THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. 

A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, ART, AND POLITICS. 

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VOL. XII. --AUGUST, 1863. --NO. LXX. 

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by TICKNOR ANDFIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District ofMassachusetts. 

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AN AMERICAN IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 

Having in a former number of this magazine attempted to give someaccount of the House of Commons, and to present some sketches of itsleading members, [1] I now design to introduce my readers to the House ofLords. 

[Footnote 1: _Atlantic Monthly_ for December, 1861. ]

It is obviously unnecessary to repeat so much of the previousdescription as applies to the general external and internal appearanceof the New Palace of Westminster. It only remains to speak of the halldevoted to the sessions of the House of Lords. And certainly it is anapartment deserving a more extended notice than our limits will allow. As the finest specimen of Gothic civil architecture in the world, perfect in its proportions, beautiful and appropriate in itsdecorations, the frescoes perpetuating some of the most striking scenesin English history, the stained glass windows representing the Kings andQueens of the United Kingdom from the accession of William the Conquerordown to the present reign, the niches filled with effigies of the Baronswho wrested Magna Charta from King John, the ceiling glowing with goldand colors presenting different national symbols and devices in mostelaborate workmanship and admirable intricacy of design, it isundeniably worthy of the high purpose to which it is dedicated. 

The House of Lords also contains the throne occupied by the reigningsovereign at the opening and prorogation of Parliament. Perhaps its moreappropriate designation would be a State-Chair. In general form andoutline it is substantially similar to the chairs in which thesovereigns of England have for centuries been accustomed to sit at theircoronations. We need hardly add that no expense has been spared to giveto the throne such intrinsic value, and to adorn it with such emblems ofnational significance, as to furnish renewed evidence of England'sunwavering loyalty to the reigning house. 

In pointing out what is peculiar to the House of Lords, I am aware thatthere is danger of falling into the error of stating what is alreadyfamiliar to some of my readers. And yet a traveller's narrative is notalways tiresome to the tourist who has himself visited the samelocalities and witnessed the same scenes. If anxious for the "diffusionof useful knowledge, " he will cheerfully consent that the curiosity ofothers, who have not shared his good fortune, should be gratified, although it be at his expense. At the same time, he certainly has aright to insist that the extraordinary and improbable stories told tothe too credulous _voyageur_ by some lying scoundrel of a courier orsome unprincipled _valet-de-place_ shall not be palmed upon theunsuspecting public as genuine tales of travel and adventure. 

The House of Lords is composed of lords spiritual and lords temporal. Asthis body is now constituted, the lords spiritual are two archbishops, twenty-four bishops, and four Irish representative prelates. The lordstemporal are three peers of the blood royal, twenty dukes, nineteenmarquises, one hundred and ten earls, twenty-two viscounts, two hundredand ten barons, sixteen Scotch representative peers, and twenty-eightIrish representative peers. There are twenty-three Scotch peers andeighty-five Irish peers who have no seats in Parliament. Therepresentative peers for Scotland are elected for every Parliament, while the representative peers for Ireland are elected for life. As hasbeen already intimated, this enumeration applies only to the presentHouse of Lords, which comprises four hundred and fifty-eightmembers, --an increase of about thirty noblemen in as many years. 

The persons selected from time to time for the honor of the peerage aremembers of families already among the nobility, eminent barristers, military and naval commanders who have distinguished themselves in theservice, and occasionally persons of controlling and acknowledgedimportance in commercial life. Lord Macaulay is the first instance inwhich this high compliment has been conferred for literary merit; and itwas well understood, when the great essayist and historian was ennobled, that the exception in his favor was mainly due to the fact that he wasunmarried. With his untimely death the title became extinct. LordOverstone, formerly Mr. Loyd, and a prominent member of the banking firmof Jones, Loyd, and Co. Of London, elevated to the peerage in 1850, iswithout heirs apparent or presumptive, and there is good reason tobelieve that this circumstance had a material bearing upon hiswell-deserved promotion. But these infrequent exceptions, these rareconcessions so ungraciously made, only prove the rigor of the rule. Practically, to all but members of noble families, and men distinguishedfor military, naval, or political services, or eminent lawyers orclergymen, the House of Lords is unattainable. Brown may reach thehighest range of artistic excellence, he may achieve world-wide fame asan architect, his canvas may glow with the marvellous coloring of Titianor repeat the rare and delicate grace of Correggio, the triumphs of hischisel may reflect honor upon England and his age; the inventive geniusof Jones, painfully elaborating, through long and suffering years ofobscure poverty, the crude conceptions of his boyhood, may conferinestimable benefits upon his race; the scientific discoveries ofRobinson may add incalculable wealth to the resources of his nation: butlet them not dream of any other nobility than that conferred by Nature;let them be content to live and die plain, untitled Brown, Jones, andRobinson, or at best look forward only to the barren honors ofknighthood. Indeed, it is not too much to say that for plebeian meritthe only available avenues to the peerage are the Church and the Bar. 

The proportion of law lords now in the House of Lords is unusuallylarge, --there being, besides Lord Westbury, the presentLord-High-Chancellor, no fewer than six Ex-Lord-Chancellors, eachenjoying the very satisfactory pension of five thousand pounds perannum. Lord Lyndhurst still survives at the ripe age of ninety-one; andLord Brougham, now in his eighty-sixth year, has made good his promisethat he would outlive Lord Campbell, and spare his friends the pain ofseeing his biography added to the lives of the Lord-Chancellors towhom, in Lord Brougham's opinion, Lord Campbell had done such inadequatejustice. 

The course of proceeding in the House of Lords differs considerably fromthat pursued in the House of Commons. The Lord-High-Chancellor, seatedon the wool-sack, --a crimson cushion, innocent of any support to theback, and by no means suggestive of comfort, or inviting deliberationsof the peers, but is never addressed by the speakers. "My lords" is thephrase with which every peer commences his remarks. 

Another peculiarity patent to the stranger is the small number usuallypresent at the debates. The average attendance is less than fifty, andoften one sees only fifteen or twenty peers in their seats. Two or threeleading members of the Ministry, as many prominent members of theopposition, a bishop or two, a score of deluded, but well-meaninggentlemen, who obstinately adhere to the unfashionable notion, that, where great political powers are enjoyed, there are certain seriousduties to the public closely connected therewith, a few prosy andpompous peers who believe that their constant presence is essential tothe welfare and prosperity of the kingdom, --such, I think, is a correctclassification of the ordinary attendance of noblemen at the House ofLords. 

This body possesses several obvious advantages over any otherdeliberative assembly now existing. Not the least among these is thefact that the oldest son of every peer is prepared by a careful courseof education for political and diplomatic life. Every peer, except someof recent creation, has from childhood enjoyed all conceivablefacilities for acquiring a finished education. In giving direction tohis studies at school and at the university, special reference has beenhad to his future Parliamentary career. Nothing that large wealth couldsupply, or the most powerful family-influence could command, has beenspared to give to the future legislator every needed qualification forthe grave and responsible duties which he will one day be called toassume. His ambition has been stimulated by the traditional achievementsof a long line of illustrious ancestors, and his pride has been awakenedand kept alive by the universal deference paid to his position as theheir apparent or presumptive of a noble house. 

This view is so well presented in "The Caxtons, " that I need offer noapology for making an extract from that most able and discriminatingpicture of English society. "The fact is, that Lord Castleton had beentaught everything that relates to property (a knowledge that embracesvery wide circumference). It had been said to him, 'You will be animmense proprietor: knowledge is essential to your self-preservation. You will be puzzled, ridiculed, duped every day of your life, if you donot make yourself acquainted with all by which property is assailed ordefended, impoverished or increased. You have a stake in the country:you must learn all the interests of Europe, nay, of the civilized world;for these interests react on the country, and the interests of thecountry are of the greatest possible consequence to the interests of theMarquis of Castleton. ' Thus, the state of the Continent, the policy ofMetternich, the condition of the Papacy, the growth of Dissent, theproper mode of dealing with the spirit of democracy which was theepidemic of European monarchies, the relative proportions of theagricultural and manufacturing population, corn-laws, currency, and thelaws that regulate wages, a criticism on the leading speakers in theHouse of Commons, with some discursive observations on the importance offattening cattle, the introduction of flax into Ireland, emigration, thecondition of the poor: these and such-like stupendous subjects forreflection--all branching more or less intricately from the single ideaof the Castleton property--the young lord discussed and disposed of inhalf a dozen prim, poised sentences, evincing, I must say in justice, noinconsiderable information, and a mighty solemn turn of mind. Theoddity was, that the subjects so selected and treated should not comerather from some young barrister, or mature political economist, thanfrom so gorgeous a lily of the field. "

But to all these preëminent advantages of early education and trainingthere must be added the invaluable opportunities of enlarged andextended legislative experience in the House of Commons. If we examinethe antecedents of some of the most prominent men now in the House ofLords, we shall discover abundant evidence of this fact. Earl Russellwas a member of the House of Commons for more than thirty years; EarlDerby, more than twenty-five years; the Earl of Shaftesbury, for abouttwenty-four years; the Duke of Richmond, the Earl of Shrewsbury, and theDuke of Rutland, for about the same period. And of the present House ofCommons more than fifty members are heirs apparent or presumptive toexisting peerages. 

And then there is the further circumstance that seats in the House ofLords are for life. Members of this body do not stand in fear of removalby the votes of disappointed or indignant constituents. Entirelyindependent of public opinion, they can defy the disapprobation of themasses, and smile at the denunciation of the press. Undoubtedly, thisfact has a twofold bearing, and deprives the peers of that strongincentive to active exertion and industrious legislation which the Houseof Commons, looking directly to the people for support and continuance, always possesses. Yet the advantages in point of prolonged experienceand ever increasing familiarity with the details of public business areunquestionable. 

As a matter of course, there are many noblemen upon whom these rarefacilities of education and this admirable training for public lifewould seem to have been wasted. As Americans, we must be pardoned forexpressing our belief in the venerable doctrine that there is no royalroad to learning. If a peer of the realm is determined to be a dunce, nothing in the English Constitution prevents him from being a dunce, and"not all the blood of all the Howards" can make him a scholar or astatesman. If, resting securely in the conviction that a nobleman doesnot need to be instructed, he will not condescend to study, and does notavail himself of his most enviable advantages, whatever may be hissocial rank, his ignorance and incapacity cannot be disguised, but willeven become more odious and culpable in the view of impartial criticismby reason of his conspicuous position and his neglect of these veryadvantages. 

But frequent as these instances are, it will not be for a momentsupposed that the whole peerage would justly fall under such censure. Nor will it be thought surprising that the House of Lords contains aconsiderable number of men of sterling ability, statesmen of broad andcomprehensive views, accustomed to deal with important questions ofpublic interest and national policy with calm, deliberate judgment, andfar-reaching sagacity. Hampered as they certainly are by a traditionalconservatism often as much at variance with sound political philosophyas it is with the lessons of all history, and characterized as theirattitude towards foreign nations always has been by a singular want ofall generosity, still it must be confessed that their steady andunwavering adherence to a line of conduct which has made England fearedand her power respected by every country in the world has a certainelement of dignity and manly self-reliance which compels our admiration. And while they have been of late so frequently outwitted by theflexible, if not tortuous, policy of Louis Napoleon, it yet remains tobe seen whether the firm and unyielding course of the English Ministrywill not in the end prove quite as successful as the more Machiavellianmanagement of the French Emperor. 

I hardly know how to describe accurately the impression made upon themind of an American by his first visit to the House of Lords. Whatmemories haunt him of the Norman Conquest and the Crusades, of MagnaCharta and the King-Maker, of noblemen who suffered with Charles I. Andsupped with Charles II. , and of noblemen still later whose family-pridelooked down upon the House of Hanover, and whose banded political powerand freely lavished wealth checked the brilliant career of Napoleon, andmaintained, the supremacy of England on sea and land!

Enter, then, the House of Lords with these stirring memories, andconfess frankly to a feeling of disappointment. Here are seated a fewwell-behaved gentlemen of all ages, often carelessly dressed, and almostinvariably in English morning-costume. They are sleepily discussing someuninteresting question, and you are disposed to retire in view of themore powerful attractions of Drury Lane or the Haymarket, or the chanceof something better worth hearing in the House of Commons. Take myadvice, and wait until the adjournment. It will not be long, and byleaving now you may lose an important debate and the sight of some menwhose fame is bounded only by the limits of Christendom. Even now thereis a slight stir in the House. A nobleman has entered whose movementsyou will do well to follow. He takes his place just at the left of theLord-Chancellor, but remains seated only for a moment. If you arefamiliar with the pencil of Punch, you will recognize him at a glance. Athin, wiry, yet muscular frame, a singularly marked and expressive faceand mobile features, a nose that defies description, a high cravat likea poultice covered with a black silk bandage, clothes that seem to havebeen made for a much larger man, and always a pair of old-fashionedchecked trousers, --of course, this can only be Lord Brougham. He iseighty-five years old, and yet his physical activity would do noinjustice to a man in the prime of life. If you watch him a few moments, you will have abundant evidence of his restless energy. While we look, he has crossed to the opposite side of the House, and is enjoying ahearty laugh with the Bishop of Oxford. The round, full face of"Slippery Sam" (as he is disrespectfully called throughout England) isbeaming with appreciative delight; but before the Bishop has time toreply, the titled humorist is on the wing again, and in an instant wesee him seated between Earl Granville and the Duke of Somerset, conversing with all the vivacity and enthusiasm of a school-boy. In amoment he is in motion again, and has shaken hands with half a dozenpeers. Undeterred by the supernaturally solemn countenance of theMarquis of Normanby, he has actually addressed a joke to that dignifiedfossil, and has passed on without waiting to observe its effect. A fewwords with Earl Derby, a little animated talk with the Earl ofEllenborough, and he has made the circuit of the House, everywherereceived with a welcoming smile and a kindly grasp of the hand, andeverywhere finding willing and gratified listeners. Possibly that ispardoned to his age and eminence which would be resented as impertinencein a younger man, but certainly he enjoys a license accorded to no oneelse in this aristocratic assembly. 

The dull debate of the past hour is now concluded, the House is thin, and there are indications of immediate adjournment. Remain a littlelonger, however, and your patience may possibly be richly rewarded. There is no order in the discussion of topics, and at any moment whilethe House continues in session there may spring up a debate calling outall the ability of the leading peers in attendance. After a short pausethe quiet is broken by an aged nobleman on the opposition benches. Herises slowly and feebly with the assistance of a cane, but his voice isfirm and his manner is forcible. That he is a man of mark is evidentfrom the significant silence and the deferential attention with whichhis first words are received. You ask his name, and with ill-disguisedamazement at your ignorance a gentleman by your side informs you thatthe speaker is Lord Lyndhurst. 

Perhaps the life of no public man in England has so much of interest toan American as that of this distinguished nobleman. Born in Boston whilewe were still in a condition of colonial dependence, he has lived to seehis native land emerge from her state of vassalage, pass through along-protracted struggle for liberty with the most powerful nation onearth, successfully maintain her right to be free and independent, advance with giant strides in a career of unexampled prosperity, assumean undisputed position as one of the great powers of Christendom, andfinally put forth the most gigantic efforts to crush a rebellioncompared with which the conspiracy of Catiline was but the impotentuprising of an angry dwarf. 

Lord Lyndhurst was called to the bar of England in 1804. It was beforethe splendid forensic successes of Erskine had been rewarded by a seaton the wool-sack, or Wellington had completed his brilliant and decisivecampaign in India, or the military glory of Napoleon had culminated atAusterlitz, or Pitt, turning sadly from the map of Europe and saying, "Henceforth we may close that map for half a century, " had gonebroken-hearted to an early grave, or Nelson had defeated the combinednavies of France and Spain at Trafalgar. Lord Byron had not yet enteredCambridge University, Sir Walter Scott had not published his first poem, and Canova was still in the height of his well-earned fame. It wasbefore the first steamboat of Robert Fulton had vexed the quiet watersof the Hudson, or Aaron Burr had failed in his attempted treason, orDaniel Welter had entered upon his professional career, or ThomasJefferson had completed his first official term as President of theUnited States. 

Lord Lyndhurst's advancement to the highest honors of his profession andto a commanding place in the councils of his adopted country was rapidalmost beyond precedent. He was appointed Solicitor-General in 1819, Attorney-General in 1823, Master of the Rolls in 1826, andLord-Chancellor in 1827. He remained in this office until 1830, andretired only to be created Lord-Chief-Baron of the Exchequer. In 1835 hewas again appointed Lord-Chancellor, and once more, for the third time, in 1841. 

The characteristic qualities of the oratory of Lord Lyndhurst, when inhis prime, were perfect coolness and self-possession, a most pleasingand plausible manner, singular ingenuity in dealing with a difficultquestion or in weakening the effect of an argument really unanswerable, a clear and musical voice, great ease and felicity of expression, and awonderful command, always discreetly used, of all the weapons of ironyand invective. He is, perhaps, the only nobleman in the House of Lordswhom Lord Brougham has ever feared to encounter. All these elements ofsuccessful oratory Lord Lyndhurst has retained to an extraordinarydegree until within a year or two. 

I chanced to hear this remarkable man during an evening in the month ofJuly, 1859. The House of Lords was thinly attended. There had been ashort and uninteresting debate on "The Atlantic-Telegraph Bill, " and anearly adjournment seemed certain. But at this juncture Lord Lyndhurstrose, and, after adverting to the fact that he had previously givennotice of his design to draw their lordships' attention to the militaryand naval defences of the country, proceeded to address the House uponthis question. It should be borne in mind that this was a period ofgreat and engrossing excitement in England, created by the supposeddanger of invasion by France. Volunteer rifle-companies were springingup all over the kingdom, newspapers were filled with discussionsconcerning the sufficiency of the national defences, and speculations onthe chances for and against such an armed invasion. There was, meanwhile, a strong peace-party which earnestly deprecated all agitationof the subject, maintained that the sentiments of the French Emperor andthe French nation were most friendly to England, and contended that toincur largely increased expenses for additional war-preparations wasunnecessary, impolitic, and ruinously extravagant. At the head of thisparty were Cobden and Bright. 

It was to answer these arguments, to convince England that there was areal and positive peril, and to urge upon Her Majesty's Government theparamount importance of preparing to meet not only a possible, but aprobable danger, that Lord Lyndhurst addressed the House of Lords. Hebegan by impressing upon their lordships the fact that the policy whichhe advocated was not aggressive, but strictly defensive. He reviewed thehistory of previous attempts to invade England. He pointed out thesignificant circumstance, that these attempts had hitherto failed mainlyby reason of the casualties to which sailing-vessels were alwaysexposed. He pressed upon their attention the change whichsteam-navigation had recently wrought in naval warfare. He quoted thepithy remark of Lord Palmerston, that "steam had converted the Channelinto a river, and thrown a bridge across it. "

He demonstrated from recent history the facility with which France couldtransport large forces by sea to distant points. Then, in tonestremulous with emotion, he drew upon the resources of his own marvellousmemory. "I have experienced, my lords, something like a sentiment ofhumiliation in going through these details. I recollect the day whenevery part of the opposite coast was blockaded by an English fleet. Iremember the victory of Camperdown, and that of St. Vincent, won by SirJ. Jervis. I do not forget the great victory of the Nile, nor, last ofall, that triumphant fight at Trafalgar, which almost annihilated thenavies of France and Spain, I contrast the position which we occupied atthat period with that which we now hold. I recollect the expulsion ofthe French from Egypt, the achievement of victory after victory inSpain, the British army established in the South of France, and then thegreat battle by which that war was terminated. I cannot glance back overthat series of events without feeling some degree of humiliation when Iam called upon to state in this House the measures which I deem it to benecessary to take in order to provide for the safety of the country. "

Then pausing a moment and overcoming his evident emotion, he continued, with a force of manner and dignity of bearing which no words can fitlydescribe, --"But I may be asked, 'Why do you think such measuresrequisite? Are we not in alliance with France? Are we not on terms offriendship with Russia? What other power can molest us?' To thesequestions, my lords, my answer shall be a short and simple one. I willnot consent to live in dependence on the friendship or forbearance ofany country. I rely solely on my own vigor, my own exertion, and my ownintelligence. " It will be readily believed that cheer after cheer rangthrough the House when this bold and manly announcement was made. 

Then, after alluding to the immense armament by sea and land whichFrance had hurled with such incredible rapidity upon the Austrian Empireduring the recent war in Italy, he concluded by saying, --"Are we to sitsupine on our own shores, and not to prepare the means necessary in caseof war to resist that power? I do not wish to say that we should do thisfor any aggressive purpose. What I insist upon is, that we are bound tomake every effort necessary for our own shelter and protection. Besidethis, the question of expense and of money sinks into insignificance. Itis the price we must pay for our insurance, and it is but a moderateprice for so important an insurance. I know there are persons who willsay, 'Let us run the risk. ' Be it so. But, my lords, if the calamityshould come, if the conflagration should take place, what words candescribe the extent of the calamity, or what imagination can paint theoverwhelming ruin that would fall upon us? I shall be told, perhaps, that these are the timid counsels of old age. My lords, for myself, Ishould run no risk. Personally I have nothing to fear. But to point outpossible peril and how to guard effectively against it, --that is surelyto be considered not as timidity, but as the dictate of wisdom andprudence. I have confined myself to facts that cannot be disputed. Ithink I have confined myself to inferences that no man can successfullycontravene. I hope what I have said has been in accordance with yourfeelings and opinions. I shall terminate what I have to say in twoemphatic words, '_Voe victis!_'--words of solemn and most significantimport. "

So spoke the Nestor of the English nation. Has our country no lesson tolearn from the well-considered words of this aged and accomplishedstatesman? Are we not paying a large insurance to secure permanentnational prosperity? And is it not a wise and profitable investment, atany cost of blood and treasure, if it promises the supremacy of ourConstitution, the integrity of our Union, and the impartial enforcementof our laws?

When it is remembered that Lord Lyndhurst was at this time in hiseighty-eighth year, this speech of nearly an hour in length, giving noevidence from first to last of physical debility or mental decay, delivered in a firm, clear, and unfaltering voice, admirable for itslogical arrangement, most forcible and telling in its treatment of thesubject, and irresistible in its conclusions, must be considered ashardly finding a parallel in ancient or modern times. We might almostcall it his valedictory; for his lordship's subsequent speeches havebeen infrequent, and, with, we believe, a single exception, short, andhe is now rarely, if ever, seen in the House of Lords. 

I shall not dwell upon the speeches that followed this earnest andeloquent appeal to the wisdom and patriotism of the listening peers. They were mainly confined to grateful recognition of the service whichLord Lyndhurst had rendered to the nation by his frank and fearlessavowal of those principles which alone could preserve the honor andindependence of England. The opposition urged the most vigorouspreparations for resisting invasion, while Her Majesty's ministersdisclaimed any intention of weakening or neglecting the nationaldefences. As the speeches, however exhibited little worthy of mentionbeyond the presentation of these points, I have supposed that a moregeneral description of some of the leading members of the Upper Housewould be more interesting to my readers than a detailed account of whatwas said upon this particular occasion. 

I have already alluded to the personal appearance and bearing of LordBrougham. By reason of his great age, his long Parliamentary experience, (he has been in the House of Commons and House of Lords for nearly fiftyyears, ) his habit of frequent speaking, and the commanding ability ofmany of his public efforts, his name as an orator is perhaps more widelyknown, and his peculiar style of declamation more correctly appreciated, than those of any other man now living. It would therefore seemunnecessary to give any sketch of his oratory, or of his manner indebate. Very few educated men in this country are unfamiliar with hiseloquent defence of Queen Caroline, or his most bitter attack upon Mr. Canning, or his brilliant argument for Mr. Williams when prosecuted bythe Durham clergy. Lord Brougham retains to this day the same fearlesscontempt of all opposition, the same extravagant and often inconsistentanimosity to every phase of conservative policy, and the same fiery zealin advocating every measure which he has espoused, that have evercharacterized his erratic career. The witty author of "The Bachelor ofthe Albany" has tersely, and not without a certain spice of truth, described him as "a man of brilliant incapacity, vast and variousmisinformation, and immense moral requirements. "

The Duke of Argyle deserves more than a passing mention. Althoughcomparatively a young man, he has already had a most creditable career, and given new lustre to an old and honored name. In politics he is adecided and consistent Liberal, and he merits the favorableconsideration of all loyal Americans from the fact that he has notfailed on every proper occasion to advocate our cause with sucharguments as show clearly that he fully understands our position andappreciates the importance of the principles for which we arecontending. It is a curious coincidence, that his style of address bearsa close resemblance to what may be called the American manner. Rapid, but distinct, in utterance, facile and fluent in speech, natural andgraceful in gesticulation, he might almost be transplanted to the hallsof Congress at Washington without betraying his foreign birth andeducation. 

Lord Derby is undoubtedly the most skillful Parliamentary tactician andthe most accomplished speaker in the House of Lords. In 1834, (when hewas a member of the House of Commons, ) Macaulay said of him, that "hisknowledge of the science of parliamentary defence resembled aninstinct. " He is the acknowledged leader of the Tories or Conservativesin England, and dictates the policy of his party with absolutedespotism. Belonging to one of the oldest peerages in the kingdom, having already filled some of the most important offices in HerMajesty's Government, occupying the highly honorable position ofChancellor of the University of Oxford, (as successor of the first Dukeof Wellington, ) an exact and finished scholar, enjoying an immenseincome, and the proprietor of vast landed estates, he may be justlyconsidered one of the best types of England's aristocracy. He has thatunmistakable air of authority without the least alloy of arrogance, that"pride in his port, " which quietly asserts the dignity of long descent. As a speaker, his manner is impressive and forcible, with a rare commandof choice language, an accurate and comprehensive knowledge of allsubjects connected with the administration of public affairs, and thatentire self-control which comes from life-long contact on terms ofequality with the best society in Europe and a thorough confidence inhis own mental resources. Lord Derby is preëminently a Parliamentaryorator, and furnishes one of the unusual instances where a reputationfor eloquence earned in the House of Commons has been fully sustained bya successful trial in the House of Lords. 

Another debater of marked ability in this body is Dr. SamuelWilberforce, Bishop of Oxford. He is the third son of WilliamWilberforce, the celebrated philanthropist, but by no means inherits thesimplicity of character and singular absence of all personal ambitionwhich made his father so widely beloved and respected. He is known asthe leading exponent of High-Church views, and has been heard in theHouse of Lords on every question directly or indirectly affecting theinterests of the Establishment. It was long ago said of him, that, hadhe been in political life, he would surely and easily have risen to theposition of Premier. He has for years been charged with a markedproclivity to the doctrines of the Puseyites; and his adroitness inbaffling all attempted investigation into the manner in which he hasconducted the discipline of his diocese has perhaps contributed morethan any other cause to fasten upon him the significant _sobriquet_ towhich I have already alluded. 

Any sketch of the prominent members of the House of Lords would beimperfect which should omit to give some account of Lord Westbury, thepresent Lord-High-Chancellor. Having been Solicitor-General in twosuccessive Administrations, he was filling for the second time theposition of Attorney-General, when, upon the death of Lord Campbell, hewas raised to the wool-sack. As a Chancery practitioner he was for yearsat the head of his profession, and is supposed to have received thelargest income ever enjoyed by an English barrister. During the fouryears next preceding his elevation to the peerage his average annualearnings at the bar were twenty thousand pounds. In the summer of 1860it was my good fortune to hear the argument of Lord Westbury (then SirRichard Bethell) in a case of great interest and importance, beforeVice-Chancellor Wood. The point at issue involved the construction of amarriage-settlement between the Earl of Shrewsbury and the PrinceBorghese of Rome, drawn up on the occasion of the marriage of the Princewith Lady Talbot, second daughter of the Earl. The interpretation of theterms of the contract was by express stipulation to be in accordancewith the Roman common law. A commission sent to Rome to ascertain themeaning of certain provisions contained in the contract resulted inseveral folio volumes, embodying "the conflicting opinions of the mosteminent Roman lawyers, " supported by references to the Canonists, thedecisions of the "Sacred Rota, " the great text-writers uponjurisprudence, the Institutes and Pandects, and ascending still higherto the laws of the Roman Republic and the Augustan era. 

The leading counsel in the kingdom were retained in the case, andunusual public interest was enlisted. The amount at stake was twentythousand pounds, and it was estimated that nearly, if not quite, thatamount had already been consumed in costs. Legal proceedings are not aninexpensive luxury anywhere; but "the fat contention and the flowingfee" have a significance to English ears which we can hardly appreciatein this country. 

It will be at once apparent even to the unprofessional reader that mostdifficult and complicated questions were presented by thiscase, --questions turning on the exact interpretation of contracts, involving delicate verbal distinctions, and demanding a thoroughcomprehension of an immense and unwieldy mass of Roman law embraced inthe dissenting _dicta_ of Roman lawyers. It required the exercise of thevery highest legal ability, trained and habituated by long and patientdiscipline to grapple with great issues. 

The argument of Sir Richard Bethell abundantly demonstrated his capacityto satisfy the demands of the occasion, and displayed most triumphantlyhis perfect mastery of the whole subject. As the time drew near when hewas expected to close for the defence, barristers and students-at-lawbegan to flock into the small and inconveniently arranged courtroom. Astranger and a foreigner could not but see at once that theAttorney-General was the cynosure of all eyes. And, indeed, no one inthe room more thoroughly appreciated the fact that he was the centraland controlling attraction than Sir Richard himself. I must be pardonedfor using an English slang-phrase, but I can convey the impression whichhe inevitably makes upon a spectator in no other way than by saying thathe is "a most magnificent swell. " And I do this with the more confidenceas I have heard him characterized in precisely these words by members ofthe English bar. Every motion, every attitude, indicates an intenseself-consciousness. The Earl of Chatham had not a greater passion fortheatrical effect, nor has a more consummate and finished actor evergraced the stage. If the performance had been less perfect, it wouldhave been ludicrous in the extreme; for it did not overlook the minutestdetails. He could not examine his brief, or make a suggestion to one ofhis associates, or note an important point in the argument of opposingcounsel, or listen to an intimation of opinion from the Bench, withoutan obvious eye to dramatic propriety. During the trial, an attorney'sclerk handed him a letter, and the air with which it was opened, read, and answered was of itself a study. Yet it was all in the highest styleof the art. No possible fault could be found with the execution. Not asingle spectator ventured to smile. The supremacy of undoubted geniuswas never more apparent, and never exacted nor received more willingworship. Through the kindness of a friendly barrister I was introducedto one of the juniors of the Attorney-General, --a stripling of aboutfifty years of age. While we were conversing about the case, Sir Richardturned and made some comment upon the conduct of the trial; but myfriend would no more have thought of introducing me to the leader of thebar than he would have ventured to stop the carriage of the Queen inHyde Park and present me then and there to Her Majesty. 

I remember as well as if it were but yesterday how attorneys and juniorcounsel listened with the utmost deference to every suggestion which hecondescended to address to them, how narrowly the law-students watchedhim, as if some legal principle were to be read in his cold, hardcountenance, and, as he at last rose slowly and solemnly to make hislong-expected argument, how court, bar, and by-standers composedthemselves to hear. He spoke with great deliberation and distinctness, with singular precision and propriety of language, without any parade ofrhetoric or attempt at eloquence. After a very short and appropriateexordium, he proceeded directly to the merits of the case. His wordswere well-weighed, and his manner was earnest and impressive. It was, inshort, the perfection of reason confidently addressed to a competenttribunal. 

And yet his manner was by no means that of a man seeking to persuade asuperior, but rather that of one comparing opinions with an equal, ifnot an inferior mind, elevated by some accident to a position offactitious importance. One could not but feel that here was a powerbehind the throne greater than the throne itself. 

It cannot be doubted that this consciousness of mental and professionalpreëminence, sustained by the unanimous verdict of public opinion, hasgiven to Lord Westbury a defiant, if not an insolent bearing. The storyis current at the English bar, that, some years ago, when offered a seaton the Bench, with a salary of five thousand pounds, he promptlydeclined, saying, "I would rather earn ten thousand pounds a year bytalking sense than five thousand pounds a year by hearing other men talknonsense. " Anecdotes are frequent in illustration of his supercilioustreatment of attorneys and clients while he was a barrister. And sincehis elevation to the wool-sack there has been no abatement ormodification of his offensive manner. His demeanor toward counselappearing before him has been the subject of constant and indignantcomplaint. It will be remembered by some of my readers, that, not longsince, during a session of the House of Lords, he gave the lie direct toone of the peers, --an occurrence almost without precedent in thatdecorous body. Far different from this was the tone in which LordThurlow, while Lord-Chancellor, asserted his independence and vindicatedhis title to respect in his memorable rebuke addressed to the Duke ofGrafton. If the testimony of English travellers in this country is to bebelieved, the legislative assemblies of our own land have hithertoenjoyed the unenviable monopoly of this species of retort. 

The House of Lords contains other peers of marked ability and protractedParliamentary experience, among whom are Earl Granville, the Earl ofEllenborough, the Duke of Somerset, and the Earl of Shaftesbury; but wecannot dwell in detail upon their individual characteristics asspeakers, or upon the share they have severally taken in the publiccouncils, without extending this article beyond its legitimate limits. 

