accurate and reliable information con- cerning other individuals of the same species that actually learned to repeat quite a number of words, which, how- ever, I do not consider very extraordi- nary, in view of the conformation of this birds beak and throat, seeing that I have also owned a genuine talking canary, and have seen bulltlnches, blackbirds, and star- lings that had the faculty of imitating the human voice. The Paridie, or tits, are charming birds with a strong family likeness running through the entire group; they are very delightful cage birds, and can be readily made quite tame by a judicious course of bribery with kernels of nuts, hemp-seed, and meal-wornis. Care must be taken, however, not to place them in the same enclosure with weaker or more defence- less members of the feathered tribes, for they are all more or less mischievously disposed, and failing their favorite diet, are partial to a dish of brainsan expen- sive luxury at all times, but especially so where the providers are exotic birds, worth, perhaps, their weight in gold. Nevertheless, as I have said, the tits in their proper place, which means a large cage or a sheltered garden aviary, are very delightful little creatures; but the quaint- looking bearded tit is perhaps the very nicest of them all. This bird seldom visits Britain of its own accord, but is fre- quently imported from Holland and Bel- gium, and is in considerable request by amateurs, who should, however, be pos- sessed of some knowledge of this favorites habits, or he will not long survive in their possession. In his wild state the bearded tit lives ex- clusively on insects and young mnollusca, which he collects among the reeds where ON KEEPING BIRDS. 83 .~ ,lfl he chiefly resides, so that it can readily be imagined that he will not thrive on a diet of seeds, or even of hard-boiled eggs. Gen- tles in the larva or pupa stage, however, can be readily procured all the year round, and ants and their eggs are also obtain- ablemay, indeed, be preserved alive and fresh in perforated tin canisters for months, or a colony of them may be es- tablished in ones garden, where it will become no despicable boon for insectivo- rous captive birds, and, unless one has a peach-house, not interfere with the human proprietor of die place. In a glass case in a greenhouse, too, an old Wardian case, for instance, ants will even multiply as freely as fur moths in a barrel of rabbit- skins, providing some of the larvm of the ubiquitous flesh - fly are given to them now and then for food. The remaining English tits are the great tit, or ox-eye, the blue tit, the crested tit, the marsh-tit, and the coal-tit, otherwise coletitall very charming birds, where there are no eggs to be sucked and no oth- er birds to be tormented. The family is VOL. LWNo. 4456 largely represented in America and in Asia, nor in Africa and Australia are re- lations wanting of our English Paricke, and without exception all of them are delightful birds, some even to an extreme degree. The bulbuls I consider to be an allied group, and need only mention their name to set my readers thinking of the Arabian Nights and Lalla Rookh. Some of these birds, as the Syrian bulbul, for in- stance, are easily kept in England, and at least one instance is reported from Ger- many of their having reared a brood in that country. The Columbidm form a large and most natural group of birds, all of which are suited, I might say eminently suited, for domesticity, with the exception of a few species that live principally or entire- ly on fruit, and are distinguished from 84 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. their granivorous congeners by the gen- eric name Carpophagax These latter are rarely imported successfully to Europe, yet the magnificent, nay, gorgeous, Nico- bar pigeon has been lodged at the Zoo, and lived for some time there, while un- der the fostering care of M. Vekemaun he has even multiplied his kind in the zo- ological gardens of Antwerp. The smaller doves, however, are more likely to attract the notice of lovers of cage birds; not that they particularly shine in a cage, for their lively disposition ill adapts them for confinement; but in an aviary of suit- able dimensions, where they have room to fly freely about, and bushes in which to perch, they are seen to great advantage, and are really most delightful pets. One or two drawbacks, however, are insepara- ble from keeping doves; they are very quarrelsome, and most of them are very susceptible to cold. No rule, however, is without its excep- tion, and the zebra-dove, with its quaint undulated markings, the bronze-spotted dove, the tambourine-dove, so called from its peculiar note, which is thought to re semble the sound produced by tapping quickly with the finger on the musical (?) instrument in question, the ~,orgeous green- winged Indian dove and its Australian congener, to which it bears so strong a re- semblance that I fancy one is but a local variety of the other, are quite hardy, and if turned out during the summer into an out-door aviary, become so thoroughly ac- climatized before the winter sets in that they may be safely left out, even during the severest portion of the year, namely, the early spring, when the keenest east winds are usually blowing, often for weeks at a time, so that these small exotic pigeons may be fairly looked upon as exceptional- ly hardy. The tambourine-dove, however, is per- haps more susceptible to cold than the others, and experience has taught me that he does not become altogether acclima- tized the first year he is turned out, but if housed from the middle of November un- til the middle or end of March, he may afterward be safely left to take his chance with the native and Northern birds in the garden aviary, especially if the aspect of BLACKOAPS AND ROBIN-REDBREA5T. ON KEEPING BIRDS. 85 AUSTRALIAN CROWS AND MAGPIE. the latter is, as it should be, south or south- wild. Of course there are instances on westward. record contradicting this assertion, and Fogs and rain try these birds more than proving Columba palumbus to be as tame actual cold, and it is almost needless to and gentle as the bird to which I have point out that a snug air-tight, or I should just alluded really is; but there are ex- say draught-proof, retreat should always ceptions to every rule, we know, and tame be provided for their accommodation dur- wood-pigeons merely confirm the general ing the winter season, in addition to the correctness of the proverb in question. open-air flight in which they love to bask The collared turtle is admittedly gentle during the warm and genial summer and tame; not that these birds do not oc- months. casionally squabble among themselves, for Many of the exotic doves will breed they both can and do wage fierce battle quite freely in a good-sized aviary, Geof- with each other in the spring-time if there freys dove, for instance, the Australian chances to be an odd male or female in crested dove, the rarer striated and spot- the do~ery; so that the expression as ted winged doves from northern Austra- gentle as a dove cannot be accepted ha, and others, all of which, however, without some qualification. With their must be taken in-doors by the middle of owners, however, these pretty and very October at latest, and kept in a warm room inexpensive birds are invariably most or house until the middle of May or the kind and gentle, and I know of no more beginning of June, when they will much delightful pets for a child in whom it is enjoy being turned out again, desired to foster the love of the feathered Apropos of doves, it is a very common, portion of creation. I might almost say universal, error to des- A natural association of ideas now ignate the semi-domesticated collared or brings me to the gems of the bird world, laughing turtle by the name of ring-dove, considered as to their adaptability for which belongs, rightfully or wrongfully household petsthe waxhills. They are I shall not now stay to inquire, to a total- more brilliantly colored than other birds; ly different species, the wood-pigeon, to but for prettiness, neatness of carriage, wit, which does not make an agree able sprightliness, happy, confiding disposi- cage bird, for it is almost irreclaimably tion, frugality, endurance, and general 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. adaptability to cage life, I know of nothing to approach these Lilliputians among the birds, many of whom,when in full health and vigor, weigh about one dram each, or the eighth part of an ounce! Millet forms their chief food, whether in their wild state or in captivity; this nutritious seed, however, may be advan- tageously varied now and then by a hand- ful of hay seed scattered on the floor of the aviary or cage, and the waxhills will find a world of enjoyment in turning it over in search of the many tidbits it con- tains. A fresh sod of long grass they also appreciate highly, and it is both amusing and interesting to watch them daintily threading their way through the blades of verdure, which to them is a ver- itable jungle, wagging their tails, and bobbing their heads up and down the while every second, while their joyful and incessant twittering testifies to the pleasure they experience from the change to soft and humid grass from hard and arid sand and perches. The smallest and most charming of these miniature birds are the orange- breasted, the orange-cheeked, the com- mon gray, the lavender, the blue-eared (not unfrequently called the cordon bleu), the African fire-finch, the St. Helena wax- bills, and the common and green avada- vats. Given suitable temperature and appropriate surroundings, most of these pretty little creatures will build nests, lay eggs, and bring up young in England, and nothing can be more interesting than to watch them at play, to observe their antics, and even their little squabbles during what the French call la saison des amours. Many of the waxbills are gifted with the faculty of song, notably the avadavats and the orange-cheekan accomplish- ment, however, that I do not greatly val- ue, although it adds considerably to their attractions in the eyes of numerous ama- teurs. For my part I have a great respect for the manikin family, of which the va- rious members generally sing in dumb- show. The chief species belonging to this group, also frequently called nuns, are the black-headed, the white-headed, the brown, the two and the three colored, the bronze-winged, and the pied or magpie manikins, to which I add the spice-bird, which is usually classed with the gros- beaks, and the Australian manikin, also known by the inappropriate name of chocolate-finch, for it also sings in dumb- show, and has no affinity whatever with the finches properly so called. Both the waxbills and the manikins can usually be purchased very cheaply in London, often for a shilling apiece, but are in view of their many sterling quali- ties, really worth their weight in gold. Their habitat, with the exceptions noted above, is either Africa or Asia. There is an allied group of charming cage birds, rather larger than the waxhills, which is by some writers classed with the grosbeaks, in consequence of the thickness, or comparative stoutness rather, of their bills, but in my opinion these desirable birds are more nearly related to the spar- row. We receive, among others, from Australia the zebra-finch and the parson- finch, both of which are as beautiful as they are interesting and amusing, the double-headed and the cherry-headed or modest grass-finches, which are all hardy, and eminently suited for domestication. At one time these birds were very ex- pensive: thus I paid fifteen shillings for my first pair of zebras, thirty shillings for my parsons; and the diamond-sparrows, a closely allied species, were considered cheap at one pound sterling apiece. Now they can be obtained for five, eight, and twelve shillings a pair respectively. Another prettily marked bird, now be- ginning to be known as the ribbon-finch, but which was formerly called by the less euphonious name of cutthroat, in consequence of a band of bright red ex- tending from ear to ear under the chin of the male, may be classed with the fore- going. In all its habits it is a sparrow, as fussy and quarrelsome as our semi-do- mestic London bird, makes like it a nest in any convenient hole, or, if in a tree, domes it with hay or fibre, feeds chiefly on seed, but brings up its young on in- sects or animal food of some kind. The male has a pleasing little song, but, as I have said, is decidedly quarrelsome, espe- cially during the breeding season. Some of these sparrows will nest any- where and everywhere, and will rear a numerous progeny without any particu- lar attention or interference on the part of the amateur; while others, on the con- trary, are very fastidious in their choice of a dwelling-place, and even when they finally make up their minds to construct a nest and lay eggs, will very often not rear the young, but remorselessly toss them out of their cradle when they are GROUP OF CAGE BIRDS. 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE; about a week or ten days old, and imme- diately start to build a new nest. This cruel conduct of theirs is, I fancy, the re- sult of inexperience, for as they get older I find, in the majority of cases, they get wiser too, and the lamentable slaughter of the innocents is not persisted in. Should the old birds, however, continue to mal- treat their offspring after the first year, it will be better to get rid of them, and give their place to some of their fellows with less unnatural proclivities. Nearly allied to the manikins are the Bengalis, or Bengalees, of which three va- rieties are in the market: one all white, another white and fawn, and a third white and brown. They are very nice little birds, but act capriciously in the matter of nesting and feeding their young, after the manner of the ribbon-finches. The price of these Japanese toys has declined from two or three guineas to about twelve or fifteen shillings a pair. I cannot pass on to another section of my subject without a glance at that old favorite of connoisseurs, the Java spar- row, once an expensive acquisition, but now frequently sold for twelve or four- teen shillings a dozen. Of this well-known species there are now two varieties offered to amateurs by the dealers, namely, the common gray and the white. The latter is of Chinese or Japanese creation, and not long since was very expensive; at present, however, it is comparatively cheap; that is to say, a pair may be pur- chased for about fifteen shillings, possibly in some cases even less. Both the com- mon Java sparrow, otherwise the paddy or rice bird, and the white variety, breed freely in captivity, making a large nest of hay, twigs, and fibre, lined with feathers, in a box or hole of any kind. The eggs are white, and the young are readily reared on bread and milk and ants eggs. What an amount of sentiment has been wasted on a class of small parrots com- monly called love-birds, or inseparables, which are about the size of a bullfinch, but in one or two instances somewhat less! It was once currently believed that they must be procured in pairs, and that if one of them died, the other would not long survive; bnt this is quite a mistake, as I have proved in several instances, which I have related in detail in my work on Par- rots in Captivity. In the matter of plumage the love-birds are not showy, green being the ground color with them all, relieved in some spe- cies by red on the face, by blue on the wings and back in others, and in yet oth- ers by delicate lavender gray on the head and neck; all are short and squat in fig- ure, very dull and listless in a cage, but quick and lively in a large aviary, in which latter situation they ought only to be kept. The love-birds seldom learn to speak, and most of them have a shrill, scream- ing note that is far from agreeable. Some of them will breed in confine- mentthe blue-wings, rosy-faced, and lav- ender-headed species for example; but the red-faced love-birds do not; at least in this country they have not done so, to my knowledge, so far; but I imagine they have scarcely had fair play allowed them in this respect by their owners. With the exception of the Madagascar or laven- der-headed love-bird, which is perfectly hardy, all these little parrots must be taken in - doors in the autumn, and be warmly housed during the inclement months of the year. Formerly very dear, all the love-birds are now cheap, excepting the rosy-faced, for which dealers yet demand from five to seven pounds sterling a pair. An article on cage birds without any reference to the larger parrots seems some- thing like the drama of Hamlet with the r6le of the Prince of Denmark left out; but I can do no more than mention them in this paper. Who that has read books of American travelSouth American travel at least has not been fascinated by the accounts of the marvellous living gems that make the forests of Brazil, Mexico, and the inter- vening isthmus a realization of the dream of the author of Aladdins adventures in the subterranean garden whither he went to seek the wonderful lamp for his pre- tended uncle the magiciana garden where the fruit upon the trees were pre- cious stones of inestimable value? And a visit to the Gould collection of humming- birds at Kensington incontestably proves that the writers in question have scarcely if at all exaggerated in their account of what they saw, for what inconceivable combinations of form and color do we not behold in these miniature birds !colors the most enchanting, and forms as eccen- tric and bizarre. To imagine them they must be seen, and when seen, the heart of the spectator is filled with an intense de ON KEEPING BIRDS. 89 sire to become the possessor of such un- paralleled loveliness. Well, such possession is not as impos- sible as might at first sight appear, for humming-birds have actually not only been brought to Europe alive, but have been preserved in Paris in perfect health aud beauty for some time, and, for any- thing I know to the contrary, some of them may yet constitute a perpetual joy to their owners, for that they are things of beauty I suppose no one will deny. Dr. iRuss, of Berlin, the well-known or- nithologist, thus relates in his hand-Book, page 340, on the authority of Professor Al- phonse Mime-Edwards, the circumstance to which I am alluding: A French wo- man who formerly resided for some years in Mexico has already twice brought over a number of humming-birds (colubris) to Europe, and in the July of 1876 I saw more than fifty of them, belonging to five or six different species, flying about in her cage.~ Amateurs may therefore confidently hope to see the living gems and blossoms of the tropics transferred to their aviaries in the south and west, for there is a certain syrup, says the same authority, in which these most lovely [allerlieb- sten] birds find suitable nourishment. True, he omits to give the formula, but no doubt that is to be obtained, and then a collection of the Trochilidm will be a sight to make men marvel, and ladies pause ere they authorize the wholesale slaughter of these animated jewels for the adorn- ment (?) of their hats and bonnets. The British song-thrush is, to my mind, a disappointing bird, and so is the lark of these humid islands, perhaps because too much is expected by a stranger of the former, and the latter cannot be readily reconciled to a life of captivity in a nar- row cage when the boundless realms of space are his natural habitat. In Brittany, where I lived for many years, we had no song-thrushes that I re- member. Grives there were in plenty, but I fancy they were missel, and not song thrushes; at least they were larger than any I have seen in England; and redwings and fieldfares were abundant in winter. Of course I had read a great deal about the music of the spotted thrush in my natural history books, and was most anxious to compare the accounts I found there with the reality. At length my wish was gratified, and, as I have said, I was greatly disappointed. Yet hear what others have to say. The song-thrush, writes a German author, is the great charm of our woods, TIT FAMILY. 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. which it enlivens by the beauty of its song. The rival of the nightingale, it an- nounces in varied accents the return of spring, and continues its delightful notes during all the summer months, particu- larly at morning and evening twilight. It is, continues the same author, to procure this gratification in his dwelling that the bird-fancier rears it, and deprives it of its liberty; and he thus enjoys the pleasure of the woods in the midst of the city. Selfishness, I fear, is at the bottom of the desire to keep birds in a cage, as I have already hinted, and if excusable at all, the motive must be consecrated and rendered legitimate by the most careful attention to the little prisoners, and the most earnest desire to render their lives as happy and as comfortable as possible. There is one bird, however, I must, in conclusion, ask my readers not to cage I mean the skylark. The free denizen of the empyrean is out of place behind the bars of even the best-appointed cage, and in an aviary his unconquerable love of liberty will prompt him to dash himself against the bars in a manner so distressing to be- hold that no person with a heart could keep him captive for a moment. I have known instances of young larks that were stolen from the parental nest when they were no more than a few days old, and were brought up by the hand of a gentle lady, which, nevertheless, on be- ing turned into a large, well-grassed gar- den aviary, as soon as they were able to feed themselves, became quite wild in less than a fortnight, and so injured them- selves in their frantic efforts to escape that one of them died from the effect of its self-inflicted wounds, and the others were allowed to fly away, which they did right joyfully, nor were they ever seen again by their former owner. American birds I may not now dwell upon, but I cannot refrain from just men- tioning that a multitude of delightful cage birds are imported from the dual conti- nent. The cardinals, indigo-birds, non- pareils, the rare and beautiful rupicolas, the orioles, and numerous parrots, each more delightful than the other, are cases in point; but I must refrain, and bring my long-winded, but I hope not altogeth- er uninteresting, article to a close. JAVA SrARRowS. THIS wild Irishman is the fast train which carries the Amer- ican mails from London to Holy- head, en route to Dub- lin and Queenstown. It drives down from Ens- ton to Chester at a speed of forty miles or more an hour, and issuing from that quaint, gabled, and galleried city through a gap in the splendid walls, it continues on its course to ilolyhead along the picturesque shores of North Wales. Many Americans trav- el by it, as in leaving or in joining the Atlantic steamer at Queenstown they can save several hours by taking this route, but it is usually night when they are borne along, and the jour- ney finds no dwelling-place in their memories. They miss the long reaches of solidly built sea- wall which the high tides of the Dee bespatter and gnaw at; and while propping up their weary heads, and striving to shut their senses to the jolt and jar of the train, they are un- consciously flying under the embattlements of historic cas- tIes, along the base of sea-washed mountains, and through the great iron tube which bridges the Menai Strait. Precipitous cliffs frown down upon the meteor-like train: on one side are the stormy waters of the St. Georg& s Channel, and on the other the mountains descend without any intervening foot-hills; but by means of tunnels, embankments, and viaducts every natural obstacle in the route of the Wild Irishman has been overcome. The distance between Chester and Holyhead is accomplished in less than two hours; a tubular bridge spans the Menai Strait, the ferrying of which formerly led to many tragedies; another bridge is hung over the Conway River, and Penmaen THE ROUTE OF THE IRISHMAN. By WILLIAM H. RIDEING.