As genius is not necessarily or usually transmitted from generation togeneration, while a seat in the House of Lords is an inheritableprivilege, it will be readily believed that there is a considerablenumber of peers with no natural or acquired fitness for legislativeduties, --men whose dullness in debate, and whose utter incapacity tocomprehend any question of public interest or importance, cannot beadequately described. They speak occasionally, from a certainill-defined sense of what may be due to their position, yet areobviously aware that what they say is entitled to no weight, and aregreatly relieved when the unwelcome and disagreeable duty has beendischarged. They are the men who hesitate and stammer, whose hats andcanes are always in their way, and who have no very clear notions aboutwhat should be done with their hands. A visitor who chances to spend anevening in the House of Lords for the first and last time, whilenoblemen of this stamp are quieting their tender consciences by astatement of their views upon the subject under discussion, will be sureto retire with a very unfavorable and wholly incorrect estimate of thespeaking talent of English peers. 

It would hardly seem necessary to devote time or space to those membersof the House of Lords who are rarely, if ever, present at the debates. As has been already stated, the whole number of peers is about fourhundred and sixty, of whom less than twenty-five are minors, while theaverage attendance is less than fifty. The right to vote by proxy is apeculiar and exclusive privilege of the Upper House, and vicariousvoting to a great extent is common on all important issues. Macaulay, many years ago, pronounced the House of Lords "a small and torpidaudience"; and certainly, since the expression of this opinion, therehas been no increase of average attendance. A considerable proportion ofthe absentees will be found among the "fast noblemen" of thekingdom, --the men who prostitute their exalted social position to thebasest purposes, squandering their substance and wasting their time indegrading dissipation, the easy prey of accomplished sharpers, and aburning disgrace to their order. Sometimes, indeed, they pause on thebrink of utter ruin, only to become in their turn apostles of iniquity, and to lure others to a like destruction. The unblushing and successfulaudacity of these titled _roués_ is beginning to attract the attentionand awaken the fears of the better part of the English people. Theirpernicious example is bearing most abundant and bitter fruit in thedepraved morals of what are called the "lower classes" of society, andtheir misdeeds are repeated in less fashionable quarters, with lessbrilliant surroundings. Against this swelling tide of corruptinginfluence the press of England is now raising its warning voice, and thestatements which are publicly and unreservedly made, and the predictionswhich are confidently given, are very far from being welcome to Englisheyes or grateful to English ears. 

Another class of the House of Lords, and it is a large one, is mosthappily characterized by Sydney Smith in his review of "Granby. " "LordChesterton we have often met with, and suffered a good deal from hislordship: a heavy, pompous, meddling peer, occupying a great share ofthe conversation, saying things in ten words which required only two, and evidently convinced that he is making a great impression; a largeman, with a large head, and a very landed manner; knowing enough totorment his fellow-creatures, not to instruct them; the ridicule ofyoung ladies, and the natural butt and target of wit. It is easy to talkof carnivorous animals and beasts of prey; but does such a man, who layswaste a whole civilized party of beings by prosing, reflect upon the joyhe spoils and the misery he creates in the course of his life, and thatany one who listens to him through politeness would prefer toothache orear-ache to his conversation? Does he consider the great uneasinesswhich ensues, when the company has discovered a man to be an extremelyabsurd person, at the same time that it is absolutely impossible toconvey by words or manner the most distant suspicion of the discovery?"

Now, most unfortunately, the noble House of Chesterton is still extant, and its numerous representatives cherish with jealous care everyinherited absurdity of the family. Their favorite field of operations isthe House of Lords, partly because the strict proprieties of the placeprotect them from rude and inconvenient interruption, and partly becausethey can be sure of a "fit audience found, though few, "--an audienceof equals, whom it is no condescension to address. In the House ofCommons they would be coughed down or groaned down before they hadwasted ten minutes of the public time, and that they escape as swiftsuppression in the House of Lords is much more creditable to thecourtesy of that body than to its just appreciation of the shortness ofhuman life. There is rarely a debate of importance in the House of Lordsduring which some one of the Chesterton family does not contribute hismorsel of pompous imbecility, or unfold his budget of obsolete andexploded prejudices, or add his mite of curious misinformation. Thatsuch painful exhibitions of callow and contracted bigotry should sofrequently be made in a body claiming for itself the finest culture andthe highest civilization in Christendom is certainly a most mortifyingcircumstance, and serves to show that narrow views and unstatesmanlikeopinions are not confined to democratic deliberative assemblies, andthat the choicest advantages of education, literary and political, arenot at all inconsistent with ignorance and arrogance. 

But we will allow his lordship to tell his own story. Here is his setspeech, only slightly modified from evening to evening, as may bedemanded by the difference in the questions under debate. 

"My lords, the noble lord who has just taken his seat, although, I ambound to say, presenting his view of the case with that candor which mynoble friend (if the noble lord will allow me to call him so) alwaysdisplays, yet, my lords, I cannot but add, omitted one important featureof the subject. Now, my lords, I am exceedingly reluctant to take up thetime of your lordships with my views upon the subject-matter of thisdebate; yet, my lords, as the noble and learned lord who spoke last butone, as well as the noble earl at the head of Her Majesty's Government, and the noble marquis who addressed your lordships early in the evening, have all fallen into the same mistake, (if these noble lords will permitme to presume that they could be mistaken, ) I must beg leave to callyour lordships' attention to the significant fact, that each and all ofthese noble lords have failed to point out to your lordships, that, important and even conclusive as the arguments and statistics of theirlordships may at first sight appear, yet they have not directed yourlordships to the very suspicious circumstance that our noble ancestorshave never discovered the necessity of resorting to this singularexpedient. 

"For myself, my lords, I confess that I am filled with the most gloomyforebodings for the future of this country, when I hear a question ofthis transcendent importance gravely discussed by noble lords withoutthe slightest allusion to this vital consideration. I beg to ask noblelords, Are we wiser than our forefathers? Are any avenues of informationopen to us which were closed to them? Were they less patriotic, lessintelligent, less statesmanlike, than the present generation? Why, then, I most earnestly put it to your lordships, should we disregard, or, certainly, lose sight of their wisdom and their experience? I implorenoble lords to pause before it is too late. I solemnly call upon them toconsider that the proposed measure is, after all, only democracy under athin disguise. Has it never occurred to noble lords that this projectdid not originate in this House? that its warmest friends and mostardent and persevering advocates are found among those who come from thepeople, and who, from the very nature of the case, are incompetent todecide upon what will be for the, best interests of the kingdom? Mylords, I feel deeply upon this subject, and I must be pardoned forexpressing myself in strong terms. I say again, that I see here theclearest evidence of democratic tendencies, a contempt for existing andancient institutions, and an alarming want of respect for time-honoredprecedents, which, I am bound to say, demand our prompt and indignantcondemnation, " etc. , etc. , etc. [2]

[Footnote 2: If any one of my readers is inclined to suspect that I havedrawn upon my imagination for this specimen speech, I will only say, that, if he were my bitterest enemy, I could wish him no more severepunishment than to undergo as I have done, (_horresco referens_, ) anhour of the Marquis of Normanby, the Earl of Malmesbury, and a few otherkindred spirits. If he have no opportunity of subjecting the truth of mystatement and the accuracy of my report to this most grievous test, Ibeg to assure him that I have given no fancy sketch, but that I haveheard speeches from these noblemen in precisely this tone and to exactlythis effect. ]

This is the regular speech, protracted in the same strain for perhapshalf an hour. Of the manner of the noble orator I will not venture adescription. Any attempt to convey an idea of the air of omnisciencewith which these dreary platitudes are delivered would surely result infailure. It is enough to say that the impression which the noble lordleaves upon an unprejudiced and un-English mind is in all respectspainful. Indeed, one sees at a glance how absolutely hopeless would beany finite effort to convince him of the absurdity of his positions orthe weakness of his understanding. There he stands, a solemn, shallow, conceited, narrow-minded, imperturbable, impracticable, incorrigibleblockhead, on whom everything in the shape of argument is utterlywasted, and from whom all the arrows of wit and sarcasm fall harmless tothe ground. In fact, he is perfectly proof against any intellectualweapons forged by human skill or wielded by mortal arm, and he awaitsand receives every attack with a stolid and insulting indifference whichmust be maddening to an opponent. 

I hasten to confess my entire incapacity to describe the uniformpersonal bearing of a Chesterton in or out of the House of Lords. It isstrictly _sui generis_. It has neither the quiet, unassuming dignity ofthe Derbys, the Shaftesburys, or the Warwicks, nor the vulgar vanity ofthe untravelled Cockney. It simply defies accurate delineation. Dickenshas attempted to paint the portrait of such a character in "BleakHouse"; but Sir Leicester Dedlock, even in the hands of this greatartist, is not a success, --merely because, in the case of the Baronet, selfishness and self-importance are only a superficial crust, while withyour true Chesterton these attributes penetrate to the core and are asmuch a part of the man as any limbs or any feature of his face. Agenuine Chesterton is as unlike his stupid caricature in our owntheaters in the person of "Lord Dundreary, " as the John Bull of theFrench stage, leading a woman by a halter around her neck, andexclaiming, "G---- d----! I will sell my wife at Smithfield, " is unlikethe Englishman of real life. Lord Chesterton does not wear a small glassin his right eye, nor commence every other sentence with "Aw! weallynow. " He does not stare you out of countenance in a _café_, nor wonder"what the Devil that fellaw means by his insolence. " So much by way ofnegative description. To appreciate him positively, one must see him andhear him. No matter when or where you encounter him, you will find himever the same; and you will at last conclude that his manners are notunnatural to a very weak man inheriting the traditions of an ancient andtitled family, and educated from childhood to believe that he belongs toa superior order of beings. 

Of course the strong point of a Chesterton is what he calls his"conservatism. " He values everything in proportion to its antiquity, andprefers a time-honored abuse to a modern blessing. With a former Duke ofSomerset, he would pity Adam, "because he had no ancestors. " Hissympathies, so far as he has any sentiments which deserve to bedignified by that name, are ever on the side of tyranny. He condescendsto give his valuable sanction to the liberal institutions of England, not because they are liberal, but because they are English. Next afterthe Established Church, the reigning sovereign and the royal family, hisown order and his precious self, his warmest admiration is bestowed onsome good old-fashioned, thorough-going, grinding despotism. He defendsthe Emperor of Austria, and considers the King of Naples a much-abusedmonarch. 

If his lordship has ever been in diplomatic life, --an event highlyprobable, --he becomes the most intolerable nuisance that ever belied thenoblest sentiments of civilized society or blocked the wheels of publicdebate. Flattered by the interested attention of despotic courts, hispoor weak head has been completely turned. He has seen everything _encouleur de rose_. He assures their lordships that he has never known asingle well-authenticated case of oppression of the lower classes, whileit is within his personal knowledge that many of the best families (inItaly, for instance) have been compelled to leave all their propertybehind them, and fly for their lives before an insolent and unreasoningmob. How he deluges the House with distorted facts and garbledstatistics! How he warns noble lords against the wiles of Mazzini, theunscrupulous ambition of Victor Emmanuel, and the headlong haste ofGaribaldi!

Of course, his lordship's bitterest hatred and intensest aversion arereserved for democratic institutions. Against these he wages a constantcrusade. Armed _cap-à-pie_ in his common-sense-proof coat of mail, hecharges feebly upon them with his blunt lance, works away furiously withhis wooden sword, and then ambles off with a triumphant air veryludicrous to behold. Democracy is the _bête noir_ of all theChestertons. They attack it not only because they consider it a recentinnovation, but also because it threatens the permanence of their order. About the practical working of a republic they have no betterinformation than they have about the institutions of Iceland or thepolitics of Patagonia. It is quite enough for them to know that thetheory of democracy is based on the equality of man, and that wheredemocracy prevails a privileged class is unknown. 

It is hardly necessary to add, that the present condition of the UnitedStales is a perfect godsend to the whole family of Chestertons. Havethey not long predicted our disgrace and downfall? Have they not, indeed, ever since our unjustifiable Declaration of Independence, anticipated precisely what has happened? Have they not always andeverywhere contended that a republic had no elements of nationalcohesion? In a word, have they not feared our growing power andpopulation as only such base and ignoble spirits can fear the sure andsteady progress of a rival nation? Unhappily, their influence in thecouncils of the kingdom is by no means inconsiderable. The prestige ofan ancient family, the obsequious deference paid in England to exaltedsocial position, and the power of patronage, all combine to confer onthe Chestertons a commanding and controlling authority absurdly out ofproportion to their intrinsic ability. 

There has been a prevalent notion in this country that England wasslowly, but certainly, tending towards a more democratic form ofgovernment, and a more equal and equitable distribution of power amongthe different orders of society. This is very far from being the case. It has been well said, that "it is always considered a piece ofimpertinence in England, if a man of less than two or three thousand ayear has any opinions at all upon important subjects. " But if thisincome is quadrupled, and the high honor of a seat in the House of Lordsis superadded, it is not difficult to understand that the titledrecipient of such a revenue will find that his opinions command thegreatest consideration. The organization of the present Cabinet ofEngland is a fresh and conclusive illustration of this principle. It isnot too much to say, that at this moment the home and foreignadministration of the government is substantially in the hands of theHouse of Lords. Indeed, the aristocratic element of English society isas powerful to-day as it has been at any time during the past century. To fortify this statement by competent authority, we make an extractfrom a leader in the London "Times, " on the occasion of the elevation ofLord John Russell to the peerage. "But however welcome to the House ofLords may be the accession of Lord John Russell, the House of Commons, we apprehend, will contemplate it with very little satisfaction. Whilethe House of Lords does but one-twentieth part of the business of theHouse of Commons, it boasts a lion's share of the presentadministration. Three out of our five Secretaries of State, theLord-Chancellor, the First Lord of the Admiralty, the Lord-President ofthe Council, the Postmaster-General, the Lord Privy Seal, all hold seatsin the Upper House, while the Home-Secretary, and the Secretary forIndia, the First Lord of the Treasury, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the President of the Board of Trade, the President of the Poor-LawBoard, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and the Secretary forIreland hold seats in the House of Commons. Lord John Russell goes togive more to that which had already too much. At the present moment, thetwo ministers whose united departments distribute between twenty andthirty millions of the national revenue sit in the House which does notrepresent the people. In voting the army and navy estimates, the Houseof Commons received this year from the Under-Secretaries thatinformation which they ought to have from the best and most authentic, sources. To these is now added the all-important department of ForeignAffairs; so that, if things remain as they are, the representatives ofthe people must be content to feed on second-hand information.... Mostof us can remember a time when it was a favorite topic with popularagitators to expatiate on the number of lords which a governmentcontained, as if every peer of Parliament wielded an influencenecessarily hostile to the liberties of the country. We look down in thepresent age with contempt on such vulgar prejudices; but we seem to berunning into the contrary extreme, when we allow almost all theimportant offices of our government to be monopolized by a chamber wherethere is small scope for rhetorical ability, and the short sittings andunbusiness-like habits of which make it very unsuited for theenforcement of ministerial responsibility. The statesmen who have chargeof large departments of expenditure, like the army and navy, and of thehighest interests of the nation, ought to be in the House of Commons, isnecessarily superior to a member of the House of the House of Lords, butit is to the House of Commons that these high functionaries areprincipally accountable, and because, if they forfeit the confidence ofthe House of Commons, the House of Lords can avail them but little. Thematter is of much importance and much difficulty. We can only hope thatthe opportunity of redressing this manifest imperfection in thestructure of the present government will not be lost, and that the Houseof Commons may recover those political privileges which it has hithertobeen its pride to enjoy. "

This distribution of power in the English Cabinet furnishes a sufficientsolution of the present attitude of the English Government towards thiscountry. The ruling classes of England can have no sincere sympathy withthe North, because its institutions and instincts are democratic. Theygive countenance to the South, because at heart and in practice it isessentially an aristocracy. To remove the dangerous example of asuccessful and powerful republic, where every man has equal rights, civil and religious, and where a privileged order in Church and State isimpossible, has become in the minds of England's governing classes animperious necessity. Compared with the importance of securing thisresult, all other considerations weigh as nothing. Brothers by blood, language, and religion, as they have been accustomed to call us while wewere united and formidable, we are now, since civil war has weakened usand great national questions have distracted our councils, treated asaliens, if not as enemies. On the other hand, the South, whose leadershave ever been first to take hostile ground against England, and whose"peculiar institution" has drawn upon us the eloquent and unsparingdenunciations of English philanthropists, is just now in high favor withthe "mother-country. " Not only has the ill-disguised dislike of theTories ripened into open animosity, not only are we the target for theshallow scorn of the Chestertons, (even a donkey may dare to kick adying lion, ) but we have lost the once strongly pronounced friendship ofsuch ardent anti-slavery men as Lord Brougham and the Earl ofShaftesbury. Why is this? Does not the explanation lie in a nutshell? Wewere becoming too strong. We were disturbing the balance of power. Wewere demonstrating too plainly the inherent activity and irresistibleenergy of a purely democratic form of government. Therefore _Carthagodelenda est_. "But yet the pity of it, Iago!" Mark how a Christiannation deals with a Christian ally. Our destruction is to beaccomplished, not by open warfare, but by the delusive and dastardlypretence of neutrality. There is to be no diplomatic recognition of anindependent Southern Confederacy, but a formidable navy is to befurnished to our enemies, and their armies are to be abundantly suppliedwith the munitions of war. But how? By the English Government? Oh, no!This would be in violation of solemn treaties. Earl Russell says, "Wehave long maintained relations of peace and amity" with the UnitedStates. England cannot officially recognize or aid the South withoutplacing herself in a hostile attitude towards this country. Yetmeanwhile English capitalists can publicly subscribe to the loan whichour enemies solicit, and from English ship-yards a fleet of iron-cladwar-vessels can be sent to lay waste our commerce and break our blockadeof Southern ports. What the end will be no one may venture to foretell;but it needs no prophet to predict that many years will not obliteratefrom the minds of the American people the present policy of the EnglishCabinet, controlled as it is by the genius of English aristocracy. 

 * * * * *

THEODORE WINTHROP'S WRITINGS. 

"The first time I saw Theodore Winthrop, " said one to me a few days ago, "he came into my office with a common friend. They were talking as theyentered, and Winthrop said, 'Yes, the fellows who came over in theMayflower can't afford to do that!'

"'There, ' thought I to myself, 'there's another of the Mayflower men! Iwish to my soul that ship had sunk on her voyage out!' But when I cameto know him, I quickly learned that with him origin was not a matter ofvain pride, but a fact inciting him to all nobleness of thought andlife, and spurring him on to emulate the qualities of his ancestor. "

That is to say, he was not a prig, or a snob, but a gentleman. And if heremembered that he "came over in the Mayflower, " it was because he feltthat that circumstance bound him to higher enterprises, to better work, than other men's. And he believed in his heart, as he wrote in theopening chapter of "John Brent, " that "deeds of the heroic and chivalrictimes do not utterly disdain our day. There are men, " he continues, "asready to gallop for love and strike for love now as in the age ofAmadis. " Ay, and for a nobler love than the love of woman--for love ofcountry, and of liberty--he was ready to strike, and to die. 

Ready to do, when the time came; but also--what required a greatersoul--ready to wait in cheerful content till the fitting time shouldcome. Think of these volumes lying in his desk at home, and he, theirauthor, going about his daily tasks and pleasures, as hearty and asunrepining as though no whisper of ambition had ever come to hissoul, --as though he had no slightest desire for the pleasant fame whicha successful book gives to a young man. Think of it, O race ofscribblers, to whom a month in the printer's hands seems a monstrousdelay, and who bore publishers with half-finished manuscripts, asimpatient hens begin, untimely, to cackle before the egg is laid. 

That a young man, not thirty-three when he died, should have writtenthese volumes, so full of life, so full of strange adventure, of widereading, telling of such large and thorough knowledge of books and menand Nature, is a remarkable fact in itself. That he should have let themanuscripts lie in his desk has probably surprised the world more. But, much as he wrote, Winthrop, perhaps, always felt that his true life wasnot that of the author, but of the actor. He has often told me that itwas a pleasure to write, --probably such a pleasure as it is to an oldtar to spin his yarns. His mind was active, stored with the accumulatedfacts of a varied experience. How keen an observer of Nature he was, those who have read "John Brent" or the "Canoe and Saddle" need not betold; how appreciative an observer of every-day life, was shown in thatbrilliant story which appeared in these pages some eighteen months ago, under the title of "Love and Skates. " Our American life lost by hisdeath one who, had he lived, would have represented it, reported it tothe world, soul and body together; for he comprehended its spirit, aswell as saw its outer husk; he was in sympathy with all itsmanifestations. 

That quick, intelligent eye saw everything; that kindly, sympatheticspirit comprehended always the soul of things; and no life, howevercommon, rugged, or coarse, was to him empty. If he added alwayssomething of his own nobility of heart, if he did not pry out withprurient eyes the meannesses of life around him, the picture he drew wasnone the less true, --was, indeed, it seems to me, all the more true. Therefore I say that his early death was a loss to American literature, or, to speak more accurately, to that too small part of our literaturewhich concerns itself with American life. To him the hard-featuredYankee had something besides hard features and ungainly manners; he sawthe better part as well as the grosser of the creature, and knew that

 "Poor lone Hannah, Sitting by the window, binding shoes, "

had somewhat besides coarse hands and red eyes. He was not tainted withthe vicious habit of caricature, which is the excuse with whichsuperficial and heartless writers impose their false art upon thepublic. Nor did he need that his heroes should wear kid gloves, --thoughhe was himself the neatest-gloved man I knew. "Armstrong of Oregon" wasa rough figure enough; but how well he knew how to bring out the kindlytraits in that rude lumberman's character! how true to Nature is thatsketch of a gentleman in homespun! And even Jake Shamberlain, the Mormonmail-carrier, a rollicking, untidy rover, fond of whiskey, and doubtlessnot too scrupulous in a "trade, " has yet, in Winthrop's story, qualitieswhich draw us to him. 

To sit down to "John Brent" after rending one of the popular novels ofthese days, by one of the class of writers who imagine photography thenoblest of arts, is like getting out of a fashionable "party" into thecrisp air of a clear, starlight, December night. And yet Winthrop was a"society" man; one might almost say he knew that life better than theother, the freer, the nobler, which he loved to describe, as he loved tolive it. 

A neat, active figure of a man, carefully dressed, as one who pays allproper honor to the body in which he walks about; a gentleman, not onlyin the broader and more generous sense, but also according to thenarrower, conventional meaning of the term; plainly a scholarly man, fond of books, and knowing the best books; with that modest, diffidentair which bookish men have; with a curious shyness, indeed, as of onewho was not accustomed and did not like to come into too close contactwith the every-day world: such Theodore Winthrop appeared to me. Irecollect the surprise with which I heard--not from him--that he hadridden across the Plains, had camped with Lieutenant Strain, had"roughed it" in the roughest parts of our continent. But if you looked alittle closely into the face, you saw in the fine lines of the mouth thedetermination of a man who can bear to carry his body into any peril ordifficulty; and in the eye--he had the eye of a born sailor, an eyeaccustomed to measure the distance for a dangerous leap, quick tocomprehend all parts of a novel situation--you saw there presence ofmind, unfaltering readiness, and a spirit equal to anything the daymight bring forth. 

In the Memoir prefixed to "Cecil Dreeme" Curtis has drawn a portrait, tender and true, of his friend and neighbor. The few words which havewritten themselves here tell of him only as he appeared to one who knewhim less intimately, who saw him not often. 

I come now to speak of the writings which Winthrop left. These have thesingular merit, that they are all American. From first to last, they areplainly the work of a man who had no need to go to Europe for charactersor scenery or plot, --who valued and understood the peculiar life andthe peculiar Nature of this continent, and, like a true artist and poet, chose to represent that life and Nature of which he was a part. Hisstories smack of the soil; his characters--especially in "John Brent, "where his own ride across the continent is dramatized--are as fresh andas true as only a true artist could make them. Take, for instance, the"Pike, " the border-ruffian transplanted to a California "ranch, "--not aruffian, as he says, but a barbarian. 

"America is manufacturing several new types of men. The Pike is one ofthe newest. He is a bastard pioneer. With one hand he clutches thepioneer vices; with the other he beckons forward the vices ofcivilization. It is hard to understand how a man can have so littlevirtue in so long a body, unless the shakes are foes to virtue in thesoul, as they are to beauty in the face. 

"He is a terrible shock, this unlucky Pike, to the hope that the newrace on the new continent is to be a handsome race. I lose that faith, which the people about me now have nourished, when I recall the Pike. Heis hung together, not put together. He inserts his lank fathom of a maninto a suit of molasses-colored homespun. Frowzy and husky is the hairNature crowns him with; frowzy and stubby the beard. He shambles in hiswalk. He drawls in his talk. He drinks whiskey by the tank. His oathsare to his words as Falstaff's sack to his bread. I have seen Maltesebeggars, Arab camel-drivers, Dominican friars, New-York aldermen, DiggerIndians; the foulest, frowziest creatures I have ever seen arethorough-bred Pikes. "

This is not complimentary, but any one who has seen the creature knowsthat it is a portrait done by a first-rate artist. 

Take, again, that other vulgarer ruffian, "Jim Robinson, " "a little man, stockish, oily, and red in the face, a jaunty fellow, too, with acertain shabby air of coxcombry even in his travel-stained attire, "--andhow accurately does he describe the metamorphosis of this nauseous grubinto a still more disgusting butterfly!

"I can imagine him when he arrives at St. Louis, blossomed into a purplecoat with velvet lappels, a brocaded waistcoat, diamond shirt-studs, ora flamboyant scarf pinned with a pinchbeck dog, and red-legged, patent-leather boots, picking his teeth on the steps of the Planters'House. "

Or, once more, that more saintly villain, the Mormon Elder Sizzum. 

"Presently Sizzum appeared. He had taken time to tone down the pioneerand develop the deacon in his style, and a very sleek personage he hadmade of himself. He was clean shaved: clean shaving is a favoritecoxcombry of the deacon class. His long black hair, growing rank from amuddy skin, was sleekly put behind his ears. A large white blossom ofcravat expanded under his nude, beefy chin, and he wore a blackdress-coat, creased with its recent packing. Except that his pantaloonswere thrust into boots with the maker's name (Abel Gushing, Lynn, Mass. )stamped in gold on a scarlet morocco shield in front, he was in correctgo-to-meetin' costume, --a Chadband of the Plains. "

When you see one of these men, you will know him again. Winthrop hassketched these rascals with a few touches, as felicitous as any ofDickens's, and they will bear his mark forever: _T. W. Fecit. _

As for Jake Shamberlain, with his odd mixture of many religious andirreligious dialects, what there is of him is as good as Sam Weller orMrs. Poyser. 

"'Hillo, Shamberlain!' hailed Brent, riding up to the train. 

"'Howdydo? Howdydo? No swap!' responded Jake, after the Indian fashion. 'Bung my eyes, ef you're not the mate of all mates I'm glad to see! Paxvobiscrum, my filly! You look as fresh as an Aperel shad. Praisèd be theLord, ' continued he, relapsing into Mormon slang, 'who has sent theeagain, like a brand from the burning, to fall into paths of pleasantnesswith the Saints, as they wander from the Promised Land to the meansection where the low-lived Gentiles ripen their souls for hell!'"

Or Jake's droll commentary on the story of Old Bridger, ousted from hisfort, and robbed of his goods, by the Saints, in the name of the ProphetBrigham. 

"'It's olluz so, ' says Jake; 'Paul plants, and Apollyon gets theincrease. Not that Bridger's like Paul, any more 'n we're like Apollyon;but we're goan to have all the cider off his apple-trees. '"

Or, again, Jake's compliments to "Armstrong of Oregon, " that gallopingVigilant Committee of one. 

"I'll help you, if I know how, Armstrong. I ha'n't seen no two in mylife, Old Country or New Country, Saints or Gentiles, as I'd do more for'n you and your brother. I've olluz said, ef the world was chock full ofArmstrongs, Paradise wouldn't pay, and Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob moutjust as well blow out their candle and go under a bushel-basket, --unlessa half-bushel would kiver 'em. "

But the true hero of the book is the horse Don Fulano. It is easy to seethat Winthrop was a first-rate horseman, from the loving manner in whichhe describes and dwells on the perfections of the matchless stallion. None but one who knew every point of a horse, none but one of theCentaur breed, could have drawn Don Fulano, --just as none but a bornskater could have written those inimitable skating-scenes in his storyof "Love and Skates. "

"He was an American horse, --so they distinguish in California onebrought from the old States, --A SUPERB YOUNG STALLION, PERFECTLY BLACK, WITHOUT MARK. It was magnificent to see him, as he circled about me, fire in his eye, pride in his nostril, tail flying like a banner, powerand grace from tip to tip. No one would ever mount him, or ride him, unless it was his royal pleasure. He was conscious of his representativeposition, and showed his paces handsomely. "

This is the creature who takes the lead in that stirring and matchless"Gallop of Three" to the Luggernel Spring, to quote from which would beto spoil it. It must be read entire. 

In the "Canoe and Saddle" is recorded Winthrop's long ride across thecontinent. Setting out in a canoe, from Port Townsend, in Vancouver'sIsland, he journeyed, without company of other white men, to the SaltLake City and thence to "the States, "--a tedious and barbarousexperience, heightened, in this account of it, by the traveller's cheeryspirits, his ardent love of Nature, and capacity to describe the grandnatural scenery, of the effect of which upon himself he says, at theend, --

"And in all that period, while I was so near to Nature, the greatlessons of the wilderness deepened into my heart day by day, the hedgesof conventionalism withered away from my horizon, and all the pedantriesof scholastic thought perished out of my mind forever. "

He bore hardships with the courage and imperturbable good-nature of aborn gentleman. It is when men are starving, when the plating of romanceis worn off by the chafe of severe and continued suffering, --it is thenthat "blood tells. " Winthrop had evidently that keen relish for roughlife which the gently nurtured and highly cultivated man has oftenerthan his rude neighbor, partly because, in his case, contrast lends azest to the experience. Thus, when he camps with a gang of"road-makers, " in the farthest Western wilderness, --a part of CaptainMcClellan's Pacific Railroad Expedition, --how thoroughly he enjoys therough hospitality and rude wit of these pioneers!

"In such a Platonic republic as this a man found his place according tohis powers. The cooks were no base scullions; they were brethren, whomconscious ability, sustained by universal suffrage, had endowed with thefrying-pan. "

"My hosts were a stalwart gang.... Their talk was as muscular as theirarms. When these laughed, as only men fresh and hearty and in the openair can laugh, the world became mainly grotesque: it seemed at once acomic thing to live, --a subject for chuckling, that we were bipeds, withnoses, --a thing to roar at, that we had all met there from the wideworld, to hobnob by a frolicsome fire with tin pots of coffee, andpartake of crisped bacon and toasted dough-boys in ridiculous abundance. Easy laughter infected the atmosphere. Echoes ceased to be pensive, andbecame jocose. A rattling humor pervaded the forest, and Green Riverrippled with noise of fantastic jollity. Civilization and its_dilettante_ diners-out sneer when Clodpole at Dives's table doubles hissoup, knifes his fish, tilts his plate into his lap, puts muscle intothe crushing of his _méringue_, and tosses off the warm beaker in hisfinger-bowl. Camps by Tacoma sneer not at all, but candidly roar, atparallel accidents. Gawky makes a cushion of his flapjack. Butterfingersdrops his red-hot rasher into his bosom, or lets slip his mug of coffeeinto his boot drying at the fire, --a boot henceforth saccharine. A mule, slipping his halter, steps forward unnoticed, puts his nose into thecircle, and brays resonant. These are the jocular boons of life, and atthese the woodsmen guffaw with lusty good-nature. Coarse and rude thejokes may be, but not nasty, like the innuendoes of pseudo-refinedcockneys. If the woodsmen are guilty of uncleanly wit, it differs fromthe uncleanly wit of cities as the mud of a road differs from the stickyslime of slums. 

"It is a stout sensation to meet masculine, muscular men at the bravepoint of a penetrating Boston hooihut, --men who are mates, --men to whomtechnical culture means nought, --men to whom myself am nought, unless Ican saddle, lasso, cook, sing, and chop, --unless I am a man of nerve andpluck, and a brother in generosity and heartiness. It is restoration toplay at cudgels of jocoseness with a circle of friendly roughs, not oneof whom ever heard the word bore, --with pioneers, who must think andact, and wrench their living from the closed hand of Nature. "

And here is a dinner "in the open. "

"Upon the _carte du jour_ at Restaurant Sowee was written Grouse. 'Howshall we have them?' said I, cook and convive, to Loolowcan, marmitonand convive. 'One of these cocks of the mountain shall be fried, sincegridiron is not, ' responded I to myself, after meditation; 'two shall bespitted and roasted; and, as Azrael may not want us before breakfastto-morrow, the fourth shall go upon the _carte de déjeuner'_. 

"'O Pork! what a creature thou art!' continued I, in monologue, cuttingneat slices of that viand with my bowie-knife, and laying themfraternally, three in a bed, in the frying-pan. 'Blessed be Moses, whoforbade thee to the Jews, whereby we, of freer dispensations, heirs ofall the ages, inherit also pigs more numerous and bacon cheaper! O Pork!what could campaigners do without thy fatness, thy leanness, thysaltness, thy portableness?'

"Here Loolowcan presented me the three birds, plucked featherless asPlato's man. The two roasters we planted carefully on spits before asultry spot of the fire. From a horizontal stick, supported on forkedstakes, we suspended by a twig over each roaster an automatic baster, aninverted cone of pork, ordained to yield its spicy juices to the wooingflame, and drip bedewing on each bosom beneath. The roasters ripeneddeliberately, while keen and quick fire told upon the frier, the firstcourse of our feast. Meanwhile I brewed a pot of tea, blessing Confuciusfor that restorative weed, as I had blessed Moses for his abstinencefrom porkers. 