THIS wild Irishman is the fast train which carries the Amer- ican mails from London to Holy- head, en route to Dub- lin and Queenstown. It drives down from Ens- ton to Chester at a speed of forty miles or more an hour, and issuing from that quaint, gabled, and galleried city through a gap in the splendid walls, it continues on its course to ilolyhead along the picturesque shores of North Wales. Many Americans trav- el by it, as in leaving or in joining the Atlantic steamer at Queenstown they can save several hours by taking this route, but it is usually night when they are borne along, and the jour- ney finds no dwelling-place in their memories. They miss the long reaches of solidly built sea- wall which the high tides of the Dee bespatter and gnaw at; and while propping up their weary heads, and striving to shut their senses to the jolt and jar of the train, they are un- consciously flying under the embattlements of historic cas- tIes, along the base of sea-washed mountains, and through the great iron tube which bridges the Menai Strait. Precipitous cliffs frown down upon the meteor-like train: on one side are the stormy waters of the St. Georg& s Channel, and on the other the mountains descend without any intervening foot-hills; but by means of tunnels, embankments, and viaducts every natural obstacle in the route of the Wild Irishman has been overcome. The distance between Chester and Holyhead is accomplished in less than two hours; a tubular bridge spans the Menai Strait, the ferrying of which formerly led to many tragedies; another bridge is hung over the Conway River, and Penmaen THE ROUTE OF THE IRISHMAN. By WILLIAM H. RIDEING. 92 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. mawr is pierced by a tunnel, through which the train winds like a ring through the nose of a savage. When the train leaves Chester it almost immediately crosses the boundary line be- tween Cheshire and North Wales, and for the rest of the distance to Holyhead it is in that country. The Dee is visible out of the carriage windows, like a brazen serpent crawling over a desert of mud and sand. At high-water the whole space be- tween the banks is overflowed, but as the ebbing tide withdraws it only leaves a winding rivulet, which is of little use to any except the smallest craft. Once the river was wide and deep, but the channel has been shoaled by the washings of the hills, and the traffic which belonged to the Dee has sought the Mersey. Only a narrow tongue of land which Cheshire thrusts out separates the two rivers, and a little below Chester we can see from the windows of the Wild Irishman the place where they meet and mingle. On the other side of the train lies a country of increasing hillinessa land- scape like that of England, with trim hedge- rows, thatched cottages, and the solid-look- ing sculpturesque foliage which is a sort of atonement for the persistent humidity of the climate. Hawarden, Mr. Glad- stones seat, is about two miles off the line, and about twenty minutes after leav- ing Chester the train runs close against the walls of Flint Castlea gaunt mass of naked rock, upon which decay has set no sign of regret, and age has put no as- suaging mantle. The castle was built by Edward I., and Shakespeare has made its rude ribs and tattered battlements one of the scenes in his play of Richard II. Behind the hills which slope down to Flint is Holywell, a town which derives its name from a miraculously copious spring, of such efficacy in healing that the beautiful gothic shrine built over it, and ascribed to the generosity of the mother of Henry ~II.,is hung with the crutches and trusses of those who have been cured by bathing in it. Beyond Holywell and Mostyn nearly every village along the coast aspires, with some success, to be a watering-place. The climate is salubrious, but how bleak, how Novemberish, to us who have just escaped from the Senegambian fervor of the Amer- ican July! The thermometer is down be- low OO~, but the women are dressed in inns- lins and poplins, and the children, digging and building in the sands, are bare-legged and bare-shouldered. The Wild Irishman scarcely slackens its speed at Rhyl, the flat and rectangular little watering-place whose noisy excur- sionists from Lancashire and Yorkshire bathe in a yellow mixture of mud washed down from the Dee and the Mersey, and we also will pass it by, leaving it, with Abergeley, Llandulas, and Colwyn Bay, to tourists who have time to see the coast in detail. But presently we cross a river which, flowing down from between high hills, empties into the sea within sight of the train, at a point where a massive head- land juts outward, and reaching the far- ther side, we are borne under the shadow of a cliff-like wall. We look out and up, and there are towers, battlements, and parapets. These are so high, and the train is so close to the base, that we have to al- most dislocate our neck in order to see the summit. It is a castle, not a cliff; but it seems to grow out of the rock upon which it stands, and when it was built nature and art joined hands to give it a double strength. When Edward I. had conquered the Welsh he built three great castles to keep the vanquished down, and though dis- mantled and despoiled, they are still very substantial examples of the architecture of his time: one is at Carnarvon, another at Beaumaris, and the third is this at Con- way, the common name of the river which we have just crossed, the castle, and the little town which lies under the castle, shut within a harp-shaped wall which formerly had twenty-four round towers. We are disposed to take Pennants word when that antiquary declares Conway to be the most beautiful of fortresses. The form is oblong, placed in all parts on the verge of precipitous rock. One side is bounded by the river, one by a creek which fills with every tide, and the other two face the town. Within are two courts, around which are the various apartments, or what remains of them. But the banqueting hall has tumbled into the kitchen, and the Queens boudoir is scarcely recognizable from the dungeon cell. No roof or rafters remain, and the grass grows on the floor of the Council Chamber. The cold wind rushes through the empty fireplaces, the windows have nothing in them except the vines, and the winding stairways only go up a few steps, and then leave us standing on the brink CONWAY CASTLE. 94 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of some ragged gap. Ivy, moss, and grass have taken hold even of the highest tow- ers, and the only pomp is the pomp of age. We look at the smooth river issuing be- twe~n the hills to the sea, and the quaint town and its little houses shut within the triangular walls. That headland of which we have spoken once or twice is the Great Ormes-Head, one of the most conspicuous points to all vessels passing up and down the channel, and between it and a simi- lar though smaller elevation we can see some of the roofs of Llandudno, one of the most delightful of watering-places. But all other things are dwarfed in coni- parison with Penmaenmawr, which now looms up, and we can pity the travellers who, before the days of the Wild Irish- man, found this shoulder of rocka very cold shoulder indeed-thrust in their way. Change is visible everywhere about the castle, and some thrifty husbandman is raising cabbages and potatoes in the moat. Other parts of the grounds are also turned to account as vegetable gardens, and the gate has no more formidable guard than a little girl in a blue pinafore. But while we sat eating our luncheon at the inn ad- joining the castle we were reminded that though the relics of mediawal chivalry belong to museums, the love of military glory is still as strong in the female breast as it was before the watch on the ram- parts had become a noiseless spectre. The little waitress was in a flutter of intense excitement. Some Volunteers, with faces as red as their uniforms, who had been encamped outside, were leaving the town, and she was divided between her anxiety to be attentive to us and her desire to look out of the window at them. Will you have some cheese, sir ? Yes, maam; theyre the Volunteers. She tried hard to control herself, but she was carried away in her ecstasy, and we saw her run to the window and bring her bands together as if to applaud. Her pink face beamed, and the ribbons in her lace cap danced. Oh, if you please, maam, doesnt the band play lovely ! she ex- claimed, in a burst of rapture; and then she looked frightened, and hurried back to the table to give us our coffee. A minute or two after the train leaves Conway the mountains begin to crowd down upon the Wild Irishman, and threaten to shove the line into the sea. It is these that the traveller from America sees from the deck of the ocean steamer as she passes up the St. Georges Channel to Liverpool. They are a northern spur of the Snowdon range, and among the hud- dled masses rises one, a very Gibraltar of a peak, higher than all the rest. This, which strangers often mistake for Snow- don itself, is Penmaenmawr, the via mala of the old route to Holyhead, upon which many a traveller has come to grief be- tween the crumbling strata of the moun- tain on one side and the unprotected preci- pice on the other. The road was grooved in the mountain, and, says Nicholson, writing of it as it was before the day of the Wild Irishman: The amazingly abrupt precipice, variegated with frag- ments and ruins, presents a scene of hor- ror. In some places rocks of vast magni- tude, which have probably fallen from the summit, lodge on projecting ledges, and appear in the act of taking another bound. But carried along by this fast train, we have only the momentary darkness of a tunnel to remind us of what Penmaen- mawr was a century ago. The Wild Irish- man stops nowhere, not even at the little cathedral city of Bangor, and it hurries us on to the Menai Strait, which resem- bles the Hudson at Tarrytown. Vilfas and cottages are visible everywhere, and building sites are held at a very high price. Once again we are in darkness, but this time the reverberations are not those of a tunnel. The sounds are hollow and me- tallic; we are crossing the strait by the vast tubular bridge which Stephenson built between 1846 and 1850, and which put an end to the frequent accidents that had previously occurred to passengers crossing by the ferry. The Britannia Bridge, as it is called, consists of eight tubes resting on three towers, and it spans the stream at a height of 104 feet. It is 1841 feet long, and the tubes are said to contain 11,400 tons of iron. Some fellow- passenger is sure to put us in possession of these dimensions, but we who have seen the Brooklyn Bridge can listen un- moved, and give him in return the statis- tics of a much greater achievement. One end of the bridgethat by which we enteris in Carn~rvonshire, and when we reach the other we are in the island of Anglesey, the Mona of early English his- tory, and the last refuge of the Druids. It is not a very large island, only twenty THE ROUTE OF THE WILD IRISHMAN. 95 miles from north to south, and twenty- eight miles from east to west. The sur- face is rolling and (if such a word can be employed to describe anything in nature) commonplace, but, except in the straits, the seaward edge is a long line of cliffs of varying height, at whose feet many a ship has come to grief. There are many Druid- ical remains on the island, cromlechs and other enigmatical masses of stone which the old hierarchy of the woods has left unexplained, and it was in Anglesey that Suetonius burned the last of the Druids in their own altar fires. Tacitus has painted the wild scene which opened upon the Roman forces when they landed: the motley army in close array and well arm- ed, with women running frantically about, their dishevelled hair streaming in the wind, while they brandished torches in their hands, and the priests moving among them, and, with arms reached out to hea- ven, uttering the most awful curses on the invaders. The Roman soldiers were spell- bound, and for some time were, as Tacitus puts it, resigned to every wound; but at length, aroused by their leader, and call- ing on one another not to be intimidated by a womanly and fanatic band, they dis- played their ensigns, and quickly hushed their antagonists. Anglesey has another claim to remem- brance, as the home of the founder of the Tudor dynasty, who danced so well that he won the heart of the fair widow of Henry V. The queen, says an old chron- icler, beyng young and lustye, follow- yng more her own appetyte than frendely consaill, and regardyng more her private affection than her open honour, toke to husband privily a goodly gentylman, and a beautiful person, garnized with manye godly gyftes, both of nature and of grace, called Owen Teuther, a man brought forth and come of the noble linage and aun- cient lyne of Cadwalader, the last Kynge of the Britonnes. Some courtiers who wei~e sent to Wales to ascertain the con- dition of the Tudors found Owens mo- ther seated in a field with her goats around her; but there is no doubt that, though reduced in circumstances, the family was of high descent. A few miles from Holyhead we pass within a short distance of Aberff raw, the seat of the native princes of Wales, and thus the Wild Irishman completes its course, and lands us at the gangway of the channel steamer. The lugubrious passage is not for us this time; and know- ing what it is, we watch the other passen- gers embark with feelings of pity. It is not an affair of eighty or ninety minutes, like that from Dover to Calais, or from Folkestone to Boulogne. It takes fully five hours, and the sea gives the steamer that irregular, eccentric motion which nothing can resist. It is a gusty and rainy expanse, and it is seldom peaceful or sunny. Few who have made it think of it except with abhorrence, and to recall it is to have visions of wet and slippery decks, pelting showers of spray, gray, low-hung clouds, and angry-looking wa- ters. The steamer is sheltered in a large masonry dock, but, looking out to the mouth of the harbor, we can see the waves spattering over the breakwater, and a sallow-hued anticipation of discomforts to come is visible in the faces of those who are stumbling down the narrow gang-plank. There are members of Par- liament, government messengers, sports- men, tourists, and commercial travel- lers. There are few English people, but many Americans, who could be identi- fied by their enormous iron-clad trunks if they were not individualized in other ways. The transfer from the train to the boat is quickly effected. Saratogas, knap- sacks, gun - cases,. fishing - rods, bicycles, and despatch-boxes are rushed on board after the passengers, and then the mail is heaped upon the deck. The bags are let- tered with the names of American cities, and while we are speculating on their contents the little steamer starts, and in a very few minutes passes out beyond the breakwater into the .open sea. It is then that we discover what an empty, noiseless little place Holyhead is. It is the nearest port to Ireland, and that is, and always has been, the reason of its ex- istence. The harbor is the principal part of it now, as it was years ago, when there were no steamers, and the vessels used were small sail-boats, which often took four or five days in making the passage between here and Dublin. Vast sums have been spent on its beacons, and on the long granite breakwater, the granite docks, and the lofty sheds lighted by electricity. There are rumors that some day it will be the terminus of a line of transatlantic steamers, which, by using it, will avoid the fogs and tidal delays of the Liverpool bar; but in the mean time it has the ap- pearance of a premature expansion. Af 96 HAIIPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ter the departure of the mail-boat it sud- denly becomes silent and sepulchrally still. The vociferous newsboy, the wharf- ingers, the porters, and the railway and steam-boat officials all disappear. The ticket-office windows are abruptly closed, and the pensive attendant in the refresh- ment-room turns the lock on the mildew- ed veal pies and the sawdust sandwiches, which have reminded us of Mugby Junc- tion. Our footsteps sound boisterously loud, and we have a feeling of detachment and sequestration. Looking down the harbor, we can see no movement. Half a dozen or more spare boats are moored along the splendid piers, but they are out of service and unmanned. Wandering out of the brick and granite enclosures of the modern docks, we enter the straggling, arid little town, which has a curious old parish church dating from the reign of Edward III.; and then leaving the crouching white cot- tages with the fortress-like walls behind, we strike out in the direc- tion of the mountain which slopes upward to the north and west of the town, and is of such a height that a veil of blue or purple always hangs upon it. This is Holyhead itself, the point from which nearly all vessels passing up and down the channel are signalled, and which is familiar to all readers through the maritime columns of the newspapers. The slope up- ward from the harbor and town forms a buttress to the wall which the mountain presents to the sea, and from the summit we can look down as dizzy and terrifying a precipice as there is on the coast of North Wales. The face of the rock is scarred and seamed in an extraordinary manner, and at its base the sea has bored several enormous caverns and alcoves, one of which, called the Par- liament House, is seventy feet high. Our path up the slope is through some rocky, heather-strewn fields, and then over the shoulder of the mountain, and down a MARKET-DAY ON THE NORTH WELSH COAST. THE ROUTE OF THE WILD IRISHMAN. 97 steep stairway in the cliff. The sea high the spray is carried over the suspen- reaches out before us, quivering and sion-bridge which loops the outer cliff with glintin~,, and down below us rises an appalling mass of rock, linked to the mountain by a frail suspension-bridge, and surrounded by a chain of break- ers. On all sides of us there are verti- cal spaces and ja~ged edges, and the escarpment has a strange and crumpled look, as if it had been torn with diffi- culty from some other mass by a sud- den disrupting force. On every ledge there are flocks of birdssea-gulls, ra- zor-bills, cormorants, and guillemots, which whirl and sweep around us, and add to the wildness of the scene by their unearthly shrieks. We mijit suppose that no oth- er living creatures would be found here, but mans in- genuity has utilized that detached mass of rock, which, though below us, is still nearly 150 feet above the level of the sea, and on the snmmit rises the white pillar of a light-house and the neat cottages of the keepers. The sea has cut a tunnel through it, and when the wind is SOUTH STACK LIGHT AS S EN FROM HOLYHEAD. 98 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the inner. But, whirl and thunder as the gale will, the waters~have never yet reach- ed the lantern, and at night it is visible over the whole of Carnarvon Bay, and in conjunction with the light on the Sker ries, this on the South Stack, as the rock on which we are looking is called, guides the boat from Dublin into the harbor, where the Wild Irishman is waiting to retrace its way to the noisy metropolis. ARRIVAL OF MAIL STEAMER AT HOLYHEAD. APRIL HOPES. BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. XXIV. BEFORE the end of the first week after Dan came back to town, that which was likely to happen whenever chance brought him and Alice together had taken place. It was one of the soft days that fall in late October, when the impending win- ter seems stayed, and the warm breath of the land draws seaward and over a thou- sand miles of Indian summer. The bloom came and went in quick pulses over the girls temples as she sat with her head thrown back in the corner of the car, and from moment to moment she stirred slightly as if some stress of rapture made it hard for her to get her breath; a little gleam of light fell from under her fallen eyelids into the eyes of the young man beside her, who leaned forward slightly and slanted his face upward to meet her glances. They said some words, now and then, indistinguishable to the others; in speaking they smiled slightly: Some- times her hand wavered across her lap; in both their faces there was something be- yond happinessa transport, a passion, the brief splendor of a supreme mo- ment. They left the ~ar at the Arlington Street corner of the Public Garden, and followed the winding paths diagonally to the further corner on Charles Street. How stupid we were to get into that ridiculous horse-car I she said. What in the world possessed us to do it ? I cant imagine, he answered. What a waste of time if was! If we had walked, we might have been twice as long coming. And now youre going to send me off so soon I dont send you, she murmured. But you want me to go., Oh no! But youd better. I cant do anything against your wish. I wish itfor your own good. Ah, do let me go home with you, Alice ! Dont ask it, or I must say yes. Part of the way, then ? No; not a step! You must take the first car for Cambridge. What time is it now ? You can see by the clock in the Provi- dence Depot. But I wish you to go by your watch, now. Look ! Alice! he cried, in pure rapture. Look! Its a quarter of one. And weve been three hours together already! Now you must simply fly. If you came home with me I should be sure to let you come in, and if I dont see mam- ma alone first, I shall die. Cant you un- derstand ? No; but I can do the next best thing: I can misunderstand. You want to be rid of me. Shall you be rid of me when weve parted ? she asked, with an inner thrill of earnestness in her gay tone. Alice! You know I didnt mean it, Dan. Say it again. What I Dan. Dan, love! Dan, dearest! Ah! Will that car of yours never come? Ive promised myself not to leave you till it does,and if I stay here any longer I shall go wild. I cant believe its hap- pened. Say it again ! Say what I That That I love you? That were en- gaged ? I dont believe it. I cant. She looked impatiently up the street. Oh, there comes your car! Run! Stop it ! I dont run to stop cars. He made a sign, which the conductor obeyed, and the car halted at the further crossing. She seemed to have forgotten it, and made no movement to dismiss him. Oh, doesnt it seem too good to be standing here talking in this way, and people think its about the weather, or society ? She set her head a little on one side, and twirl- ed the open parasol on her shoulder. Yes, it does. Tell me its true, love ! Its true. How splendid you are She said it with an effect for the world outside of saying it was a lovely day. He retorted, with the same apparent nonchalance, How beautiful you are! How good! How divine! VOL. LXXV.No. 445.7

APRIL HOPES. BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS. XXIV. BEFORE the end of the first week after Dan came back to town, that which was likely to happen whenever chance brought him and Alice together had taken place. It was one of the soft days that fall in late October, when the impending win- ter seems stayed, and the warm breath of the land draws seaward and over a thou- sand miles of Indian summer. The bloom came and went in quick pulses over the girls temples as she sat with her head thrown back in the corner of the car, and from moment to moment she stirred slightly as if some stress of rapture made it hard for her to get her breath; a little gleam of light fell from under her fallen eyelids into the eyes of the young man beside her, who leaned forward slightly and slanted his face upward to meet her glances. They said some words, now and then, indistinguishable to the others; in speaking they smiled slightly: Some- times her hand wavered across her lap; in both their faces there was something be- yond happinessa transport, a passion, the brief splendor of a supreme mo- ment. They left the ~ar at the Arlington Street corner of the Public Garden, and followed the winding paths diagonally to the further corner on Charles Street. How stupid we were to get into that ridiculous horse-car I she said. What in the world possessed us to do it ? I cant imagine, he answered. What a waste of time if was! If we had walked, we might have been twice as long coming. And now youre going to send me off so soon I dont send you, she murmured. But you want me to go., Oh no! But youd better. I cant do anything against your wish. I wish itfor your own good. Ah, do let me go home with you, Alice ! Dont ask it, or I must say yes. Part of the way, then ? No; not a step! You must take the first car for Cambridge. What time is it now ? You can see by the clock in the Provi- dence Depot. But I wish you to go by your watch, now. Look ! Alice! he cried, in pure rapture. Look! Its a quarter of one. And weve been three hours together already! Now you must simply fly. If you came home with me I should be sure to let you come in, and if I dont see mam- ma alone first, I shall die. Cant you un- derstand ? No; but I can do the next best thing: I can misunderstand. You want to be rid of me. Shall you be rid of me when weve parted ? she asked, with an inner thrill of earnestness in her gay tone. Alice! You know I didnt mean it, Dan. Say it again. What I Dan. Dan, love! Dan, dearest! Ah! Will that car of yours never come? Ive promised myself not to leave you till it does,and if I stay here any longer I shall go wild. I cant believe its hap- pened. Say it again ! Say what I That That I love you? That were en- gaged ? I dont believe it. I cant. She looked impatiently up the street. Oh, there comes your car! Run! Stop it ! I dont run to stop cars. He made a sign, which the conductor obeyed, and the car halted at the further crossing. She seemed to have forgotten it, and made no movement to dismiss him. Oh, doesnt it seem too good to be standing here talking in this way, and people think its about the weather, or society ? She set her head a little on one side, and twirl- ed the open parasol on her shoulder. Yes, it does. Tell me its true, love ! Its true. How splendid you are She said it with an effect for the world outside of saying it was a lovely day. He retorted, with the same apparent nonchalance, How beautiful you are! How good! How divine! VOL. LXXV.No. 445.7 100 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The conductor, seeing h imself apparent- ly forgotten, gave his bell a vicious snap, and his car jolted away. She started nervously. There! youve lost your car, Dan. Have I ? a.sked Mavering, without troubling himself to look after it. She laughed now, with a faint sug- gestion of unwillingness in her laugh. What are you going to do ? Walk home with you. No, indeed; you know I cant let you.~~ And are you going to leave me here alone on the street corner, to be run over by the first bicycle that comes along ? You can sit doxvn in the Garden, and wait for the next car. No; I would rather go back to the Art Museum, and make a fresh start. To the Art Museum ? she murmured, tenderly. Yes. Wouldnt you like to see it again ? Again? I should like to pass my whole life in it 1 Well,walk back with me a little way. Theres no hurry about the car. Dan I she said, in a helpless com- pliance, and they paced very, very slowly along the Beacon Street path in the Gar- den. This is ridiculous. Yes, but its delightful. Yes, thats what I meant. Do you suppose any one everever Made love there before ? How can you say such things? Yes. I always supposed it would be-some- where else. It was somewhere elseonce. Oh, I meantthe second time. Then you did think there was going to be a second time ? How do I know? I wished it. Do you like me to say that ? I wish you would never say anything else. Yes; there cant be any harm in it now. I thought that if you had ever liked me, you would still So did I; but I couldnt believe that you Oh, I could. Alice! Dont you like my confessing it? You asked me to. Like it! How silly we are Not half so silly as weve been for the last two months. I think weve just come to our senses. At least I have. Two months, she sighed. Has it really been so long as that ? Two years! Two centuries! It was back in the Dark Ages when you refused me. Dark Ages! I should think so! But dont say refused. It wasnt refusing, exactly. What was it, then ? Oh, I dont know. Dont speak of it now. But, Alice, why did you refuse me Oh, I dont know. You mustnt ask me now. Ill tell you some time. Well, come to think of it, said May- ering, laughing it allliglitly away, theres no hurry. Tell me why you accepted me to-day. II couldnt help it. When I saw you I wanted to fall at your feet. What an idea! I didnt want to fall at yours. I was awfully mad. I shouldnt have spoken to you if you hadnt stopped me and held out your hand. Really? Did you really hate me, Dan ? Well, I havent exactly doted on you since we last met. She did not seem offended at this. Yes, I suppose so. And Ive gone on being fonder and fonder of you every minute since that day. I wanted to call you back when you had got half-way to Eastport. I wouldn~t have come. Ifs bad luck to turn back. She laughed at his drolling. How funny you are! Now Im of rather a gloomy temperament. Did you know it ? You don~t look it. Oh, but I am. Just now Im rather excited andhappy. So glad! Go on! go on! I like you to make fun of me. The benches on either side were filled with nurse-maids in charge of baby-car- riages, and of young children who were digging in the sand with their little beach shovels, and playing their games back and forth across the walk unrebuked by the indulgent policemen. A number of them had enclosed a square in the middle of the path with four of the benches, which they made believe was a fort. The lovers had to walk round it; and the chil APRIL HOPES. 101 dren, chasing one another, dashed into them headlong, or backing off from pur- suit, bumped up against them. They did not seem to know it, but walked slowly on without noticing: they were not aware of an occasional benchful of rather shab- by young fellows who stared hard at the stylish girl and well-dressed young man talking together in such intense low tones, with rapid interchange of radiant glances. Oh, as to making fun of you, I was going to say Mavering began, and after a pause he broke off with a laugh. I forget what I was going to say. Try to remember. I cant. How strange that we should have both happened to go to the Museum this morning! she sighed. Then, Dan, she broke in, do you suppose that heaven is any different from this ? I hope not-if Im to go there. Hush, dear; you mustnt talk so. Why, you provoked me to it. Did I? Did I really? Do you think I tempted you to do it? Then I must be wicked, whether I knew I was doing it or not. Yes. The break in her voice made him look more keenly at her, and he saw the tears glimmer in her eyes. Alice! No; Im not good enough for you. I always said that. Then dont say it any more. Thats th~ only thing I wont let you say. Do you forbid it, really? Wont you let me even think it ? No not even think it. How lovely you are! Oh! I like to be commanded by you. Do you? Youll have lots of fun, then. Im an awfully commanding spir- it. I didnt suppose you were so humor- ousalways. Im afraid you wont like me. Ive no sense of fun. And Im a little too funny sometimes, Im afraid. No, you never are. When ? That night at the Trevors. You didnt like it. I thought Miss Anderson was rather ridiculous, said Alice. I dont like buf- foonery in women. Nor I in men, said Mavering, smil- ing. Ive dropped it. Well,nowwe must part. Imustgo home at onse, said Alice. Its perfectly insane. Oh no, not yet; not till weve said something else; not till weve changed the subject. What subject ? Miss Anderson. Alice laughed and blushed, but she was not vexed. She liked to have him under- stand her. Well, now, she said, as if that were the next thing, Im going to cross here at once and walk up the other pavement, and you must go back through the Garden; or else I shall never get away from you. May I look over at you ? You may glance, but you neednt ex- pect me to return your glance. Oh no. And I want you to take the very first Cambridge car that comes along. I com~- mand you to. I thought you wanted me to do the commanding. So I doin essentials. If you com- mand me not to cry when I get~ home, I wont. She looked at him with an ecstasy of self-sacrifice in her eyes. Ah, I shant do that. I cant tell what would happen. ButAlice ! Well, what ? She drifted closely to him, and looked fondly up into his face. In walking they had insensibly drawn nearer together, and she had been obliged constantly to put space between them. Now~, standing at tIme corner of Arlington Street, and looking tentatively across Bea- con, she abandoned all precautions. What? I forget. Oh yes! I love you ! But you said that before, dearest ! Yes; but just now it struck me as a very novel idea. What if your mother shouldnt like the idea ? Noimsense! you know she perfectly idolizes you. She did from the first. And doesnt she know how Ive been be- having about you ever since Ilost you ? How have you behaved? Do tell me Alice. Some time; not now, she said; and with something that was like a gasp, and threatened to be a sob, she suddenly whipped across the road. He walked back to Charles Street by the Garden path, keep- ing abreast of her, and not losing sight of her for a moment, except when the bulk of a string team watering at the trough beside the pavement intervened. He hur- ned by, and when he had passed it he 102 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. found himself exactly abreast of her again. Her face was turned toward him; they excharyed a smile, lost in space. At the corner of Charles Street he deliberately crossed over to her. Oh, dearest love! why did you come she implored. Because you signed to me. I hoped you wouldnt see it. If were both to be so weak as this, what are we go- ing to do? But Im glad you came. Yes: I was frightened. They must have over- heard us there when we were talking. Well, I didnt say anything Im ashamed of. Besides, I shouldnt care much for the opinion of those nurses and babies. Of course not. But people must have seen us. Dont stand here talking, Dan! Do come on ! She hurried him across the street, and walked him swiftly up the incline of Beacon Street. There, in her new fall suit, with him, glossy-hatted, faultlessly gloved, at a fit distance from her side, she felt more in keeping with the social frame of things than in the Garden path, which was really only a shade better than the Beacon Street Mall of the Com- mon. Do you suppose anybody saw us that knew us I hope so! Dont you want people to know it ? Yes, of course. They will have to know itin the right way. Can you be- lieve that its only half a year since we met? It wont be a year till Class Day. I dont believe it, Alice. I cant recol- lect anything before I knew you. Well, now, as time is so confu~ed, we must try to live for eternity. We must try to help each other to be good. Oh, when I think what a happy girl I am, I feel that I should be the most ungrateful person under the sun not to be good. Lets try to make our lives perfect-per- fect! They can be. And we mustnt live for each other alone. We must try to do good as well as be good. We must be kind and forbearing with every one. lie answered, with tender seriousness, My life~s in your hands, Alice. It shall be whatever you wish. They were both silent in their deep be- lief of this. When they spoke again, she began, gayly: I shall never get over the wonder of it. How strange that we should meet at the Museum ! They had both said this already, but that did not matter; they had said nearly everything two or three times. How did you hap- pen to be there ? she asked, and the ques- tion was so novel that she added I havent asked you before. He stopped, with a look of dismay that broke up in a hopeless laugh. Why, I went there to meet some people some ladies. And when I saw you I forgot all about them. Alice laughed too; this was a part of their joy, their triumph. Who were they ? she asked, indif- ferently, and only to heighten the absurd- ity by realizing the persons. You dont know them, he said. Mrs. Frobisher and her sister, of Port- land. I promised to meet them there and go out to Cambridge with them. What will they think ? asked Alice. Its too amnsino Theyll think I didnt come, said Mavering, with the easy conscience of youth and love; and again they laughed at the ridiculous position together. I remember now I was to be at the door, and they were to take me up in their carriage. I wonder how long they wait- ed? You put everythin~, else out of my head. Do you think Ill keep it out ? she asked, archly. Oh yes; there Is nothing else but you now. The eyes that she dropped, after a glance at him, glistened with tears. A lump came into his throat. Do you suppose, he asked, huskily, that we can ever misunderstand each other again ? Never. I see everything clearly now. We shall trust each other implicitly, and at the least thing that isnt clear we can speak. Promise me that youll speak. I will, Alice. But after this all will be clear. We shall deal with each other as we do with ourselves. Yes; that will be the way. And we mustnt wait for question from each other. We shall knowwe shall feelwhen theres any misgiving, and. then the one thats caused it will speak. Yes, she sighed, emphatically. How perfectly you say it! But thats because you feel it because you are good. They walked on, treading the air in a transport of fondness for each other. Suddenly he stopped. Miss Pasmer, I feel it my duty to APRIL HOPES. 