"Need I say that the grouse were admirable, that everything wasdelicious, and the Confucian weed first chop? Even a scouse of mouldybiscuit met the approval of Loolowcan. Feasts cooked under the greenwoodtree, and eaten by their cooks after a triumphant day of progress, aresweeter than the conventional banquets of languid Christendom. "

"Life in the Open Air"--containing sketches of travel among themountains and lakes of Maine, as well as the story of "Love and Skates, "which has been spoken of, "The March of the Seventh Regiment, ""Washington as a Camp, " an essay descriptive of Church's great picture, "The Heart of the Andes, " and two fragments, one of them the charmingcommencement of a story which promised to be one of his best and mostenjoyable efforts in this direction--is the concluding volume ofWinthrop's collected writings. I speak of it in this place, because itis in some part a companion-book to the volumes we have been discussing. It is as full of buoyant life, of fresh and noble thought, of gracefulwit and humor, as those; in parts it contains the most finished of hisliterary work. Few Americans who read it at the time will ever forgetthat stirring description of the march of the New-York Seventh; it is apiece of the history of our war which will live and be read as long asAmericans read their history. It moved my blood, in the reading, tonight, as it did in those days--which seem already some centuries old, so do events crowd the retrospect--when we were all reading it in thepages of the "Atlantic. " In the unfinished story of "Brightly's Orphan"there is a Jew boy from Chatham Street, an original of the first water, who, though scarce fairly introduced, will, I am sure, make a place forhimself and for his author in the memories of all who relish humor ofthe best kind. 

"Cecil Dreeme" and "Edwin Brothertoft" are quite other books than thesewe have spoken of. Here Winthrop tried a different vein, --two differentveins, perhaps. Both are stories of suffering and crime, stories of theworld and society. In one it is a woman, in the other a man, who iswronged. One deals with New York city-life of the very present day; theother is a story of the Revolutionary War, and of Tories and Patriots. The popular verdict has declared him successful, even here. "CecilDreeme" has run through no less than fifteen editions. 

In this story we are shown New York "society" as doubtless Winthrop knewit to be. Yet the book has a curious air of the Old-World; it might be astory of Venice, almost. It tells us of Old-World vices and crimes, andthe fittings and furnishings are of a piece. The localities, indeed, aresketched so faithfully, that a stranger to the city, coming suddenly, inhis wanderings, upon Chrysalis College Buildings, could not fail torecognize them at once, --as indeed happened to a country friend of minerecently, to his great delight. But the men are Americans, bred andformed--and for the most part spoiled--in Europe; Americans who havegone to Paris before their time, if it be true, what a witty Bostoniansaid, that good Americans go to Paris when they die. With all this, thebook has a strange charm, so that it takes possession of you in spite ofyourself. It is as though it drew away the curtain, for one slightmoment, from the mysteries which "society" decorously hides, --as thoughhe who drew the curtain stood beside it, pointing with solemn finger andsilent indignation to the baseness of which he gives you a glimpse. Yeteven here the good carries the day, and that in no maudlin way, butbecause the true men are the better men. 

These, then, are Winthrop's writings, --the literary works of a young manwho died at thirty-two, and who had spent a goodly part of his maturelife in the saddle and the canoe, exploring his own country, and inforeign travel. As we look at the volumes, we wonder how he found timefor so much; but when we have read, we wonder yet more at the excellenceof all he wrote. In all and through all shines his own noble spirit; andthus these books of his, whose printed pages he never saw, will keep hismemory green amongst us; for, through them, all who read may know thatthere wrote a true gentleman. 

Once he wrote, --

 "Let me not waste in skirmishes my power, In petty struggles. Rather in the hour Of deadly conflict may I nobly die, In my first battle perish gloriously. "

Even so he fell; but in these written works, as in his gallant death, heleft with us lessons which will yet win battles for the good cause ofAmerican liberty, which he held dearest in his heart. 

 * * * * *

HILARY. 

 Hilary, Summer calls thee, o'er the sea! Like white flowers upon the tide, In and out the vessels glide; But no wind on all the main Sends thy blithe soul home again: Every salt breeze moans for thee, Hilary!

 Hilary, Welcome Summer's step will be, Save to those beside whose door Doleful birds sit evermore Singing, "Never comes he here Who made every season's cheer!" Dull the June that brings not thee, Hilary!

 Hilary, What strange world has sheltered thee? Here the soil beneath thy feet Rang with songs, and blossomed sweet; Blue skies ask thee yet of Earth, Blind and dumb without thy mirth: With thee went her heart of glee, Hilary!

 Hilary, All things shape a sigh for thee! O'er the waves, among the flowers, Through the lapse of odorous hours, Breathes a lonely, longing sound, As of something sought, unfound: Lorn are all things, lorn are we, Hilary!

 Hilary, Oh, to sail in quest of thee, To the trade-wind's steady tune, Past the hurrying monsoon, Into torrid seas, that lave Dry, hot sands, --a breathless grave, -- Sad as vain the search would be, Hilary!

 Hilary, Chase the sorrow from the sea! Summer-heart, bring summer near, Warm, and fresh, and airy-clear! --Dead thou art not: dead is pain; Now Earth sees and sings again: Death, to hold thee, Life must be, Hilary!

 * * * * *

DEBBY'S DÉBUT. 

On a cheery June day Mrs. Penelope Carroll and her niece Debby Wilderwere whizzing along on their way to a certain gay watering-place, bothin the best of humors with each other and all the world beside. Aunt Penwas concocting sundry mild romances, and laying harmless plots for thepursuance of her favorite pastime, match-making; for she had invited herpretty relative to join her summer jaunt, ostensibly that the girl mightsee a little of fashionable life, but the good lady secretly proposed toherself to take her to the beach and get her a rich husband, very muchas she would have proposed to take her to Broadway and get her a newbonnet; for both articles she considered necessary, but somewhatdifficult for a poor girl to obtain. 

Debby was slowly getting her poise, after the excitement of a firstvisit to New York; for ten days of bustle had introduced the youngphilosopher to a new existence, and the working-day world seemed to havevanished when she made her last pat of butter in the dairy at home. Foran hour she sat thinking over the good-fortune which had befallen her, and the comforts of this life which she had suddenly acquired. Debby wasa true girl, --with all a girl's love of ease and pleasure; and it mustnot be set down against her that she surveyed her pretty travelling-suitwith much complacency, rejoicing inwardly that she could use her handswithout exposing fractured gloves, that her bonnet was of the newestmode, needing no veil to hide a faded ribbon or a last year's shape, that her dress swept the ground with fashionable untidiness, and herboots were guiltless of a patch, --that she was the possessor of a mineof wealth in two of the eight trunks belonging to her aunt, that she wastravelling like any lady of the land with man-and maid-servant at hercommand, and that she was leaving work and care behind her for a monthor two of novelty and rest. 

When these agreeable facts were fully realized, and Aunt Pen had fallenasleep behind her veil, Debby took out a book, and indulged in herfavorite luxury, soon forgetting past, present, and future in theinimitable history of Martin Chuzzlewit. The sun blazed, the carsrattled, children cried, ladies nodded, gentlemen longed for the solaceof prohibited cigars, and newspapers were converted into sun-shades, nightcaps, and fans; but Debby read on, unconscious of all about her, even of the pair of eyes that watched her from the opposite corner ofthe car. A gentleman with a frank, strong-featured face sat therein, andamused himself by scanning with thoughtful gaze the countenances of hisfellow-travellers. Stout Aunt Pen, dignified even in her sleep, was a"model of deportment" to the rising generation; but the student of humannature found a more attractive subject in her companion, the girl withan apple-blossom face and merry brown eyes, who sat smiling into herbook, never heeding that her bonnet was awry, and the wind takingunwarrantable liberties with her ribbons and her hair. 

Innocent Debby turned her pages, unaware that her fate sat opposite inthe likeness of a serious, black-bearded gentleman, who watched thesmiles rippling from her lips to her eyes with an interest that deepenedas the minutes passed. If his paper had been full of anything but"Bronchial Troches" and "Spalding's Prepared Glue, " he would have foundmore profitable employment; but it wasn't, and with the usual readinessof idle souls he fell into evil ways, and permitted curiosity, thatfeminine sin, to enter in and take possession of his manly mind. A greatdesire seized him to discover what book so interested his prettyneighbor; but a cover hid the name, and he was too distant to catch iton the fluttering leaves. Presently a stout Emerald-Islander, with herwardrobe oozing out of sundry paper parcels, vacated the seat behind thetwo ladies; and it was soon quietly occupied by the individual for whomSatan was finding such indecorous employment. Peeping round the littlegray bonnet, past a brown braid and a fresh cheek, the young man's eyefell upon the words the girl was reading, and forgot to look away again. Books were the desire of his life; but an honorable purpose and anindomitable will kept him steady at his ledgers till he could feel thathe had earned the right to read. Like wine to many another was an openpage to him; he read a line, and, longing for more, took a hasty sipfrom his neighbor's cup, forgetting that it was a stranger's also. 

Down the page went the two pairs of eyes, and the merriment from Debby'sseemed to light up the sombre ones behind her with a sudden shine thatsoftened the whole face and made it very winning. No wonder theytwinkled, for Elijah Pogram spoke, and "Mrs. Hominy, the mother of themodern Gracchi, in the classical blue cap and the red cottonpocket-handkerchief, came down the room in a procession of one. " A lowlaugh startled Debby, though it was smothered like the babes in theTower; and, turning, she beheld the trespasser scarlet with confusion, and sobered with a tardy sense of his transgression. Debby was not astarched young lady of the "prune and prism" school, but a frank, free-hearted little body, quick to read the sincerity of others, and totake looks and words at their real value. Dickens was her idol; and forhis sake she could have forgiven a greater offence than this. Thestranger's contrite countenance and respectful apology won her good-willat once; and with a finer courtesy than any Aunt Pen would have taught, she smilingly bowed her pardon, and, taking another book from herbasket, opened it, saying, pleasantly, --

"Here is the first volume, if you like it, Sir. I can recommend it as aninvaluable consolation for the discomforts of a summer day's journey, and it is heartily at your service. "

As much surprised as gratified, the gentleman accepted the book, andretired behind it with the sudden discovery that wrong-doing has itscompensation in the pleasurable sensation of being forgiven. Stolendelights are well known to be specially saccharine; and much as thispardoned sinner loved books, it seemed to him that the interest of thestory flagged, and that the enjoyment of reading was much enhanced bythe proximity of a gray bonnet and a girlish profile. But Dickens soonproved more powerful than Debby, and she was forgotten, till, pausing toturn a leaf, the young man met her shy glance, as she asked, with thepleased expression of a child who has shared an apple with a playmate, --

"Is it good?"

"Oh, very!"--and the man looked as honestly grateful for the book as theboy would have done for the apple. 

Only five words in the conversation, but Aunt Pen woke, as if thewatchful spirit of propriety had roused her to pluck her charge from theprecipice on which she stood. 

"Dora, I'm astonished at you! Speaking to strangers in that free manneris a most unladylike thing. How came you to forget what I have told youover and over again about a proper reserve?"

The energetic whisper reached the gentleman's ear, and he expected to beannihilated with a look when his offence was revealed; but he was sparedthat ordeal, for the young voice answered, softly, --

"Don't faint, Aunt Pen; I only did as I'd be done by; for I had twobooks, and the poor man looked so hungry for something to read that Icouldn't resist sharing my 'goodies. ' He will see that I'm a countrifiedlittle thing in spite of my fine feathers, and won't be shocked at mywant of rigidity and frigidity; so don't look dismal, and I'll be primand proper all the rest of the way, --if I don't forget it. "

"I wonder who he is; may belong to some of our first families, and inthat case it might be worth while to exert ourselves, you know. Did youlearn his name, Dora?" whispered the elder lady. 

Debby shook her head, and murmured, "Hush!"--but Aunt Pen had heard ofmatches being made in cars as well as in heaven; and as an experiencedgeneral, it became her to reconnoitre, when one of the enemy approachedher camp. Slightly altering her position, she darted anall-comprehensive glance at the invader, who seemed entirely absorbed, for not an eyelash stirred during the scrutiny. It lasted but aninstant, yet in that instant he was weighed and found wanting; for thatexperienced eye detected that his cravat was two inches wider thanfashion ordained, that his coat was not of the latest style, that hisgloves were mended, and his handkerchief neither cambric nor silk. Thatwas enough, and sentence was passed forthwith, --"Some respectable clerk, good-looking, but poor, and not at all the thing for Dora"; and Aunt Penturned to adjust a voluminous green veil over her niece's bonnet, "Toshield it from the dust, dear, " which process also shielded the facewithin from the eye of man. 

A curious smile, half mirthful, half melancholy, passed over theirneighbor's lips; but his peace of mind seemed undisturbed, and heremained buried in his book till they reached ----, at dusk. As hereturned it, he offered his services in procuring a carriage orattending to luggage; but Mrs. Carroll, with much dignity of aspect, informed him that her servants would attend to those matters, and, bowing gravely, he vanished into the night. 

As they rolled away to the hotel, Debby was wild to run down to thebeach whence came the solemn music of the sea, making the twilightbeautiful. But Aunt Pen was too tired to do anything but sup in her ownapartment and go early to bed; and Debby might as soon have proposed towalk up the Great Pyramid as to make her first appearance without thatsage matron to mount guard over her; so she resigned herself to pie andpatience, and fell asleep, wishing it were to-morrow. 

At five, A. M. , a nightcapped head appeared at one of the myriad windowsof the ---- Hotel, and remained there as if fascinated by the miracle ofsunrise over the sea. Under her simplicity of character and girlishmerriment Debby possessed a devout spirit and a nature full of the realpoetry of life, two gifts that gave her dawning womanhood its sweetestcharm, and made her what she was. As she looked out that summer dawnupon the royal marriage of the ocean and the sun, all petty hopes andlongings faded out of sight, and her young face grew luminous withthoughts too deep for words. Her day was happier for that silent hour, her life richer for the aspirations that uplifted her like beautifulstrong angels, and left a blessing when they went. The smile of the Junesky touched her lips, the morning red seemed to linger on her cheek, andin her eye arose a light kindled by the shimmer of that broad sea ofgold; for Nature rewarded her young votary well, and gave her beauty, when she offered love. How long she leaned there Debby did not know;steps from below roused her from her reverie, and led her back into theworld again. Smiling at herself, she stole to bed, and lay wrapped inwaking dreams as changeful as the shadows dancing on her chamber-wall. 

The advent of her aunt's maid, Victorine, some two hours later, was thesignal to be "up and doing"; and she meekly resigned herself into thehands of that functionary, who appeared to regard her in the light of ananimated pin-cushion, as she performed the toilet-ceremonies with anabsorbed aspect, which impressed her subject with a sense of thesolemnity of the occasion. 

"Now, Mademoiselle, regard yourself, and pronounce that you areravishing, " Victorine said at length, folding her hands with a sigh ofsatisfaction, as she fell back in an attitude of serene triumph. 

Debby obeyed, and inspected herself with great interest and someastonishment; for there was a sweeping amplitude of array about theyoung lady whom she beheld in the much-befrilled gown and embroideredskirts, which somewhat alarmed her as to the navigation of a vessel"with such a spread of sail, " while a curious sensation of beingsomebody else pervaded her from the crown of her head, with its shiningcoils of hair, to the soles of the French slippers, whose energiesseemed to have been devoted to the production of marvellous rosettes. 

"Yes, I look very nice, thank you; and yet I feel like a doll, helplessand fine, and fancy I was more of a woman in my fresh gingham, with aknot of clovers in my hair, than I am now. Aunt Pen was very kind to getme all these pretty things; but I'm afraid my mother would lookhorrified to see me in such a high state of flounce externally and solittle room to breathe internally. "

"Your mamma would not flatter me, Mademoiselle; but come now to Madame;she is waiting to behold you, and I have yet her toilet to make"; and, with a pitying shrug, Victorine followed Debby to her aunt's room. 

"Charming! really elegant!" cried that lady, emerging from her towelwith a rubicund visage. "Drop that braid half an inch lower, and pullthe worked end of her handkerchief out of the right-hand pocket, Vic. There! Now, Dora, don't run about and get rumpled, but sit quietly downand practise repose till I am ready. "

Debby obeyed, and sat mute, with the air of a child in its Sunday-beston a week-day, pleased with the novelty, but somewhat oppressed with theresponsibility of such unaccustomed splendor, and utterly unable toconnect any ideas of repose with tight shoes and skirts in a rampantstate of starch. 

 * * * * *

"Well, you see, I bet on Lady Gay against Cockadoodle, and if you'llbelieve me--Hullo! there's Mrs. Carroll, and deuse take me if she hasn'tgot a girl with her! Look, Seguin!"--and Joe Leavenworth, a "man of theworld, " aged twenty, paused in his account of an exciting race to makethe announcement. 

Mr. Seguin, his friend and Mentor, as much his senior in worldlywickedness as in years, tore himself from his breakfast long enough tosurvey the new-comers, and then returned to it, saying, briefly, --

"The old lady is worth cultivating, --gives good suppers, and thanks youfor eating them. The girl is well got up, but has no style, and blusheslike a milk-maid. Better fight shy of her, Joe. "

"Do you think so? Well, now I rather fancy that kind of thing. She'snew, you see, and I get on with that sort of girl the best, for the oldones are so deused knowing that a fellow has no chance of a--By the LordHarry, she's eating bread and milk!"

Young Leavenworth whisked his glass into his eye, and Mr. Seguin putdown his roll to behold the phenomenon. Poor Debby! her first step hadbeen a wrong one. 

All great minds have their weak points. Aunt Pen's was her breakfast, and the peace of her entire day depended upon the success of that meal. Therefore, being down rather late, the worthy lady concentrated herenergies upon the achievement of a copious repast, and, trusting toformer lessons, left Debby to her own resources for a few fatal moments. After the flutter occasioned by being scooped into her seat by asevere-nosed waiter, Debby had only courage enough left to refuse teaand coffee and accept milk. That being done, she took the first familiarviand that appeared, and congratulated herself upon being able to gether usual breakfast. With returning composure, she looked about her andbegan to enjoy the buzz of voices, the clatter of knives and forks, andthe long lines of faces all intent upon the business of the hour; buther peace was of short duration. Pausing for a fresh relay of toast, Aunt Pen glanced toward her niece with the comfortable conviction thather appearance was highly creditable; and her dismay can be imagined, when she beheld that young lady placidly devouring a great cup ofbrown-bread and milk before the eyes of the assembled multitude. Thepoor lady choked in her coffee, and between her gasps whispered irefullybehind her napkin, --

"For Heaven's sake, Dora, put away that mess! The Ellenboroughs aredirectly opposite, watching everything you do. Eat that omelet, oranything respectable, unless you want me to die of mortificátion. "

Debby dropped her spoon, and, hastily helping herself from the dish heraunt pushed toward her, consumed the leathery compound with as muchgrace as she could assume, though unable to repress a laugh at AuntPen's disturbed countenance. There was a slight lull in the clatter, andthe blithe sound caused several heads to turn toward the quarter whenceit came, for it was as unexpected and pleasant a sound as a bobolink'ssong in a cage of shrill-voiced canaries. 

"She's a jolly little thing and powerful pretty, so deuse take me if Idon't make up to the old lady and find out who the girl is. I've beenintroduced to Mrs. Carroll at our house; but I suppose she won'tremember me till I remind her. "

The "deuse" declining to accept of his repeated offers, (probablybecause there was still too much honor and honesty in the boy, ) youngLeavenworth sought out Mrs. Carroll on the piazza, as she and Debby werestrolling there an hour later. 

"Joe Leavenworth, my dear, from one of our first families, --verywealthy, --fine match, --pray, be civil, --smooth your hair, hold back yourshoulders, and put down your parasol, " murmured Aunt Pen, as thegentleman approached with as much pleasure in his countenance as it wasconsistent with manly dignity to express upon meeting two of theinferior race. 

"My niece, Miss Dora Wilder. This is her first season at the beach, andwe must endeavor to make it pleasant for her, or she will be gettinghomesick and running away to mamma, " said Aunt Pen, in her society-tone, after she had returned his greeting, and perpetrated a polite fiction, by declaring that she remembered him perfectly, for he was the image ofhis father. 

Mr. Leavenworth brought the heels of his varnished boots together with aclick, and executed the latest bow imported, then stuck his glass in hiseye and stared till it fell out, (the glass, not the eye, ) upon which hefell into step with them, remarking, --

"I shall be most happy to show the lions: they are deused tame ones, soyou needn't be alarmed, Miss Wilder. "

Debby was good-natured enough to laugh; and, elated with that success, he proceeded to pour forth his stores of wit and learning in truecollegian style, quite unconscious that the "jolly little thing" waslooking him through and through with the smiling eyes that wereproducing such pleasurable sensations under the mosaic studs. Theystrolled toward the beach, and, meeting an old acquaintance, Aunt Penfell behind, and beamed upon the young pair as if her prophetic eye evenat this early stage beheld them walking altarward in a proper state ofblond white vest and bridal awkwardness. 

"Can you skip a stone, Mr. Leavenworth?" asked Debby, possessed with amischievous desire to shock the piece of elegance at her side. 

"Eh? what's that?" he inquired, with his head on one side, like aninquisitive robin. 

Debby repeated her question, and illustrated it by sending a stoneskimming over the water in the most scientific manner. Mr. Joe waspainfully aware that this was not at all "the thing, " that his sistersnever did so, and that Seguin would laugh confoundedly, if he caught himat it; but Debby looked so irresistibly fresh and pretty under herrose-lined parasol that he was moved to confess that he _had_ done sucha thing, and to sacrifice his gloves by poking in the sand, that hemight indulge in a like unfashionable pastime. 

"You'll be at the hop tonight, I hope, Miss Wilder, " he observed, introducing a topic suited to a young lady's mental capacity. 

"Yes, indeed; for dancing is one of the joys of my life, next to huskingand making hay"; and Debby polked a few steps along the beach, much tothe edification of a pair of old gentlemen, serenely taking their first"constitutional. "

"Making what?" cried Mr. Joe, polking after her. 

"Hay; ah, that is the pleasantest fun in the world, --and betterexercise, my mother says, for soul and body, than dancing till dawn incrowded rooms, with everything in a state of unnatural excitement. Ifone wants real merriment, let him go into a new-mown field, where allthe air is full of summer odors, where wild-flowers nod along the walls, where blackbirds make finer music than any band, and sun and wind andcheery voices do their part, while windrows rise, and great loads gorumbling through the lanes with merry brown faces atop. Yes, much as Ilike dancing, it is not to be compared with that; for in the one case weshut out the lovely world, and in the other we become a part of it, tillby its magic labor turns to poetry, and we harvest something better thandried buttercups and grass. "

As she spoke, Debby looked up, expecting to meet a glance ofdisapproval; but something in the simple earnestness of her manner hadrecalled certain boyish pleasures as innocent as they were hearty, whichnow contrasted very favorably with the later pastimes in which fasthorses, and that lower class of animals, fast men, bore so large a part. Mr. Joe thoughtfully punched five holes in the sand, and for a momentDebby liked the expression of his face; then the old listlessnessreturned, and, looking up, he said, with an air of _ennui_ that was halfsad, half ludicrous, in one so young and so generously endowed withyouth, health, and the good gifts of this life, --

"I used to fancy that sort of thing years ago, but I'm afraid I shouldfind it a little slow now, though you describe it in such an invitingmanner that I should be tempted to try it, if a hay-cock came in my way;for, upon my life, it's deused heavy work loafing about at thesewatering-places all summer. Between ourselves, there's a deal of humbugabout this kind of life, as you will find, when you've tried it as longas I have. "

"Yes, I begin to think so already; but perhaps you can give me a fewfriendly words of warning from the stores of your experience, that I maybe spared the pain of saying what so many look, --'Grandma, the world ishollow; my doll is stuffed with sawdust; and I should like to go into aconvent, if you please. '"

Debby's eyes were dancing with merriment; but they were demurelydowncast, and her voice was perfectly serious. 

The milk of human kindness had been slightly curdled for Mr. Joe bysundry college-tribulations; and having been "suspended, " he verynaturally vibrated between the inborn jollity of his temperament and thebitterness occasioned by his wrongs. He had lost at billiards the nightbefore, had been hurried at breakfast, had mislaid his cigar-case, andsplashed his boots; consequently the darker mood prevailed that morning, and when his counsel was asked, he gave it like one who had known theheaviest trials of this "Piljin Projiss of a wale. "

"There's no justice in the world, no chance for us young people to enjoyourselves, without some penalty to pay, some drawback to worry us likethese confounded 'all-rounders. ' Even here, where all seems free andeasy, there's no end of gossips and spies who tattle and watch till youfeel as if you lived in a lantern. 'Every one for himself, and the Deviltake the hindmost': that's the principle they go on, and you have tokeep your wits about you in the most exhausting manner, or you are donefor before you know it. I've seen a good deal of this sort of thing, andhope you'll get on better than some do, when it's known that you are therich Mrs. Carroll's niece; though you don't need that fact to enhanceyour charms, --upon my life, you don't. "

Debby laughed behind her parasol at this burst of candor; but herindependent nature prompted her to make a fair beginning, in spite ofAunt Pen's polite fictions and well-meant plans. 

"Thank you for your warning, but I don't apprehend much annoyance ofthat kind, " she said, demurely. "Do you know, I think, if young ladieswere truthfully labelled when they went into society, it would be acharming fashion, and save a world of trouble? Something in thisstyle:--'Arabella Marabout, aged nineteen, fortune $100, 000, temperwarranted'; 'Laura Eau-de-Cologne, aged twenty-eight, fortune $30, 000, temper slightly damaged'; 'Deborah Wilder, aged eighteen, fortune, onepair of hands, one head, indifferently well filled, one heart, (not inthe market, ) temper decided, and _no expectations_. ' There, you see, that would do away with much of the humbug you lament, and we poorsouls would know at once whether we were sought for our fortunes orourselves, and that would be so comfortable!"

Mr. Leavenworth turned away, with a convicted sort of expression, as shespoke, and, making a spyglass of his hand, seemed to be watchingsomething out at sea with absorbing interest. He had been guilty of astrong desire to discover whether Debby was an heiress, but had notexpected to be so entirely satisfied on that important subject, and wasdimly conscious that a keen eye had seen his anxiety, and a quick witdevised a means of setting it at rest forever. Somewhat disconcerted, hesuddenly changed the conversation, and, like many another distressedcreature, took to the water, saying briskly, --

"By-the-by, Miss Wilder, as I've engaged to do the honors, shall I havethe pleasure of bathing with you when the fun begins? As you are fond ofhaymaking, I suppose you intend to pay your respects to the oldgentleman with the three-pronged pitchfork?"

"Yes, Aunt Pen means to put me through a course of salt water, and anyinstructions in the art of navigation will be gratefully received; for Inever saw the ocean before, and labor under a firm conviction, that, once in, I never shall come out again till I am brought, like Mr. Mantilini, a 'damp, moist, unpleasant body. '"

As Debby spoke, Mrs. Carroll hove in sight, coming down before the windwith all sails set, and signals of distress visible long before shedropped anchor and came along-side. The devoted woman had been strollingslowly for the girl's sake, though oppressed with a mournful certaintythat her most prominent feature was fast becoming a fine copper-color;yet she had sustained herself like a Spartan matron, till it suddenlyoccurred to her that her charge might be suffering a like

 "sea-change Into something rich and strange. "

Her fears, however, were groundless, for Debby met her without afreckle, looking all the better for her walk; and though her feet werewet with chasing the waves, and her pretty gown the worse for saltwater, Aunt Pen never chid her for the destruction of her raiment, noruttered a warning word against an unladylike exuberance of spirits, butreplied to her inquiry most graciously, --

"Certainly, my love, we shall bathe at eleven, and there will be justtime to get Victorine and our dresses; so run on to the house, and Iwill join you as soon as I have finished what I am saying to Mrs. Earle, "--then added, in a stage-aside, as she put a fallen lock off thegirl's forehead, "You are doing beautifully! He is evidently struck;make yourself interesting, and don't burn your nose, I beg of you. "

Debby's bright face clouded over, and she walked on with so muchstateliness that her escort wondered "what the deuse the old lady haddone to her, " and exerted himself to the utmost to recall her merrymood, but with indifferent success. 

 * * * * *

"Now I begin to feel more like myself, for this is getting back to firstprinciples, though I fancy I look like the little old woman who fellasleep on the king's highway and woke up with abbreviated drapery; andyou look funnier still, Aunt Pen, " said Debby, as she tied on herpagoda-hat, and followed Mrs. Carroll, who walked out of herdressing-room an animated bale of blue cloth surmounted by a giganticsun-bonnet. 

Mr. Leavenworth was in waiting, and so like a blond-headed lobster inhis scarlet suit that Debby could hardly keep her countenance as theyjoined the groups of bathers gathering along the breezy shore. 

For an hour each day the actors and actresses who played their different_rôles_ at the ---- Hotel with such precision and success put off theirmasks and dared to be themselves. The ocean wrought the change, for ittook old and young into its arms, and for a little while they playedlike children in their mother's lap. No falsehood could withstand itsrough sincerity; for the waves washed paint and powder from worn faces, and left a fresh bloom there. No ailment could entirely resist itsvigorous cure; for every wind brought healing on its wings, endowingmany a meagre life with another year of health. No gloomy spirit couldrefuse to listen to its lullaby, and the spray baptized it with thesubtile benediction of a cheerier mood. No rank held place there; forthe democratic sea toppled down the greatest statesman in the land, anddashed over the bald pate of a millionnaire with the same white-crestedwave that stranded a poor parson on the beach and filled a fiercereformer's mouth with brine. No fashion ruled, but that which is as oldas Eden, --the beautiful fashion of simplicity. Belles dropped theiraffectations with their hoops, and ran about the shore blithe-heartedgirls again. Young men forgot their vices and their follies, and werenot ashamed of the real courage, strength, and skill they had tried toleave behind them with their boyish plays. Old men gathered shells withthe little Cupids dancing on the sand, and were better for that innocentcompanionship; and young mothers never looked so beautiful as when theyrocked their babies on the bosom of the sea. 

Debby vaguely felt this charm, and, yielding to it, splashed and sanglike any beach-bird, while Aunt Pen bobbed placidly up and down in aretired corner, and Mr. Leavenworth swam to and fro, expressing his firmbelief in mermaids, sirens, and the rest of the aquatic sisterhood, whose warbling no manly ear can resist. 

"Miss Wilder, you must learn to swim. I've taught quantities of youngladies, and shall be delighted to launch the 'Dora, ' if you'll accept meas a pilot. Stop a bit; I'll get a life-preserver"; and leaving Debby toflirt with the waves, the scarlet youth departed like a flame of fire. 

A dismal shriek interrupted his pupil's play, and looking up, she sawher aunt beckoning wildly with one hand, while she was groping in thewater with the other. Debby ran to her, alarmed at her tragicexpression, and Mrs. Carroll, drawing the girl's face into the privacyof her big bonnet, whispered one awful word, adding, distractedly, --

"Dive for them! oh, dive for them! I shall be perfectly helpless, ifthey are lost!"

"I can't dive, Aunt Pen; but there is a man, let us ask him, " saidDebby, as a black head appeared to windward. 

But Mrs. Carroll's "nerves" had received a shock, and, gathering up herdripping garments, she fled precipitately along the shore and vanishedinto her dressing-room. 

Debby's keen sense of the ludicrous got the better of her respect, andpeal after peal of laughter broke from her lips, till a splash behindher put an end to her merriment, and, turning, she found that thisfriend in need was her acquaintance of the day before. The gentlemanseemed pausing for permission to approach, with much the appearance of asagacious Newfoundland, wistful and wet. 

"Oh, I'm very glad it's you, Sir!" was Debby's cordial greeting, as sheshook a drop off the end of her nose, and nodded, smiling. 

The new comer immediately beamed upon her like an amiable Triton, saying, as they turned shoreward, --

"Our first interview opened with a laugh on my side, and our second withone on yours. I accept the fact as a good omen. Your friend seemed introuble; allow me to atone for my past misdemeanors by offering myservices now. But first let me introduce myself; and as I believe in thefitness of things, let me present you with an appropriate card"; and, stooping, the young man wrote "Frank Evan" on the hard sand at Debby'sfeet. 

The girl liked his manner, and, entering into the spirit of the thing, swept as grand a curtsy as her limited drapery would allow, saying, merrily, --

"I am Debby Wilder, or Dora, as aunt prefers to call me; and instead oflaughing, I ought to be four feet under water, looking for something wehave lost; but I can't dive, and my distress is dreadful, as you see. "

"What have you lost? I will look for it, and bring it back in spite ofthe kelpies, if it is a human possibility, " replied Mr. Evan, pushinghis wet locks out of his eyes, and regarding the ocean with a determinedaspect. 

Debby leaned toward him, whispering with solemn countenance, --

"It is a set of teeth, Sir. "

Mr. Evan was more a man of deeds than words, therefore he disappeared atonce with a mighty splash, and after repeated divings and much laughterappeared bearing the chief ornament of Mrs. Penelope Carroll's comelycountenance. Debby looked very pretty and grateful as she returned herthanks, and Mr. Evan was guilty of a secret wish that all the worthylady's features were at the bottom of the sea, that he might have thesatisfaction of restoring them to her attractive niece; but curbing thisunnatural desire, he bowed, saying, gravely, --

"Tell your aunt, if you please, that this little accident will remain adead secret, so far as I am concerned, and I am very glad to have beenof service at such a critical moment. "

Whereupon Mr. Evan marched again into the briny deep, and Debby trottedaway to her aunt, whom she found a clammy heap of blue flannel anddespair. Mrs. Carroll's temper was ruffled, and though she joyfullyrattled in her teeth, she said, somewhat testily, when Debby's story wasdone, --

"Now that man will have a sort of claim on us, and we must be civil, whoever he is. Dear! dear! I wish it had been Joe Leavenworth instead. Evan, --I don't remember any of our first families with connections ofthat name, and I dislike to be under obligations to a person of thatsort, for there's no knowing how far he may presume; so, pray, becareful, Dora. "

"I think you are very ungrateful, Aunt Pen; and if Mr. Evan shouldhappen to be poor, it does not become me to turn up my nose at him, forI'm nothing but a make-believe myself just now. I don't wish to go downupon my knees to him, but I do intend to be as kind to him as I shouldto that conceited Leavenworth boy; yes, kinder even; for poor peoplevalue such things more, as I know very well. "

Mrs. Carroll instantly recovered her temper, changed the subject, andprivately resolved to confine her prejudices to her own bosom, as theyseemed to have an aggravating effect upon the youthful person whom shehad set her heart on disposing of to the best advantage. 

Debby took her swimming-lesson with much success, and would haveachieved her dinner with composure, if white-aproned gentlemen had noteffectually taken away her appetite by whisking bills-of-fare into herhands, and awaiting her orders with a fatherly interest, which inducedthem to congregate mysterious dishes before her, and blandly rectifyher frequent mistakes. She survived the ordeal, however, and at fourP. M. Went to drive with "that Leavenworth boy" in the finest turnout---- could produce. Aunt Pen then came off guard, and with a sigh ofsatisfaction subsided into a peaceful doze, still murmuring, even inher sleep, --

"Propinquity, my love, propinquity works wonders. "

 * * * * *

"Aunt Pen, are you a modest woman?" asked the young crusader againstestablished absurdities, as she came into the presence-chamber thatevening ready for the hop. 

"Bless the child, what does she mean?" cried Mrs. Carroll, with a startthat twitched her back-hair out of Victorine's hands. 

"Would you like to have a daughter of yours go to a party looking as Ilook?" continued her niece, spreading her airy dress, and standing veryerect before her astonished relative. 

"Why, of course I should, and be proud to own such a charmingcreature, " regarding the slender white shape with muchapprobation, --adding, with a smile, as she met the girl's eye, --

"Ah, I see the difficulty, now; you are disturbed because there is not abit of lace over these pretty shoulders of yours. Now don't be absurd, Dora; the dress is perfectly proper, or Madame Tiphany never would havesent it home. It is the fashion, child; and many a girl with such afigure would go twice as _décolletée_, and think nothing of it, I assureyou. "

Debby shook her head with an energy that set the pink heather-bellsa-tremble in her hair, and her color deepened beautifully as she said, with reproachful eyes, --

"Aunt Pen, I think there is a better fashion in every young girl's heartthan any Madame Tiphany can teach. I am very grateful for all you havedone for me, but I cannot go into public in such an undress as this; mymother would never allow it, and father never forgive it. Please don'task me to, for indeed I cannot do it even for you. "

Debby looked so pathetic that both mistress and maid broke into a laughwhich, somewhat reassured the young lady, who allowed her determinedfeatures to relax into a smile, as she said, --

"Now, Aunt Pen, you want me to look pretty and be a credit to you; buthow would you like to see my face the color of those geraniums all theevening?"

"Why, Dora, you are out of your mind to ask such a thing, when you knowit's the desire of my life to keep your color down and make you lookmore delicate, " said her aunt, alarmed at the fearful prospect of apeony-faced _protégée_. 

"Well, I should be anything but that, if I wore this gown in its presentwaistless condition; so here is a remedy which will prevent such acalamity and ease my mind. "

As she spoke, Debby tied on her little _blonde fichu_ with a gesturewhich left nothing more to be said. 

Victorine scolded, and clasped her hands; but Mrs. Carroll, fearing topush her authority too far, made a virtue of necessity, saying, resignedly, --

"Have your own way, Dora, but in return oblige me by being agreeable tosuch persons as I may introduce to you; and some day, when I ask afavor, remember how much I hope to do for you, and grant it cheerfully. "

"Indeed I will, Aunt Pen, if it is anything I can do without disobeyingmother's 'notions', as you call them. Ask me to wear an orange-coloredgown, or dance with the plainest, poorest man in the room, and I'll doit; for there never was a kinder aunt than mine in all the world, " criedDebby, eager to atone for her seeming wilfulness, and really gratefulfor her escape from what seemed to her benighted mind a very imminentperil. 

Like a clover-blossom in a vase of camellias little Debby looked thatnight among the dashing or languid women who surrounded her; for shepossessed the charm they had lost, --the freshness of her youth. Innocentgayety sat smiling in her eyes, healthful roses bloomed upon her cheek, and maiden modesty crowned her like a garland. She _was_ the creaturethat she seemed, and, yielding to the influence of the hour, danced tothe music of her own blithe heart. Many felt the spell whose secret theyhad lost the power to divine, and watched the girlish figure as if itwere a symbol of their early aspirations dawning freshly from thedimness of their past. More than one old man thought again of somelittle maid whose love made his boyish days a pleasant memory to himnow. More than one smiling fop felt the emptiness of his smooth speech, when the truthful eyes looked up into his own; and more than one palewoman sighed regretfully within herself, "I, too, was a happy-heartedcreature once!"

"That Mr. Evan does not seem very anxious to claim our acquaintance, after all, and I think better of him on that account. Has he spoken toyou tonight, Dora?" asked Mrs. Carroll, as Debby dropped down beside herafter a "splendid polka. "

"No, Ma'am, he only bowed. You see some people are not so presuming asother people thought they were; for we are not the most attractivebeings on the planet; therefore a gentleman can be polite and thenforget us without breaking any of the Ten Commandments. Don't beoffended with him yet, for he may prove to be some great creature with afiner pedigree than any of 'our first families. ' Mr. Leavenworth, as youknow everybody, perhaps you can relieve Aunt Pen's mind, by telling hersomething about the tall, brown man standing behind the lady withsalmon-colored hair. "

Mr. Joe, who was fanning the top of Debby's head with the bestintentions in life, took a survey, and answered readily, --

"Why, that's Frank Evan. I know him, and a deused good fellow heis, --though he don't belong to our set, you know. "

"Indeed! pray, tell us something about him, Mr. Leavenworth. We met inthe cars, and he did us a favor or two. Who and what is the man?" askedMrs. Carroll, relenting at once toward a person who was favorably spokenof by one who did belong to her "set. "

"Well, let me see, " began Mr. Joe, whose narrative powers were notgreat. "He is a book-keeper in my Uncle Josh Loring's importing concern, and a powerful smart man, they say. There's some kind of clever storyabout his father's leaving a load of debts, and Frank's working a deusednumber of years till they were paid. Good of him, wasn't it? Then, justas he was going to take things easier and enjoy life a bit, his motherdied, and that rather knocked him up, you see. He fell sick, and came togrief generally, Uncle Josh said; so he was ordered off to get righted, and here he is, looking like a tombstone. I've a regard for Frank, forhe took care of me through the smallpox a year ago, and I don't forgetthings of that sort; so, if you wish to be introduced, Mrs. Carroll, I'll trot him out with pleasure, and make a proud man of him. "

Mrs. Carroll glanced at Debby, and as that young lady was regarding Mr. Joe with a friendly aspect, owing to the warmth of his words, shegraciously assented, and the youth departed on his errand. Mr. Evan wentthrough the ceremony with a calmness wonderful to behold, consideringthe position of one lady and the charms of the other, and soon glidedinto the conversation with the ease of a more accomplished courtier. 

"Now I must tear myself away, for I'm engaged to that stout MissBandoline for this dance. She 's a friend of my sister's, and I must dothe civil, you know; powerful slow work it is, too, but I pity the poorsoul, --upon my life, I do"; and Mr. Joe assumed the air of a martyr. 

Debby looked up with a wicked smile in her eyes, as she said, --

"Ah, that sounds very amiable here; but in five minutes you'll bemurmuring in Miss Bandoline's ear, --'I've been pining to come to youthis half hour, but I was obliged to take out that Miss Wilder, yousee, --countrified little thing enough, but not bad-looking, and has arich aunt; so I've done my duty to her, but deuse take me if I can standit any longer. '"

Mr. Evan joined in Debby's merriment; but Mr. Joe was so appalled at thesudden attack that he could only stammer a remonstrance and beat a hastyretreat, wondering how on earth she came to know that his favorite styleof making himself agreeable to one young lady was by decrying another. 

"Dora, my love, that is very rude, and 'Deuse' is not a properexpression for a woman's lips. Pray, restrain your lively tongue, forstrangers may not understand that it is nothing but the sprightliness ofyour disposition which sometimes runs away with you. "

"It was only a quotation, and I thought you would admire anything Mr. Leavenworth said, Aunt Pen, " replied Debby, demurely. 

Mrs. Carroll trod on her foot, and abruptly changed the conversation, bysaying, with an appearance of deep interest, --

"Mr. Evan, you are doubtless connected with the Malcoms of Georgia; forthey, I believe, are descended from the ancient Evans of Scotland. Theyare a very wealthy and aristocratic family, and I remember seeing theircoat-of-arms once: three bannocks and a thistle. "

Mr. Evan had been standing before them with a composure which impressedMrs. Carroll with a belief in his gentle blood, for she remembered herown fussy, plebeian husband, whose fortune had never been able topurchase him the manners of a gentleman. Mr. Evan only grew a littlemore erect, as he replied, with an untroubled mien, --

"I cannot claim relationship with the Malcoms of Georgia or the Evans ofScotland, I believe, Madam. My father was a farmer, my grandfather ablacksmith, and beyond that my ancestors may have been street-sweepers, for anything I know; but whatever they were, I fancy they were honestmen, for that has always been our boast, though, like PresidentJackson's, our coat-of-arms is nothing but 'a pair of shirt-sleeves. '"

From Debby's eyes there shot a bright glance of admiration for the youngman who could look two comely women in the face and serenely own that hewas poor. Mrs. Carroll tried to appear at ease, and, gliding out ofpersonalities, expatiated on the comfort of "living in a land where fameand fortune were attainable by all who chose to earn them, " and thecontempt she felt for those "who had no sympathy with the humblerclasses, no interest in the welfare of the race, " and many more moralreflections as new and original as the Multiplication-Table or theWestminster Catechism. To all of which Mr. Evan listened with politedeference, though there was something in the keen intelligence of hiseye that made Debby blush for shallow Aunt Pen, and rejoice when thegood lady got out of her depth and seized upon a new subject as adrowning mariner would a hen-coop. 

"Dora, Mr. Ellenborough is coming this way; you have danced with him butonce, and he is a very desirable partner; so, pray, accept, if he asksyou, " said Mrs. Carroll, watching a far-off individual who seemedsteering his zigzag course toward them. 

"I never intend to dance with Mr. Ellenborough again, so please don'turge me, Aunt Pen"; and Debby knit her brows with a somewhat irateexpression. 

"My love, you astonish me! He is a most agreeable and accomplished youngman, --spent three years in Paris, moves in the first circles, and isconsidered an ornament to fashionable society. What _can_ be yourobjection, Dora?" cried Mrs. Carroll, looking as alarmed as if her niecehad suddenly announced her belief in the Koran. 

"One of his accomplishments consists in drinking Champagne till he isnot a 'desirable partner' for any young lady with a prejudice in favorof decency. His moving in 'circles' is just what I complain of; and ifhe is an ornament, I prefer my society undecorated. Aunt Pen, I cannotmake the nice distinctions you would have me, and a sot in broadcloth isas odious as one in rags. Forgive me, but I cannot dance with thatsilver-labelled decanter again. "

Debby was a genuine little piece of womanhood; and though she tried tospeak lightly, her color deepened, as she remembered looks that hadwounded her like insults, and her indignant eyes silenced the excusesrising to her aunt's lips. Mrs. Carroll began to rue the hour she everundertook the guidance of Sister Deborah's headstrong child, and for aninstant heartily wished she had left her to bloom unseen in the shadowof the parsonage; but she concealed her annoyance, still hoping toovercome the girl's absurd resolve, by saying, mildly, --

"As you please, dear; but if you refuse Mr. Ellenborough, you will beobliged to sit through the dance, which is your favorite, you know. "

Debby's countenance fell, for she had forgotten that, and the Lancerswas to her the crowning rapture of the night. She paused a moment, andAunt Pen brightened; but Debby made her little sacrifice to principleas heroically as many a greater one had been made, and, with a wistfullook down the long room, answered steadily, though her foot kept time tothe first strains as she spoke, --

"Then I will sit, Aunt Pen; for that is preferable to staggering aboutthe room with a partner who has no idea of the laws of gravitation. "

"Shall I have the honor of averting either calamity?" said Mr. Evan, coming to the rescue with a devotion beautiful to see; for dancing wasnearly a lost art with him, and the Lancers to a novice is equal to asecond Labyrinth of Crete. 

"Oh, thank you!" cried Debby, tumbling fan, bouquet, and handkerchiefinto Mrs. Carroll's lap, with a look of relief that repaid him fourfoldfor the trials he was about to undergo. They went merrily away together, leaving Aunt Pen to wish that it was according to the laws of etiquetteto rap officious gentlemen over the knuckles, when they introduce theirfingers into private pies without permission from the chief cook. Howthe dance went Debby hardly knew, for the conversation fell upon books, and in the interest of her favorite theme she found even the "grandsquare" an impertinent interruption, while her own deficiencies becamealmost as great as her partner's; yet, when the music ended with aflourish, and her last curtsy was successfully achieved, she longed tobegin all over again, and secretly regretted that she was engaged fourdeep. 

"How do you like our new acquaintance, Dora?" asked Aunt Pen, followingJoe Leavenworth with her eye, as the "yellow-haired laddie" whirled bywith the ponderous Miss Flora. 

"Very much; and I'm glad we met as we did, for it makes things free andeasy, and that is so agreeable in this ceremonious place, " repliedDebby, looking in quite an opposite direction. 

"Well, I'm delighted to hear you say so, dear, for I was afraid you hadtaken a dislike to him, and he is really a very charming young man, justthe sort of person to make a pleasant companion for a few weeks. Theselittle friendships are part of the summer's amusement, and do no harm;so smile away, Dora, and enjoy yourself while you may. "

"Yes, Aunt, I certainly will, and all the more because I have found asensible soul to talk to. Do you know, he is very witty and wellinformed, though he says he never had much time for self-cultivation?But I think trouble makes people wise, and he seems to have had a gooddeal, though he leaves it for others to tell of. I am glad you arewilling I should know him, for I shall enjoy talking about my pet heroeswith him as a relief from the silly chatter I must keep up most of thetime. "

Mrs. Carroll was a woman of one idea; and though a slightly puzzledexpression appeared in her face, she listened approvingly, and answered, with a gracious smile, --

"Of course, I should not object to your knowing such a person, my love;but I'd no idea Joe Leavenworth was a literary man, or had known muchtrouble, except his father's death and his sister Clementina'srunaway-marriage with her drawing-master. "

Debby opened her brown eyes very wide, and hastily picked at the down onher fan, but had no time to correct her aunt's mistake, for the realsubject of her commendations appeared at that moment, and Mrs. Carrollwas immediately absorbed in the consumption of a large pink ice. 

 * * * * *

"That girl is what I call a surprise-party, now, " remarked Mr. Joeconfidentially to his cigar, as he pulled off his coat and stuck hisfeet up in the privacy of his own apartment. "She looks as mild asstrawberries and cream till you come to the complimentary, then sheturns on a fellow with that deused satirical look of hers, and makes himfeel like a fool. I'll try the moral dodge to-morrow, and see whateffect that will have; for she is mighty taking, and I must amuse myselfsomehow, you know. "

"How many years will it take to change that fresh-hearted little girlinto a fashionable belle, I wonder?" thought Frank Evan, as he climbedthe four flights that led to his "sky-parlor. "

"What a curious world this is!" mused Debby, with her nightcap in herhand. "The right seems odd and rude, the wrong respectable and easy, andthis sort of life a merry-go-round, with no higher aim than pleasure. Well, I have made my Declaration of Independence, and Aunt Pen must beready for a Revolution, if she taxes me too heavily. "

As she leaned her hot cheek on her arm, Debby's eye fell on the quaintlittle cap made by the motherly hands that never were tired of workingfor her. She touched it tenderly, and love's simple magic swept thegathering shadows from her face, and left it clear again, as herthoughts flew home like birds into the shelter of their nest. 

"Good night, mother! I'll face temptation steadily. I'll try to takelife cheerily, and do nothing that shall make your dear face a reproach, when it looks into my own again. "

Then Debby said her prayers like any pious child, and lay down to dreamof pulling buttercups with Baby Bess, and sinking in the twilight on herfather's knee. 

 * * * * *

The history of Debby's first day might serve as a sample of most thatfollowed, as week after week went by with varying pleasures andincreasing interest to more than one young _débutante_. Mrs. Carroll didher best, but Debby was too simple for a belle, too honest for a flirt, too independent for a fine lady; she would be nothing but her sturdylittle self, open as daylight, gay as a lark, and blunt as any Puritan. Poor Aunt Pen was in despair, till she observed that the girl often"took" with the very peculiarities which she was lamenting; thissomewhat consoled her, and she tried to make the best of the pretty bitof homespun which would not and could not become velvet or brocade. Seguin, Ellenborough, & Co. Looked with lordly scorn upon her, as a wormblind to their attractions. Miss MacFlimsy and her "set" quizzed herunmercifully behind her back, after being worsted in several passages ofarms; and more than one successful mamma condoled with Aunt Pen upon theterribly defective education of her charge, till that stout matron couldhave found it in her heart to tweak off their caps and walk on them, like the irascible Betsey Trotwood. 

But Debby had a circle of admirers who loved her with a sincerity fewsummer queens could boast; for they were real friends, won by gentlearts, and retained by the gracious sweetness of her nature. Moon-facedbabies crowed and clapped their chubby hands when she passed by theirwicker thrones; story-loving children clustered round her knee, andnever were denied; pale invalids found wild-flowers on their pillows;and forlorn papas forgot the state of the money-market when she sang forthem the homely airs their daughters had no time to learn. Certain plainyoung ladies poured their woes into her friendly ear, and werecomforted; several smart Sophomores fell into a state of chronicstammer, blush, and adoration, when she took a motherly interest intheir affairs; and a melancholy old Frenchman blessed her with theenthusiasm of his nation, because she put a posy in the button-hole ofhis rusty coat, and never failed to smile and bow as he passed by. YetDebby was no Edgeworth heroine, preternaturally prudent, wise, anduntemptable; she had a fine crop of piques, vanities, and dislikesgrowing up under this new style of cultivation. She loved admiration, enjoyed her purple and fine linen, hid new-born envy, disappointed hope, and wounded pride behind a smiling face, and often thought with a sighof the humdrum duties that awaited her at home. But under the airs andgraces Aunt Pen cherished with such sedulous care, under the flouncesand furbelows Victorine daily adjusted with groans, under the polishwhich she acquired with feminine ease, the girl's heart still beatsteadfast and strong, and conscience kept watch and ward that notraitor should enter in to surprise the citadel which mother-love hadtried to garrison so well. 

In pursuance of his sage resolve, Mr. Joe tried the "moral dodge, " as heelegantly expressed it, and, failing in that, followed it up with thetragic, religious, negligent, and devoted ditto; but acting was not hisforte, so Debby routed him in all; and at last, when he was at his wit'send for an idea, she suggested one, and completed her victory by sayingpleasantly, --

"You took me behind the curtain too soon, and now the paste diamonds andcotton-velvet don't impose upon me a bit. Just be your natural self, andwe shall get on nicely, Mr. Leavenworth. "

The novelty of the proposal struck his fancy, and after a few relapsesit was carried into effect, and thenceforth, with Debby, he became thesimple, good-humored lad Nature designed him to be, and, as a proof ofit, soon fell very sincerely in love. 

Frank Evan, seated in the parquet of society, surveyed the dress-circlewith much the same expression that Debby had seen during Aunt Pen'soration; but he soon neglected that amusement to watch several actors inthe drama going on before his eyes, while a strong desire to perform apart therein slowly took possession of his mind. Debby always had a lookof welcome when he came, always treated him with the kindness of agenerous woman who has had an opportunity to forgive, and always watchedthe serious, solitary man with a great compassion for his loss, agrowing admiration for his upright life. More than once the beach birdssaw two figures pacing the sands at sunrise with the peace of early dayupon their faces and the light of a kindred mood shining in their eyes. More than once the friendly ocean made a third in the pleasantconversation, and its low undertone came and went between the mellowbass and silvery treble of the human voices with a melody that lentanother charm to interviews which soon grew wondrous sweet to man andmaid. Aunt Pen seldom saw the twain together, seldom spoke of Evan; andDebby held her peace, for, when she planned to make her innocentconfessions, she found that what seemed much to her was nothing toanother ear and scarcely worth the telling; so, unconscious as yetwhither the green path led, she went on her way, leading two lives, onerich and earnest, hoarded deep within herself, the other frivolous andgay for all the world to criticize. But those venerable spinsters, theFates, took the matter into their own hands, and soon got the better ofthose short-sighted matrons, Mesdames Grundy and Carroll; for, longbefore they knew it, Frank and Debby had begun to read together a bookgreater than Dickens ever wrote, and when they had come to the fairestpart of the sweet story Adam first told Eve, they looked for the nameupon the title-page, and found that it was "Love. "

Eight weeks came and went, --eight wonderfully happy weeks to Debby andher friend; for "propinquity" had worked more wonders than poor Mrs. Carroll knew, as the only one she saw or guessed was the uttercaptivation of Joe Leavenworth. He had become "himself" to such anextent that a change of identity would have been a relief; for theobject of his adoration showed no signs of relenting, and he began tofear, that, as Debby said, her heart was "not in the market. " She wasalways friendly, but never made those interesting betrayals of regardwhich are so encouraging to youthful gentlemen "who fain would climb, yet fear to fall. " She never blushed when he pressed her hand, neverfainted or grew pale when he appeared with a smashed trotting-wagon anda black eye, and actually slept through a serenade that would have wonany other woman's soul out of her body with its despairing quavers. Matters were getting desperate; for horses lost their charms, "flowingbowls" palled upon his lips, ruffled shirt-bosoms no longer delightedhim, and hops possessed no soothing power to allay the anguish of hismind. Mr. Seguin, after unavailing ridicule and pity, took compassionon him, and from his large experience suggested a remedy, just as he wasdeparting for a more congenial sphere. 

"Now don't be an idiot, Joe, but, if you want to keep your hand in andgo through a regular chapter of flirtation, just right about face, anddevote yourself to some one else. Nothing like jealousy to teachwomankind their own minds, and a touch of it will bring little Wilderround in a jiffy. Try it, my boy, and good luck to you!"--with whichChristian advice Mr. Seguin slapped his pupil on the shoulder, anddisappeared, like a modern Mephistopheles, in a cloud of cigar-smoke. 

"I'm glad he's gone, for in my present state of mind he's not up to mymark at all. I'll try his plan, though, and flirt with Clara West; she'sengaged, so it won't damage her affections; her lover isn't here, so itwon't disturb his; and, by Jove! I must do something, for I can't standthis suspense. "

Debby was infinitely relieved by this new move, and infinitely amused asshe guessed the motive that prompted it but the more contented sheseemed, the more violently Mr. Joe flirted with her rival, till at lastweak-minded Miss Clara began to think her absent George the mostundesirable of lovers, and to mourn that she ever said "Yes" to amerchant's clerk, when she might have said it to a merchant's son. AuntPen watched and approved this stratagem, hoped for the best results, andbelieved the day won when Debby grew pale and silent, and followed withher eyes the young couple who were playing battledoor and shuttlecockwith each other's hearts, as if she took some interest in the game. ButAunt Pen clashed her cymbals too soon; for Debby's trouble had a bettersource than jealousy, and in the silence of the sleepless nights thatstole her bloom she was taking counsel of her own full heart, andresolving to serve another woman as she would herself be served in alike peril, though etiquette was outraged and the customs of politesociety turned upside down. 

 * * * * *

"Look, Aunt Pen! what lovely shells and moss I've got! Such a splendidscramble over the rocks as I've had with Mrs. Duncan's boys! It seemedso like home to run and sing with a troop of topsy-turvy children thatit did me good; and I wish you had all been there to see, " cried Debby, running into the drawing-room, one day, where Mrs. Carroll and a circleof ladies sat enjoying a dish of highly flavored scandal, as theyexercised their eyesight over fancy-work. 

"My dear Dora, spare my nerves; and if you have any regard for theproprieties of life, don't go romping in the sun with a parcel of noisyboys. If you could see what an object you are, I think you would try toimitate Miss Clara, who is always a model of elegant repose. "

Miss West primmed up her lips, and settled a fold in her ninth flounce, as Mrs. Carroll spoke, while the whole group fixed their eyes withdignified disapproval on the invader of their refined society. Debby hadcome like a fresh wind into a sultry room; but no one welcomed thehealthful visitant, no one saw a pleasant picture in the bright-facedgirl with wind-tossed hair and rustic hat heaped with moss andmany-tinted shells; they only saw that her gown was wet, her glovesforgotten, and her scarf trailing at her waist in a manner no well-bredlady could approve. The sunshine faded out of Debby's face, and therewas a touch of bitterness in her tone, as she glanced at the circle offashion-plates, saying, with an earnestness which caused Miss West toopen her pale eyes to their widest extent, --

"Aunt Pen, don't freeze me yet, --don't take away my faith in simplethings, but let me be a child a little longer, --let me play and sing andkeep my spirit blithe among the dandelions and the robins while I can;for trouble comes soon enough, and all my life will be the richer andthe better for a happy youth. "

Mrs. Carroll had nothing at hand to offer in reply to this appeal, andfour ladies dropped their work to stare; but Frank Evan looked in fromthe piazza, saying, as he beckoned like a boy, --

"I'll play with you, Miss Dora; come and make sand pies upon the shore. Please let her, Mrs. Carroll; we'll be very good, and not wet ourpinafores or feet. "

Without waiting for permission, Debby poured her treasures into the lapof a certain lame Freddy, and went away to a kind of play she had neverknown before. Quiet as a chidden child, she walked beside her companion, who looked down at the little figure, longing to take it on his knee andcall the sunshine back again. That he dared not do; but accident, thelover's friend, performed the work, and did him a good turn beside. Theold Frenchman was slowly approaching, when a frolicsome wind whisked offhis hat and sent it skimming along the beach. In spite of her latelecture, away went Debby, and caught the truant chapeau just as a wavewas hurrying up to claim it. This restored her cheerfulness, and whenshe returned, she was herself again. 

"A thousand thanks; but does Mademoiselle remember the forfeit I mightdemand to add to the favor she has already done me?" asked the gallantold gentleman, as Debby took the hat off her own head, and presented itwith a martial salute. 

"Ah, I had forgotten that; but you may claim it, Sir, --indeed, you may;I only wish I could do something more to give you pleasure"; and Debbylooked up into the withered face which had grown familiar to her, withkind eyes, full of pity and respect. 

Her manner touched the old man very much; he bent his gray head beforeher, saying, gratefully, --

"My child, I am not good enough to salute these blooming cheeks; but Ishall pray the Virgin to reward you for the compassion you bestow on thepoor exile, and I shall keep your memory very green through all mylife. "

He kissed her hand, as if it were a queen's, and went on his way, thinking of the little daughter whose death left him childless in aforeign land. 

Debby softly began to sing, "Oh, come unto the yellow sands!" butstopped in the middle of a line, to say, --

"Shall I tell you why I did what Aunt Pen would call a very unladylikeand improper thing, Mr. Evan?"

"If you will be so kind"; and her companion looked delighted at theconfidence about to be reposed in him. 

"Somewhere across this great wide sea I hope I have a brother, " Debbysaid, with softened voice and a wistful look into the dim horizon. "Fiveyears ago he left us, and we have never heard from him since, except toknow that he landed safely in Australia. People tell us he is dead; butI believe he will yet come home; and so I love to help and pity any manwho needs it, rich or poor, young or old, hoping that as I do by themsome tender-hearted woman far away will do by Brother Will. "

As Debby spoke, across Frank Evan's face there passed the look thatseldom comes but once to any young man's countenance; for suddenly themoment dawned when love asserted its supremacy, and putting pride, doubt, and fear underneath its feet, ruled the strong heart royally andbent it to its will. Debby's thoughts had floated across the sea; butthey came swiftly back when her companion spoke again, steadily andslow, but with a subtile change in tone and manner which arrested themat once. 

"Miss Dora, if you should meet a man who had known a laborious youth, asolitary manhood, who had no sweet domestic ties to make home beautifuland keep his nature warm, who longed most ardently to be so blessed, andmade it the aim of his life to grow more worthy the good gift, should itever come, --if you should learn that you possessed the power to makethis fellow-creature's happiness, could you find it in your gentle heartto take compassion on him for the love of 'Brother Will'?"

Debby was silent, wondering why heart and nerves and brain were stirredby such a sudden thrill, why she dared not look up, and why, when shedesired so much to speak, she could only answer, in a voice that soundedstrange to her own ears, --

"I cannot tell. "

Still, steadily and slow, with strong emotion deepening and softeninghis voice, the lover at her side went on, --

"Will you ask yourself this question in some quiet hour? For such a manhas lived in the sunshine of your presence for eight happy weeks, andnow, when his holiday is done, he finds that the old solitude will bemore sorrowful than ever, unless he can discover whether his summerdream will change into a beautiful reality. Miss Dora, I have verylittle to offer you; a faithful heart to cherish you, a strong arm towork for you, an honest name to give into your keeping, --these are all;but if they have any worth in your eyes, they are most truly yoursforever. "

Debby was steadying her voice to reply, when a troop of bathers cameshouting down the bank, and she took flight into her dressing-room, there to sit staring at the wall, till the advent of Aunt Pen forced herto resume the business of the hour by assuming her aquatic attire andstealing shyly down into the surf. 

Frank Evan, still pacing in the footprints they had lately made, watchedthe lithe figure tripping to and fro, and, as he looked, murmured tohimself the last line of a ballad Debby sometimes sang, --

 "Dance light! for my heart it lies under your feet, love!"

Presently a great wave swept Debby up, and stranded her very near him, much to her confusion and his satisfaction. Shaking the spray out of hereyes, she was hurrying away, when Frank said, --

"You will trip, Miss Dora; let me tie these strings for you"; and, suiting the action to the word, he knelt down and began to fasten thecords of her bathing-shoe. 

Debby stood looking down at the tall head bent before her, with acurious sense of wonder that a look from her could make a strong manflush and pale, as he had done; and she was trying to concoct somefriendly speech, when Frank, still fumbling at the knots, said, veryearnestly and low, --

"Forgive me, if I am selfish in pressing for an answer; but I must goto-morrow, and a single word will change my whole future for the betteror the worse. Won't you speak it, Dora?"

If they had been alone, Debby would have put her arms about his neck, and said it with all her heart; but she had a presentiment that sheshould cry, if her love found vent; and here forty pairs of eyes were onthem, and salt water seemed superfluous. Besides, Debby had not breathedthe air of coquetry so long without a touch of the infection; and thelove of power, that lies dormant in the meekest woman's breast, suddenlyawoke and tempted her. 

"If you catch me before I reach that rock, perhaps I will say 'Yes, '"was her unexpected answer; and before her lover caught her meaning, shewas floating leisurely away. 

Frank was not in bathing-costume, and Debby never dreamed that he wouldtake her at her word; but she did not know the man she had to deal with;for, taking no second thought, he flung hat and coat away, and dashedinto the sea. This gave a serious aspect to Debby's foolish jest. Afeeling of dismay seized her, when she saw a resolute face dividing thewaves behind her, and thought of the rash challenge she had given; butshe had a spirit of her own, and had profited well by Mr. Joe'sinstructions; so she drew a long breath, and swam as if for life, instead of love. Evan was incumbered by his clothing, and Debby had muchthe start of him; but, like a second Leander, he hoped to win his Hero, and, lending every muscle to the work, gained rapidly upon the littlehat which was his beacon through the foam. Debby heard the deepbreathing drawing nearer and nearer, as her pursuer's strong arms cleftthe water and sent it rippling past her lips. Something like terror tookpossession of her; for the strength seemed going out of her limbs, andthe rock appeared to recede before her; but the unconquerable blood ofthe Pilgrims was in her veins, and "_Nil desperandum_" her motto; so, setting her teeth, she muttered, defiantly, --

"I'll not be beaten, if I go to the bottom!"

A great splashing arose, and when Evan recovered the use of his eyes, the pagoda-hat had taken a sudden turn, and seemed making for thefarthest point of the goal. "I am sure of her now, " thought Frank; and, like a gallant sea-god, he bore down upon his prize, clutching it with ashout of triumph. But the hat was empty, and like a mocking echo cameDebby's laugh, as she climbed, exhausted, to a cranny in the rock. 

"A very neat thing, by Jove! Deuse take me if you a'n't 'an honor toyour teacher, and a terror to the foe, ' Miss Wilder, " cried Mr. Joe, ashe came up from a solitary cruise and dropped anchor at her side. "Here, bring along the hat, Evan; I'm going to crown the victor withappropriate what-d'-ye-call-'ems, " he continued, pulling a handful ofsea-weed that looked like well-boiled greens. 