103 warn you that youre letting me go home with you. Am I? How noble of you to tell me, Dan; for I know you dont want to tell. Well, I might as Well. But I shant let you come in. You wont try, will you? Promise me you wont try. I shall only want to come in the first door. What for? What for? Oh, for half a second. She turned away her face. He went on. This engagement has been such a very public affair, so far, that I think Id like to see my fianc~e alone for a moment. I dont know what in the world you can have to say more. He went into the first door with her, and then he went with her upstairs to the door of Mrs. Pasmers apartment. The passages of the Cavendish were not well lighted; the little lane or alley that led down to this door from the stairs landing was very dim. So dark here ! murmured Alice, in a low voice, somewhat tremulous. But not too dark. xxv. She burst into the room where her mo- ther sat looking over some house-keeping accounts. His kiss and his name were upon her lips; her soul was full of him. Mamma! she panted. Her mother did not look round. She could have had no premonition of the vi- tal news that her daughter was bringing. and she went on comparing the first au- tumn months provision bill with that of the last spring month, and trying to ac- count for the difference. The silence, broken by the rattling of the two bills in her mothers hands as she glanced from one to the other through her glasses, seemed suddenly impenetrable, and the prismatic world of the girls rapt- ure burst like a bubble against it. There is no explanation of the effect outside of temperament and overwrought sensibili- ties. She stared across the room at her mother, who had not heard her, and then she broke into a storm of tears. Alice I cried her mother, with that sanative anger which comes to rescue wo- men from the terror of any sudden shock. What is the matter with you ?what do you mean ? She dropped both of the provision bills to the floor and started toward her daughter. Nothingnotlii~~g! Let me go. I want to go to my room. She tried to reach the door beyond her mother. Indeed you shall not! cried Mrs. Pasmer. I will not have you behaving so! What has happened to you? Tell me. You have frightened me half out of my senses The girl gave up her efforts to escape, and flung herself on the sofa, with her face in the pillow, where she continued to sob. Her mother began to relent at the sight of her passion. As a woman and as a mother she knew her daughter, and she knew that this passion, whatever it was must have vent before there could be any- thing intelligible between them. She did not press her with further question, but set about making her a little more com- fortable on the sofa; she pulled the pillow straight, and dropped a hi~ht shawl over the girls shoulders, so that she should not take cold. Then Mrs. Pasmer had made up her mind that Alice had met Mavering some- where, and that this outburst was the re- tarded effect of seeing him. During the last six weeks she had assisted at many phases of feeling in regard to him, and knew more clearly than Alice herself the meaning of them all. She had been pa- tient and kind, with the resources that every woman finds in herself when it is the question of a daughters ordeal in an affair of the heart which she has favored. The storm passed as quickly as it came, and Alice sat npright, casting off the wraps. But once checked with the fact on her tongue, she found it hard to utter it. What is it, Alice ?what is it ? urged her mother. Nothing. IMr. Maveringwe met I met him at the Museum, andwere engaged! Its really so. It seems like raving, but its true. He came with me to the door; I wouldnt let him come in. Dont you believe it? Oh, we are! indeed we are! Are you glad, mamma? You know I couldnt have lived without him. She trembled on the verge of another outbreak. Mrs. Pasmer sacrificed her astonish- ment in the interest of sanity, and return- ed, quietly: Glad, Alice? You know that I think hes the sweetest and best fellow in the world. Oh, mamma! 104 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. But are you sure Yes, yes. Im not crazy; it isnt a dream. He was thereand I met him I couldnt run awayI put out my hand; I couldnt help itI thought I should give way; and he took it; and thenthen we were engaged. I dont know what we said. I went in to look at the Joan of Arc again, and there was no one else there. He seemed to feel just as I did. I dont know whether either of us spoke. But we knew we were engaged, and we began to talk. Mrs. Pasmer began to laugh. To her irreverent soul only the droll side of the statement appeared. Dont, mamma ! pleaded Alice, pit- eously. No, no; I wont. But I hope Dan Mavering will be a little more definite about it when Im allowed to see him. Why couldnt he have come in with you ? It would have killed me. I couldnt let him see me cry, and I knew I should break down. Hell have to see you cry a great many times, Alice, said her mother, with almost unexampled seriousness. Yes, bnt not yetnot so soon. He must think Im very gloomy, and I want to be always bright and cheerful with him. He knows why I wouldnt let him come in; he knew I was going to have a cry.~~ Mrs. Pasmer continued to laugh. Dont, mamma ! pleaded Alice. No, I wo t, replied her mother, as before. I suppose he was mystified. But now, if its really settled between you, hell be coming here soon to see your papa and rue. Yesto-night. Well, its very sudden, said Mrs.Pas- mer. Though I suppose these things always seem so. Is it too sudden ? asked Alice, with misgiving. It seemed so to me when it was going on, but I couldnt stop it. Her mother lau~hed at her simplicity. No, when it be~ins once, nothing can stop it. But youve really known each other a good while, and for the last six weeks at least youve known your own mind about him pretty clearly. Its a pity you couldnt have known it before. Yes, thats what he says. He says it was such a waste of time. Oh, everything he says is perfectly fascinating 1 Her mother laughed and laughed again. What is it,mamma? Are you laugh- ing at me Oh no. What an idea ! He couldnt seem to understand why I didnt say yes the first time if I meant it. She looked down dreamily at her hands in her lap, and then she said with a blush and a start, Theyre very queer, dont you think ? Who? Young men. Oh, rery. Yes, Alice went on, musingly. Their minds are so different. Every- thing they say and do is so unexpected, and yet it seems to be just right. Mrs. Pasmer asked herself if this sin- gle-mindedness was to go on forever, but she had not the heart to treat it with her natural levity. Probably it was what charmed Mavering with the child. Mrs. Pasmer had the firm belief that Mavering was not single-minded, and she respect- ed him for it. She would not spoil her daughters perfect trust and hope by any of the cynical suggestions of her own dark wisdom, but entered into her mood, as such women are able to do, and flattered out of her every detail of the mornings history. This was a feat which Mrs. Pasmer enjoyed for its own sake, and it fully satisfied the curiosity which she naturally felt to know all. She did not comment upon many of the particulars; she opened her eyes a little at the notion of her daughter sitting for two or three hours and talking with a young man in the galleries of the Museum, and she asked if anybody they knew had come in. When she heard that there were only strangers, and very few of them, she said nothing; and she had the same consolation in re- gard to the walking back and forth in the Garden. She was so full of potential es- capades herself, so apt to let herself go at times, that the fact of Alices innocent self-forgetfulness rather satisfied a need of her mothers nature; she exulted in it when she learned that there were only nurses and children in the Garden. And so you think you wont take up art this winter ? she said, when, in the process of her cross-examination, Alice had left the sofa and got as far as the door, with her hat in her hand and her sacque on her arm. No. And the Sisters of St. Jamesyou wont join them, either ? APML HOPES. 105 The girl escaped from the room. Alice I Alice! her mother called af- ter her; and she came back. You havent told me how he happened to be there. Oh, that was the most amusing part of it. He had gone there to keep an ap- pointment with two ladies from Port- land. They were to take him up in their carriage and drive out to Cambridge, and when he saw me he forgot all about them. And what became of them ? We dont know. Isnt it ridiculous ? If it appeared other or more than this to Mrs. Pasmer, she did not say. She mere- ly said, after a moment, Well, it was cer- tainly devoted, Alice, and let her go. XXVI. Mavering came in the evening, rather excessively well dressed, and with a hot face and cold hands. While he waited, nominally alone, in the little drawing- room for Mr. Pasmer, Alice flew in upon him for a swift embrace, which prolonged itself till the fathers step was heard out- side the door, and then she still had time to vanish by another: the affair was so nicely adjusted that if Mavering had been in his usual mind he might have fancied the connivance of Mrs. Pasmer. He did not say what he had meant to say to Alices father, but it seemed to serve the purpose, for he emerged pre- sently from the sound of his own voice, unnaturally clamorous, and found Mr. Pasmer saying some very civil things to him about his character and disposi- tion, so far as they had been able to ob- serve it, and their belief and trust in him. There seemed to he something provisional or probational intended, but Dan could not make out what it was, and finally it proved of no practical effect. He merely inferred that the approval of his family was respectfully expected, and lie hasten- ed to say, Oh, thats all right, sir. Mr. Pasmer went on with more civilities, and lost himself in dumb conjecture as to whether Maverings father had been in the class before him or the class after lii in in Harvard. He used his black eyebrows a good deal during the interview, and Mavering conceived an awe of him great- er than he had felt at Campobello, yet not unmixed with the affection in which the newly accepted lover embraces even the relations of his betrothed. From time to time Mr. Pasmer looked about with the vague glance of a man unused to being so long left to his own guidance; and one of these appeals seemed at last to bring Mrs. Pasmer through the door, to the relief of both the men, for they had improvidently despatched their business, and were getting out of talk. Mr. Pas- mer had, in fact, already asked Dan about the weather outside when his wife ap- peared. Daii did not know whether he ought to kiss her or not, but Mrs. Pasmer did not in the abstract seem like a very kissing kind of person, and lie let himself he guided by this impression, in the absence of any fixed principle applying to the case. She made some neat remark con- cerning the probable settlement of the af- fair with her husband, and began to laugh and joke about it in a manner that was very welcome to Dan; it did not seem to him that it ought to be treated so sol- em nly. But though Mrs. Pasmer laughed and joked, he was aware of her meaning busi- ness, business in the nicest sort of a way, but business after all, and he liked her for it. He was glad to be explicit about his hopes and plans, and told what his circumstances were so fully that Mrs. Pasmer, whom his frankness gratified and amused, felt obliged to say that she had not meant to ask so much about his af- fairs, and lie must excuse her if she had seemed to do so. She had her own belief that Mavering would understand,but she did not niind that. She said that of course, till his own family had been con- sulted, it must not be considered seriously, that Mr. Pasmer insisted upon that point; and when Dan vehemently asserted the acquiescence of his family beforehand, and urged his father~s admiration for Alice in proof, she reminded him that hi~ mother was to be considered, and put Mr. Pasmers scruples forward as her own rea- son for obduracy. In her husbands pre- sence she attributed to him, with his silent assent, all sorts of reluctances and delicate compunctions; she gave him the impor- tance which would have been naturally a husbands due in such an affair, and in- gratiated herself more and more with the young man. She ignored Mr. Pasmers withdrawal when it took place, after a certain lapse of time, and as the moment had come for that, she began to let herself 106 HAHPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. go. She especially appioved of the idea of going abroad, and confessed her disap- pointment with her present experiment of America, where it appeared there was no leisure class of men sufficiently large to satisfy the social needs of Mr. Pasmers nature, and she told Dan that he might expect them in Europe before long. Per- haps they might all three meet him there. At this he betrayed so clearly that he now intended his going to Eu- rope merely as a sequel to his marrying Alice, while he affected to fall in with all Mrs. Pasmer said, that she grew fonder than ever of him for his ardor and his fu- tile duplicity. If it had been in Dans mind to take part in the rite, Mrs. Pasmer was quite ready at this point to embrace him with motherly tenderness. Her tough little heart was really in her throat with sympathy when she made an errand for the photograph of an English vicarage, which they had hired the summer of the year before, and she sent Alice back with it alone. It seemed so long since they had met that the change in Alice did not strike him as strange or as too rapidly operated. They met with the fervor natural after such a separation, and she did not so much assume as resume possession of him. It was charming to have her do it, to have her act as if they had always been engaged, to have her try to press down the cowlick that started capricious- ly across his crown, and to straighten his neck-tie, and then to drop beside him on the sofa; it thrilled and awed him; and he silently worshipped the superiOr com- posure which her sex has in such matters. Whatever was the provisional interpreta- tion which her father and mother pre- tended to put upon the affair, she appar- ently had no reservations, and they talk- ed of their future as a thing assured. The Dark Ages, as they agreed to call the pe- riod of despair forever closed that morn- ing, had matured their love till now it was a rapture of pure trust. They talked as if nothing could prevent its fulfilment, and they did not even affect to consider the question of his familys liking it or not liking it. She said that she thought his father was delightful, and lie told her that his father had taken the greatest fan- cy to her at the beginning, and knew that Dan was in love with her. She asked him about his mother, and she said just what he could have wished her to say about his mothers sufferings, and the way she bore them. They talked about Alices going to see her. Of course your father will bring your sisters to see me first. Is that the way? he asked. You may depend upon his doing the right thing, whatever it is. Well, thats the right thing, she said. I~ve thought it out; and that reminds me of a duty of ours, Dan 1 A duty 1, lie repeated, with a note of reluctance for its untimeliness. Yes. Cant you think what ? No; I didnt kiiow there was a duty left in the world. Its full of them. 01), dont say that, Alice I He did not like this mood so well as that of the morn- ing, but his dislike was only a vague dis- comfortnothing formulated or distinct. Yes, she persisted; and we must do them. You must go to those ladies you disappointed so this morning, and apolo- gizeexplain. Dan laughed. Why, it wasnt such a very iron-clad engagement as all that, Alice. They said they were goiiig to drive out to Canibridge over the Mill- dam, and I said I was going out there to get some of my traps together, and they could pick me up at the Art Museum if they liked. Besides, how could I ex- plain 1 She laughed consciously with him. Of course. But, she added, ruefully, I wish you hadnt disappointed them. Oh, theyll get over it. If I hadn~t disappointed them, I shouldnt be here, and I shouldnt like that. Should you ? No; but I wish it hadnt happened. Its a blot, and I didnt want a blot on this day. Oh, well, it isn~t very much of a blot, and I can easily wipe it off. Ill tell you what, Alice! I can write to Mrs. Frobishier, when our enga~,enient comes out, aiid tell her how it was. Shell enjoy the joke, and so will Miss Wrayne. Theyre jolly and easy-going; they wont mind. How long have you known them 1 I met them on Class Day, arid then I saw themthe day after I left Campo- hello. Dan laughed a little. Ho~v, saw them ? Well, I went to a yacht race with. them. I happened to meet them in the street, and they wanted me to go; and I was all broken up, andI went. APRIL HOPES. 107 Oh ! said Alice. The day after I you left Campobello ? WTellyes~ And I was thinking of you all that day as And I couldnt bear to look at anybody that day, or speak ! Well, the fact is, II was distracted, and I didnt know what I was doing. I was desperate; I didnt care. How did you find out about the yacht race Boardman told me. Boardman was there. Did he know the ladies? Didhe go too ? No. He was there to report the race for the Events. He went on the press boat. Oh! said Alice. Was there a large party ? No, no. Not very. Just ourselves, in fact. They were awfully kind. And they made me go home to dinner with them. They must have been rather peculiar people, said Alice. And I dont see howso soon She could not realize that Mavering was then a rejected man, on whoni she had voluntarily renounced all claim. A retroactive resentment which she could not control possessed her with the wish to punish those bold women for being agreeable to one who had since be- come everything to her, though then he was ostensibly nothing. In a vague way Dan felt her displeasure with that passage of his history, but no man could have fully imagined it. I couldnt tell half the time what I was saying or eating. I talked at random and ate at random. I guess they thought something was wrong; they asked me who was at Campobello. Indeed! But you maybe sure I didnt give my- self away. I was awfully broken up, he concluded, inconsequently. She liked his being broken up, but she did not like the rest. She would not press the question further now. She only said, rather gravely, If its such a short ac- quaintance, can you write to them in that familiar way ? Oh yes ! Mrs. Frobisher is one of that kind. Alice was silent a moment before she said, I think youd better not write. Let it go, she sighed. Yes, thats what I think, said Dan. Better let it go. I guess it will explain itself in the course of time. But I dont want any blots around. He leaned over and looked her smilingly in the face. Oh no, she murmured; and then suddenly she caught him round the neck, crying and sobbing. Its onlybecause I wanted it to beperfect. Oh, I wonder if Ive done right? Perhaps I oughtnt to have taken you, after all; but I do love youdearly, dearly! And I was so un- happy when Id lost you. And now Im afraid I shall be a trial to you-nothing but a trial. The first tears that a young man sees a woman shed for love of him are inex- pressibly sweeter than her smiles. Dan choked with tender pride and pity. When he found his voice he raved out with in- coherent endearments that she only made him more and more happy by her wish to have the affair perfect, and that he wished her always to be exacting with him, for that would give him a chance to do something for her, and all that he de- sired, as long as he lived, was to do more and more for her, and to do just what she wished. At the end of his vows and entreaties she lifted her face radiantly and bent a smile upon him as sunny as tha.t with which the sky after a summer storm de- nies that there has ever been rain in the world. Ahi! you- He could say no more. He could not be more enraptured than he was. He could only pass from surprise to surprise, from delight lo delight. It was her love of him which wrought these miracles. It was all a miracle, and no part more wonderful than another. That she, who had seemed as distant as a star, and divinely sacred from human touch, should be there in his arms, with her head on his shoulder, where his kiss could reach her lips, not only unforbidden, but eagerly welcome, was impossible, and yet it was true. But it was no more impossible and no truer than that a being so poised, so perfectly self - centred as she, should al- ready be so helplessly dependent upon him for her happiness. In the depths of his soul lie invoked awful penalties upon him- self if ever he should betray her trust, if everlie should grieve that tender heart in the slightest thing, if from that moment he did not make his whole life a sacrifice and an expiation. He uttered some of these exalted 108 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. thoughts, and they did not seem to appear crazy to her. She said yes, they must make their separate lives offerings to each other, and their joint lives an offering to God. The tears came into his eyes at these words of hers: they were so beautiful and holy and wise. He agreed that one ought always to go to church, and that now he should never miss a service. He owned that he had been culpable in the past. He drew her closer to himif that were possible and sealed his words with a kiss. But lie could not realize his happiness then, or afterward, when he walked the streets under the thinly misted moon of that Indian summer night. He went down to the Events office when he left Alice, and found Boardman, and told him that he was engaged, and tried to work Boardman up to some sense of the greatness of the fact. Boardman showed his fine white teeth under his spare mustache, and made acceptable jokes, but he did not ask indiscreet ques- tions, and Dans statement of the fact did not seem to give it any more verity than it had before. He tried to get Boardman to come and walk with him and talk it over; but Boardman said he had just been detailed to go and work up the case of a Chinaman who had suicided a little earlier in the evening. Very well, then; Ill go with you, said Mavering. How can you live in such a den as this ? he asked, looking about the little room before Boardman turned down his incandescent electric. There isnt anything big enough to hold me but all out-doors. In the street he linked his arm through his friends, and said he felt that lie had a right to know all about the happy end- ing of the affair, since he had been told of that miserable phase of it at Portland. But when he came to the facts lie found himself unable to give them with the ful- ness he had promised. He only imparted a succinct statement as to the where and when of the whole matter, leaving the how of it untold. The sketch was apparently enough for Boardman. For all comment, he remind- ed Mavering that he had told him at Port- land it would come out all right. Yes, you did, Boardman; thats a fact, said Dan; and he conceived a higher re- spect for the penetration of Boardman than lie hind before. They stopped at a door in a poor court which they had somehow reached without Maverings privity. Will you come in ? asked Boardman. What for ? Chinaman. Chinaman ? Then Mavering remem- bered. Good heavens! no. What have I got to do with him ? Both mortal, suggested the reporter. The absurdity of this idea, though a lit- tle grisly, struck Dan as a good joke. He hit the companionable Boardman on the shoulder, and then gave him a little hug, and remounted his path of air, and walk- ed off on it. XXVII. Mavering first woke in the morning with the mechanical recurrence of that shame and grief which each day had brought him since Alice refused him. Then with a leap of the heart came the recollection of all that had happened yes- terday. Yet lurking within this rapture was a mystery of regret: a reasonless sense of loss, as if the old feeling had been something he would have kept. Then this faded, and he hind only the longing to see her, to realize in her presence and with her help the fact that she was his. An unspeakable pride filled him, and a joy in her love. He tried to see some outward vision of his bliss in the glass; but, like tbe mirror which had refused to interpret his tragedy in the Portland res- taurant, it gave back no image of his transport; his face looked as it always did, and he and the reflection laughed at each other. He asked himself how soon he could go and see her. It was now seven o clock: eight would be too early, of course; it would be ridiculous; and nine-he won- dered if lie might go to see her at nine. Would they have done breakfast? Had he any right to call before ten? He was miserable at the thought of waiting till ten: it would be three hours. He thought of pretextsof inviting her to go some- where, but that was absurd, for he could see her at home all day if he liked; of carrying her a book, but there could be no such haste about a book; of going to ask if lie had left his cane, but why should he be in such a hurry for his cane? All at once he thought lie could take her some flowersa bouquet to lay beside her plate at breakfast. He dramatized himself charging the servant who should take it APRIL HOPES. 109 from him at the door not to say who left it; but Alice would know, of course, and they would all know; it would be very pretty. He made Mrs. Pasmer say some flattering things of him, and he made Alice blush deliciously to hear them. He could not manage Mr. Pasmer very well, and he left him out of the scene: he ima- gined him shaving in an other room; then he remembered his wearing a full beard. He dressed himself as quickly as he could, and went down into the hotel vesti- bule, where he had noticed people selling flowers the evening before, but there was no one there with them now, and none of the florists shops on the street were open yet. He could not find anything till he went to the Providence Depot, and the man there had to take some of his yester- days flowers out of the refrigerator where he kept them; lie was not sure they would be very fresh; but the heavy rose-buds had fallen open, and they were superb. Dan took all there were, and when they had been sprinkled with water, and wrapped in cotton batting, and tied round with pa- per, it was still only quarter of eight, and lie left them with the man till he could get his breakfast at the depot restaurant. There it had a consoling effect of not being so early; niany people were already break- fasting, and when Dan said, with his or- der, Hurry it up, please, he knew that he was taken for a passenger just arrived or departing. By a fantastic impulse he ordered eggs and bacon again; he felt it a fine derision of the past and a seal of triumph upon the present to have the same breakfast after his acceptance as he had ordered after his rejection; he would tell Alice about it, and it would amuse her. He imagined how lie would say it, and she would laugh; but she would be full of a ravishing compassion for his past suffering. They were long brin~ing the breakfast; when it came he despatched it so quickly that it was only a quarter after eight when he paid his check at the count- er. He tried to be five minutes more getting his flowers, but the man had them all ready for him, and it did not take him ten seconds. He hind said he would carry them at nine; but thinking it over on a bench in the Garden, he decided that he had better go sooner: they might break- fast earlier, and there would be no fun if Alice did not find the roses beside her plate; that was the whole idea. It was not till he stood at the door of the Pas mer apartment that he reflected that lie was not accomplishing his wish to see Alice by leaving her those flowers; lie was a fool, for now he would have to post- pone coming a little, because he had al- ready come. The girl who answered the bell did not understand the charge he gave her ahout the roses, and lie repeated his words. Some one passing through the room be- yond seemed to hesitate and pause at the sound of his voice. Could it be Alice? Then he should see her, after all! The girl looked over her shoulder and said, Mrs. Pasmer. Mrs. Pasmer came forward, and he fell into a complicated explanation and apol- o~y. At the end she said, You had bet- ter give them yourself. They were in the room now, and Mrs. Pasmer let her- self go. Stay and breakfast with us, Mr. Mavering. We shall be so glad to have you. We were just sitting down. Alice came in, and they decorously shook hands. Mrs. Pasmer turned away a smile at their decorum. I will see that theres a place for you, she said, leaving them. They were instantly in each others arms. It seemed to him that all this had happened because he had so strongly wished it. What is it, Dan? What did you come for ? she asked. To see if it was really true, Alice. I couldnt believe it. Welllet me goyou mustntit~s too silly. Of course its true. She pull- ed herself free. Is my hair tumbled? You oughtnt to have come; its ridicu- lous; but Im glad you came. Ive been thinking it all over, and Ive got a great ninny things to say to you. But come to breakfast now. She had a business-like way of treating the situation that was more intoxicating than sentiment would have been, and gave it more actuality. Mrs. Pasmer was alone at the table, and explained that Alices father never break- fasted with them, or very seldom. Where are your flowers ? she asked Alice. Flowers? What flowers ? That Mr. Mavering brought. They all looked at one another. Dan ran out and brought in his roses. They were trying to get away in the excitement, I guess, Mrs. Pnsmer; I found them behind the door. He had flung 110 HARPEIRS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE~ them there, without knoxving it, when Mrs. Pasmer left him with Alice. He expected her to join him and her mother in being amused at this, but lie was as well pleased to have her touched at his having brou~ht them, and to turn their gayety off in praise of the roses. Sbe got a vase for them, and set it on the table. He noticed for the first time the pretty house dress she had on, with its barred corsage and under-skirt, and the heavy silken rope knotted round it at tbe waist, and dropping ia heavy tufts or balls in front. The breakfast was Continental in its sim- plicity, and Mrs. Pasmer said that they had always kept up their Paris habit of a light breakfast, even in London, where it was not so easy to follow foreign customs as it was in America. She was afraid he might find it too light. Then he told all about his mornings adventure, ending with his breakfast at the Providence Depot. Mrs. Pasmer entered into the fun of it, but she said it was for only once in a way, aNd he must not expect to be let in if he came at that hour another morning. He said no; he understood what an extraordinary piece of luck it was for him to be there; and he was there to be bidden to do what- ever they wished. He said so much in recognition of their goodness that he be- came abashed by it. Mrs. Pasmer sat at the head of the table, and Alice across it from him, so far off that she seemed parted from him by an insuperable moral distance. A warm flush seemed to rise from his heart into his throat and stifle him. He wished to shed tears. His eyes were wet with grateful happiness in an- swering~ Mrs. Pasmer that lie would not have any more coffee. Then, she said, we will go into the draxving-roorn ; but she allowed him and Alice to go alone. He was still in that illusion of awe and of distance, and he submitted to the inter- position of another table between their chairs. I wish to talk with you, she said, so seriously that he was frightened, and said to himself: Now she is going to break it off. She has thought it over, and she finds she cant endure me. Well? he said, huskily. You oughtnt to have come here, you know, this morning. I know it, lie vaguely conceded. But I didnt expect to get in. Well, now youre here, we may as well talk. You must tell your family at once. Yes; Im going to write to them as soon as I get back to my room. I couldnt, last night. But you mustnt write; you must go and prepare their minds. Go ? he echoed. Oh, that isnt necessary! My father knows about it from the beginning, and I guess theyve all talked it over. Their minds are pre- pared. The sense of his immeasurable superiority to any ones opposition be- gan to dissipate Dans unnatural awe; at the pleading face which Alice put on, resting one cheek against the back of one of her clasped hands, aiid leaning on the table with her elbows, he began to be teased by that silken rope round her waist. But you dont understand, dear, she said; and she said dear as if they were old married people. You must go to se~ them, and tell them; and then some of them must come to see meyour father and sisters. Why, of course. His eye now be- came fastened to one of the fluffy silken balls. And then mamma and I must go to see your mother, mustnt we ? Itll be very nice of youyes. You know she cant come to you. Yes, thats what I thought, and What are you looking at ? she drew her- self back from the table and followed the direction of his eye with a womans in- stinctive apprehension of disarray. He was ashamed to tell. Oh, no- thing. I was just thinking. What? Well, I dont know. That it seems so strange any one else should have any- thing to do with itmy family and yours. But I suppose they must. Yes, it~s all right. Why, of course. If your family didnt like it It wouldnt make any difference to me, said Dan, resolutely. It would to me, she retorted, with tender reproach. Do you suppose it would be pleasant to go into a family that didnt like you? Suppose papa and mam- ma didnt like you ? But I thought they did, said Mayer- ing, with his mind still partly on the rope and the fluffy ball, but keeping his eyes away. APRIL HOPES. 111 Yes, they do, said Alice. But your family dont know me at all; and your fathers only seen me once. Cant you understand? Im afraid we dont look at it seriously enoughearnestlyand oh, I do wish to have everything done as it should be! Sometimes, when I think of it, it makes me tremble. Ive been think- ing about it all the morning, and-and praying. Dan wanted to fall on his knees to her. The idea of Alice in prayer was fascina- ting. I wish our life to begin with others, and not with ourselves. If were intrust- ed with so much happiness, doesn~t it mean that were to do good with itto give it to others as if it were money l The nobleness of this thought stirred Dan greatly; his eyes wandered back to the silken rope; but now it seemed to him an emblem of voluntary suffering and self-sacrifice, like a devotees hempen gir- dle. He perceived that the love of this angelic girl would elevate him and hal- low his whole life if he would let it. He answered her, fervently, that he would be guided by her in this as in everything; that he knew he was selfish, and he was afraid he was not very good; but it was not because he had not wished to be so; it was because he had not had any incentive. He thou~ht how much nobler and better this was than the talk he had usually had with girls. He said that of course he would go home and tell his people; he saw now that it would make them hap- pier if they could hear it directly from him. He had only thought of writing because he could not bear to think of letting a day pass without seeing her; but if he took the early morning train he could get back the same night, and still have three hours at Ponkwasset Falls, and he would go the next day, if she said so. Go to-day, Dan, she said, and she stretched out her hand impressively across the table toward him. He seized it with a gush of tenderness, and they drew together in their resolution to live for others. He said he would go at once. But the next train did not leave till two oclock, and there was plenty of time. In the mean while it was in the accomplish- ment of their high aims that they sat down on the sofa together and talked of their future; Alice conditioned it wholly upon his peoples approval of her, which seemed wildly unnecessary to Mavering, and amused him immensely. Yes, she said, I know you will think me strange in a great many things; but I shall never keep anything from you, and Im going to tell you that I went to matins this morning. To matins ? echoed Dan. He would not quite have liked her a Catholic; he re- membered with relief that she had said she was not a Roman Catholic; though, when he came to think, he would not have cared a great deal. Nothing could have changed her from being Alice. Yes, I wished to consecrate the first morning of our engagement; and Im al- ways going. Dont you like it? she asked, timidly. Like it! he said. Im going with you. Oh no! she turned upon him. That wouldnt do. She became grave again. Fm glad you approve of it, for I should feel that there was something wanting to our happiness. If marriage is a sacra- ment, why shouldnt an engagement be ? It is, said Dan, and be felt that it was holy; till then he had never realized that marriage was a sacrament, though he had often heard the phrase. At the end of an hour they took a tender leave of each other, hastened by the sound of Mrs. Pasmer~s voice without. Alice escaped from one door before her mother entered by the other. Dan remained, try- in to look unconcerned, but lie was sensible of succeeding so poorly that lie thought lie had better offer his hand to Mis. Pasmer at once. He told her that he was going up to Ponkwasset Falls at two oclock, and asked her to please remem- ber him to Mr. Pasmer. She said she would, and asked him if he were to be gone long. Oh no; just overni~littill I can tell them whats happened. He felt it a comfort to be trivial with Mrs. Pasmer, after bracing up to Alices ideals. I suppose theyll have to know. What an exemplary son 1 said Mrs. Pasmer. Yes, I suppose they will. I supposed it would be enough if I wrote, but Alice thinks Id better report in person. I think you had, indeed! And it will be a good thing for you both to have the time for clarifying your ideas. Did she tell you she had been at matins this morning ? A light of laughter trembled 112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in Mrs. Pasmers eyes, and Mavering could not keep a responsive gleam out of his own. In an instant the dedication of his engagement by morning prayer ceased to be a high and solemn thought, and be- came deliciously amusing; and this laugh- ing Alice over with her mother did more to realize the fact that she was his than anything else had yet done. In that dark passage outside he felt two arms go tenderly round his neck, and a soft shape strain itself to his heart. I know you have been laughing about me. But you may. Im yours now, even to laugh at, if you want. You are mine to fall down and wor- ship, he vowed, with an instant revul- sion of feeling. Alice didnt say anything; he felt her hand fumbling about his coat lapel. Where is your breast pocket ? she ask- ed; and he took hold of her hand, which left a carte-de-visite-shaped something in his. It isnt very good, she murmured, as well as she could, with her lips against his cheek, but I thought youd like to show them some proof of my existence. I shall have none of yours while youre gone. Oh, Alice! you think of everything! His heart was pierced by the soft re- proach implied in her words; he had not thought to ask her for her photograph, but she had thought to give it; she must have felt it strange that he had not asked for it, and she had meant to slip it in his pocket and let him find it there. But even his pang of self-npbraiding was a part of his transport. He seemed to float doxvn the stairs; his mind was in a delir- ious whirl. I shall go mad, he said to himself in the excess of his joy; I shall die! [TO BE CONTINUED.] THE THREE SISTERS. BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. HERE in the garden Rose rambles with me, Here where the flowers are all blossoming free: Modest white candytufts, flaunting sword-lilies, Low-growing pinks, and sweet-scented stock-gillies; Queen of them all is the roseah! the rose! Fairest and rarest it bourgeons and blows. Bearing before us their bright spikes of fire, Salvias ask us to gaze and admire; Here in our pathway the pansies are spreading Purple and golda gay road to a wedding; Over them all towers the roseah! the rose! Fairest and rarest it hourgeons and blows. Rose listens timidly here as I speak, Eyelids low-drooping, a flush on her cheek; Flashes a moment the shiest of glances Glance that tells much while my soul it entrances; Trembling, a rose-bud she plucksah! the rose! Fairest and rarest it bourgeons and blows. Two of the sisters to meet us have come. Both & f them greet us, but Rose has grown dumb. Lily, as always, is gracious and stately; Pansy is curious, but stands there sedately; Rose deeply blushesah! she is the rose In my hearts garden that bourgeons and blows.