Frank came up, smiling; but his lips were white, and in his eye a lookDebby could not meet; so, being full of remorse, she naturally assumedan air of gayety, and began to sing the merriest air she knew, merelybecause she longed to throw herself upon the stones and cry violently. 

"It was 'most as exciting as a regatta, and you pulled well, Evan; butyou had too much ballast aboard, and Miss Wilder ran up false colorsjust in time to save her ship. What was the wager?" asked the livelyJoseph, complacently surveying his marine millinery, which would havescandalized a fashionable mermaid. 

"Only a trifle, " answered Debby, knotting up her braids with arevengeful jerk. 

"It's taken the wind out of your sails, I fancy, Evan, for you lookimmensely Byronic with the starch minus in your collar and your hair ina poetic toss. Come, I'll try a race with you; and Miss Wilder willdance all the evening with the winner. Bless the man, what's he doingdown there? Burying sunfish, hey?"

Frank had been sitting below them on a narrow strip of sand, absentlypiling up a little mound that bore some likeness to a grave. As hiscompanion spoke, he looked at it, and a sudden flush of feeling sweptacross his face, as he replied, --

"No, only a dead hope. "

"Deuse take it, yes, a good many of that sort of craft founder in thesewaters, as I know to my sorrow"; and, sighing tragically, Mr. Joe turnedto help Debby from her perch, but she had glided silently into the sea, and was gone. 

For the next four hours the poor girl suffered the sharpest pain she hadever known; for now she clearly saw the strait her folly had betrayedher into. Frank Evan was a proud man, and would not ask her love again, believing she had tacitly refused it; and how could she tell him thatshe had trifled with the heart she wholly loved and longed to make herown? She could not confide in Aunt Pen, for that worldly lady would haveno sympathy to bestow. She longed for her mother; but there was no timeto write, for Frank was going on the morrow, --might even then be gone;and as this fear came over her, she covered up her face and wished thatshe were dead. Poor Debby! her last mistake was sadder than her first, and she was reaping a bitter harvest from her summer's sowing. She satand thought till her cheeks burned and her temples throbbed; but shedared not ease her pain with tears. The gong sounded like a Judgment-Daytrump of doom, and she trembled at the idea of confronting many eyeswith such a telltale face; but she could not stay behind, for Aunt Penmust know the cause. She tried to play her hard part well; but wherevershe looked, some fresh anxiety appeared, as if every fault and folly ofthose months had blossomed suddenly within the hour. She saw Frank Evanmore sombre and more solitary than when she met him first, and criedregretfully within herself, "How could I so forget the truth I owedhim?" She saw Clara West watching with eager eyes for the coming ofyoung Leavenworth, and sighed, "This is the fruit of my wicked vanity!"She saw Aunt Pen regarding her with an anxious face, and longed to say, "Forgive me, for I have not been sincere!" At last, as her trouble grew, she resolved to go away and have a quiet "think, "--a remedy which hadserved her in many a lesser perplexity; so, stealing out, she went to agrove of cedars usually deserted at that hour. But in ten minutes JoeLeavenworth appeared at the door of the summer-house, and, looking in, said, with a well-acted start of pleasure and surprise, --

"Beg pardon, I thought there was no one here. My dear Miss Wilder, youlook contemplative; but I fancy it wouldn't do to ask the subject ofyour meditations, would it?"

He paused with such an evident intention of remaining that Debbyresolved to make use of the moment, and ease her conscience of one carethat burdened it; therefore she answered his question with her usualdirectness, --

"My meditations were partly about you. "

Mr. Joe was guilty of the weakness of blushing violently and lookingimmensely gratified; but his rapture was of short duration, for Debbywent on very earnestly, --

"I believe I am going to do what you may consider a very impertinentthing; but I would rather be unmannerly than unjust to others or untrueto my own sense of right. Mr. Leavenworth, if you were an older man, Ishould not dare to say this to you; but I have brothers of my own, and, remembering how many unkind things they do for want of thought, Iventure to remind you that a woman's heart is a perilous plaything, andtoo tender to be used for a selfish purpose or an hour's pleasure. Iknow this kind of amusement is not considered wrong; but it _is_ wrong, and I cannot shut my eyes to the fact, or sit silent while another womanis allowed to deceive herself and wound the heart that trusts her. Oh, if you love your own sisters, be generous, be just, and do not destroythat poor girl's happiness, but go away before your sport becomes abitter pain to her!"

Joe Leavenworth had stood staring at Debby with a troubled countenance, feeling as if all the misdemeanors of his life were about to be paradedbefore him; but, as he listened to her plea, the womanly spirit thatprompted it appealed more loudly than her words, and in his reallygenerous heart he felt regret for what had never seemed a fault before. Shallow as he was, nature was stronger than education, and he admiredand accepted what many a wiser, worldlier man would have resented withauger or contempt. He loved Debby with all his little might; he meant totell her so, and graciously present his fortune and himself for heracceptance; but now, when the moment came, the well-turned speech he hadprepared vanished from his memory, and with the better eloquence offeeling he blundered out his passion like a very boy. 

"Miss Dora, I never meant to make trouble between Clara and her lover;upon my soul, I didn't, and wish Seguin had not put the notion into myhead, since it has given you pain. I only tried to pique you intoshowing some regret, when I neglected you; but you didn't, and then Igot desperate and didn't care what became of any one. Oh, Dora, if youknew how much I loved you, I am sure you'd forgive it, and let me provemy repentance by giving up everything that you dislike. I mean what Isay; upon my life I do; and I'll keep my word, if you will only let mehope. "

If Debby had wanted a proof of her love for Frank Evan, she might havefound it in the fact that she had words enough at her command now, andno difficulty in being sisterly pitiful toward her second suitor. 

"Please get up, " she said; for Mr. Joe, feeling very humble and veryearnest, had gone down upon his knees, and sat there entirely regardlessof his personal appearance. 

He obeyed; and Debby stood looking up at him with her kindest aspect, asshe said, more tenderly than she had ever spoken to him before, --

"Thank you for the affection you offer me, but I cannot accept it, for Ihave nothing to give you in return but the friendliest regard, the mostsincere good-will. I know you will forgive me, and do for your own sakethe good things you would have done for mine, that I may add to myesteem a real respect for one who has been very kind to me. "

"I'll try, --indeed, I will, Miss Dora, though it will be powerful hardwithout yourself for a help and a reward. "

Poor Joe choked a little, but called up an unexpected manliness, andadded, stoutly, --

"Don't think I shall be offended at your speaking so, or saying 'No' tome, --not a bit; it 's all right, and I'm much obliged to you. I mighthave known you couldn't care for such a fellow as I am, and don't blameyou, for nobody in the world is good enough for you. I'll go away atonce, I'll try to keep my promise, and I hope you'll be very happy allyour life. "

He shook Debby's hands heartily, and hurried down the steps, but at thebottom paused and looked back. Debby stood upon the threshold withsunshine dancing on her winsome face, and kind words trembling on herlips; for the moment it seemed impossible to part, and, with animpetuous gesture, he cried to her, --

"Oh, Dora, let me stay and try to win you! for everything is possible tolove, and I never knew how dear you were to me till now!"

There were sudden tears in the young man's eyes, the flush of a genuineemotion on his cheek, the tremor of an ardent longing in his voice, and, for the first time, a very true affection strengthened his wholecountenance. Debby's heart was full of penitence; she had given so muchpain to more than one that she longed to atone for it, --longed to dosome very friendly thing, and soothe some trouble such as she herselfhad known. She looked into the eager face uplifted to her own andthought of Will, then stooped and touched her lover's forehead with thelips that softly whispered, "No. "

If she had cared for him, she never would have done it; poor Joe knewthat, and murmuring an incoherent "Thank you!" he rushed away, feelingvery much as he remembered to have felt when his baby sister died and hewept his grief away upon his mother's neck. He began his preparationsfor departure at once, in a burst of virtuous energy quite refreshing tobehold, thinking within himself, as he flung his cigar-case into thegrate, kicked a billiard-ball into a corner, and suppressed his favoriteallusion to the Devil, --

"This is a new sort of thing to me, but I can bear it, and upon my lifeI think I feel the better for it already. "

And so he did; for though he was no Augustine to turn in an hour fromworldly hopes and climb to sainthood through long years of inwardstrife, yet in after-times no one knew how many false steps had beensaved, how many small sins repented of, through the power of the memorythat far away a generous woman waited to respect him, and in his secretsoul he owned that one of the best moments of his life was that in whichlittle Debby Wilder whispered "No, " and kissed him. 

As he passed from sight, the girl leaned her head upon her hand, thinking sorrowfully to herself, --

"What right had I to censure him, when my own actions are so far fromtrue? I have done a wicked thing, and as an honest girl I should undoit, if I can. I have broken through the rules of a false propriety forClara's sake; can I not do as much for Frank's? I will. I'll find him, if I search the house, --and tell him all, though I never dare to lookhim in the face again, and Aunt Pen sends me home to-morrow. "

Full of zeal and courage, Debby caught up her hat and ran down thesteps, but, as she saw Frank Evan coming up the path, a sudden panicfell upon her, and she could only stand mutely waiting his approach. 

It is asserted that Love is blind; and on the strength of that populardelusion novel heroes and heroines go blundering through three volumesof despair with the plain truth directly under their absurd noses: butin real life this theory is not supported; for to a living man thecountenance of a loving woman is more eloquent than any language, moretrustworthy than a world of proverbs, more beautiful than the sweetestlove-lay ever sung. 

Frank looked at Debby, and "all her heart stood up in her eyes, " as shestretched her hands to him, though her lips only whispered very low, --

"Forgive me, and let me say the 'Yes' I should have said so long ago. "

Had she required any assurance of her lover's truth, or any reward forher own, she would have found it in the change that dawned so swiftly inhis face, smoothing the lines upon his forehead, lighting the gloom ofhis eye, stirring his firm lips with a sudden tremor, and making histouch as soft as it was strong. For a moment both stood very still, while Debby's tears streamed down like summer rain; then Frank drew herinto the green shadow of the grove, and its peace soothed her like amother's voice, till she looked up smiling with a shy delight her glancehad never known before. The slant sunbeams dropped a benediction ontheir heads, the robins peeped, and the cedars whispered, but no rumorof what further passed ever went beyond the precincts of the wood; forsuch hours are sacred, and Nature guards the first blossoms of a humanlove as tenderly as she nurses May-flowers underneath the leaves. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Carroll had retired to her bed with a nervous headache, leavingDebby to the watch and ward of friendly Mrs. Earle, who performed heroffice finely by letting her charge entirely alone. In her dreams AuntPen was just imbibing a copious draught of Champagne at thewedding-breakfast of her niece, "Mrs. Joseph Leavenworth, " when she wasroused by the bride elect, who passed through the room with a lamp and ashawl in her hand. 

"What time is it, and where are you going, dear?" she asked, dozilywondering if the carriage for the wedding-tour was at the door so soon. 

"It's only nine, and I am going for a sail, Aunt Pen. "

As Debby spoke, the light flashed full into her face, and a suddenthought into Mrs. Carroll's mind. She rose up from her pillow, lookingas stately in her nightcap as Maria Theresa is said to have done in likeunassuming head-gear. 

"Something has happened, Dora! What have you done? What have you said? Iinsist upon knowing immediately, " she demanded, with somewhat startlingbrevity. 

"I have said 'No' to Mr. Leavenworth and 'Yes' to Mr. Evan; and I shouldlike to go home to-morrow, if you please, " was the equally concisereply. 

Mrs. Carroll fell flat in her bed, and lay there stiff and rigid asMorlena Kenwigs. Debby gently drew the curtains, and stole away, leavingAunt Pen's wrath to effervesce before morning. 

The moon was hanging luminous and large on the horizon's edge, sendingshafts of light before her till the melancholy ocean seemed to smile, and along that shining pathway happy Debby and her lover floated intothat new world where all things seem divine. 

 * * * * *

WET-WEATHER WORK. 

BY A FARMER. 

III. 

Will any of our artists ever give us, on canvas, a good, rattling, saucyshower? There is room in it for a rare handling of the brush:--thevague, indistinguishable line of hills, (as I see them to-day, )--thewild scud of gray, with fine gray lines, slanted by the wind, andtrending eagerly downward, --the swift, petulant dash into the littlepools of the highway, making fairy bubbles that break as soon as theyform, --the land smoking with excess of moisture, --and the pelted leavesall wincing and shining and adrip. 

I know no painter who has so well succeeded in putting a wet sky intohis pictures as Turner; and in this I judge him by the literal_chiaroscuro_ of engraving. In proof of it, I take down from my shelfhis "Rivers of France": a book over which I have spent a great manypleasant hours, and idle ones too, --if it be idle to travel leagues atthe turning of a page, and to see hill-sides spotty with vineyards, andgreat bridges wallowing through the Loire, and to watch the fishermen ofHonfleur putting to sea. There are skies, as I said, in some of thesepictures which make a man instinctively think of his umbrella, or of hisdistance from home: no actual rain-drift stretching from them, but suchunmistakable promise of a rainy afternoon, in their little parallelwisps of dark-bottomed clouds, as would make a provident farmer orderevery scythe out of the field. 

In the "Chair of Gargantua, " on which my eye falls, as I turn over thepages, an actual thunder-storm is breaking. The scene is somewhere uponthe Lower Seine. From the middle of the left of the picture the loftyriver-bank stretches far across, forming all the background;--itsextreme distance hidden by a bold thrust of the right bank, which jutsinto the picture just far enough to shelter a white village, which liesgleaming upon the edge of the water. On all the foreground lies theriver, broad as a bay. The storm is coming down the stream. Over theleft spur of the bank, and over the meeting of the banks, it broodsblack as night. Through a little rift there is a glimpse of serene sky, from which a mellow light streams down upon the edges and angles of afew cliffs upon the farther shore. All the rest is heavily shadowed. Theedges of the coming tempest are tortuous and convulsed, and you knowthat a fierce wind is driving the black billows on; yet all the waterunder the lee of the shores is as tranquil as a dream; a white sail, near to the white village, hangs slouchingly to the mast: but in theforeground the tempest has already caught the water; a tall lugger isscudding and careening under it as if mad; the crews of threefishermen's boats, that toss on the vexed water, are making a confusedrush to shorten sail, and you may almost fancy that you hear theiroutcries sweeping down the wind. In the middle scene, a little steameris floating tranquilly on water which is yet calm; and a column of smokepiling up from its tall chimney rises for a space placidly enough, untilthe wind catches and whisks it before the storm. I would wager ten toone, upon the mere proof in the picture, that the fishermen and thewasherwomen in the foreground will be drenched within an hour. 

When I have once opened the covers of Turner, --especially upon such awet day as this, --it is hard for me to leave him until I have wanderedall up and down the Loire, revisited Tours and its quiet cathedral, andBlois with its stately chateau, and Amboise with its statelier, andcoquetted again with memories of the Maid of Orléans. 

From the Upper Loire it is easy to slip into the branching valleyswhich sidle away from it far down into the country of the Auvergne. Turner does not go there, indeed; the more's the pity; but I do, sinceit is the most attractive region rurally (Brittany perhaps excepted) inall France. The valleys are green, the brooks are frequent, the riversare tortuous, the mountains are high, and luxuriant walnut-trees embowerthe roads. It was near to Moulins, on the way hither, through thepleasant Bourbonnois, that Tristram Shandy met with the poor, half-crazed Maria, piping her evening service to the Virgin. 

And at that thought I must do no less than pull down my "TristramShandy, " (on which the dust of years has accumulated, ) and read againthat tender story of the lorn maiden, with her attendant goat, and herhair caught up in a silken fillet, and her shepherd's pipe, from whichshe pours out a low, plaintive wail upon the evening air. 

It is not a little singular that a British author should have suppliedthe only Arcadian resident of all this Arcadian region. The Abbé Delillewas, indeed, born hereabout, within sight of the bold Puy de Dome, andwithin marketing-distance of the beautiful Clermont. But there is verylittle that is Arcadian, in freshness or simplicity, in either the"Gardens" or the other verse of Delille. 

Out of his own mouth (the little green-backed book, my boy) I willcondemn him:--

 "Ce n'est plus cette simple et rustique déesse Qui suit ses vieilles lois; c'est une enchanteresse Qui, la baguette en main, par des hardis travaux Fait naître des aspects et des trésors nouveaux, Compose un sol plus riche et des races plus belles, Fertilise les monts, dompte les rocs rebelles. "

The _baguette_ of Delille is no shepherd's crook; it has more thefashion of a drumstick, --_baguette de tambour_. 

If I follow on southward to Provence, whither I am borne upon the scudsof rain over Turner's pictures, and the pretty Bourbonnois, and thegreen mountains of Auvergne, I find all the characteristic literature ofthat land of olives is only of love or war: the vines, theolive-orchards, and the yellow hill-sides pass for nothing. And if Iread an old _Sirvente_ of the Troubadours, beginning with a certainredolence of the fields, all this yields presently to knights, andsteeds caparisoned, --

 "Cavalliers ab cavals armatz. "

It is smooth reading, and is attributed to Bertrand de Born, [3] wholived in the time when even the lion-hearted King Richard turned hisbrawny fingers to the luting of a song. Let us listen:--

 "The beautiful spring delights me well, When flowers and leaves are growing; And it pleases my heart to hear the swell Of the birds' sweet chorus flowing In the echoing wood; And I love to see, all scattered around, Pavilions and tents on the martial ground; And my spirit finds it good To see, on the level plains beyond, Gay knights and steeds caparisoned. "

[Footnote 3: M. Raynouard, _Poésies de Troubadours_, II. 209. ]

But as the Troubadour nestles more warmly into the rhythm of his verse, the birds are all forgotten, and the beautiful spring, and there is asturdy clang of battle, that would not discredit our own times:--

 "I tell you that nothing my soul can cheer, Or banqueting or reposing, Like the onset cry of 'Charge them!' rung From each side, as in battle closing; Where the horses neigh, And the call to 'aid' is echoing loud, And there, on the earth, the lowly and proud In the foss together lie, And yonder is piled the mingled heap Of the brave that scaled the trenches steep. 

 "Barons! your castles in safety place, Your cities and villages, too, Before ye haste to the battle-scene: And Papiol! quickly go, And tell the lord of 'Yes and No' That peace already too long hath been!"[4]

[Footnote 4: I cannot forbear taking a bit of margin to print theclosing stanzas of the original, which carry the clash of sabres intheir very sound. 

 "Ie us dic que tan no m' a sabor Manjars ni beure ni dormir Cum a quant aug cridar: A lor! D'ambas las partz; et aug agnir Cavals voitz per l'ombratge, Et aug cridar: Aidatz! Aidatz! E vei cazer per los fossatz Paucs e grans per l'erbatge, E vei los mortz que pels costatz An los tronsons outre passatz. 

 "Baros, metetz et gatge Castels e vilas e ciutatz, Enans q' usquecs no us guerreiatz. 

 "Papiol, d'agradatge Ad _Oc e No_ t' en vai viatz, Dic li que trop estan en patz. "

It would seem that the men of that time, like men of most times, bore aconsiderable contempt for people who said "Yes" one day, and "No" thenext. ]

I am on my way to Italy, (it may as well be confessed, ) where I hadfully intended to open my rainy day's work; but Turner has kept me, andthen Auvergne, and then the brisk battle-song of a Troubadour. 

When I was upon the Cajano farm of Lorenzo the Magnificent, during mylast "spell of wet, " it was uncourteous not to refer to the pleasantcommemorative poem of "Ambra, " which Lorenzo himself wrote, and which, whatever may be said against the conception and conduct of it, shows inits opening stanzas that the great Medici was as appreciative of ruralimages--fir-boughs with loaded snows, thick cypresses in which latebirds lurked, sharp-leaved junipers, and sturdy pines fighting thewind--as ever he had been of antique jewels, or of the rhythm of such asPolitiano. And if I have spoken slightingly of this latter poet, it wasonly in contrast with Virgil, and in view of his strained Latinity. Whenhe is himself, and wraps his fancies only in his own sparkling Tuscan, we forget his classic frigidities, and his quarrels with MadonnaClarice, and are willing to confess that no pen of his time was dippedwith such a relishing _gusto_ into the colors of the hyacinths andtrembling pansies, and into all the blandishments of a gushing andwanton spring. [5]

[Footnote 5: See Wm. Parr Greswell's _Memoirs of Politiano_, withtranslations. ]

But classical affectation was the fashion of that day. A certainBolognese noble, Berò by name, wrote ten Latin books on rural affairs:Tiraboschi says he never saw them; neither have I. Another scholar, Pietro da Barga, who astonished his teachers by his wonderfulproficiency at the age of twelve, and who was afterward guest of theFrench ambassador in Venice, wrote a poem on rural matters, to which, with an exaggerated classicism, he gave the Greek name of"_Cynegeticon_"; and about the same time Giuseppe Voltolina composedthree books on kitchen-gardening. I name these writers only out ofsympathy with their topics: I would not advise the reading of them: itwould involve a long journey and scrupulous search to find them, throughI know not what out-of-the-way libraries; and if found, no essentiallynew facts or theories could be counted on which are not covered by thetreatise of Crescenzi. The Pisans or Venetians may possibly haveintroduced a few new plants from the East; the example of the Medici mayhave suggested some improvements in the arrangement of forcing-houses, or the outlay of villas; but in all that regarded general husbandry, Crescenzi was still the man. 

I linger about this period, and the writers of this time, because Isnuff here and there among them the perfume of a country bouquet, whichcarries the odor of the fields with it, and transports me to the"empurpled hill-sides" of Tuscany. Shall I name Sannazaro, with his"Arcadia"?--a dead book now, --or "Amyntas, " who, before he is tallenough to steal apples from the lowest boughs, (so sings Tasso, ) plungeshead and ears in love with Sylvia, the fine daughter of Montano, who hasa store of cattle, "_richissimo d'armenti_"?

Then there is Rucellai, who, under the pontificate of Leo X. , came tobe Governor of the Castle of Sant' Angelo, and yet has left a poem offifteen hundred lines devoted to Bees. In his suggestions for theallaying of a civil war among these winged people, he is quite beyondeither Virgil or Columella or Mr. Lincoln. "Pluck some leafy branch, " hesays, "and with it sprinkle the contending factions with either honey orsweet grape-juice, and you shall see them instantly forego theirstrife":--

 "The two warring bands joyful unite, And foe embraces foe: each with its lips Licking the others' wings, feet, arms, and breast, Whereon the luscious mixture hath been shed, And all inebriate with delight. "

So the Swiss, [6] he continues, when they fall out among themselves, areappeased by some grave old gentleman, who says a few pleasant words, andorders up a good stoop of sweet wine, in which all parties presently diptheir beards, and laugh and embrace and make peace, and so forgetoutrage. It may have been the sixteenth-century way of closing a battle. 

[Footnote 6: "Come quando nei Suizzeri si muove Sedizione, e che si grida a l' arme; Se qualche nom grave allor si leva in piede E comincia a parlar con dolce lingua, Mitiga i petti barbari e feroci; E intanto fa portare ondanti vasi Pieni di dolci ed odorati vini; Ahora ognun le labbra e 'l mento immerge Ne' le spumanti tazze, " etc. ]

Guarini, with all his affectations, has little prettinesses which charmlike the chirping of a bird;--as where he paints (in the very firstscene of the "Pastor Fido") the little sparrow flitting from fir tobeech, and from beech to myrtle, and twittering, "How I love! how Ilove!" And the bird-mate ("_il suo dolce desio_") twitters in reply, "How I love, how I love, too!" "_Ardo d' amore anch' io. _"

Messer Pietro Bembo was a different man from Guarini. I cannot imaginehim listening to the sparrows; I cannot imagine him plucking aflower, --except he have some courtly gallantry in hand, perhaps towardthe Borgia. He was one of those pompous, stiff, scholastic prigs whowrote by rules of syntax; and of syntax he is dead. He was clever andlearned; he wrote in Latin, Italian, Castlian: but nobody reads him; hehas only a little crypt in the "Autori Diversi. " I think of him as Ithink of fine women who must always rustle in brocade embossed with hardjewels, and who never win the triumphs that belong to a charming morning_déshabillé_ with only the added improvisation of a rose. 

In his "Asolani" Bembo gives a very full and minute description of thegardens at Asolo, which relieved the royal retirement of Caterina, theQueen of Cyprus. Nothing could be more admirable than the situation:there were skirts of mountain which were covered, and are still covered, with oaks; there were grottos in the sides of cliffs, and water sodisposed--in jets, in pools inclosed by marble, and among rocks--as tocounterfeit all the wildness of Nature; there was the same stately arrayof cypresses, and of clipped hedges, which had belonged to the villas ofPliny; temples were decorated with blazing frescoes, to which, I daresay, Carpaccio may have lent a hand, if not that wild rake, Giorgione. Here the pretty Queen, with eight thousand gold ducats a year, (whateverthat amount may have been, ) and some seventy odd retainers, held hercourt; and here Bembo, a dashing young fellow at that time of seven oreight and twenty, became a party to those disquisitions on Love, and tothose recitations of song, part of which he has recorded in the"Asolani. " I am sorry to say, the beauty of the place, so far as regardsits artificial features, is now all gone. The hall, which may haveserved as the presence-chamber of the Queen, was only a few years sincedoing service as a farmer's barn; and the traces of a Diana and anApollo were still coloring the wall under which a few cows werecrunching their clover-hay. 

All the gardening of Italy at that period, as, indeed, at almost alltimes, depended very much upon architectural accessories: colonnades andwall-veil with frescoes make a large part of Italian gardening to thisday. The Isola Bella in the Lago Maggiore, and the Borghese Garden atRome, are fair types. And as I recall the sunny vistas of this last, andthe noontide loungings upon the marble seats, counting white flecks ofstatues amid the green of cypresses, and watching the shadow which somedense-topped pine flings upon a marble flight of steps or a marblebalustrade, I cannot sneer at the Italian gardening, or wish it wereother than it is. The art-life of Italy is the crowning and theoverlapping life. The Campagna seems only a bit of foreground to carrythe leaping arches of the aqueducts, and to throw the hills of Tivoliand Albano to a purple distance. The farmers (_fattori_) who gallopacross the fields, in rough sheepskin wrappers, and upon scurvy-lookingponies, are more picturesque than thrifty; and if I gallop in companywith one of them to his home upon the farther edge of the Campagna, (which is an allowable wet-day fancy, ) I shall find a tall stone housesmeared over roughly with plaster, and its ground-floor devoted to acrazy cart, a pony, a brace of cows, and a few goats; a rude court iswalled in adjoining the house, where a few pigs are grunting. Ascendingan oaken stair-way within the door, I come upon the living-room of the_fattore_; the beams overhead are begrimed with smoke, and garnishedhere and there with flitches of bacon; a scant fire of fagots isstruggling into blaze upon an open hearth; and on a low table bare ofeither cloth or cleanliness, there waits him his supper of _polenta_, which is nothing more or less than our plain boiled Indian-pudding. Addto this a red-eyed dog, that seems to be a savage representative of aScotch colley, --a lean, wrinkled, dark-faced woman, who is unwinding thebandages from a squalling _Bambino_, --a mixed odor of garlic and ofgoats, that is quickened with an ammoniacal pungency, --and you may formsome idea of the home of a small Roman farmer in our day. It falls awayfrom the standard of Cato; and so does the man. 

He takes his twenty or thirty acres, upon shares, from some wealthyproprietor of Rome, whose estate may possibly cover a square mile or twoof territory. He sells vegetables, poultry, a little grain, a few curds, and possibly a butt or two of sour wine. He is a type of a great manywho lived within the limits of the old Papal territory; whether he andthey have dropped their musty sheepskins and shaken off their unthriftunder the new government, I cannot say. 

Around Bologna, indeed, there was a better race of farmers: theintervening thrift of Tuscany had always its influence. The meadows ofTerni, too, which are watered by the Velino, bear three full crops ofgrass in the season; the valley of the Clitumnus is like a miniature ofthe Genesee; and around Perugia the crimson-tasselled clovers, in theseason of their bloom, give to the fields the beauty of a garden. 

The old Duke of Tuscany, before he became soured by his politicalmishaps, was a great patron of agricultural improvements. He hadprincely farms in the neighborhood both of his capital and of Pisa. Ofthe latter I cannot speak from personal observation; but the dairy-farm, _Cascina_, near to Florence, can hardly have been much inferior to theCajano property of the great Lorenzo. The stables were admirablyarranged, and of permanent character; the neatness was equal to that ofthe dairies of Holland. The Swiss cows, of a pretty dun-color, were keptstalled, and luxuriously fed upon freshly cut ray-grass, clover, orvetches, with an occasional sprinkling of meal; the calves wereinvariably reared by hand; and the average _per diem_ of milk, throughout the season, was stated at fourteen quarts; and I thinkMadonna Clarice never strained more than this into the cheese-tubs ofAmbra. I trust the burghers of Florence, and the new _Gonfaloniere_, whoever he may be, will not forget the dun cows of the Cascina, or theirbaitings with the tender vetches. 

The redemption of the waste marshlands in the Val di Chiana by theengineering skill of Fossombroni, and the consequent restoration of manythousands of acres which seemed hopelessly lost to fertility, is aresult of which the Medici would hardly have dreamed, and which would docredit to any age or country. 

About the better-cultivated portions of Lombardy there is an almostregal look. The roads are straight, and of most admirable construction. Lines of trees lift their stateliness on either side, and carry trailingfestoons of vines. On both sides streams of water are flowing inartificial canals, interrupted here and there by cross sluices andgates, by means of which any or all of the fields can be laid underwater at pleasure, so that old meadows return three and four cuttings ofgrass in the year. There are patches of Indian-corn which are equal toany that can be seen on the Miami; hemp and flax appear at intervals, and upon the lower lands rice. The barns are huge in size, and areraised from the ground upon columns of masonry. 

I have a dapper little note-book of travel, from which these facts aremainly taken; and at the head of one of its pages I observe an oldink-sketch of a few trees, with festoons of vines between. It isyellowed now, and poor always; for I am but a dabbler at such things. Yet it brings back, clearly and briskly, the broad stretch of Lombardmeadows, the smooth Macadam, the gleaming canals of water, the whitefinials of Milan Cathedral shining somewhere in the distance, thethrushes, as in the "Pastor Fido, " filling all the morning air withtheir sweet

 "Ardo d' amore! ardo d' amore!"

the dewy clover-lots, looking like wavy silken plush, the green glitterof mulberry-leaves, and the beggar in steeple-crowned hat, who says, "_Grazia_, " and "_Á rivedervi!_" as I drop him a few kreutzers, andrattle away to the North, and out of Italy. 

 * * * * *

About the year 1570, a certain Conrad Heresbach, who was Councillor tothe Duke of Cleves, (brother to that unfortunate Anne of Cleves who wasone of the wife-victims of Henry VIII. , ) wrote four Latin books onrustic affairs, which were translated by Barnaby Googe, a Lincolnshirefarmer and poet, who was in his day gentleman-pensioner to QueenElizabeth. Our friend Barnaby introduces his translation in thisstyle:--"I haue thought it meet (good Reader) for thy further profit &pleasure, to put into English these foure Bookes of Husbandry, collected& set forth by Master Conrade Heresbatch, a great & a learned Councellerof the Duke of Cleues: not thinking it reason, though I haue altered &increased his worke, _with mine owne readings & obseruations_, joinedwith the experience of sundry my friends, to take from him (as diuers inthe like case haue done) the honour & glory of his owne trauaile:Neither is it my minde, that this either his doings or mine, shoulddeface, or any waves darken the good enterprise, or painfull trauailesof such our countrymen, of England, as haue plentifully written of thismatter: but always haue, & do giue them the reuerence & honour due to sovertuous, & well disposed Gentlemen, namely, _Master Fitz herbert_, &_Master Tusser_: whose workes may, in my fancie, without anypresumption, compare with any, either _Varro_, _Columella_, or_Palladius_ of _Rome_. "

The work is written in the form of a dialogue, the parties being Cono, acountry-gentleman, Metella, his wife, Rigo, a courtier, and Hermes, aservant. The first book relates to tillage, and farm-practice ingeneral; the second, to orcharding, gardens, and woods; the third, tocattle; and the fourth, to fowl, fish, and bees. He had evidently beenan attentive reader of the older authors I have discussed, and hiscitations from them are abundant. He had also opportunity for every-dayobservation in a region which, besides being one of the most fertile, was probably at that time the most highly cultivated in Europe; and hiswork may be regarded as the most important contribution to agriculturalliterature since the days of Crescenzi. He reaffirms, indeed, many ofthe old fables of the Latinists, --respects the force of properincantations, has abiding faith in "the moon being aloft" in time ofsowing, and insists that the medlar can be grafted on the pine, and thecherry upon the fir. Rue, he tells us, "will prosper the better forbeing stolen"; and "If you breake to powder the horne of a Ram & sowe itwatrying it well, it is thought it will come to be good Sperage"(Asparagus). He assures us that he has grafted the pear successfullywhen in full bloom; and furthermore, that he has seen apples which havebeen kept sound for three years. 

Upon the last page are some rules for purchasing land, which I suspectare to be attributed to the poet of Lincolnshire, rather than toHeresbach. They are as good as they were then; and the poetry none theworse:--

 "First see that the land be clear In title of the seller; And that it stand in danger Of no woman's dowrie; See whether the tenure be bond or free, And release of every fee of fee; See that the seller be of age, And that it lie not in mortgage; Whether ataile be thereof found, And whether it stand in statute bound; Consider what service longeth thereto, And what quit rent thereout must goe; And if it become of a wedded woman, Think thou then on covert baron; And if thou may in any wise, Make thy charter in warrantise, To thee, thine heyres, assignes also; Thus should a wise purchaser doe. "

The learned Lipsius was a contemporary of Councillor Heresbach, andalthough his orthodoxy was somewhat questionable, and his Calvinismsomewhat stretchy, there can be no doubt of the honest rural love whichbelongs to some of his letters, and especially to this smack of verse (Idare not say poetry) with which he closes his _Eighth (Cent. I. )_

 "Vitam si liceat mihi Formare arbitriis meis: Non fasces cupiam aut opes, Non clarus niveis equis Captiva agmina traxerim. In solis habitem locis, Hortos possideam atque agros, Illic ad strepitus aquæ Musarum studiis fruar. Sic cum fata mihi ultima Pernerit Lachesis mea; Tranquillus moriar senex. "

And with this I will have done with a dead language; for I am come to aperiod now when I can garnish my talk with the flowers of good oldEnglish gardens. At the very thought of them, I seem to hear the royalcaptive James pouring madrigals through the window of his Windsorprison, --

 "the hymnis consecrat Of lovis use, now soft, now loud among, That all the gardens and the wallis rung. "

And through the "Dreme" of Chaucer I seem to see the great plain ofWoodstock stretching away under my view, all white and green, "greeny-powdered with daisy. " Upon the half-ploughed land, lying yonder veiledso tenderly with the mist and the rain, I could take oath to the veryspot where five hundred years ago the plowman of Chaucer, all "forswat, "

 "plucked up his plowe Whan midsomer mone was comen in And shoke off shear, and coulter off drowe, And honged his harnis on a pinne, And said his beasts should ete enowe And lie in grasse up to the chin. "

But Chaucer was no farmer, or he would have known it to be bad husbandry(even for poetry) to allow cattle steaming from the plough to lie downin grass of that height. 

 * * * * *

Sir Anthony Fitz-herbert is the first duly accredited writer on Britishhusbandry. There are some few earlier ones, it is true, --a certain"Mayster Groshede, Bysshop of Lyncoln, " and a Henri Calcoensis, amongthem. Indeed, Mr. Donaldson, who has compiled a bibliography of Britishfarm-writers, and who once threatened a poem on kindred subjects, hasthe effrontery to include Lord Littleton. Now I have a respect for LordLittleton, and for Coke on Littleton, but it is tempered with some earlyexperiences in a lawyer's office, and some later experiences of thelegal profession; he may have written well upon "Tenures, " but he hadnot enough of tenderness even for a teasel. 

I think it worthy of remark, in view of the mixed complexion which Ihave given to these wet-day studies, that the oldest printed copy ofthat sweet ballad of the "Nut Browne Mayde" has come to us in aChronicle of 1503, which contains also a chapter upon "the crafte ofgraffynge & plantynge & alterynge of fruyts. " What could be happier thanthe conjunction of the knight of "the grenwode tree" with a good chapteron "graffynge"?

Fitz-herbert's work is entitled a "Boke of Husbandrie, " and counts, among other headings of discourse, the following:--

"Whether is better a plough of horses or a plough of oxen. "

"To cary out dounge & mucke, & to spreade it. "

"The fyrste furryng of the falowes. "

"To make a ewe to love hir lambe. "

"To bye lean cattel. "

"A shorte information for a young gentyleman that entendeth to thryve. "

"What the wyfe oughte to dooe generally. "

(_seq. _) "To kepe measure in spendynge. "

"What be God's commandments. "

By all which it may be seen that Sir Anthony took as broad a view ofhusbandry as did Xenophon. 

Among other advices to the "young gentyleman that entendeth to thryve"he counsels him to rise betime in the morning, and if "he fynde anyhorses, mares, swyne, shepe, beastes in his pastures that be not hisown; or fynde a gap in his hedge, or any water standynge in his pastureuppon his grasse, whereby he may take double herte, bothe losse of hisgrasse, & rotting of his shepe, & calves; or if he fyndeth or seethanything that is amisse, & wold be amended, let him take out his tables& wryte the defautes; & when he commeth home to dinner, supper, or atnyght, then let him call his bayley, & soo shewe him the defautes. Forthis, " says he, "used I to doo x or xi yeres or more; & yf he cannotwryte, lette him nycke the defautes uppon a stycke. "

Sir Anthony is gracious to the wife, but he is not tender; and it may beencouraging to country-housewives nowadays to see what service wasexpected of their mothers in the days of Henry VIII. 

"It is a wives occupacion to winow al maner of cornes, to make malte, wash & wring, to make hey, to shere corne, & in time of neede to helpeher husbande to fyll the mucke wayne or donge carte, dryve the plough, to lode hay corne & such other. Also to go or ride to the market to sellbutter, chese, mylke, egges, chekens, kapons, hennes, pygges, gees & almaner of corne. And also to bye al maner of necessary thinges belongingto a household, & to make a true rekening & accompt to her husband whatshe hath receyved & what she hathe payed. And yf the husband go tomarket to bye or sell as they ofte do, he then to shew his wife in lykemaner. For if one of them should use to disceive the other, hedisceyveth himselfe, & he is not lyke to thryve, & therfore they must betrue ether to other. "

 * * * * *

I come next to Master Tusser, --poet, farmer, chorister, vagabond, happily dead at last, and with a tomb whereon some wag wrote this:--

 "Tusser, they tell me, when thou wert alive, Thou teaching thrift, thyself could never thrive; So, like the whetstone, many men are wont To sharpen others when themselves are blunt. "

I cannot help considering poor Tusser's example one of warning to allpoetically inclined farmers. 

He was born at a little village in the County of Essex. Having a goodvoice, he came early in life to be installed as singer at WallingfordCollege; and showing here a great proficiency, he was shortly afterimpressed for the choir of St. Paul's Cathedral. Afterward he was forsome time at Eton, where he had the ill-luck to receive some fifty-fourstripes for his shortcomings in Latin; thence he goes to TrinityCollege, Cambridge, where he lives "in clover. " It appears that he hadsome connections at Court, through whose influence he was induced to goup to London, where he remained some ten years, --possibly assinger, --but finally left in great disgust at the vices of the town, andcommenced as farmer in Suffolk, --

 "To moil and to toil With loss and pain, to little gain, To cram Sir Knave";--

from which I fancy that he had a hard landlord, and but little sturdyresolution. Thence he goes to Ipswich, or its neighborhood, with nobetter experience. Afterward we hear of him with a second wife atDereham Abbey; but his wife is young and sharp-tempered, and hislandlord a screw: so he does not thrive here, but goes to Norwich andcommences chorister again; but presently takes another farm inFairstead, Essex, where it would seem he eked out a support bycollecting tithes for the parson. But he says, --

 "I spyed, if parson died, (All hope in vain, ) to hope for gain I might go dance. "

Possibly he did go dance: he certainly left the tithe-business, andafter settling in one more home, from which he ran to escape the plague, we find him returned to London, to die, --where he was buried in thePoultry. 

There are good points in his poem, showing close observation, goodsense, and excellent judgment. His rules of farm-practice are entirelysafe and judicious, and make one wonder how the man who could give suchcapital advice could make so capital a failure. In the secret lies allthe philosophy of the difference between knowledge and practice. Theinstance is not without its modern support: I have the honor ofacquaintance with several gentlemen who lay down charming rules forsuccessful husbandry, every time they pay the country a visit; and yeteven their poultry-account is always largely against the constipatedhens. 

What is specially remarkable about Tusser is his air of entireresignation amid all manner of vicissitudes: he does not seem to counthis hardships either wonderful or intolerable or unmerited. He tells usof the thrashing he had at Eton, (fifty-four licks, ) without greatlyimpugning the head-master; and his shiftlessness in life makes usstrongly suspect that he deserved it all. 

Fuller, in his "Worthies, " says Tusser "spread his bread with all sortsof butter, yet none would stick thereon. " In short, though the poetwrote well on farm-practice, he certainly was not a good exemplar offarm-successes. With all his excellent notions about sowing and reaping, and rising with the lark, I should look for a little more of stirringmettle and of dogged resolution in a man to be recommended as a tenant. I cannot help thinking less of him as a farmer than as a kind-heartedpoet; too soft of the edge to cut very deeply into hard-pan, and tooporous and flimsy of character for any compacted resolve: yet takinglife tenderly, withal; good to those poorer than himself; making arattling appeal for Christmas charities; hospitable, cheerful, andlooking always to the end with an honest clearness of vision:--

 "To death we must stoop, be we high, be we low, But how, and how suddenly, few be that know, What carry we, then, but a sheet to the grave, (To cover this carcass, ) of all that we have?"

 * * * * *

I now come to Sir Hugh Platt, called by Mr. Weston, in his catalogue ofEnglish authors, "the most ingenious husbandman of his age. "[7] He iselsewhere described as a gentleman of Lincoln's Inn, who had twoestates in the country, besides a garden in St. Martin's Lane. He was anenthusiast in agricultural, as well as horticultural inquiries, corresponding largely with leading farmers, and conducting carefulexperiments within his own grounds. In speaking of that "rare andpeerless plant, the grape, " he insists upon the wholesomeness of thewines he made from his Bednall-Greene garden: "And if, " he says, "anyexception shold be taken against the race and delicacie of them, I amcontent to submit them to the censure of the best mouthes, that professeany true skill in the judgment of high country wines: although for theirbetter credit herein, I could bring in the French Ambassador, who (nowalmost two yeeres since, comming to my house of purpose to tast thesewines) gaue this sentence upon them: that he neuer drank any better newwine in France. "

[Footnote 7: Latter part of sixteenth century; and was living, accordingto Johnson, as late as 1606. ]

I must confess to more doubt of the goodness of the wine than of thespeech of the ambassador; French ambassadors are always so complaisant!

Again he indulges us in the story of a pretty conceit whereby that"delicate Knight, " Sir Francis Carew, proposed to astonish the Queen bya sight of a cherry-tree in full bearing, a month after the fruit hadgone by in England. "This secret he performed, by straining a Tent orcouer of canuass ouer the whole tree, and wetting the same now and thenwith a scoope or horne, as the heat of the weather required: and so, bywitholding the sunne beams from reflecting upon the berries, they grewboth great, and were very long before they had gotten their perfectcherrie-colour: and when he was assured of her Majestie's comming, heremoued the Tent, and a few sunny daies brought them to their fullmaturities. "

These notices are to be found in his "Flores Paradise. " Another work, entitled "Dyuers Soyles for manuring pasture & arable land, " enumerates, in addition to the usual odorous galaxy, such extraordinarily newmatters (in that day) as "salt, street-dirt, clay, Fullers earth, moorish earth, fern, hair, calcination of all vegetables, malt dust, soap-boilers ashes, and marle. " But what I think particularly commendshim to notice, and makes him worthy to be enrolled among the pioneers, is his little tract upon "The Setting of Corne. "[8]

[Footnote 8: This is not mentioned either by Felton in his _Portraits_, etc. , or by Johnson in his _History of Gardening_. Donaldson gives thetitle, and the headings of the chapters. ]

In this he anticipates the system of "dibbling" grain, which, notwithstanding, is spoken of by writers within half a century[9] as anew thing; and which, it is needless to say, still prevails extensivelyin many parts of England. If the tract alluded to be indeed the work ofSir Hugh Platt, it antedates very many of the suggestions andimprovements which are usually accorded to Tull. The latter, indeed, proposed the drill, and repeated tillage; but certain advantages, beforeunconsidered, such as increased tillering of individual plants, economyof seed, and facility of culture, are common to both systems. Sir Hugh, in consecutive chapters, shows how the discovery came about; "why thecorne shootes into so many eares"; how the ground is to be dug for thenew practice; and what are the several instruments for making the holesand covering the grain. 

[Footnote 9: See Young, _Annals of Agriculture_, Vol. III. P. 219, _etseq. _]

I cannot take a more courteous leave of this worthy gentleman than bygiving his own _envoi_ to the most considerable of his books:--"Thus, gentle Reader, having acquainted thee with my long, costly, andlaborious collections, not written at Adventure, or by an imaginaryconceit in a Scholler's private studie, but wrung out of the earth, bythe painfull hand of experience: and having also given thee a touch ofNature, whom no man as yet ever durst send naked into the worlde withouther veyle: and Expecting, by thy good entertainement of these, someencouragement for higher and deeper discoveries hereafter, I leave theeto the God of Nature, from whom all the true light of Natureproceedeth. "

 * * * * *

Gervase Markham must have been a roistering gallant about the time thatSir Hugh was conducting his experiments on "Soyles"; for, in 1591, hehad the honor to be dangerously wounded in a duel which he fought inbehalf of the Countess of Shrewsbury; there are also some painful rumorscurrent (in old books) in regard to his habits in early life, whichweaken somewhat our trust in him as a quiet country counsellor. Isuspect, that, up to mature life, at any rate, he knew much more aboutthe sparring of a game-cock than the making of capons. Yet he wrotebooks upon the proper care of beasts and fowls, as well as upon almostevery subject connected with husbandry. And that these were good books, or at least in large demand, we have in evidence the memorandum of apromise which some griping bookseller extorted from him, under date ofJuly, 1617:--

"I, Gervase Markham, of London, Gent, do promise hereafter never towrite any more book or books to be printed of the diseases or cures ofany cattle, as horse, oxe, cowe, sheepe, swine and goates, &c. Inwitness whereof, I have hereunto sett my hand, the 24th day of Julie. 

"GERVIS MARKHAM. "

He seems to have been a man of some literary accomplishments, and onewho knew how to turn them to account. He translated the "MaisonRustique" of Liebault, and had some hand in the concoction of one or twopoems which kindled the ire of the Puritan clergy. There is no doubt buthe was an adroit bookmaker; and the value of his labors, in respect topractical husbandry, was due chiefly to his art of arranging, compacting, and illustrating the maxims and practices already received. His observations upon diseases of cattle and upon horsemanship weredoubtless based on experimental knowledge; for he was a rare and ardentsportsman, and possessed all a sportsman's keenness in the detection ofinfirmities. 

I suspect, moreover, that there were substantial grounds for thatacquaintance with gastronomy shown in the "Country Housewife. " In thisbook, after discoursing upon cookery and great feasts, he gives thedetails of a "humble feast of a proportion which any good man may keepin his family. "

"As thus:--first, a shield of brawn with mustard; secondly, a boyl'dcapon; thirdly, a boyl'd piece of beef; fourthly, a chine of beefrosted; fifthly, a neat's tongue rosted; sixthly, a pig rosted;seventhly chewits baked; eighthly, a goose rosted; ninthly, a swanrosted; tenthly, a turkey rosted; eleventh, a haunch of venison rosted;twelfth, a pasty of venison; thirteenth, a kid with a pudding in thebelly; fourteenth, an olive pye; the fifteenth, a couple of capons; thesixteenth, a custard or dowsets. "

This is what Master Gervase calls a frugal dinner, for the entertainmentof a worthy friend; is it any wonder that he wrote about "CountryContentments"?

 * * * * *

My chapter is nearly full; and a burst of sunshine is flaming over allthe land under my eye; and yet I am but just entered upon the period ofEnglish literary history which is most rich in rural illustration. Themere backs of the books relating thereto, as my glance ranges over them, where they stand in tidy platoon, start a delightfully confused pictureto my mind. 

I think it possible that Sir Hugh Platt may some day entertain at hisBednall-Greene garden the worshipful Francis Bacon, who is living downat Twickenham, and who is a thriving lawyer, and has written essays, which Sir Hugh must know, --in which he discourses shrewdly upon gardens, as well as many kindred matters; and through his wide correspondence, Sir Hugh must probably have heard of certain new herbs which have beenbrought home from Virginia and the Roanoke, and very possibly he ismaking trial of a tobacco-plant in his garden, to be submitted some dayto his friend, the French Ambassador. 

I can fancy Gervase Markham "making a night of it" with those rollickingbachelors, Beaumont and Fletcher, at the "Mermaid, " or going with themto the Globe Theatre to see two Warwickshire brothers, Edmund and WillShakspeare, who are on the boards there, --the latter taking the part ofOld Knowell, in Ben Jonson's play of "Every Man in his Humour. " Hisfriends say that this Will has parts. 

Then there is the fiery and dashing Sir Philip Sidney, who threatened tothrust a dagger into the heart of poor Molyneux, his father's steward, for opening private letters (which poor Molyneux never did); and SirPhilip knows all about poetry and the ancients; and in virtue of hisknowledges, he writes a terribly magniloquent and tedious "Arcadia, "which, when he comes to die gallantly in battle, is admired and readeverywhere: nowadays it rests mostly on the shelf. But the memory of hisgenerous and noble spirit is far livelier than his book. It was throughhim, and his friendship, probably, that the poet Spenser was gifted bythe Queen with a fine farm of three thousand acres among the Bally-Howrahills of Ireland. 

And it was here that Sir Walter Raleigh, that "shepherd of the sea, "visited the poet, and found him seated

 "amongst the coolly shade Of the green alders, by the Mulla's shore. "

Did the gallant privateer possibly talk with the farmer about theintroduction of that new esculent, the potato? Did they talk tobacco?Did Colin Clout have any observations to make upon the rot in sheep, orupon the probable "clip" of the year?

Nothing of this; but

 "He pip'd, I sung; and when he sung, I pip'd: By chaunge of tunes each making other merry. "

The lines would make a fair argument of the poet's bucolic life. I havea strong faith that his farming was of the higgledy-piggledy order; I donot believe that he could have set a plough into the sod, or have made agood "cast" of barley. It is certain, that, when the Tyrone rebelsburned him out of Kilcolman Castle, he took no treasure with him but hisElizabeth and the two babes; and the only treasures he left were theashes of the dear child whose face shone on him there for the lasttime, --

 "bright with many a curl That clustered round her head. "

I wish I could love his "Shepherd's Calendar"; but I cannot. Aboundingart of language, exquisite fancies, delicacies innumerable there may be;but there is no exhilarating air from the mountains, no crisp breezes, no songs that make the welkin ring, no river that champs the bit, nosky-piercing falcon. 

And as for the "Faëry Queene, " if I must confess it, I can never readfar without a sense of suffocation from the affluence of its beauties. It is a marvellously fair sea and broad, --with tender winds blowing overit, and all the ripples are iris-hued; but you long for some brave blastthat shall scoop great hollows in it, and shake out the briny beads fromits lifted waters, and drive wild scuds of spray among the screamingcurlew. 

In short, I can never read far in Spenser without taking a rest--as wefarmers lean upon our spades, when the digging is in unctuous fat soilthat lifts heavily. 

And so I leave the matter, --with the "Faëry Queene" in my thought, andleaning on my spade. 

 * * * * *

CIVIC BANQUETS. 

It has often perplexed me to imagine how an Englishman will be able toreconcile himself to any future state of existence from which theearthly institution of dinner shall be excluded. Even if he fail to takehis appetite along with him, (which it seems to me hardly possible tobelieve, since this endowment is so essential to his composition, ) theimmortal day must still admit an interim of two or three hours duringwhich he will be conscious of a slight distaste, at all events, if notan absolute repugnance, to merely spiritual nutriment. The idea ofdinner has so imbedded itself among his highest and deepestcharacteristics, so illuminated itself with intellect and softeneditself with the kindest emotions of his heart, so linked itself withChurch and State, and grown so majestic with long hereditary customs andceremonies, that, by taking it utterly away, Death, instead of puttingthe final touch to his perfection, would leave him infinitely lesscomplete than we have already known him. He could not be roundly happy. Paradise, among all its enjoyments, would lack one daily felicity whichhis sombre little island possessed. Perhaps it is not irreverent toconjecture that a provision may have been made, in this particular, forthe Englishman's exceptional necessities. It strikes me that Milton wasof the opinion here suggested, and may have intended to throw out adelightful and consolatory hope for his countrymen, when he representsthe genial archangel as playing his part with such excellent appetite atAdam's dinner-table, and confining himself to fruit and vegetables onlybecause, in those early days of her housekeeping, Eve had no moreacceptable viands to set before him. Milton, indeed, had a true Englishtaste for the pleasures of the table, though refined by the lofty andpoetic discipline to which he had subjected himself. It is delicatelyimplied in the refection in Paradise, and more substantially, thoughstill elegantly, betrayed in the sonnet proposing to "Laurence, ofvirtuous father virtuous son, " a series of nice little dinners inmidwinter; and it blazes fully out in that untasted banquet which, elaborate as it was, Satan tossed up in a trice from the kitchen-rangesof Tartarus. 

Among this people, indeed, so wise in their generation, dinner has akind of sanctity quite independent of the dishes that may be set uponthe table; so that, if it be only a mutton-chop, they treat it with duereverence, and are rewarded with a degree of enjoyment which suchreckless devourers as ourselves do not often find in our richestabundance. It is good to see how stanch they are after fifty or sixtyyears of heroic eating, still relying upon their digestive powers andindulging a vigorous appetite; whereas an American has generally lostthe one and learned to distrust the other long before reaching theearliest decline of life; and thenceforward he makes little account ofhis dinner, and dines at his peril, if at all. I know not whether mycountrymen will allow me to tell them, though I think it scarcely toomuch to affirm, that, on this side of the water, people never dine. Atany rate, abundantly as Nature has provided us with most of the materialrequisites, the highest possible dinner has never yet been eaten inAmerica. It is the consummate flower of civilization and refinement; andour inability to produce it, or to appreciate its admirable beauty, if ahappy inspiration should bring it into bloom, marks fatally the limit ofculture which we have attained. 

It is not to be supposed, however, that the mob of cultivated Englishmenknow how to dine in this elevated sense. The unpolishable ruggedness ofthe national character is still an impediment to them, even in thatparticular line where they are best qualified to excel. Though oftenpresent at good men's feasts, I remember only a single dinner, which, while lamentably conscious that many of its higher excellences werethrown away upon me, I yet could feel to be a perfect work of art. Itcould not, without unpardonable coarseness, be styled a matter of animalenjoyment, because out of the very perfection of that lower bliss therehad arisen a dream-like development of spiritual happiness. As in themaster-pieces of painting and poetry, there was a something intangible, a final deliciousness that only fluttered about your comprehension, vanishing whenever you tried to detain it, and compelling you torecognize it by faith rather than sense. It seemed as if a diviner setof senses were requisite, and had been partly supplied, for the specialfruition of this banquet, and that the guests around the table (onlyeight in number) were becoming so educated, polished, and softened, bythe delicate influences of what they ate and drank, as to be now alittle more than mortal for the nonce. And there was that gentle, delicious sadness, too, which we find in the very summit of our mostexquisite enjoyments, and feel it a charm beyond all the gayety throughwhich it keeps breathing its undertone. In the present case, it wasworth a heavier sigh, to reflect that such a festal achievement, --theproduction of so much art, skill, fancy, invention, and perfecttaste, --the growth of all the ages, which appeared to have been ripeningfor this hour, since man first began to eat and to moisten his food withwine, --must lavish its happiness upon so brief a moment, when otherbeautiful things can be made a joy forever. Yet a dinner like this is nobetter than we can get, any day, at the rejuvenescent CornhillCoffee-House, unless the whole man, with soul, intellect, and stomach, is ready to appreciate it, and unless, moreover, there is such a harmonyin all the circumstances and accompaniments, and especially such a pitchof well-according minds, that nothing shall jar rudely against theguest's thoroughly awakened sensibilities. The world, and especially ourpart of it, being the rough, ill-assorted and tumultuous place we findit, a beefsteak is about as good as any other dinner. 

The foregoing reminiscence, however, has drawn me aside from the mainobject of my sketch, in which I purposed to give a slight idea of thosepublic or partially public banquets, the custom of which so thoroughlyprevails among the English people, that nothing is ever decided upon, inmatters of peace or war, until they have chewed upon it in the shape ofroast-beef, and talked it fully over in their cups. Nor are thesefestivities merely occasional, but of stated recurrence in allconsiderable municipalities and associated bodies. The most ancienttimes appear to have been as familiar with them as the Englishmen ofto-day. In many of the old English towns, you find some stately Gothichall or chamber in which the Mayor and other authorities of the placehave long held their sessions; and always, in convenient contiguity, there is a dusky kitchen, with an immense fireplace, where an ox mightlie roasting at his ease, though the less gigantic scale of moderncookery may now have permitted the cobwebs to gather in its chimney. St. Mary's Hall, in Coventry, is so good a specimen of an ancientbanqueting-room that perhaps I may profitably devote a page or two tothe description of it. 

In a narrow street, opposite to St. Michael's Church, one of the threefamous spires of Coventry, you behold a mediæval edifice, in thebasement of which is such a venerable and now deserted kitchen as I haveabove alluded to, and, on the same level, a cellar, with low stonepillars and intersecting arches, like the crypt of a cathedral. Passingup a well-worn staircase, the oaken balustrade of which is as black asebony, you enter the fine old hall, some sixty feet in length, and broadand lofty in proportion. It is lighted by six windows of modern stainedglass, on one side, and by the immense and magnificent arch of anotherwindow at the farther end of the room, its rich and ancient panesconstituting a genuine historical piece, in which are represented someof the kingly personages of old times, with their heraldic blazonries. Notwithstanding the colored light thus thrown into the hall, and thoughit was noonday when I last saw it, the panelling of black oak, and somefaded tapestry that hung round the walls, together with the cloudy vaultof the roof above, made a gloom which the richness only illuminated intomore appreciable effect. The tapestry is wrought with figures in thedress of Henry VI. 's time, (which is the date of the hall, ) and isregarded by antiquaries as authentic evidence both for the costume ofthat epoch, and, I believe, for the actual portraiture of men known inhistory. They are as colorless as ghosts, however, and vanish drearilyinto the old stitch-work of their substance, when you try to make themout. Coats-of-arms were formerly emblazoned all round the hall, but havebeen almost rubbed out by people hanging their overcoats against them, or by women with dish-clouts and scrubbing-brushes, obliteratinghereditary glories in their blind hostility to dust and spiders' webs. Full-length portraits of several English kings, Charles II. Being theearliest, hang on the walls; and on the daïs, or elevated part of thefloor, stands an antique chair of state, which more than one royalcharacter is traditionally said to have occupied while feasting herewith their loyal subjects of Coventry. It is roomy enough for a personof kingly bulk, or even two such, but angular and uncomfortable, reminding me of the oaken settles which used to be seen in old-fashionedNew-England kitchens. 

Overhead, supported by a self-sustaining power, without the aid of asingle pillar, is the original ceiling of oak, precisely similar inshape to the roof of a barn, with all the beams and rafters plainly tobe seen. At the remote height of sixty feet, you hardly discern thatthey are carved with figures of angels, and doubtless many otherdevices, of which the admirable Gothic art is wasted in the duskinessthat has so long been brooding there. Over the entrance of the hall, opposite the great arched window, the party-colored radiance of whichglimmers faintly through the interval, is a gallery for minstrels; and arow of ancient suits of armor is suspended from its balustrade. Itimpresses me, too, (for, having gone so far, I would fain leave nothinguntouched upon, ) that I remember, somewhere about these venerableprecincts, a picture of the Countess Godiva on horseback, in which theartist has been so niggardly of that illustrious lady's hair, that, ifshe had no ampler garniture, there was certainly much need for the goodpeople of Coventry to shut their eyes. After all my pains, I fear that Ihave made but a poor hand at the description, as regards a transferenceof the scene from my own mind to the reader's. It gave me a most vivididea of antiquity that had been very little tampered with; insomuchthat, if a group of steel-clad knights had come clanking through thedoor-way, and a bearded and beruffed old figure had handed in a statelydame, rustling in gorgeous robes of a long-forgotten fashion, unveilinga face of beauty somewhat tarnished in the mouldy tomb, yet steppingmajestically to the trill of harp and viol from the minstrels' gallery, while the rusty armor responded with a hollow ringing soundbeneath, --why, I should have felt that these shadows, once so familiarwith the spot, had a better right in St. Mary's Hall than I, a strangerfrom a far country which has no Past. But the moral of the foregoingpages is to show how tenaciously this love of pompous dinners, thisreverence for dinner as a sacred institution, has caught hold of theEnglish character; since, from, the earliest recognizable period, wefind them building their civic banqueting-halls as magnificently astheir palaces or cathedrals. 

I know not whether the hall just described is still used for festivepurposes, but others of similar antiquity and splendor are so. Forexample, there is Barber-Surgeons' Hall, in London, a very fine oldroom, adorned with admirably carved wood-work on the ceiling and walls. It is also enriched with Holbein's master-piece, representing a graveassemblage of barbers and surgeons, all portraits, (with such extensivebeards that methinks one-half of the company might have been profitablyoccupied in trimming the other, ) kneeling before King Henry VIII. SirRobert Peel is said to have offered a thousand pounds for the liberty ofcutting out one of the heads from this picture, he conditioning to havea perfect fac-simile painted in. The room has many other pictures ofdistinguished members of the company in long-past times, and of some ofthe monarchs and statesmen of England, all darkened with age, butdarkened into such ripe magnificence as only age could bestow. It is notmy design to inflict any more specimens of ancient hall-painting on thereader; but it may be worth while to touch upon other modes ofstateliness that still survive in these time-honored civic feasts, wherethere appears to be a singular assumption of dignity and solemn pomp byrespectable citizens, who would never dream of claiming any privilege ofrank outside of their own sphere. Thus, I saw two caps of state for thewarden and junior warden of the company, caps of silver (real coronetsor crowns, indeed, for these city-grandees) wrought in open-work andlined with crimson velvet. In a strong-closet, opening from the hall, there was a great deal of rich plate to furnish forth the banquet-table, comprising hundreds of forks and spoons, a vast silver punch-bowl, thegift of some jolly king or other, and, besides a multitude of lessnoticeable vessels, two Loving-Cups, very elaborately wrought in silvergilt, one presented by Henry VIII. , the other by Charles II. These cups, including the covers and pedestals, are very large and weighty, althoughthe bowl-part would hardly contain more than half a pint of wine, which, when the custom was first established, each guest was probably expectedto drink off at a draught. In passing them from hand to hand adown along table of compotators, there is a peculiar ceremony which I mayhereafter have occasion to describe. Meanwhile, if I might assume such aliberty, I should be glad to invite the reader to the officialdinner-table of his Worship, the Mayor, at a large English seaport whereI spent several years. 

The Mayor's dinner-parties occur as often as once a fortnight, and, inviting his guests by fifty or sixty at a time, his Worship probablyassembles at his board most of the eminent citizens and distinguishedpersonages of the town and neighborhood more than once during his year'sincumbency, and very much, no doubt, to the promotion of good feelingamong individuals of opposite parties and diverse pursuits in life. Amiscellaneous party of Englishmen can always find more comfortableground to meet upon than as many Americans, their differences of opinionbeing incomparably less radical than ours, and it being the sincerestwish of all their hearts, whether they call themselves Liberals or whatnot, that nothing in this world shall ever be greatly altered from whatit has been and is. Thus there is seldom such a virulence of politicalhostility that it may not be dissolved in a glass or two of wine, without making the good liquor any more dry or bitter than accords withEnglish taste. 

The first dinner of this kind at which I had the honor to be presenttook place during assize time, and included among the guests the judgesand the prominent members of the bar. Reaching the Town-Hall at seveno'clock, I communicated my name to one of several splendidly dressedfootmen, and he repeated it to another on the first staircase, by whomit was passed to a third, and thence to a fourth at the door of thereception-room, losing all resemblance to the original sound in thecourse of these transmissions; so that I had the advantage of making myentrance in the character of a stranger, not only to the whole company, but to myself as well. His Worship, however, kindly recognized me, andput me on speaking-terms with two or three gentlemen, whom I found veryaffable, and all the more hospitably attentive on the score of mynationality. It is very singular how kind an Englishman will almostinvariably be to an individual American, without ever bating a jot ofhis prejudice against the American character in the lump. My newacquaintances took evident pains to put me at my ease; and, in requitalof their good-nature, I soon began to look round at the general companyin a critical spirit, making my crude observations apart, and drawingsilent inferences, of the correctness of which I should not have beenhalf so well satisfied a year afterwards as at that moment. 

There were two judges present, a good many lawyers, and a few officersof the army in uniform. The other guests seemed to be principally of themercantile class, and among them was a ship-owner from Nova Scotia, withwhom I coalesced a little, inasmuch as we were born with the same skyover our heads, and an unbroken continuity of soil between his abode andmine. There was one old gentleman, whose character I never made out, with powdered hair, clad in black breeches and silk stockings, andwearing a rapier at his side; otherwise, with the exception of themilitary uniforms, there was little or no pretence of official costume. It being the first considerable assemblage of Englishmen that I hadseen, my honest impression about them was, that they were a heavy andhomely set of people, with a remarkable roughness of aspect andbehavior, not repulsive, but beneath which it required more familiaritywith the national character than I then possessed always to detect thegood-breeding of a gentleman. Being generally middle-aged, or stillfarther advanced, they were by no means graceful in figure; for thecomeliness of the youthful Englishman rapidly diminishes with years, hisbody appearing to grow longer, his legs to abbreviate themselves, andhis stomach to assume the dignified prominence which justly belongs tothat metropolis of his system. His face (what with the acridity of theatmosphere, ale at lunch, wine at dinner, and a well-digested abundanceof succulent food) gets red and mottled, and develops at least oneadditional chin, with a promise of more; so that, finally, a strangerrecognizes his animal part at the most superficial glance, but must taketime and a little pains to discover the intellectual. Comparing him withan American, I really thought that our national paleness and lean habitof flesh gave us greatly the advantage in an æsthetic point of view. Itseemed to me, moreover, that the English tailor had not done so much ashe might and ought for these heavy figures, but had gone on wilfullyexaggerating their uncouthness by the roominess of their garments: hehad evidently no idea of accuracy of fit, and smartness was entirely outof his line. But, to be quite open with the reader, I afterwards learnedto think that this aforesaid tailor has a deeper art than his brethrenamong ourselves, knowing how to dress his customers with such individualpropriety that they look as if they were born in their clothes, the fitbeing to the character rather than the form. If you make an Englishmansmart, (unless he be a very exceptional one, of whom I have seen a few, )you make him a monster: his best aspect is that of ponderousrespectability. 