112 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in Mrs. Pasmers eyes, and Mavering could not keep a responsive gleam out of his own. In an instant the dedication of his engagement by morning prayer ceased to be a high and solemn thought, and be- came deliciously amusing; and this laugh- ing Alice over with her mother did more to realize the fact that she was his than anything else had yet done. In that dark passage outside he felt two arms go tenderly round his neck, and a soft shape strain itself to his heart. I know you have been laughing about me. But you may. Im yours now, even to laugh at, if you want. You are mine to fall down and wor- ship, he vowed, with an instant revul- sion of feeling. Alice didnt say anything; he felt her hand fumbling about his coat lapel. Where is your breast pocket ? she ask- ed; and he took hold of her hand, which left a carte-de-visite-shaped something in his. It isnt very good, she murmured, as well as she could, with her lips against his cheek, but I thought youd like to show them some proof of my existence. I shall have none of yours while youre gone. Oh, Alice! you think of everything! His heart was pierced by the soft re- proach implied in her words; he had not thought to ask her for her photograph, but she had thought to give it; she must have felt it strange that he had not asked for it, and she had meant to slip it in his pocket and let him find it there. But even his pang of self-npbraiding was a part of his transport. He seemed to float doxvn the stairs; his mind was in a delir- ious whirl. I shall go mad, he said to himself in the excess of his joy; I shall die! [TO BE CONTINUED.] THE THREE SISTERS. BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. HERE in the garden Rose rambles with me, Here where the flowers are all blossoming free: Modest white candytufts, flaunting sword-lilies, Low-growing pinks, and sweet-scented stock-gillies; Queen of them all is the roseah! the rose! Fairest and rarest it bourgeons and blows. Bearing before us their bright spikes of fire, Salvias ask us to gaze and admire; Here in our pathway the pansies are spreading Purple and golda gay road to a wedding; Over them all towers the roseah! the rose! Fairest and rarest it hourgeons and blows. Rose listens timidly here as I speak, Eyelids low-drooping, a flush on her cheek; Flashes a moment the shiest of glances Glance that tells much while my soul it entrances; Trembling, a rose-bud she plucksah! the rose! Fairest and rarest it bourgeons and blows. Two of the sisters to meet us have come. Both & f them greet us, but Rose has grown dumb. Lily, as always, is gracious and stately; Pansy is curious, but stands there sedately; Rose deeply blushesah! she is the rose In my hearts garden that bourgeons and blows. GREAT AMERICAN INTMJSTRIES. 1/1.A SHEET OF PAPER. BY R. Th BOWKER. from the pith of plants cut into thin scales and patched together. The Egyptian reed papyrus, or byblos (as the Greeks called it), gave us, indeed, both our word paper and our word Bible and its cognates. The papyrus is a rush growing in still poois of wa- ter to a height of ten or twenty feet, sometimes as thick as a mans arm be- low water. It is now scarcely known in Egypt. The thin pellicles of pith under the outer skin below the water- line were carefully peeled off, with the help of a small pin or pointed mussel shell, and the pieces laid together with overlapping edges, crossed with other layers three or more thicknesses deep, pressed, dried in the sun, and sleeked with a tooth. To this day the so-called rice-paper is made by the Chinese in similar manner by deftly cutting a con- tinuous slice from the pith of the Qire- liapapyrifera. Pliny asserts that the Nile water, having a certain glutinous quality, was necessary to dampen the sheets, but this seems to have been an error. Twenty layers could sometimes be got from one stalk, and the process of peeling or furrowing off gave us, through the Greek charasso, to fur- row, and Greek and Latin charta a sheet of paper, our several words chart, card, carte blanche, and the like. Twenty sheets were glued to- gether into a scapus by the glutinatoris, WITHOUT paper the modern world the ancient bookbinder, and then again would be literally impossible. The into a volumen, or roll, whence our word letter, the newspaper, the bank-note volume. In Paris there is one papyrus these three applications of paper alone manuscript thirty feet long. The Ho- make a great part of the social and com- mans improved upon the Egyptians by mercial machinery without which we sizing their charta with wheaten flour would not and could not be what we are. boiled into paste, with a few drops of yin- Of course the Chinese had invented or egar added, and by hammering it smooth. discovered paper some time before the This old-fashioned process of making Christian era, and to this day our finest could not supply a hundredth or a thou- paper comes from the far East. So much sandth part of the modern demand. The store do they set by it that a quantity of substitute was simple enough. Instead paper is often part of a brides dowry. of laying together the slices of pith, the They made and used pulp for the purpose, fibres which exist more or less in most as we do now, and from them, through plants were obtained, and these matted or the Arabians, the modern processes of pa- felted together into sheets. Nature her- per-making came into Europe about the self gives a hint of this process at brook- eighth century. But the earliest paper, sides where the confcrva grows. The with them as with the Egyptians, came fibres of this water-plant disintegrated (I ~/ From a print in Koopon book, 1801. I.

GREAT AMERICAN INTMJSTRIES. 1/1.A SHEET OF PAPER. BY R. Th BOWKER. from the pith of plants cut into thin scales and patched together. The Egyptian reed papyrus, or byblos (as the Greeks called it), gave us, indeed, both our word paper and our word Bible and its cognates. The papyrus is a rush growing in still poois of wa- ter to a height of ten or twenty feet, sometimes as thick as a mans arm be- low water. It is now scarcely known in Egypt. The thin pellicles of pith under the outer skin below the water- line were carefully peeled off, with the help of a small pin or pointed mussel shell, and the pieces laid together with overlapping edges, crossed with other layers three or more thicknesses deep, pressed, dried in the sun, and sleeked with a tooth. To this day the so-called rice-paper is made by the Chinese in similar manner by deftly cutting a con- tinuous slice from the pith of the Qire- liapapyrifera. Pliny asserts that the Nile water, having a certain glutinous quality, was necessary to dampen the sheets, but this seems to have been an error. Twenty layers could sometimes be got from one stalk, and the process of peeling or furrowing off gave us, through the Greek charasso, to fur- row, and Greek and Latin charta a sheet of paper, our several words chart, card, carte blanche, and the like. Twenty sheets were glued to- gether into a scapus by the glutinatoris, WITHOUT paper the modern world the ancient bookbinder, and then again would be literally impossible. The into a volumen, or roll, whence our word letter, the newspaper, the bank-note volume. In Paris there is one papyrus these three applications of paper alone manuscript thirty feet long. The Ho- make a great part of the social and com- mans improved upon the Egyptians by mercial machinery without which we sizing their charta with wheaten flour would not and could not be what we are. boiled into paste, with a few drops of yin- Of course the Chinese had invented or egar added, and by hammering it smooth. discovered paper some time before the This old-fashioned process of making Christian era, and to this day our finest could not supply a hundredth or a thou- paper comes from the far East. So much sandth part of the modern demand. The store do they set by it that a quantity of substitute was simple enough. Instead paper is often part of a brides dowry. of laying together the slices of pith, the They made and used pulp for the purpose, fibres which exist more or less in most as we do now, and from them, through plants were obtained, and these matted or the Arabians, the modern processes of pa- felted together into sheets. Nature her- per-making came into Europe about the self gives a hint of this process at brook- eighth century. But the earliest paper, sides where the confcrva grows. The with them as with the Egyptians, came fibres of this water-plant disintegrated (I ~/ From a print in Koopon book, 1801. I. 114 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. by the action of water, are said to rise to the surface as a scum, which, matted to- gether by wind and current, and dried and bleached by the sun is sometimes left on shore, after an overflow, as a veritable sheet of paper. The variety of fibre which can be used for this purpose is shown by the list of English patents on paper-mak- ing materials, which, includes aside from rags and old paper, cotton, flax, hemp, and the other textile plants, esparto or alfa, and other grasses, jute, aloe fibre, banana fibre, bean stalks, cocoa-nut fibre and the kernels of the nut, clover, hay, heath, hops, husks of grain, leaves, maize, and sugar-cane, moss, nettles, pea stalks, various roots, straw, sea-weed and fresh- water weeds, thistles and thistle-down, and tobacco stalks, wood, barks, saw -dust, and tan, wool, silk, fur, hair, leather, peat, dung, gutta-perclia, and asbestos. This is by no means a comprehensive sur- vey; but perhaps the most curious mate- rial ever tried was the bag of frog-spit- tle, the curious spume which surrounds the larv~ of the fro~,-hopper or froth- worm, brought to the Catskill paper-mill about 1800 by one De Labigarre, which was actually made into a rather poor piece of paper, to the great delight of many fool- isli people, who saw here the germ of a new industry. In the Smithsonian Insti- tution there is a German book of about 1772, in which Schaffers, preacher at IRat- isbon, binds together sheets of paper from more than sixty different materials, the result of his own experiments alone, and several American libraries have copies of the very curious Historical a~count of the substances which have been used to describe events and to convey ideas from the earliest date to the invention of pa- per, printed 18001801 by Matthias Koops, Esq., on paper manufactured solely from strawan illustration from which is re- produced in this articlewith an appen- dix printed on wood paper. Koops was the first to make over old paper into new. A French manufacturer had, however, obtained a silver medal from the Society for the Encouragement of Arts, in 1788, for several quires of paper made from the bark of the sallow-tree, and the idea of making paper from wood seems to have been suggested by R~aumur, in 1719, as a result of his observations on the fab- ric of wasps nests. Schafferss book in- cluded a paper made from hornets nests. Among several other similar volumes was an early work (1727) by a German natu- ralist, Dr. Bruechinan, on stones, in which lie speaks of asbestos, and of which he printed four copies on paper made of that mineral. The vegetable fibres depend for their value as paper-making materials on the fibrous cellulose, which is the basis of nearly all vegetation, cotton being almost pure cellulose. Cotton paper is traced back in Europe to the beginning of the eighth century; it was called charta born- bycine, cotton being regarded as a vege- table silk. Some of the early paper was made from wool, or mixed wool and cot- ton. Somewhere about 1100, probably, although the date is altogether uncertain, linen began to take its place as the su preme paper-making material, chiefly in the shape of rags. Rags are yet King, writes an enthusiastic devotee of his Majesty. II. The old-fashioned ragman is iiideed the main-stay of the paper-maker, and he exists, in more or less picturesque person- ality, all over the world, as is suggested by the names of the qualities recogiiized in the trade. One authority schedules as main divisions Japanese rags, Liban Memel, Smyrna, Alexandria, Constanti- nople, Trieste, Leghorn, Russian, K6nigs- berg, Hamburg, Dutch, Belgian, British, and domestic rags, all subdivided into mysteriously named, lettered, or number- ed sub-classes, ad infinitum. CSPFFF No. 1, cottons, is, for instance, a Ham- burg variety; the domestic genus includes as species city whites, Nos. 1 and 2, colors, country mixed, country seconds, country whites, in ill assort- ed, whites, new seconds, dark, and a few dozen others, while simpler Japan furnishes chiefly blues, ordinary, and blues, selected. It was only after much coaxing that the world could be got into the habit of saving its rags. A curious petition to the Pope (1471) asked his admiration for the enterprise which had collected rags enough to print 12,475 volumes. An old English writer is pleased that the act of Parliament providing that the dead were to be buried in no other dress than wool intended to encourage the wool trade saved about 250,000 pounds of linen an- nually for paper - making. The early American newspapers are full of quaint appeals, in prose and verse, to save rags. A SHEET OF PAPER. 115 The Boston News Letter, 1769, announced that the bell cart will go through Bos- ton about the end of next month to collect rags, and added: Rags are as beauties which conceal~d lie, But when in paper, how it charms the eye! Pray save your rags, new beauties to discover, IFor of paper, truly, every ones a lover By the pen and press such knowledge is displayed As wouldnt exist if paper was not made. Wisdom of things, mysterious, divine, Illustriously doth on paper shine. The Massachusetts General Court, in 1776, required the Committee of Safety in each town to appoint a suitable person to re- ceive rags, and appealed to the inhabit- ants to save even the smallest quantity. The Norwich Gourier hoped every man would say to his wife, Molly, make a rag-bag, and hang it under the shelf where the big Bible lies; and the Boston Gazette, 1798, urged that every child should be taught its rag lesson. Patri- otism and frugality were alike invoked. The postmaster at Troy, New York, in 1801, urged the ladies of New York State to imitate the exemplary saving of those in Massachusetts and Connecticut towns, who display an elegant work-bag as part of the furniture of their parlors, in which every rag is carefully preserved, in which case this State would not be drained of its circulating cash for paper and other manufactures which American artists can furnish. About the same time the ma- gistrates of an English town had a similar appeal painted in large letters on hoards, which were put up in public resorts. The climax was reached by the appeal from the new mill at Moreau, New York, in 1808, to the ladies, young, old, and mid- die-aged. If the necessary stock is de- nied paper-mills, young ladies must lan- guish in vain for tender epistles from their respective swains; bachelors may be reduced to the necessity of a personal at- tendance upon the fair, when a written communication would be an excellent substitute. For clean cotton and linen rags of every color and description, ma- trons can be furnished with Bibles, specta- cles, and snuff; mothers with grammars, spelling-books, and primers for their chil- dren; and young misses may be supplied with bonnets, ribbons, and ear-rings for the decoration of their persons (by means of which they may obtain husbands), or by sending them to the said mill they may receive cash. YoL. LxxV.No. 445.S Our forefathers got as much as 3d per pound for clear white rags (2d and less for mixed), for which price we can now buy a good deal more than a pound of fairly good paper or a yard of cloth. Our mothers got 3 cents a pound for white and 2 cents for colored rags, until the war came, when 6 cents a pound and more was paid. Now the frugal-minded house- wife gets only a single cent. America is not a very ragged country, but it furnish- es about half its supply of rags, import- ing the other half: in 18856, 107,976,167 pounds, valued at $2,291,989, or ~ cents per pound, besides $2,807,987 worth of other paper stock. Rags and most other paper stock are imported duty free. The increasing consumption of paper started anew the search for fibrous mate- rials other than rags, and about the mid- dle of the century Mr. Lloyd, of Lloyds Weekly, London, introduced the esparto, a Spanish grass grown in North Africa and Spain, which has of late years sup- plied nearly half the material for English paper-makers. The proprietors of one of the London dailies have an esparto farm in North Africa for tbe supply of their paper-mill, which in turn supplies their presses. This grass is nearly half clear cellulose, and as a mixture with rags it makes perhaps a better paper than any American fibres, but it requires a large proportion of caustic soda and other chemicals to boil it free from resin and gritty silica, and the high cost of these and the distance of production have given it little vogue in America. The demand has now outrun the supply of this fibre, and Mr. Routledge recommends a new source in the young green shoots of the bamboo. In America and in the northern Euro- pean countries the plentiful supply of wood has offered another solution to the problem, while straw is very widely used for the cheaper papers. Various woods vary curiously in their proportion of cellulose, from less than forty per cent. in oak to fifty-seven per cent. in fir; it is from the poplar and like woods that the pulp is commonly made. There are two kinds, commonly known to paper-makers as mechanical and chemical wood- pulp, the one obtained by mere grinding or shredding, the other through disinte- gration by chemicals. The first machine for grinding wood- pulp was patented in Germany in 1844 by 116 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. one Keller, who sold his right to the Voel- ter firm, by whom an improved machine was patented in the United States in 1858. This invention, which is the basis of the mechanical wood-pulp industry, is sim- ply an ingenious device to hold split logs against a revolving grindstone parallel to their fibre, with a constant supply of water and an automatically elastic pressure, so that the wood is shredded into fibre in- stead of ground to powder. In a succes- sion of tanks this fibre is sorted out ac- cording to its length, an& it is then matted together (usually on the cylinder paper- making machine to be hereafter described) into sheets of dry half-stuff, or dried loose and sold in bulk (?). The Voelter patent recently expired, but within its pe- riod 187 or more patents for wood-grind- ers were taken out in this country. One process looks to the softening of the wood and toughening of the fibre by previous boiling in dilute alkali. The mechanical wood-pulp is nsed chiefly for cheap news paper, and is very apt to prove rather a filling than a fibre. Chemical wood-pulp is made by separa- ting the foreign matter from the fibrous cellulose by the use of chemicals, much like the treatment of rags, yet to be de- scribed. The original process was the boiling of the wood chips with about twenty per cent. of caustic soda, under a pressure of from ten to fourteen atmos- pheres, but the high temperature thus de- veloped weakened and browned the fibres. The later acid processes use a bisulphite of lime or magnesia, requiring a boiler lined with lead, to oxidize the extraneous substances; the cellulose remaining is apt to be hard and transparent, but these dif- ficulties are said to be removed by subse- quent treatment with an alkaline solution. Chemical wood-pulp is in this country the chief mixture for good papers. Great quantities of brown or Manila paper some of it excellent writing or printing papersare now made from Ma- nila hemp, a fabric from a plant allied to the banana; from the sisal-grass, also called agave and American aloe, grown in Central America; and from jute, the fibre of a reed grown in India, in flooded dis- tricts like our own rice fields, which pro- duces also the gunny-bags, largely used to bale cotton, and is used also for other tex- tile fabrics, or in mixture with wool, flax, or silk, or even as imitation human hair in cheap chignons, the best fibre having a fine golden color and silky gloss. Jute butts are the cuttings of the plant below water or at the bottom of the stalk, and these are also a material for cheap paper. Manila and hemp are subject to $25 per ton, sisal-grass to $15, and jute butts to $5, duty, and jute itself to twenty per cent.; nevertheless, we import over 150,000 tons of these, partly for paper-making, valued at over $10,000,000. Some attempts have also been made to use the fibre of cane. disintegrating it by firing it from a gun. Once made, paper nowadays undergoes a continuous transmigration, such as the Orientals attribute to human souls. Since Matthias Koops succeeded, at the begin- ning of the century, in utilizing waste or broken paper as a paper-making mate- rial, the processes for that purpose have been so developed that old paper is now one of the chief kinds of paper stock, es- pecially for use in paper-hangings. The old ink and sizing are easily dissolved out by a solution of caustic soda or other al- kali at high temperature, and the paper is theii beaten back to fibre as any other material would be. III. The modern paper-maker has a thou- sand things to think of, yet the apparent- ly complicated work of the marvellous pa- per-making machine is a simple enough development from that of the hand-work- er centuries ago, which is also that of hand-made paper-making to-day. What- ever fibrous material he used, he had first to rid it of all but the clear, clean fibre, and then reduce that to an even pulp. To this end the rags or bark or what not were cut in bits, dusted, boiled to softness, bleached, and further disinte- grated, and finally beaten to a smooth pulp by mallets, or pestle and mortar, or stampers moxTed by water or wind. At first, indeed, before the use of chemical agents was discovered, and the color of the material determined that of the paper, the process was even more primitive; the cut rags were piled up moist in cellars or vats, and left to rot for from six to twenty days, by which time the vegetable gluten, having fermented or putrefled, could be dissolved out. Water, heat, chemicals, and power were the simple agents in this cookery, which produced what the house- wife might call a puree, or smooth soup, of fibre. This was now before the paper- maker in a vat. He held in his hand an A SHEET OF PAPER. 117 oblong sieve, so to speak, called the mould, made either of fine wire or, among the Japanese and Chinese, of split bam- boo, on the edge of which he placed a frame, called the deekel, like the frame of a childs slate, exactly the size of the frame of the sieve or mould itself. When he dipped the mould, thus rimmed, into the vat in front of him, he brought up, of course, as much of the pulp as the height of the deckel permitted; the water at once drained off through the sieve, leaving a thick or thin layer of moist pulp, according as a high or low deckel had been used. As the water drained, the paper- maker shook the mould gently to and fro, to felt or mat together the fibres. In some moulds the wire was closely woven to- gether, in and out like cloth, and paper from such was called wove paper; in oth- ers the sieve was a series of straight wires crossed an inch or so apart by stouter ones, and paper from such was called laid pa- per. A device showing the name of the maker or some distinctive mark was com- monly worked in wire upon the other wires, and here, as the water drained off, the paper was left thinner than in other places, so that when held to the light the water-marie, as it got to be called, ap- peared. A good many forgeries have been proven by showing that a document was written on paper having a water- mark never used so early as the writing purported to be written. Of course these markings appear only on one sidethat is, in hand-made paper, the under side. When the pulp is well drained, the coucher, as the next man is called, takes the mould, removes the deckel, and turns off the moist sheet upon a couch, or sheet of felt stretched over a board. A pile is presently made, first a sheet of pulp, then a sheet of felt, and this post, as it is called when it is several quires thick, is put in a press, and the remaining moisture is squeezed out. The felts are then removed, the sheets are again pressed, hung over hair ropes in the drying-loft to dry further, then dipped in size to fill up the pores, which other- wise would absorb ink as blotting-paper does, then pressed and dried again, and perhaps hot-pressed, to give a smooth- er surface, by passing between heated metal rollers. To this day hand-made paper, un- trimmed, is used exclusively for print- ing Bank of England notes, which are printed only two to the sheet, so that on every genuine note three of the four edges are rough. India, Japan, and Holland pa- pers, used for etchings and other fine il- lustrated work, are hand - made papers produced in those countries, although so- called India paper is often of Holland manufacture. The United States boasts but one hand- made paper factory, at North Adams, Mas- sachusetts, producing but a few hundred pounds per day, but Great Britain, from several mills, produces about sixty tons per week. The industry there is controlled by the Original Society of Paper-makers, which is one of the oldest and perhaps the most restrictive of trades-unions. An employer may take only one apprentice MOULD AND DECKEL. HAND-rArER MAKING. 118 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. in five years for each seven men in his employ; the son of a paper-maker must always be preferred, but he cannot be ap- prenticed after he has reached fifteen, and a lad not born into the craft cannot be ap- prenticed after he is fourteen years old. The apprentice must serve and pay to the society for seven years; he then pays his freedom fee, and gets his card. With- out this certificate of membership in the society he cannot get work in a hand- made paper mill, nor in a machine mill within the county of Kent, whose pure water makes it the chief seat of paper- making in England. In the other shires society men work with non-society men, but in machine mills only, and providing the wages are at society rates. The so- ciety makes a fixed rate for wages, not a minimum, but one which requires all workmen to be paid the same. It is based on the days work of so many reams of a given size and weight. Thus, Imperial size of 72 pounds to the ream is made at the rate of three reams per day; if the same size is to be of only 40 pounds weight, still only three reams would be made, but if, contrariwise, it is to be of 90 pounds weight, the production would be corre- spondingly reduced, that is, to about two and a half reams per day. For special sizes not scheduled the employer must make a specific arrangement with the so- ciety or its members in his mill, before he can safely take a contract; otherwise his contract may be practically vetoed. The purpose and result of the organization is to enforce equality; it puts all the em- ployers on even terms as to cost of labor, and all the employ6s on even terms as to amount and pay of work. This, of course, checks progress, and keeps the quicker and better workman from rising above the dead level; the apprenticeship rules steadily reduce the membership of the so- ciety, and if unmodified would ultimately destroy the trade; and the employers la- ment that Holland is more and more ob- taining the natural business of England. The plan is the complete practical appli- cation of the wage-fund theory held by English economists in old times, that there was a certain amount of capital to be divided among laborers as wages, so that the more men there were and the more work they did, the less they got for it. If the society had been strong enough outside as well as inside England, at the time of the invention of the paper- making machine, to prevent the supply of men to work it, the modern newspaper, the cheap book, the penny post, would not have been possible, and the tens of thou- sands of men now engaged in making paper and the hundreds of thousands now engaged in using it would have been hard put to it for work and wages. This attempt was in fact mad~, as it has been made in almost every trade into which labor-saving machinery has enter- ed. It was in the early part of this cen- tury a days work for three men to make 4000 small sheets of hand-made paper, and it took about three months to complete the process. Many paper-mills were of two vats only, requiring about $10,000 capital, employing twelve or more men, boys, and girls, and making two to three thousand reams a year. The English proprietors of the new machine stated, in 18067, that while seven vats cost to run 2604 128. per year, one of their machines, at the price of from 715 to 1040, would do the work of seven vats for 734 12s.a saving of 1870 per year. It cost to make paper by hand 16s. per hundred-weight; by ma- chine, 3s. 6d. Presently the number of men necessary to work a Fourdrinier was reduced from five to three, and after some improvements it was possible to deliver paper the next day after pulp went into the machine. At first sight all this look- ed like starvation to the paper-maker; dis- turbances ensued; machines were attacked and broken to pieces. It was the same spirit which in 1390 caused the Italian workmen in Ulman Stromers paper-mill at Nuremberg, the first in Germany, to revolt, because he wanted to add a third roller to the two sets, working eighteen stampers, which he already useda revolt only quelled by the interference of the magistrates. It is a spirit which exists more or less now, but happily, as the facts of progress increasingly show, it is a mis- taken spirit which must disappear, as with broader education working-men become better able to apply the experience of the past to the conduct of the present. V. Let us now enter a modern mill and follow a sheet of paper from its begin- ning to its end. If it is to be of the best quality, such as is used for printing this Magazine, it begins where other things end, in rags. These are waiting, in huge bales, for the knife of the opener, who feeds A SHEET OF PAPER. them into the thrasher, where, inside an enormous wooden box, revolving arms thrash the dust out of them as they are tumbled round. They go now to the sort- ing-room, where buttons and other in- truders are disposed of, and where large pieces are shredded into smaller ones against upright stationary knives, like scythe blades, mostly by women, who toss the different qualities into different box- es in the tables before which they stand. Thence the rags go to the cutter, where revolving knives chop them into still small- er bits, and some mills here use various ingenious devices for removing foreign substances, magnetic brushes being em- ployed in one machine to attract any bits or dust of metal. They must now be fur- ther dusted if very dirty, first by the devil,~~ a hollow cone with spikes pro- jecting within, against which work the spikes of a drum, dashing the rags about at great speed; and afterward by the duster proper, a conical revolving sieve, through which the rags emerge upon an endless belt, which carries them under one or two pair of sharp eyes, on a final lookout for overlooked but- tons or unchopped pieces, along to the boilers. ~NAfe follow, and find ourselves in a steamy room, where piles of rags are being mysteriously disposed of through holes in the floor. These prove to be the openings of huge rotary boilers, fed by steam, which we see hung from the ceil- ing on the floor below, some of them eighteen feet long by six feet in diameter, holding over two tons of rags, wh,ich, as the boiler revolves, are tumbled about in lime-water ( milk of lime), or a solution of mixed lime and soda-ash, until their dis- position is softened by trouble and their countenance blanched by fear. From thence the mushy material which results goes to the important machines called the washers and beaters, or, in general, the engines, which make the stuff that is the food of the Fourdrinier. The rag engine, invented in Holland about 1750, is often called the Hollander. The material for fine paper is run through both washer and beater; for coarse, only through one. The Holiander is an oval iron tub, ten to twenty feet long, four to six broad, and about three high, divided for two- thirds of its length by a mid-feather or upright partition, which makes a sort of race-course for the rags to chase each other round the edge of the vat. On one side of the mid-feather the floor of the tub is raised in a quarter circle, close to which a roll covered with knives or bars revolves, so arranged that it can be lowered closer to the bedplate, furnished with corresponding bars, as it becomes necessary to make the pulp finer and finer. The tub is partly filled with pure water, the disintegrated and decolor- ized rags from the boilers are dumped in, the roll, set just close enough to the bed- plate to open up the rags and free the remaining dirt, sweeps the rags up the in- cline an~ over the back-fall, and a drum of wire-cloth partly immersed in the cur- rent sucks up, and discharges by means of buckets inside it connected with an es- cape spout, the now dirtied water, fed in a clear, continuous stream at the other end, while the actual dirt falls into a sand- trap in the bottom of the tub. When the discharge water begins to run clear, the roll is lowered closer to the bedplate, to tear the fibre to pieces, a sol ution of bleaching powder is run in, and after from two to six hours the dingy rags from the boilers have become a whitish fine mince of fibre. This mass is now removed to a bleaching cistern for a longer soak, or the bleaching solution is run off, and the fibre, if for the best paper, taken from the washer to another engine, called the beater. The beater is a closely similar machine, bide View ~0 O~ I o~ ~ c, Top View. BEATING ENGINE. 120 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. except that the knives on its roll are grouped three instead of two together, and the roll is set closer to the bedplate, so as to beat the fibre still finer. But here some of the most important processes of paper-mak- ing are carried onthe selection of stock, loading, engine-sizing, and body-coloring. To make a certain grade of paper, to keep within a given price, to avoid lumping or discoloration when the chemicals are in- troduced, the superintendent at the beat- ers, like the cook with her flour and eggs and salt at hand, must choose and com- bine rightly the different kinds and quan- tity of stock, looking forward as well as backward, knowing and thinking of a thousand thingsthe cost of his rags, his chemicals, his labor, the wear and tear and difficulties of the Fourdrinier ahead. If paper is to be loaded, that is, adulter- ated with clay or cheap fibres, these are added in the beater as the fibre swirls round and round. Clay, though a weak- cuing adulteration when in quantity, is sometimes desirable in very cheap papers to give body or opacity to the paper. Then comes the engine-sizing, distinguished from tub-sizing, because in the one case the size is mixed with the fibre through and through in the beater or engine, while in the other it is soaked in from the surface of the paper as the web runs through a tub of size in its course through the Fourdrin- ier. Blotting-paper is made without size, so that it may freely suck the ink into its unchoked pores, and the hard paper, made wholly or chiefly of linen, and pressed by supercalender rollers into great compactness, used for the fine il- lustrated work of this Magazine, re- quires little or no sizing. But with most fibres, unsized, the ink would be absorb- ed into the pores, and would partly dis- appear from the surface, leaving a din- gy instead of a sharp, clean print. For engine-sizing, vegetable size is chiefly used: a soap made of resin is introduced into the beater, and when this is well mingled a solution of alum is added. A chemical combination, sometimes called the resinate of alumina, results, which fills the pores and interstices of the fibre, and makes the paper more or less water- proof when, later on, it is heated and press- ed under the pressure of the drying cylin- ders of the Fourdrinier. If a paper is to be body - colored or tinted, the coloring matter is next introduced into the mass in the beater: for reds, cochineal, Brazil woods, or aniline reds; for yellows, va- rious barks or plants, as barberry root and golden-rod, or chrome-yellow; for blues, Prussian blue or aniline blues; for black, lampblack or a combination of aniline dyes. White paper so called is really dyed with a little bluing and a trace of red. And thereby hangs a tale. About 1746 Mrs. Buttenshaw, wife of an English paper-maker, was one day washing some fine linen, when un(?)fortunately she dropped her bag of bluing into a vat of paper pulp. She thought it safe to keep quiet on the subject; but when Mr. B. ad- mired the unusually white color of the paper from this vat, and in fact sold it in London for some shillings advance, she owned up; and this was the origin of bluing paper. The next time her hus- band went to London he brought back a costly scarlet cloak. What is often call- ed toned paper is nearer the natural colora yellowish shadeof the pulp. At last the fibre is in its final shape, well mixed, sized, colored, and closely beaten, and is now ready for the paper-making machine proper, or Fourdrinier. V. The paper-making machine, usually call- ed a Fourdrinier, performs the remarkable work of receiving a fluid stream of pulp from its stuff chest at one end and turn- ing out a dry, smooth, sized, and finished paper at the other, either in a continuous roll or cut into sheets of any size. The machine is an evolution from the inven- tion of a French workman named Louis Robert, in Didots hand-paper mill at Es- sonnes, who obtained a patent (No. 329) in 1799, and was also granted by the French government a bounty of 8000 francs for the development of his invention. M. Didot purchased Roberts rights, and to escape the turmoils of his own country crossed with John Gamble, an Englishman, to England, where, with the help of Bryan Donkin, a skilled mechanician, Roberts model was developed into very nearly the present machine. An English patent was secured in 1801, and the first machine mill was successfully started at Frogmore, Herts, in 1803. The brothers Henry and Scaly Fourdrinier purchased the rights in the original patents, made many im- provenments, in the course of which they spent 60,000, and secured an extension, and thus the machine which should have borne the name of Robert became asso A SHEET OF PAPER. 