To make an end of these first impressions, I fancied that not merely theSuffolk bar, but the bar of any inland county in New England, might showa set of thin-visaged, green-spectacled men, looking wretchedly worn, sallow with the intemperate use of strong coffee, deeply wrinkled acrossthe forehead, and grimly furrowed about the month, with whom theseheavy-cheeked English lawyers, slow-paced and fat-witted as they mustneeds be, would stand very little chance in a professional contest. Howthat matter might turn out I am unqualified to decide. But I state theseresults of my earliest glimpses of Englishmen, not for what they areworth, but because I ultimately gave them up as worth little or nothing. In course of time, I came to the conclusion that Englishmen of all agesare a rather good-looking people, dress in admirable taste from theirown point of view, and, under a surface never silken to the touch, havea refinement of manners too thorough and genuine to be thought of as aseparate endowment, --that is to say, if the individual himself be a manof station, and has had gentlemen for his father and grandfather. Thesturdy Anglo-Saxon nature does not refine itself short of the thirdgeneration. The tradesmen, too, and all other classes, have their ownproprieties. The only value of my criticisms, therefore, lay in theirexemplifying the proneness of a traveller to measure one people by thedistinctive characteristics of another, --as English writers invariablymeasure us, and take upon themselves to be disgusted accordingly, instead of trying to find out some principle of beauty with which we maybe in conformity. 

In due time we were summoned to the table, and went thither in no solemnprocession, but with a good deal of jostling, thrusting behind, andscrambling for places when we reached our destination. The legalgentlemen, I suspect, were responsible for this indecorous zeal, which Inever afterwards remarked in a similar party. The dining-hall was ofnoble size, and, like the other rooms of the suite, was gorgeouslypainted and gilded and brilliantly illuminated. There was a splendidtable-service, and a noble array of footmen, some of them in plainclothes, and others wearing the town-livery, richly decorated withgold-lace, and themselves excellent specimens of the bloomingyoung-manhood of Britain. When we were fairly seated, it was certainlyan agreeable spectacle to look up and down the long vista of earnestfaces, and behold them so resolute, so conscious that there was animportant business in hand, and so determined to be equal to theoccasion. Indeed, Englishman or not, I hardly know what can be prettierthan a snow-white table-cloth, a huge heap of flowers as a centraldecoration, bright silver, rich china, crystal glasses, decanters ofSherry at due intervals, a French roll and an artistically folded napkinat each plate, all that airy portion of a banquet, in short, that comesbefore the first mouthful, the whole illuminated by a blaze ofartificial light, without which a dinner of made-dishes looks spectral, and the simplest viands are the best. Printed bills-of-fare weredistributed, representing an abundant feast, no part of which appearedon the table until called for in separate plates. I have entirelyforgotten what it was, but deem it no great matter, inasmuch as there isa pervading commonplace and identicalness in the composition ofextensive dinners, on account of the impossibility of supplying ahundred guests with anything particularly delicate or rare. It wassuggested to me that certain juicy old gentlemen had a privateunderstanding what to call for, and that it would be good policy in astranger to follow in their footsteps through the feast. I did not careto do so, however, because, like Sancho Panza's dip out of Camacho'scaldron, any sort of pot-luck at such a table would be sure to suit mypurpose; so I chose a dish or two on my own judgment, and, gettingthrough my labors betimes, had great pleasure in seeing the Englishmentoil onward to the end. 

They drank rather copiously, too, though wisely; for I observed thatthey seldom took Hock, and let the Champagne bubble slowly away out ofthe goblet, solacing themselves with Sherry, but tasting it warilybefore bestowing their final confidence. Their taste in wines, however, did not seem so exquisite, and certainly was not so various, as that towhich many Americans pretend. This foppery of an intimate acquaintancewith rare vintage: does not suit a sensible Englishman, as he is verymuch in earnest about his wines, and adopts one or two as his life-longfriends, seldom exchanging them for any Delilahs of a moment, andreaping the reward of his constancy in an unimpaired stomach, and onlyso much gout as he deems wholesome and desirable. Knowing well themeasure of his powers, he is not apt to fill his glass too often. Society, indeed, would hardly tolerate habitual imprudences of thatkind, though, in my opinion, the Englishmen now upon the stage couldcarry off their three bottles, at need, with as steady a gait as any oftheir forefathers. It is not so very long since the three-bottle heroessank finally under the table. It may be (at least, I should be glad ifit were true) that there was an occult sympathy between ourtemperance-reform, now somewhat in abeyance, and the almost simultaneousdisappearance of hard-drinking among the respectable classes in England. I remember a middle-aged gentleman telling me (in illustration of thevery slight importance attached to breaches of temperance within thememory of men not yet old) that he had seen a certain magistrate, SirJohn Linkwater, or Drinkwater, --but I think the jolly old knight couldhardly have staggered under so perverse a misnomer as this last, --whilesitting on the magisterial bench, pull out a crown-piece and hand it tothe clerk. "Mr. Clerk, " said Sir John, as if it were the mostindifferent fact in the world, "I was drunk last night. There are myfive shillings. "

During the dinner, I had a good deal of pleasant conversation with thegentlemen on either side of me. One of them, a lawyer, expatiated withgreat unction on the social standing of the judges. Representing thedignity and authority of the Crown, they take precedence, duringassize-time, of the highest military men in the kingdom, of theLord-Lieutenant of the county, of the Archbishops, of the royal Dukes, and even of the Prince of Wales. For the nonce, they are the greatestmen in England. With a glow of professional complacency that amounted toenthusiasm, my friend assured me, that, in case of a royal dinner, ajudge, if actually holding an assize, would be expected to offer his armand take the Queen herself to the table. Happening to be in company withsome of these elevated personages, on subsequent occasions, it appearedto me that the judges are fully conscious of their paramount claims torespect, and take rather more pains to impress them on their ceremonialinferiors than men of high hereditary rank are apt to do. Bishops, if itbe not irreverent to say so, are sometimes marked by a similarcharacteristic. Dignified position is so sweet to an Englishman, that heneeds to be born in it, and to feel it thoroughly incorporated with hisnature from its original germ, in order to keep him from flaunting itobtrusively in the faces of innocent by-standers. 

My companion on the other side was a thick-set, middle-aged man, uncouthin manners, and ugly where none were handsome, with a dark, roughly hewnvisage, that looked grim in repose, and seemed to hold within itself themachinery of a very terrific frown. He ate with resolute appetite, andlet slip few opportunities of imbibing whatever liquids happened to bepassing by. I was meditating in what way this grisly-featuredtable-fellow might most safely be accosted, when he turned to me with asurly sort of kindness, and invited me to take a glass of wine. We thenbegan a conversation that abounded, on his part, with sturdy sense, and, somehow or other, brought me closer to him than I had yet stood to anEnglishman. I should hardly have taken him to be an educated man, certainly not a scholar of accurate training; and yet he seemed to haveall the resources of education and trained intellectual power atcommand. My fresh Americanism, and watchful observation of Englishcharacteristics, appeared either to interest or amuse him, or perhapsboth. Under the mollifying influences of abundance of meat and drink, hegrew very gracious, (not that I ought to use such a phrase to describehis evidently genuine good-will, ) and by-and-by expressed a wish forfurther acquaintance, asking me to call at his rooms in London andinquire for Sergeant Wilkins, --throwing out the name forcibly, as if hehad no occasion to be ashamed of it. I remembered Dean Swift's retort toSergeant Bettesworth on a similar announcement, --"Of what regiment, pray, Sir?"--and fancied that the same question might not have beenquite amiss, if applied to the rugged individual at my side. But I heardof him subsequently as one of the prominent men at the English bar, arough customer, and a terribly strong champion in criminal cases; and itcaused me more regret than might have been expected, on so slight anacquaintanceship, when, not long afterwards, I saw his death announcedin the newspapers. Not rich in attractive qualities, he possessed, Ithink, the most attractive one of all, --thorough manhood. 

After the cloth was removed, a goodly group of decanters were set beforethe Mayor, who sent them forth on their outward voyage, full freightedwith Port, Sherry, Madeira, and Claret, of which excellent liquors, methought, the latter found least acceptance among the guests. Whenevery man had filled his glass, his Worship stood up and proposed atoast. It was, of course, "Our gracious Sovereign, " or words to thateffect; and immediately a band of musicians, whose preliminary tootingsand thrummings I had already heard behind me, struck up "God save theQueen, " and the whole company rose with one impulse to assist in singingthat famous national anthem. It was the first time in my life that I hadever seen a body of men, or even a single man, under the activeinfluence of the sentiment of Loyalty; for, though we call ourselvesloyal to our country and institutions, and prove it by our readiness toshed blood and sacrifice life in their behalf, still the principle is ascold and hard, in an American bosom, as the steel spring that puts inmotion a powerful machinery. In the Englishman's system, a force similarto that of our steel spring is generated by the warm throbbings of humanhearts. He clothes our bare abstraction in flesh and blood, --at present, in the flesh and blood of a woman, --and manages to combine love, awe, and intellectual reverence, all in one emotion, and to embody hismother, his wife, his children, the whole idea of kindred, in a singleperson, and make her the representative of his country and its laws. WeAmericans smile superior, as I did at the Mayor's table; and yet, Ifancy, we lose some very agreeable titillations of the heart inconsequence of our proud perogative of caring no more about ourPresident than for a man of straw, or a stuffed scarecrow straddling ina cornfield. 

But, to say the truth, the spectacle struck me rather ludicrously, tosee this party of stout middle-aged and elderly gentlemen, in thefulness of meat and drink, their ample and ruddy faces glistening withwine, perspiration, and enthusiasm, rumbling out those strange oldstanzas from the very bottom of their hearts and stomachs, which twoorgans, in the English interior arrangement, lie closer together than inours. The song seemed to me the rudest old ditty in the world; but Icould not wonder at its universal acceptance and indestructiblepopularity, considering how inimitably it expresses the national faithand feeling as regards the inevitable righteousness of England, theAlmighty's consequent respect and partiality for that redoubtable littleisland, and His presumed readiness to strengthen its defence against thecontumacious wickedness and knavery of all other principalities orrepublics. Tennyson himself, though evidently English to the very lastprejudice, could not write half so good a song for the purpose. Findingthat the entire dinner-table struck in, with voices of every pitchbetween rolling thunder and the squeak of a cartwheel, and that thestrain was not of such delicacy as to be much hurt by the harshest ofthem, I determined to lend my own assistance in swelling the triumphantroar. It seemed but a proper courtesy to the first Lady in the land, whose guest, in the largest sense, I might consider myself. Accordingly, my first tuneful efforts (and probably my last, for I purpose not tosing any more, unless it be "Hail Columbia" on the restoration of theUnion) were poured freely forth in honor of Queen Victoria. TheSergeant smiled like the carved head of a Swiss nutcracker, and theother gentlemen in my neighborhood, by nods and gestures, evinced graveapprobation of so suitable a tribute to English superiority; and wefinished our stave and sat down in an extremely happy frame of mind. 

Other toasts followed in honor of the great institutions and interestsof the country, and speeches in response to each were made byindividuals whom the Mayor designated or the company called for. None ofthem impressed me with a very high idea of English postprandial oratory. It is inconceivable, indeed, what ragged and shapeless utterances mostEnglishmen are satisfied to give vent to, without attempting anythinglike artistic shape, but clapping on a patch here and another there, andultimately getting out what they want to say, and generally with aresult of sufficiently good sense, but in some such disorganized mass asif they had thrown it up rather than spoken it. It seemed to me thatthis was almost as much by choice as necessity. An Englishman, ambitiousof public favor, should not be too smooth. If an orator is glib, hiscountrymen distrust him. They dislike smartness. The stronger andheavier his thoughts, the better, provided there be an element ofcommonplace running through them; and any rough, yet never vulgar forceof expression, such as would knock an opponent down, if it hit him, onlyit must not be too personal, is altogether to their taste; but a studiedneatness of language, or other such superficial graces, they cannotabide. They do not often permit a man to make himself a fine orator ofmalice aforethought, that is, unless he be a nobleman, (as, for example, Lord Stanley, of the Derby family, ) who, as an hereditary legislator andnecessarily a public speaker, is bound to remedy a poor natural deliveryin the best way he can. On the whole, I partly agree with them, and, ifI cared for any oratory whatever, should be as likely to applaud theirsas our own. When an English speaker sits down, you feel that you havebeen listening to a real man, and not to an actor; his sentiments have awholesome earth-smell in them, though, very likely, this apparentnaturalness is as much an art as what we expend in rounding a sentenceor elaborating a peroration. 

It is one good effect of this inartificial style, that nobody in Englandseems to feel any shyness about shovelling the untrimmed and untrimmableideas out of his mind for the benefit of an audience. At least, nobodydid on the occasion now in hand, except a poor little Major ofArtillery, who responded for the Army in a thin, quavering voice, with aterribly hesitating trickle of fragmentary ideas, and, I question not, would rather have been bayoneted in front of his batteries than to havesaid a word. Not his own mouth, but the cannon's, was this poor Major'sproper organ of utterance. 

While I was thus amiably occupied in criticizing my fellow-guests, theMayor had got up to propose another toast; and listening ratherinattentively to the first sentence or two, I soon became sensible of adrift in his Worship's remarks that made me glance apprehensivelytowards Sergeant Wilkins. "Yes, " grumbled that gruff personage, shovinga decanter of Port towards me, "it is your turn next"; and seeing in myface, I suppose, the consternation of a wholly unpractised orator, hekindly added, --"It is nothing. A mere acknowledgment will answer thepurpose. The less you say, the better they will like it. " That being thecase, I suggested that perhaps they would like it best, if I saidnothing at all. But the Sergeant shook his head. Now, on first receivingthe Mayor's invitation to dinner, it had occurred to me that I mightpossibly be brought into my present predicament; but I had dismissed theidea from my mind as too disagreeable to be entertained, and, moreover, as so alien from my disposition and character that Fate surely could notkeep such a misfortune in store for me. If nothing else prevented, anearthquake or the crack of doom would certainly interfere before I needrise to speak. Yet here was the Mayor getting on inexorably, --and, indeed, I heartily wished that he might get on and on forever, and ofhis wordy wanderings find no end. 

If the gentle reader, my kindest friend and closest confidant, deigns todesire it, I can impart to him my own experience as a public speakerquite as indifferently as if it concerned another person. Indeed, itdoes concern another, or a mere spectral phenomenon, for it was not I, in my proper and natural self, that sat there at table or subsequentlyrose to speak. At the moment, then, if the choice had been offered mewhether the Mayor should let off a speech at my head or a pistol, Ishould unhesitatingly have taken the latter alternative. I had reallynothing to say, not an idea in my head, nor, which was a great dealworse, any flowing words or embroidered sentences in which to dress outthat empty Nothing, and give it a cunning aspect of intelligence, suchas might last the poor vacuity the little time it had to live. But timepressed; the Mayor brought his remarks, affectionately eulogistic of theUnited States and highly complimentary to their distinguishedrepresentative at that table, to a close, amid a vast deal of cheering;and the band struck up "Hail Columbia, " "Old Hundred, " or "God save theQueen" over again, for anything that I should have known or cared. Whenthe music ceased, there was an intensely disagreeable instant, duringwhich I seemed to rend away and fling off the habit of a lifetime, androse, still void of ideas, but with preternatural composure, to make aspeech. The guests rattled on the table, and cried, "Hear!" mostvociferously, as if now, at length, in this foolish and idly garrulousworld, had come the long-expected moment when one golden word was to bespoken; and in that imminent crisis, I caught a glimpse of a little bitof an effusion of international sentiment, which it might, and must, andshould do to utter. 

Well; it was nothing, as the Sergeant had said. What surprised me mostwas the sound of my own voice, which I had never before heard at adeclamatory pitch, and which impressed me as belonging to some otherperson, who, and not myself, would be responsible for the speech: aprodigious consolation and encouragement under the circumstances! I wenton without the slightest embarrassment, and sat down amid greatapplause, wholly undeserved by anything that I had spoken, but well wonfrom Englishmen, methought, by the new development of pluck that alonehad enabled me to speak at all. "It was handsomely done!" quoth SergeantWilkins; and I felt like a recruit who had been for the first time underfire. 

I would gladly have ended my oratorical career then and there forever, but was often placed in a similar or worse position, and compelled tomeet it as I best might; for this was one of the necessities of anoffice which I had voluntarily taken on my shoulders, and beneath whichI might be crushed by no moral delinquency on my own part, but could notshirk without cowardice and shame. My subsequent fortune was various. Once, though I felt it to be a kind of imposture, I got a speech byheart, and doubtless it might have been a very pretty one, only I forgotevery syllable at the moment of need, and had to improvise another aswell as I could. I found it a better method to prearrange a few pointsin my mind, and trust to the spur of the occasion, and the kind aid ofProvidence, for enabling me to bring them to bear. The presence of anyconsiderable proportion of personal friends generally dumbfounded me. Iwould rather have talked with an enemy in the gate. Invariably, too, Iwas much embarrassed by a small audience, and succeeded better with alarge one, --the sympathy of a multitude possessing a buoyant effect, which lifts the speaker a little way out of his individuality and tosseshim towards a perhaps better range of sentiment than his private one. Again, if I rose carelessly and confidently, with an expectation ofgoing through the business entirely at my ease, I often found that Ihad little or nothing to say; whereas, if I came to the scratch inperfect despair, and at a crisis when failure would have been horrible, it once or twice happened that the frightful emergency concentrated mypoor faculties, and enabled me to give definite and vigorous expressionto sentiments which an instant before looked as vague and far-off as theclouds in the atmosphere. On the whole, poor as my own success may havebeen, I apprehend that any intelligent man with a tongue possesses thechief requisite of oratorical power, and may develop many of the others, if he deems it worth while to bestow a great amount of labor and painson an object which the most accomplished orators, I suspect, have notfound altogether satisfactory to their highest impulses. At any rate, itmust be a remarkably true man who can keep his own elevated conceptionof truth when the lower feeling of a multitude is assailing his naturalsympathies, and who can speak out frankly the best that there is in him, when by adulterating it a little, or a good deal, he knows that he maymake it ten times as acceptable to the audience. 

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This slight article on the civic banquets of England would be toowretchedly imperfect, without an attempted description of a Lord-Mayor'sdinner at the Mansion-House in London. I should have preferred theannual feast at Guildhall, but never had the good-fortune to witness it. Once, however, I was honored with an invitation to one of the regulardinners, and gladly accepted it, --taking the precaution, nevertheless, though it hardly seemed necessary, to inform the City-King, through amutual friend, that I was no fit representative of American eloquence, and must humbly make it a condition that I should not be expected toopen my mouth, except for the reception of his Lordship's bountifulhospitality. The reply was gracious and acquiescent; so that I presentedmyself in the great entrance-hall of the Mansion-House, at half-past sixo'clock, in a state of most enjoyable freedom from the pusillanimousapprehensions that often tormented me at such times. The Mansion-Housewas built in Queen Anne's days, in the very heart of old London, and isa palace worthy of its inhabitant, were he really as great a man as histraditionary state and pomp would seem to indicate. Times are changed, however, since the days of Whittington, or even of Hogarth's IndustriousApprentice, to whom the highest imaginable reward of life-long integritywas a seat in the Lord-Mayor's chair. People nowadays say that the realdignity and importance have perished out of the office, as they do, sooner or later, out of all earthly institutions, leaving only a paintedand gilded shell like that of an Easter egg, and that it is onlysecond-rate and third-rate men who now condescend to be ambitious of theMayoralty. I felt a little grieved at this; for the original emigrantsof New England had strong sympathies with the people of London, who weremostly Puritans in religion and Parliamentarians in politics, in theearly days of our country; so that the Lord-Mayor was a potentate ofhuge dimensions in the estimation of our forefathers, and held to behardly second to the prime-minister of the throne. The true great men ofthe city now appear to have aims beyond city-greatness, connectingthemselves with national politics, and seeking to be identified with thearistocracy of the country. 

In the entrance-hall I was received by a body of footmen dressed in alivery of blue and buff, in which they looked wonderfully like AmericanRevolutionary generals, only bedizened with far more lace and embroiderythan those simple and grand old heroes ever dreamed of wearing. Therewere likewise two very imposing figures, whom I should have taken to bemilitary men of rank, being arrayed in scarlet coats and large silverepaulets; but they turned out to be officers of the Lord-Mayor'shousehold, and were now employed in assigning to the guests the placeswhich they were respectively to occupy at the dinner-table. Our names(for I had included myself in a little group of friends) were announced;and ascending the staircase, we met his Lordship in the door-way of thefirst reception-room, where, also, we had the advantage of apresentation to the Lady-Mayoress. As this distinguished couple retiredinto private life at the termination of their year of office, it isinadmissible to make any remarks, critical or laudatory, on the mannersand bearing of two personages suddenly emerging from a position ofrespectable mediocrity into one of preëminent dignity within their ownsphere. Such individuals almost always seem to grow nearly or quite tothe full size of their office. If it were desirable to write an essay onthe latent aptitude of ordinary people for grandeur, we have anexemplification in our own country, and on a scale incomparably greaterthan that of the Mayoralty, though invested with nothing like theoutward magnificence that gilds and embroiders the latter. If I havebeen correctly informed, the Lord-Mayor's salary is exactly double thatof the President of the United States, and yet is found very inadequateto his necessary expenditure. 

There were two reception-rooms, thrown into one by the opening of widefolding-doors; and though in an old style, and not yet so old as to bevenerable, they are remarkably handsome apartments, lofty as well asspacious, with carved ceilings and walls, and at either end a splendidfireplace of white marble, ornamented with sculptured wreaths of flowersand foliage. The company were about three hundred, many of themcelebrities in politics, war, literature, and science, though Irecollect none preëminently distinguished in either department. But itis certainly a pleasant mode of doing honor to men of literature, forexample, who deserve well of the public, yet do not often meet it faceto face, thus to bring them together, under genial auspices, inconnection with persons of note in other lines. I know not what may bethe Lord-Mayor's mode or principle of selecting his guests, nor whether, during his official term, he can proffer his hospitality to every man ofnoticeable talent in the wide world of London, nor, in fine, whether hisLordship's invitation is much sought for or valued; but it seemed to methat this periodical feast is one of the many sagacious methods whichthe English have contrived for keeping up a good understanding amongdifferent sorts of people. Like most other distinctions of society, however, I presume that the Lord-Mayor's card does not often seek outmodest merit, but comes at last when the recipient is conscious of thebore, and doubtful about the honor. 

One very pleasant characteristic, which I never met with at any otherpublic or partially public dinner, was the presence of ladies. No doubt, they were principally the wives and daughters of city-magnates; and ifwe may judge from the many sly allusions in old plays and satiricalpoems, the city of London has always been famous for the beauty of itswomen and the reciprocal attractions between them and the men ofquality. Be that as it might, while straying hither and thither throughthose crowded apartments, I saw much reason for modifying certainheterodox opinions which I had inbibed, in my Transatlantic newness andrawness, as regarded the delicate character and frequent occurrence ofEnglish beauty. To state the entire truth, (being, at this period, someyears old in English life, ) my taste, I fear, had long since begun to bedeteriorated by acquaintance with other models of feminine lovelinessthan it was my happiness to know in America. I often found, or seemed tofind, if I may dare to confess it, in the persons of such of my dearcountrywomen as I now occasionally met, a certain meagreness, (Heavenforbid that I should call it scrawniness!) a deficiency of physicaldevelopment, a scantiness, so to speak, in the pattern of their materialmake, a paleness of complexion, a thinness of voice, --all whichcharacteristics, nevertheless, only made me resolve so much the moresturdily to uphold these fair creatures as angels, because I wassometimes driven to a half-acknowledgment, that the English ladies, looked at from a lower point of view, were perhaps a little fineranimals than they. The advantages of the latter, if any they couldreally be said to have, were all comprised in a few additional lumps ofclay on their shoulders and other parts of their figures. It would be apitiful bargain to give up the ethereal charm of American beauty inexchange for half a hundred-weight of human clay!

At a given signal we all found our way into an immense room, called theEgyptian Hall, I know not why, except that the architecture was classic, and as different as possible from the ponderous style of Memphis and thePyramids. A powerful band played inspiringly as we entered, and abrilliant profusion of light shone down on two long tables, extendingthe whole length of the hall, and a cross-table between them, occupyingnearly its entire breadth. Glass gleamed and silver glistened on an acreor two of snowy damask, over which were set out all the accompanimentsof a stately feast. We found our places without much difficulty, and theLord-Mayor's chaplain implored a blessing on the food, --a ceremony whichthe English never omit, at a great dinner or a small one, yet consider, I fear, not so much a religious rite as a sort of preliminary relishbefore the soup. 

The soup, of course, on this occasion, was turtle, of which, inaccordance with immemorial custom, each guest was allowed two platefuls, in spite of the otherwise immitigable law of table-decorum. Indeed, judging from the proceedings of the gentlemen near me, I surmised thatthere was no practical limit, except the appetite of the guests and thecapacity of the soup-tureens. Not being fond of this civic dainty, Ipartook of it but once, and then only in accordance with the wise maxim, always to taste a fruit, a wine, or a celebrated dish, at its indigenoussite; and the very fountain-head of turtle-soup, I suppose, is in theLord-Mayor's dinner-pot. It is one of those orthodox customs whichpeople follow for half a century without knowing why, to drink a sip ofrum-punch, in a very small tumbler, after the soup. It was excellentlywell-brewed, and it seemed to me almost worth while to sup the soup forthe sake of sipping the punch. The rest of the dinner was catalogued ina bill-of-fare printed on delicate white paper within an arabesqueborder of green and gold. It looked very good, not only in the Englishand French names of the numerous dishes, but also in the positivereality of the dishes themselves, which were all set on the table to becarved and distributed by the guests. This ancient and honest method isattended with a good deal of trouble, and a lavish effusion of gravy, yet by no means bestowed or dispensed in vain, because you have therebythe absolute assurance of a banquet actually before your eyes, insteadof a shadowy promise in the bill-of-fare, and such meagre fulfilment asa single guest can contrive to get upon his individual plate. I wonderthat Englishmen, who are fond of looking at prize-oxen in the shape ofbutcher's-meat, do not generally better estimate the æsthetic gormandismof devouring the whole dinner with their eyesight, before proceeding tonibble the comparatively few morsels which, after all, the most heroicappetite and widest stomachic capacity of mere mortals can enable evenan alderman really to eat. There fell to my lot three delectable thingsenough, which I take pains to remember, that the reader may not go awaywholly unsatisfied from the Barmecide feast to which I have biddenhim, --a red mullet, a plate of mushrooms, exquisitely stewed, and partof a ptarmigan, a bird of the same family as the grouse, but feedinghigh up towards the summit of the Scotch mountains, whence it gets awild delicacy of flavor very superior to that of the artificiallynurtured English game-fowl. All the other dainties have vanished from mymemory as completely as those of Prospero's banquet after Ariel hadclapped his wings over it. The band played at intervals, inspiriting usto new efforts, as did likewise the sparkling wines which the footmensupplied from an inexhaustible cellar, and which the guests quaffed withlittle apparent reference to the disagreeable fact that there comes ato-morrow morning after every feast. As long as that shall be the case, a prudent man can never have full enjoyment of his dinner. 

Nearly opposite to me, on the other side of the table, sat a young ladyin white, whom I am sorely tempted to describe, but dare not, becausenot only the supereminence of her beauty, but its peculiar character, would cause the sketch to be recognized, however rudely it might bedrawn. I hardly thought that there existed such a woman outside of apicture-frame, or the covers of a romance: not that I had ever met withher resemblance even there, but, being so distinct and singular anapparition, she seemed likelier to find her sisterhood in poetry andpicture than in real life. Let us turn away from her, lest a touch tooapt should compel her stately and cold and soft and womanly grace togleam out upon my page with a strange repulsion and unattainableness inthe very spell that made her beautiful. At her side, and familiarlyattentive to her, sat a gentleman of whom I remember only a hard outlineof the nose and forehead, and such a monstrous portent of a beard thatyou could discover no symptom of a mouth, except when he opened it tospeak, or to put in a morsel of food. Then, indeed, you suddenly becameaware of a cave hidden behind the impervious and darksome shrubbery. There could be no doubt who this gentleman and lady were. Any childwould have recognized them at a glance. It was Bluebeard and a new wife(the loveliest of the series, but with already a mysterious gloomovershadowing her fair young brow) travelling in their honey-moon, anddining, among other distinguished strangers, at the Lord-Mayor's table. 

After an hour or two of valiant achievement with knife and fork came thedessert; and at the point of the festival where finger-glasses areusually introduced, a large silver basin was carried round to theguests, containing rose-water, into which we dipped the ends of ournapkins and were conscious of a delightful fragrance, instead of thatheavy and weary odor, the hateful ghost of a defunct dinner. This seemsto be an ancient custom of the city, not confined to the Lord-Mayor'stable, but never met with westward of Temple Bar. 

During all the feast, in accordance with another ancient custom, theorigin or purport of which I do not remember to have heard, there stooda man in armor, with a helmet on his head, behind his Lordship's chair. When the after-dinner wine was placed on the table, still anotherofficial personage appeared behind the chair, and proceeded to make asolemn and sonorous proclamation, (in which he enumerated the principalguests, comprising three or four noblemen, several baronets, and plentyof generals, members of Parliament, aldermen, and other names of theillustrious, one of which sounded strangely familiar to my ears, ) endingin some such style as this: "and other gentlemen and ladies, herepresent, the Lord-Mayor drinks to you all in a loving-cup, "--giving asort of sentimental twang to the two words, --"and sends it round amongyou!" And forthwith the loving-cup--several of them, indeed, on eachside of the tables--came slowly down with all the antique ceremony. 

The fashion of it is thus. The Lord-Mayor, standing up and taking thecovered cup in both hands, presents it to the guest at his elbow, wholikewise rises, and removes the cover for his Lordship to drink, whichbeing successfully accomplished, the guest replaces the cover andreceives the cup into his own hands. He then presents it to his nextneighbor, that the cover may be again removed for himself to take adraught, after which the third person goes through a similar manoeuvrewith a fourth, and he with a fifth, until the whole company findthemselves inextricably intertwisted and entangled in one complicatedchain of love. When the cup came to my hands, I examined it critically, both inside and out, and perceived it to be an antique and richlyornamented silver goblet, capable of holding about a quart of wine. Considering how much trouble we all expended in getting the cup to ourlips, the guests appeared to content themselves with wonderfullymoderate potations. In truth, nearly or quite the original quart of winebeing still in the goblet, it seemed doubtful whether any of the companyhad more than barely touched the silver rim before passing it to theirneighbors, --a degree of abstinence that might be accounted for by afastidious repugnance to so many compotators in one cup, or possibly bya disapprobation of the liquor. Being curious to know all about theseimportant matters, with a view of recommending to my countrymen whateverthey might usefully adopt, I drank an honest sip from the loving-cup, and had no occasion for another, --ascertaining it to be Claret of a poororiginal quality, largely mingled with water, and spiced and sweetened. It was good enough, however, for a merely spectral or ceremonial drink, and could never have been intended for any better purpose. 

The toasts now began in the customary order, attended with speechesneither more nor less witty and ingenious than the specimens oftable-eloquence which had heretofore delighted me. As preparatory toeach new display, the herald, or whatever he was, behind the chair ofstate, gave awful notice that the Right Honorable the Lord-Mayor wasabout to propose a toast. His Lordship being happily delivered thereof, together with some accompanying remarks, the band played an appropriatetune, and the herald again issued proclamation to the effect that suchor such a nobleman, or gentleman, general, dignified clergyman, or whatnot, was going to respond to the Right Honorable the Lord-Mayor's toast;then, if I mistake not, there was another prodigious flourish oftrumpets and twanging of stringed instruments; and finally the doomedindividual, waiting all this while to be decapitated, got up andproceeded to make a fool of himself. A bashful young earl tried hismaiden oratory on the good citizens of London, and having evidently gotevery word by heart, (even including, however he managed it, the mostseemingly casual improvisations of the moment, ) he really spoke like abook, and made incomparably the smoothest speech I ever heard inEngland. 

The weight and gravity of the speakers, not only on this occasion, butall similar ones, was what impressed me as most extraordinary, not tosay absurd. Why should people eat a good dinner, and put their spiritsinto festive trim with Champagne, and afterwards mellow themselves intoa most enjoyable state of quietude with copious libations of Sherry andold Port, and then disturb the whole excellent result by listening tospeeches as heavy as an after-dinner nap, and in no degree sorefreshing? If the Champagne had thrown its sparkle over the surface ofthese effusions, or if the generous Port had shone through theirsubstance with a ruddy glow of the old English humor, I might have seena reason for honest gentlemen prattling in their cups, and shouldundoubtedly have been glad to be a listener. But there was no attemptnor impulse of the kind on the part of the orators, nor apparentexpectation of such a phenomenon on that of the audience. In fact, Iimagine that the latter were best pleased when the speaker embodied hisideas in the figurative language of arithmetic, or struck upon any hardmatter of business or statistics, as a heavy-laden bark bumps upon arock in mid-ocean. The sad severity, the too earnest utilitarianism, ofmodern life, have wrought a radical and lamentable change, I am afraid, in this ancient and goodly institution of civic banquets. People used tocome to them, a few hundred years ago, for the sake of being jolly; theycome now with an odd notion of pouring sober wisdom into their wine byway of wormwood-bitters, and thus make such a mess of it that the wineand wisdom reciprocally spoil one another. 