121 ciated for all time with their namean- other chapter in the long history of wronged inventors. The machine-room of a modern paper- mill is a long room, well lighted and kept very free from dust, in which the visitor sees one or more machines, about six feet l]igh and 120 or more feet long, mostly composed of sets of rollers, between which a web of paper is continuously passing and frequently disappearing from sight. The pulp, made fluid with abundance of pure water, is supplied to the stuff chest, within which an agitator keeps it in sus- pense. It is thence pumped through a ball-valve into a regulating box, whence there is an overflow at the top, so that from the always full box the pressure of the pulp is always the same as it flows into the machine through a discharge cock, by which the supply, and the consequent thickness of the paper, is regulated. The pulp passes first over the sand tables, which are really shallow troughs, the bed of which is partly crossed by thin strips of wood, aslant of the current, arid car- peted by long-haired felt, both of which operate to catch any remaining sand or dirt. Thence the pulp reaches the screen, a horizontal plate of metal, with several hundred A-shaped slots, sometimes only one - thousandth of an inch wide (the narrow part at the top), about a quarter of an inch apart, through which the fibres must make their way, leaving behind all knots or matted fibres. A shaking motion is given to this plate to help the progress of the pulp through the slots, or in the revolving strain- ers and other modified forms a slight vacuum is produced to suck the pulp through. It should now be clean, fine, and even, ready to make the sheet, this part of the machine having simply com- pleted the work of the beater. The next and essential part of the Four- drinier does the work of the old moulder, as with his mould and deckel he dips out the desired thickness of pulp, strains off the water, and gives the shake which felts or mats the fibres together. The wire mould becomes an endless band of woven wire-clothalways called simply the wirethe full width of the machine, and some machines are 110 inches wide. It is thirty-five to forty feet long, and trav- els on the breast roll at the near and the couch roll at the far end, with the help of small supporting rollers along its length. The fluid pulp is spread over this wire~~ from the breast board of the strainers by an apron or fan-shaped rubber or oil- skin cloth, turned up at the edges, which delivers it under a gate or slicer intend- BEATING-ROOM. _ ----~ 122 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ed to assure the evenness of the spread, and finally regulate the thickness of the embryo sheet. Two square bands of In- dia-rubber, called the deckel straps, move with and on the wire at either side, and can be adjusted nearer together when it is desired to make a narrower sheet of paper. These and the slicer are attached to the deckel frame, and to- gether correspond to the deckel of the hand-paper maker. As the wire moves on with its layer of pulp, the water, charged with fine fibres, size, coloring mat- ter, etc., drains through into the trough underneath, called the save-all, whence it is carried back to the stuff chest, to give the pulp the extra supply of fluid it there needs. A shaking motion commu- nicated to the wire from the frame on which the rollers bear assists this drain- age and felts the fibres together. Toward the farther end of the wire the place of the save - all is taken by suction boxes, connected with an air - pump, by means of which the surplus water is sucked through. Between the suction boxes, above the wire, a dandy roll covered with wire impresses any desired pattern or water-mark on the surface; if the paper is to be wove, the dandy roll is of the same wire-cloth as the wire~~ itself, so that the upper side and the under side of the finished paper will look exactly alike. The water-mark, however, remains (if there is one), and, as it is on the dandy roll, shows in machine-made paper on the top of the sheet, furnishing an easy means of distinguishing machine from hand made paper. We have now the continu- ous web of damp felted fibre, in the same condition in which the hand moulder de- livers the sheet to the coucher. The couchers work is now taken up by this marvellous piece of automatism call- ed the Fourdrinier. As the endless belt of wire disappears underneath the ma- chine, to reappear again at the apron for a fresh supply of pulp, it passes with the damp web of paper between the upper and under couch rollscylinders of metal jacketed with felt, corresponding to the two felt sheets of the coucherand deliv- ers the web upon another endless belt call- ed the wet felt, since the paper is still too tender to travel without support. This felt carries the web between iron rolls, called the first press rolls, which squeeze out more water and smooth the upper sur- face of the paper, and a second felt carries it under and to the back of the second press rolls, so that by reversing the direction the under surface of the web comes to the top and has its turn at smoothing. A doe- tora long scraper the length of the top press rollscrapes the roll free from ad- hering fibres, and keeps it smooth and clean. The paper can now travel alone, but it has still to be dried and further pressed, and perhaps tub-sized. This part of the A SHEET OF PAPER. 123 Fourdrinier takes the place of the press in which the coucher puts his post of sheets. The web passes above the second press rolls, resuming its original direction, to the drying cylindershollow rolls heated by steamunder and over and over and under which, to the number of six or eight or ten, sometimes with the guidance of felts, some- times without them, the paper passes till it is thor- oughly dry. Since the paper shrinks in this pro- cess, the successive rolls decrease slightly in diame- ter. In the midst of the driers there is sometimes a pair of highly polished smaller rolls called smoothers, also heated by steam. From the driers the paper passes to the calenders, an up- right stack of rolls similar to the smoothers, which are under enormous pressure, regulated by screws on either side, and give the paper an additional hardness and polish. If the paper is for the mod- ern newspaper presses, it is reeled off in a continu- ous roll; if not, it is cut into strips by a knife-wheel like a circular saw fitting upon another knife-wheel to make a continuous scissoring, and these strips into sheets by a straight knife revolving at the proper interval on a horizontal drum, whence a travelling felt delivers them upon the pile. The speed of a Fourdrinier is from 60 to 240 feet per minute, the latter for cheap news paper demanding little care. Of good paper, the production averages about 80 feet per minute. The curious illustration on the next page shows the matting or felting of the fibres in a piece of smooth white paper as seen under a microscope magnifying fifty diameters. The curiously ragged black figure is a comma, such as is used in this article, which to the unassisted eye seems so clearly and sharply defined. Soon after the development of the Fourdrinier machine, Mr. John Dickinson, whose name is still borne by one of the most distinguished firms among English paper-makers, produced a quite different invention for making paper by machinery, which is generally known as the cylinder machine. This is used chiefly for making the cheaper and thicker grades of paper, such as straw boards. Instead of the supply chest, wire, etc., of the Fourdrinier, a cylinder covered with wire-cloth revolves with its lower portion dipping into a vat filled with pulp; a system of suction keeps a partial vacuum within this cylinder, which causes the pulp to adhere to the wire until it is detached above upon another cylin- der covered with felting. Beyond this the system is materially the same as by the other method. It was patented in 1809. In 1826 a French inventor, M. Canson, applied the suction principle to the Fourdrinier, as has been described, and thus bereft the cylinder machine of its leading advantage not, however, until he had kept his improvement a secret for six years. All other paper-making machines are a modi 0 124 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. fication or combination of these two va- rieties. Our illustration of the Fourdri- nier-room shows a Fourdrinier machine on the left, while on the right is the modi- fication of it known as the Harper ma- chine, in which the sheet of paper is sup- ported by a felt from the upper couch roll to the second press rolls, which reverses the direction of the sheet and carries it high above the Fourdrinier part proper (the wire, etc.), with the purpose of forming a stronger and drier web before it is left to travel alone. Tissue-papers, the thinnest known, are made from very strong fibres, such as that of hemp bagging and cotton canvas, on a machine so planned that the tenuous sheet of pulp passes throu~,h almost in a straight line, without reversing its direction at the second press rolls, at a speed as high as 160 feet a minute. At the starting up of the machine a sheet of dry paper is carried part of the way with the pulp, as it is too thin to be touched by hand. The bank-note paper used for the United States greenbacks was made under the Willcox patent at the mills of that old Pennsylvania firm, whose mills, curiously enough, had also made the paper for the Continental currency of Revolutionary days. It was rendered distinctive by the use of silk fibres of red and blue, the red being mixed with the pulp in the engine, so that it was scattered throughout the substance of the paper, while the blue were ingeniously showered upon the web while on the wire, so that it appeared only in streaks. This combination was so diffi- cult to copy, and required such expensive machinery, as to call for a skill, patience, and capital not at the disposal of counter- feiters. ~.TI. If paper is to be tub-sized as well as engine-sized, an animal size, made by soaking out the gelatine from clippings of horns, hides, etc., is mixed with dissolved alum and placed in a tub or vat, through which the web of paper is run after leav- ing the first set of driers. It is then passed through squeezing rollers, which press the size into the pores and get rid of the excess, and then along to the other driers. For finer papers tub - sizing is sometimes done after their completion in the Fourdrinier; the paper stands to al- low the size to be absorbed, and the sec- ond drying is by means of a great num- ber sometimes 300 of reels made of wooden slats, within which a fan revolv- ing in an opposite direction makes a strong current of air. Or the paper is run through the tub between two continuous felts, which, with the paper, a~e pressed be- tween rollers, and the paper is then loft- dried by hanging over sticks, as with hand-made paper. Writing-paper is of- ten double-sized; that is, both engine- sized and tub-sized. The finishing of paper presents many interesting varieties. Plate-paper was made by putting each sheet between brightly polished sheets of copper or zinc, and passing a stack of these to and fro through a rolling-press under heavy press- ure until a gloss was imparted to both surfaces. This process has now given way to supercalendering, in which a stack of rolls similar to that of the Four- drinier, alternately of bright metal and highly compressed paper, between which the web of paper passes and repasses, pro- duces the same effect. These rolls are virtually a great electric machine, so that it is sometimes necessary to attach ground- wires to the stack to carry off the elec- tricity, which otherwise causes the paper to attract all sorts of dust in the print- PAPER MAGNIFIED FIFTY DIAMETERS, 5HOWING FIBRE, AND A COMMA AS PRINTED IN HARPER~ 5 MAGAZINE A SHEET OF PAPER. 125 ing-room. A jet of steam sometimes moistens the paper as it is run into the stack. Friction-glazing is done by pass- ing the web between a large paper roll and a smaller iron one, the latter re- volving at a higher speed. Sometimes beeswax is applied to the iron roll. A high polish is also given to fine printing paper by running the web through, or spraying upon it, a solution of carbonate~ of lime or magnesia with starch or glue, leaving a permanent coating of lime or magnesia on the surface. Repped and like papers are produced by pass- ing the web between rollers on which the rib or other device has been cut. Morocco, flowered, and like papers of uneven surface or raised devices are em- bossed in the same way. Fancy papers are variously finished af- ter leaving the machine, either in the web or in sheets. Colored papers which have the color on the surface only are not treat- ed in the engine or tub, as body-color papers are, but are printed or varnished afterward, and then burnished or glossed. An iridescent or rainbow surface is given by a wash containing sulphates of iron and of indigo exposed quickly, as it is applied with a brush, to ammoniacal vapors; and a mother-of-pearl effect is produced by floating glazed paper upon a bath of solution of silver, lead, or other metal, exposing it when dried to vapors of sulpliide of hydrogen, and afterward pour- ing collodion upon it, when most beauti- ful colors appear. Marbled paper is made in a way even more curious. The marbler has be- fore him a shallow bath of gum-traga- canth, on which from a flat brush he sprinkles films of the colors he needs for his pattern. Presently the whole sur- face of the bath is covered with bands or splashes of color; the workman then takes what is practically a huge comb, and with a wavy motion draws it the length of the bath. Long practice has enabled a good marbler to select and lay the colors and manipulate the comb for he has no guide but his eyeto copy almost any pattern you can show him; so that, although no two sheets of mar- bled paper are exactly alike, only a prac- tised eye would note the difference. The sheet of smooth white paper is then deft- ly laid upon the bath for a moment: as it is raised, the entire film of color comes with it, and the bath must be resprinkled for the next sheet. Books with marbled edges are dipped in the same way. Sand and emery papers are made by coating a stout paper with glue, and then sprinkling the dust upon it. A water- proof variety is made by using water-proof cement instead of glue. An ingenious machine has been devised which coats the paper with glue from a brush revolving in a steam glue-pot underneath, softens the glue with a spray of steam, sifts the sand upon the surface, drops the surplus into a box below as the sanded paper turns over a roller, shakes off other loose par- ticles by the help of a fan motion, and fixes the rest more firmly by aid of a sec- ond jet of steam. Cork-paper, for pack- ing glass, etc., is made by sifting powdered cork on a soft, flexible paper, and a tobac- co-paper for cigarette wrappers is similar- ly made from tobacco dust sifted on the surface of ordinary cigarette paper, and made to permeate it by heavy pressure. A paper for cigar wrappings is also made by using tobacco stems as a fibre, with enough Manila to give strength. Photograph, telegraph, and lithograph- ic transfer papers are made by surfacing with various chemicals sensitive to light, to electricity, or to other chemicals. A solution of Canada balsam in turpentine renders paper transparent for tracing purposes, or a paper may be made trans- parent by treating it with a solution of castor-oil in absolute alcohol, and permit- ting the alcohol to evaporate from it, and the paper may again be made opaque, with the tracing still upon it, by remov- ing the oil in a fresh bath of alcohol. By treating unsized rag paper with dilute sul- phuric acid, and then washing it, a parch- ment - paper, or vegetable parchment, is made, almost like the animal article. A paper whose surface can be washed off like a slate is made by treatment with ben- zine, and then with a preparation made of lead and zinc oxide, turpentine and lin DIAGRAM OF SAND-PAPER MACMINE. 126 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. seed-oil, copal and sandarach. There are various processes for water-proofing pa- per, as soaking in dissolved shellac and borax, but most of these are done in a heated tub in the process of making. Resin and paraffine are among the usual ingredients of the preparation, and for meat and fish wrapping a paper is made in which the natural bitumen or wax called ozocerite is the saturating sub- stance. When it is added that a special paper is also made to wrap silver-ware, in which the sulphurous vapors from ordi- nary gas are guarded against by the use of zinc oxide and caustic soda, some im- perfect idea may be gained by the reader of the multitudinous applications and adaptations of a sheet of paper. (the half of the old standard sheet), me- dium, royal, superr