Possibly, the foregoing sentiments have taken a spice of acridity from acircumstance that happened about this stage of the feast, and very muchinterrupted my own further enjoyment of it. Up to this time, mycondition had been exceedingly felicitous, both on account of thebrilliancy of the scene, and because I was in close proximity with threevery pleasant English friends. One of them was a lady, whose honoredname my readers would recognize as a household word, if I dared writeit; another, a gentleman, likewise well known to them, whose fine taste, kind heart, and genial cultivation are qualities seldom mixed in suchhappy proportion as in him. The third was the man to whom I owed most inEngland, the warm benignity of whose nature was never weary of doing megood, who led me to many scenes of life, in town, camp, and country, which I never could have found out for myself, who knew precisely thekind of help a stranger needs, and gave it as freely as if he had nothad a thousand more important things to live for. Thus I never feltsafer or cozier at anybody's fireside, even my own, than at thedinner-table of the Lord-Mayor. 

Out of this serene sky came a thunderbolt. His Lordship got up andproceeded to make some very eulogistic remarks upon "the literary andcommercial"--I question whether those two adjectives were ever beforemarried by a copulative conjunction, and they certainly would not livetogether in illicit intercourse, of their own accord--"the literary andcommercial attainments of an eminent gentleman there present, " and thenwent on to speak of the relations of blood and interest between GreatBritain and the aforesaid eminent gentleman's native country. Thosebonds were more intimate than had ever before existed between two greatnations, throughout all history, and his Lordship felt assured that thatwhole honorable company would join him in the expression of a ferventwish that they might be held inviolably sacred, on both sides of theAtlantic, now and forever. Then came the same wearisome old toast, dryand hard to chew upon as a musty sea-biscuit, which had been the text ofnearly all the oratory of my public career. The herald sonorouslyannounced that Mr. So-and-so would now respond to his Right HonorableLordship's toast and speech, the trumpets sounded the customary flourishfor the onset, there was a thunderous rumble of anticipatory applause, and finally a deep silence sank upon the festive hall. 

All this was a horrid piece of treachery on the Lord-Mayor's part, afterbeguiling me within his lines on a pledge of safe-conduct; and it seemedvery strange that he could not let an unobtrusive individual eat hisdinner in peace, drink a small sample of the Mansion-House wine, and goaway grateful at heart for the old English hospitality. If his Lordshiphad sent me an infusion of ratsbane in the loving-cup, I should havetaken it much more kindly at his hands. But I suppose the secret of thematter to have been somewhat as follows. 

All England, just then, was in one of those singular fits of panicexcitement, (not fear, though as sensitive and tremulous as thatemotion, ) which, in consequence of the homogeneous character of thepeople, their intense patriotism, and their dependence for their ideasin public affairs on other sources than their own examination andindividual thought, are more sudden, pervasive, and unreasoning than anysimilar mood of our own public. In truth, I have never seen the Americanpublic in a state at all similar, and believe that we are incapable ofit. Our excitements are not impulsive, like theirs, but, right or wrong, are moral and intellectual. For example, the grand rising of the North, at the commencement of this war, bore the aspect of impulse and passiononly because it was so universal, and necessarily done in a moment, justas the quiet and simultaneous getting-up of a thousand people out oftheir chairs would cause a tumult that might be mistaken for a storm. Wewere cool then, and have been cool ever since, and shall remain cool tothe end, which we shall take coolly, whatever it may be. There isnothing which the English find it so difficult to understand in us asthis characteristic. They imagine us, in our collective capacity, a kindof wild beast, whose normal condition is savage fury, and are alwayslooking for the moment when we shall break through the slender barriersof international law and comity, and compel the reasonable part of theworld, with themselves at the head, to combine for the purpose ofputting us into a stronger cage. At times this apprehension becomes sopowerful, (and when one man feels it, a million do, ) that it resemblesthe passage of the wind over a broad field of grain, where you see thewhole crop bending and swaying beneath one impulse, and each separatestalk tossing with the self-same disturbance as its myriad companions. At such periods all Englishmen talk with a terrible identity ofsentiment and expression. You have the whole country in each man; andnot one of them all, if you put him strictly to the question, can give areasonable ground for his alarm. There are but two nations in theworld--our own country and France--that can put England into thissingular state. It is the united sensitiveness of a people extremelywell-to-do, most anxious for the preservation of the cumbrous andmoss-grown prosperity which they have been so long in consolidating, andincompetent (owing to the national half-sightedness, and their habit oftrusting to a few leading minds for their public opinion) to judge whenthat prosperity is really threatened. 

If the English were accustomed to look at the foreign side of anyinternational dispute, they might easily have satisfied themselves thatthere was very little danger of a war at that particular crisis, fromthe simple circumstance that their own Government had positively not aninch of honest ground to stand upon, and could not fail to be aware ofthe fact. Neither could they have met Parliament with any show of ajustification for incurring war. It was no such perilous juncture asexists now, when law and right are really controverted on sustainable orplausible grounds, and a naval commander may at any moment fire off thefirst cannon of a terrible contest. If I remember it correctly, it was amere diplomatic squabble, which the British ministers, with the politicgenerosity which they are in the habit of showing towards their officialsubordinates, had tried to browbeat us for the purpose of sustaining anambassador in an indefensible proceeding; and the American Government(for God had not denied us an administration of Statesmen then) hadretaliated with stanch courage and exquisite skill, putting inevitably acruel mortification upon their opponents, but indulging them with nopretence whatever for active resentment. 

Now the Lord-Mayor, like any other Englishman, probably fancied that Warwas on the western gale, and was glad to lay hold of even soinsignificant an American as myself, who might be made to harp on therusty old strings of national sympathies, identity of blood andinterest, and community of language and literature, and whisper peacewhere there was no peace, in however weak an utterance. And possibly hisLordship thought, in his wisdom, that the good feeling which was sure tobe expressed by a company of well-bred Englishmen, at his august andfar-famed dinner-table, might have an appreciable influence on the grandresult. Thus, when the Lord-Mayor invited me to his feast, it was apiece of strategy. He wanted to induce me to fling myself, like a lesserCurtius, with a larger object of self-sacrifice, into the chasm ofdiscord between England and America, and, on my ignominious demur, hadresolved to shove me in with his own right-honorable hands, in the hopeof closing up the horrible pit forever. On the whole, I forgive hisLordship. He meant well by all parties, --himself, who would share theglory, and me, who ought to have desired nothing better than such anheroic opportunity, --his own country, which would continue to get cottonand breadstuffs, and mine, which would get everything that men work withand wear. 

As soon as the Lord-Mayor began to speak, I rapped upon my mind, and itgave forth a hollow sound, being absolutely empty of appropriate ideas. I never thought of listening to the speech, because I knew it allbeforehand in twenty repetitions from other lips, and was aware that itwould not offer a single suggestive point. In this dilemma, I turned toone of my three friends, a gentleman whom I knew to possess an enviableflow of silver speech, and obtested him, by whatever he deemed holiest, to give me at least an available thought or two to start with, and, onceafloat, I would trust to my guardian-angel for enabling me to flounderashore again, He advised me to begin with some remarks complimentary tothe Lord-Mayor, and expressive of the hereditary reverence in which hisoffice was held--at least, my friend thought that there would be no harmin giving his Lordship this little sugar-plum, whether quite the fact orno--was held by the descendants of the Puritan forefathers. Thence, if Iliked, getting flexible with the oil of my own eloquence, I might easilyslide off into the momentous subject of the relations between Englandand America, to which his Lordship had made such weighty allusion. 

Seizing this handful of straw with a death-grip, and bidding my threefriends bury me honorably, I got upon my legs to save both countries, orperish in the attempt. The tables roared and thundered at me, andsuddenly were silent again. But, as I have never happened to stand in aposition of greater dignity and peril, I deem it a stratagem of sagepolicy here to close the sketch, leaving myself still erect in so heroican attitude. 

 * * * * *

THE GEOLOGICAL MIDDLE AGE. 

I shall pass lightly over the Permian and Triassic epochs, as being morenearly related in their organic forms to the Carboniferous epoch, withwhich we are already somewhat familiar, while in those next insuccession, the Jurassic and Cretaceous epochs, the later conditions ofanimal life begin to be already foreshadowed. But though lesssignificant for us in the present stage of our discussion, it must notbe supposed that the Permian and Triassic epochs were unimportant in thephysical and organic history of Europe. A glance at any geological mapof Europe will show the reader how the Belgian island stretchedgradually in a southwesterly direction during the Permian epoch, approaching the coast of France by slowly increasing accumulations, andthus filling the Burgundian channel; a wide border of Permian depositsaround the coal-field of Great Britain marks the increase of this regionalso during the same time, and a very extensive tract of a likecharacter is to be seen in Russia. The latter is, however, still underdoubt and discussion among geologists, and more recent investigationstend to show that this Russian region, supposed at first to beexclusively Permian, is at least in part Triassic. 

With the coming in of the Triassic epoch began the great deposits of RedSandstone, Muschel-Kalk, and Keuper, in Central Europe. They united theBelgian island to the region of the Vosges and the Black Forest, whilethey also filled to a great extent the channel between Belgium and theBohemian island. Thus the land slowly gained upon the Triassic ocean, shutting it within ever-narrowing limits, and preparing the large inlandseas so characteristic of the later Secondary times. The character ofthe organic world still retained a general resemblance to that of theCarboniferous epoch. Among Radiates, the Corals were more nearly alliedto those of the earlier ages than to those of modern times, and Crinoidsabounded still, though some of the higher Echinoderm types were alreadyintroduced. Among Mollusks, the lower Bivalves, that is, the Brachiopodsand Bryozoa, still prevailed, while Ammonites continued to be verynumerous, differing from the earlier ones chiefly in the ever-increasingcomplications of their inner partitions, which become so deeplyinvoluted and cut upon their margins, before the type disappears, as tomake an intricate tracery of very various patterns on the surface ofthese shells. The most conspicuous type of Articulates continues asbefore to be that of Crustacea; but Trilobites have finished theircareer, and the Lobster-like Crustacea make their appearance for thefirst time. It does not seem that the class of Insects has greatlyincreased since the Carboniferous epoch; and Worms are still asdifficult to trace as ever, being chiefly known by the cases in whichthey sheltered themselves. Among Vertebrates, the Fishes still resemblethose of the Carboniferous epoch, belonging principally to theSelachians and Ganoids. They have, however, approached somewhat toward amodern pattern, the lobes of the tail being more evenly cut, and theirgeneral outline more like that of common fishes. The gigantic marshReptiles have become far more numerous and various. They continuethrough several epochs, but may be said to reach their culminating pointin the Jurassic and Cretaceous deposits. 

I cannot pass over the Triassic epoch without some allusion to theso-called bird-tracks, so generally believed to mark the introduction ofBirds at this time. It is true that in the deposits of the Trias therehave been found many traces of footsteps, indicating a vast number ofanimals which, except for these footprints, remain unknown to us. In thesandstone of the Connecticut Valley they are found in extraordinarynumbers, as if these animals, whatever they were, had been in the habitof frequenting that shore. They appear to have been very diversified;for some of the tracks are very large, others quite small, while somewould seem, from the way in which the footsteps follow each other, tohave been quadrupedal, and others bipedal. We can even measure thelength of their strides, following the impressions which, from theirsuccession in a continuous line, mark the walk of a single animal. [10]The fact that we find these footprints without any bones or otherremains to indicate the animals by which they were made is accounted forby the mode of deposition of the sandstone. It is very unfavorable forthe preservation of bones; but, being composed of minute sand mixed withmud, it affords an admirable substance for the reception of theseimpressions, which have been thus cast in a mould, as it were, andpreserved through ages. These animals must have been large, whenfull-grown, for we find strides measuring six feet between, evidentlybelonging to the same animal. In the quadrupedal tracks, the front feetseem to have been smaller than the hind ones. Some of the tracks showfour toes all turned forward, while in others three toes are turnedforward and one backward. It happened that the first tracks foundbelonged to the latter class; and they very naturally gave rise to theidea that these impressions were made by birds, on account of thisformation of the foot. This, however, is a mere inference; and since theinductive method is the only true one in science, it seems to me that weshould turn to the facts we have in our possession for the explanationof these mysterious footprints, rather than endeavor to supply byassumption those which we have not. As there are no bones found inconnection with these tracks, the only way to arrive at their truecharacter, in the present state of our knowledge, is by comparing themwith bones found in other localities in the deposits of the same periodin the world's history. Now there have never been found in the Trias anyremains of Birds, while it contains innumerable bones of Reptiles; andtherefore I think that it is in the latter class that we shalleventually find the solution of this mystery. 

[Footnote 10: For all details respecting these tracks see Hitchcock's_Ichnology of New England_. Boston, 1858. 4to. ]

It is true that the bones of the Triassic Reptiles are scattered anddisconnected; no complete skeleton has yet been discovered, nor has anyfoot been found; so that no direct comparison can be made with thesteps. It is, however, my belief, from all we know of the character ofthe Animal Kingdom in those days, that these animals were reptilian, butcombined, like so many of the early types, characters of their own classwith those of higher animals yet to come. It seems to me probable, that, in those tracks where one toe is turned backward, the impression is madenot by a toe, but by a heel, or by a long sole projecting backward; forit is not pointed, like those of the front toes, but is blunt. It istrue that there is a division of joints in the toes, which seems infavor of the idea that they were those of Birds; for when the three toesare turned forward, there are two joints on the inner one, three on themiddle, and four on the outer one, as in Birds. But this feature is notpeculiar to Birds; it is found in Turtles also. The correspondence ofthese footprints with each other leaves no doubt that they were all byone kind of animal; for both the bipedal and the quadrupedal tracks havethe same character. The only quadrupedal animals now known to us whichwalk on two legs are the Kangaroos. They raise themselves on their hindlegs, using the front ones to bring their food to their mouth. They leapwith the hind legs, sometimes bringing down their front feet to steadythemselves after the spring, and making use also of their tails, tobalance the body after leaping. In these tracks we find traces of a tailbetween the feet. I do not bring this forward as any evidence that theseanimals were allied to Kangaroos, since I believe that nothing is moreinjurious in science than assumptions which do not rest on a broad basisof facts; but I wish only to show that these tracks recall other animalsbesides Birds, with which they have been universally associated. Andseeing, as we do, that so many of the early types prophesy future forms, it seems not improbable that they may have belonged to animals whichcombined with reptilian characters some birdlike features, and also somefeatures of the earliest and lowest group of Mammalia, the Marsupials. To sum up my opinion respecting these footmarks, I believe that theywere made by animals of a prophetic type, belonging to the class ofReptiles, and exhibiting many synthetic characters. 

The more closely we study past creations, the more impressive andsignificant do the synthetic types, presenting features of the higherclasses under the guise of the lower ones, become. They hold the promiseof the future. As the opening overture of an opera contains all themusical elements to be therein developed, so this living prelude of theCreative work comprises all the organic elements to be successivelydeveloped in the course of time. When Cuvier first saw the teeth of aWealden Reptile, he pronounced them to be those of a Rhinoceros, somammalian were they in their character. So, when Sommering first saw theremains of a Jurassic Pterodactyl, he pronounced them to be those of aBird. These mistakes were not due to a superficial judgment in men whoknew Nature so well, but to this prophetic character in the early typesthemselves, in which features were united never known to exist togetherin our days. 

 * * * * *

The Jurassic epoch, next in succession, was a very important one in thehistory of Europe. It completed the junction of several of the largerislands, filling the channel between the central plateau of France andthe Belgian island, as well as that between the former and the island ofBretagne, so that France was now a sort of crescent of land holding aJurassic sea in its centre, Bretagne and Belgium forming the two horns. This Jurassic basin or inland sea united England and France, and it maynot be amiss to say a word here of its subsequent transformations. During the long succession of Jurassic periods, the deposits of thatepoch, chiefly limestone and clays, with here and there a bed of sand, were accumulated at its bottom. Upon these followed the chalk depositsof the Cretaceous epoch, until the basin was gradually filled, andpartially, at least, turned to dry land. But at the close of theCretaceous epoch a fissure was formed, allowing the entrance of the seaat the western end, so that the constant washing of the tides and stormswore away the lower, softer deposits, leaving the overhanging chalkcliffs unsupported. These latter, as their support were undermined, crumbled down, thus widening the channel gradually. This process must, of course, have gone on more rapidly at the western end, where the searushed on with most force, till the channel was worn through to theGerman Ocean on the other side, and the sea then began to act with likepower at both ends of the channel. This explains its form, wider at thewestern end, narrower between Dover and Calais, and widening again atthe eastern extremity. This ancient basin, extending from the centre ofFrance into England, is rich in the remains of a number of successiveepochs. Around its margin we find the Jurassic deposits, showing thatthere must have been some changes of level which raised the shores andprevented later accumulations from covering them, while in the centrethe Jurassic deposits are concealed by those of the Cretaceous epochabove them, these being also partially hidden under the later Tertiarybeds. Let us see, then, what this inland sea has to tell us of theorganic world in the Jurassic epoch. 

At that time the region where Lyme-Regis is now situated in modernEngland was an estuary on the shore of that ancient sea. About fortyyears ago a discovery of large and curious bones, belonging to someanimal unknown to the scientific world, turned the attention ofnaturalists to this locality, and since then such a quantity and varietyof such remains have been found in the neighborhood as to show that theSharks, Whales, Porpoises, etc. , of the present ocean are not morenumerous and diversified than were the inhabitants of this old bay orinlet. Among these animals, the Ichthyosauri (Fish-Lizards) form one ofthe best-known and most prominent groups. They are chiefly found in theLias, the lowest set of beds of the Jurassic deposits, and seem to havecome in with the close of the Triassic epoch. It is greatly to beregretted that all that is known of the Triassic Reptiles antecedent tothe Ichthyosauri still remains in the form of original papers, and isnot yet embodied in text-books. They are quite as interesting, ascurious, and as diversified as those of the Jurassic epoch, which are, however, much more extensively known, on account of the largecollections of these animals belonging to the British Museum. It will bemore easy to understand the structural relations of the latter, andtheir true position in the Animal Kingdom, when those which precededthem are better understood. One of the most remarkable and numerous ofthese Triassic Reptiles seems to have been an animal resembling, in theform of the head, and in the two articulating surfaces at the junctureof the head with the backbone, the Frogs and Salamanders, though itsteeth are like those of a Crocodile. As yet nothing has been found ofthese animals except the head, --neither the backbone nor the limbs; sothat little is known of their general structure. 

[Illustration: Fig. 1. An Ichthyosaurus. ]

The Ichthyosauri (Figure 1) must have been very large, seven or eightfeet being the ordinary length, while specimens measuring from twenty tothirty feet are not uncommon. The large head is pointed, like that ofthe Porpoise; the jaws contain a number of conical teeth, of reptilianform and character; the eyeball was very large, as may be seen by thesocket, and it was supported by pieces of bone, such as we find now onlyin the eyes of birds of prey and in the bony fishes. The ribs begin atthe neck and continue to the tail, and there is no distinction betweenhead and neck, as in most Reptiles, but a continuous outline, as inFishes. They had four limbs, not divided into fingers, but forming merepaddles. Yet fingers seem to be hinted at in these paddles, though notdeveloped, for the bones are in parallel rows, as if to mark what mightbe such a division. The back-bones are short, but very high, and thesurfaces of articulation are hollow, conical cavities, as in Fishes, instead of ball-and-socket joints, as in Reptiles. The ribs are morecomplicated than in Vertebrates generally: they consist of severalpieces, and the breast-bone is formed of a number of bones, makingtogether quite an intricate bony net-work. There is only one livinganimal, the Crocodile, characterized by this peculiar structure of thebreast-bone. The Ichthyosaurus is, indeed, one of the most remarkable ofthe synthetic types: by the shape of its head one would associate itwith the Porpoises, while by its paddles and its long tail it remindsone of the whole group of Cetaceans to which the Porpoises belong; byits crocodilian teeth, its ribs, and its breast-bone, it seems allied toReptiles; and by its uniform neck, not distinguished from the body, andthe structure of the backbone, it recalls the Fishes. 

[Illustration: Fig. 2. A Plesiosaurus. ]

Another most curious member of this group is the Plesiosaurus, oddSaurian (Figure 2). By its disproportionately long and flexible neck, and its small, flat head, it unquestionably foreshadows the Serpents, while by the structure of the backbone, the limbs, and the tail, it isclosely allied with the Ichthyosaurus. Its flappers are, however, moreslender, less clumsy, and were, no doubt, adapted to more rapid motionthan the fins of the Ichthyosaurus, while its tail is shorter inproportion to the whole length of the animal. It seems probable, fromits general structure, that the Ichthyosaurus moved like a Fish, chieflyby the flapping of the tail, aided by the fins, while in thePlesiosaurus the tail must have been much less efficient as a locomotiveorgan, and the long, snake-like, flexible neck no doubt rendered thewhole body more agile and rapid in its movements. In comparing the two, it may be said, that, as a whole, the Ichthyosaurus, though belonging byits structure to the class of Reptiles, has a closer externalresemblance to the Fishes, while the Plesiosaurus is more decidedlyreptilian in character. If there exists any animal in our waters, notyet known to naturalists, answering to the descriptions of the"Sea-Serpent, " it must be closely allied to the Plesiosaurus. Theoccurrence in the fresh waters of North America of a Fish, theLepidosteus, which is closely allied to the fossil Fishes found with thePlesiosaurus in the Jurassic beds, renders such a supposition probable. 

[Illustration: Fig. 3. A Pterodactylus. ]

Of all these strange old forms, so singularly uniting features of Fishesand Reptiles, none has given rise to more discussion than thePterodactylus, (Figure 3, ) another of the Saurian tribe, associated, however, with Birds by some naturalists, on account of its largewing-like appendages. From the extraordinary length of its anteriorlimbs, they have generally been described as wings, and the animal isusually represented as a flying Reptile. But if we consider its wholestructure, this does not seem probable, and I believe it to have been anessentially aquatic animal, moving after the fashion of the Sea-Turtle. Its so-called wings resemble in structure the front paddles of theSea-Turtles far more than the wings of a Bird; differing from them, indeed, only by the extraordinary length of the inner toe, while theouter ones are comparatively much shorter. But, notwithstanding thisdifference, the hand of the Pterodactylus is constructed like that of anaquatic swimming marine Reptile; and I believe, that, if we represent itwith its long neck stretched upon the water, its large head furnishedwith powerful, well-armed jaws, ready to dive after the innumerablesmaller animals living in the same ocean, we shall have a more naturalpicture of its habits than if we consider it as a flying animal, whichit is generally supposed to have been. It has not the powerfulbreast-bone, with the large projecting keel along the middle line, suchas exists in all the flying animals. Its breast-bone, on the contrary, is thin and flat, like that of the present Sea-Turtle; and if it movedthrough the water by the help of its long flappers, as the Sea-Turtledoes now, it could well dispense with that powerful construction of thebreast-bone so essential to all animals which fly through the air. Again, the powerful teeth, long and conical, placed at considerableintervals in the jaw, constitute a feature common to all predaceousaquatic animals, and would seem to have been utterly useless in a flyinganimal at that time, since there were no aërial beings of any size toprey upon. The Dragon-Flies found in the same deposits with thePterodactylus were certainly not a game requiring so powerful a batteryof attack. 

The Fishes of the Jurassic sea were exceedingly numerous, but were allof the Ganoid and Selachian tribes. It would weary the reader, were I tointroduce here any detailed description of them, but they were asnumerous and varied as those living in our present waters. There was theHybodus, with the marked furrows on the spines and the strong hooksalong their margin, --the huge Chimera, with its long whip, its curvedbone over the back, and its parrot-like bill, --the Lepidotus, with itslarge square scales, its large head, its numerous rows of teeth, onewithin another, forming a powerful grinding apparatus, --the Microdon, with its round, flat body, its jaw paved with small grinding teeth, --theswift Aspidorhynchus, with its long, slender body and massive tail, enabling it to strike the water powerfully and dart forward with greatrapidity. There were also a host of small Fishes, comparing with thoseabove mentioned as our Perch, Herring, Smelts, etc. , compare with ourlarger Fishes; but, whatever their size or form, all the Fishes of thosedays had the same hard scales fitting to each other by hooks, instead ofthe thin membranous scales overlapping each other at the edge, like thecommon Fishes of more modern times. The smaller Fishes, no doubt, afforded food to the larger ones, and to the aquatic Reptiles. Indeed, in parts of the intestines of the Ichthyosauri, and in their petrifiedexcrements, have been found the scales and teeth of these smaller Fishesperfectly preserved. It is amazing that we can learn so much of thehabits of life of these past creatures, and know even what was the foodof animals existing countless ages before man was created. 

There are traces of Mammalia in the Jurassic deposits, but they were ofthose inferior kinds known now as Marsupials, and no complete specimenshave yet been found. 

The Articulates were largely represented in this epoch. There werealready in the vegetation a number of Gymnosperms, affording morefavorable nourishment for Insects than the forests of earlier times; andwe accordingly find that class in larger numbers than ever before, though still meagre in comparison with its present representation. Crustacea were numerous, --those of the Shrimp and Lobster kindsprevailing, though in some of the Lobsters we have the first advancetowards the highest class of Crustacea in the expansion of thetransverse diameter now so characteristic of the Crabs. Among Molluskswe have a host of gigantic Ammonites; and the naked Cephalopods, whichwere in later times to become the prominent representatives of thatclass, already begin to make their appearance. Among Radiates, some ofthe higher kinds of Echinoderms, the Ophiurans and Echinolds, take theplace of the Crinoids, and the Acalephian Corals give way to the Astræanand Meandrina-like types, resembling the Reef-Builders of the presenttime. 

 * * * * *

I have spoken especially of the inhabitants of the Jurassic sea lyingbetween England and France, because it was there that were first foundthe remains of some of the most remarkable and largest Jurassic animals. But wherever these deposits have been investigated, the remainscontained in them reveal the same organic character, though, of course, we find the land Reptiles only where there happen to have been marshes, the aquatic Saurians wherever large estuaries or bays gave them anopportunity of coming in near shore, so that their bones were preservedin the accumulations of mud or clay constantly collecting in suchlocalities, --the Crustacea, Shells, or Sea-Urchins on the oldsea-beaches, the Corals in the neighborhood of coral reefs, and so on. In short, the distribution of animals then as now was in accordance withtheir nature and habits, and we shall seek vainly for them in thelocalities where they did not belong. 

But when I say that the character of the Jurassic animals is the same, Imean, that, wherever a Jurassic sea-shore occurs, be it in France, Germany, England, or elsewhere throughout the world, the Shells, Crustacea, or other animals found upon it have a special character, andare not to be confounded by any one thoroughly acquainted with thesefossils with the Shells or Crustacea of any preceding or subsequenttime, --that, where a Jurassic marsh exists, the land Reptiles inhabitingit are Jurassic, and neither Triassic nor Cretaceous, --that a Jurassiccoral reef is built of Corals belonging as distinctly to the Jurassiccreation as the Corals on the Florida reefs belong to the presentcreation, --that, where some Jurassic bay or inlet is disclosed to uswith the Fishes anciently inhabiting it, they are as characteristic oftheir time as are the Fishes of Massachusetts Bay now. 

And not only so, but, while this unity of creation prevails throughoutthe entire epoch as a whole, there is the same variety of geographicaldistribution, the same circumscription of faunæ within distinctzoölogical provinces, as at the present time. The Fishes ofMassachusetts Bay are not the same as those of Chesapeake Bay, nor thoseof Chesapeake Bay the same as those of Pamlico Sound, nor those ofPamlico Sound the same as those of the Florida coast. This division ofthe surface of the earth into given areas within which certaincombinations of animals and plants are confined is not peculiar to thepresent creation, but has prevailed in all times, though withever-increasing diversity, as the surface of the earth itself assumed agreater variety of climatic conditions. D'Orbigny and others weremistaken in assuming that faunal differences have been introduced onlyin the last geological epochs. Besides these adjoining zoölogical faunæ, each epoch is divided, as we have seen, into a number of periods, occupying successive levels one above another, and differingspecifically from each other in time as zoölogical provinces differ fromeach other in space. In short, every epoch is to be looked upon from twopoints of view: as a unit, complete in itself, having one characterthroughout, and as a stage in the progressive history of the world, forming part of an organic whole. 

 * * * * *

As the Jurassic epoch was ushered in by the upheaval of the Jura, so itsclose was marked by the upheaval of that system of mountains called theCôte d'Or. With this latter upheaval began the Cretaceous epoch, whichwe will examine with special reference to its subdivision into periods, since the periods in this epoch have been clearly distinguished, andinvestigated with especial care. I have alluded in the preceding articleto the immediate contact of the Jurassic and Cretaceous epochs inSwitzerland, affording peculiar facilities for the direct comparison oftheir organic remains. But the Cretaceous deposits are well known, notonly in this inland sea of ancient Switzerland, but in a number ofEuropean basins, in France, in the Pyrenees, on the Mediterraneanshores, and also in Syria, Egypt, India, and Southern Africa, as well ason our own continent. In all these localities, the Cretaceous remains, like those of the Jurassic epoch, have one organic character, distinctand unique. This fact is especially significant, because the contact oftheir respective deposits is in many localities so immediate andcontinuous that it affords an admirable test for the development-theory. If this is the true mode of origin of animals, those of the laterJurassic beds must be the progenitors of those of the earlier Cretaceousdeposits. Let us see now how far this agrees with our knowledge of thephysiological laws of development. 

Take first the class of Fishes. We have seen that in the Jurassicperiods there were none of our common Fishes, none corresponding to ourHerring, Pickerel, Mackerel, and the like, --no Fishes, in short, withthin membranous scales, but that the class was represented exclusivelyby those with hard, flint-like scales. In the Cretaceous epoch, however, we come suddenly upon a horde of Fishes corresponding to our smallercommon Fishes of the Pickerel and Herring tribes, but principally of thekinds found now in tropical waters; there are none like our Cods, Haddocks, etc. , such as are found at present in the colder seas. TheFishes of the Jurassic epoch corresponding to our Sharks and Skates andGar-Pikes still exist, but in much smaller proportion, while these moremodern kinds are very numerous. Indeed, a classification of theCretaceous Fishes would correspond very nearly to one founded on thosenow living. Shall we, then, suppose that the large reptilian Fishes ofthe Jurassic time began suddenly to lay numerous broods of thesesmaller, more modern, scaly Fishes? And shall we account for thediminution of the previous forms by supposing that in order to give afair chance to the new kinds they brought them forth in large numbers, while they reproduced their own kind less abundantly? According to verycareful estimates, if we accept this view, the progeny of the JurassicFishes must have borne a proportion of about ninety per cent, ofentirely new types to some ten per cent, of those resembling theparents. One would like a fact or two on which to rest so veryextraordinary a reversal of all known physiological laws ofreproduction, but, unhappily, there is not one. 

Still more unaccountable, upon any theory of development according toordinary laws of reproduction, are those unique, isolated types limitedto a single epoch, or sometimes even to a single period. There are somevery remarkable instances of this in the Cretaceous deposits. To make mystatement clearer, I will say a word of the sequence of these depositsand their division into periods. 

These Cretaceous beds were at first divided only into three sets, calledthe Neocomian, or lower deposits, the Green-Sands, or middle deposits, and the Chalk, or upper deposits. The Neocomian, the lower division, wasafterwards subdivided into three sets of beds, called the Lower, Middle, and Upper Neocomian by some geologists, the Valengian, Neocomian, andUrgonian by others. These three periods are not only traced in immediatesuccession, one above another, in the transverse cut before described, across the mountain of Chaumont, near Neufchatel, but they are alsotraced almost on one level along the plain at the foot of the Jura. Itis evident that by some disturbance of the surface the eastern end ofthe range was raised slightly, lifting the lower or Valengian depositsout of the water, so that they remain uncovered, and the next set ofdeposits, the Neocomian, is accumulated along their base, while these intheir turn are slightly raised, and the Urgonian beds are accumulatedagainst them a little lower down. They follow each other from east towest in a narrower area, just as the Azoic, Silurian, and Devoniandeposits follow each other from north to south in the northern part ofthe United States. The Cretaceous deposits have been intimately studiedin various localities by different geologists, and are now subdividedinto at least ten, or it may be fifteen or sixteen distinct periods, asthey stand at present. This is, however, but the beginning of the work;and the recent investigations of the French geologist, Coquand, indicatethat several of these periods at least are susceptible of furthersubdivision. I present here a table enumerating the periods of theCretaceous epoch best known at present, in their sequence, because Iwant to show how sharply and in how arbitrary a manner, if I may soexpress it, new forms are introduced. The names are simply derived fromthe localities, or from some circumstances connected with the localitywhere each period has been studied. 

 _Table of Periods in the Cretaceous Epoch. _

 Maestrichtian } Chalk. Senonian }

 Turonian } Chalk Marl. Cenomanian }

 Albian } Aptian } Green Sands. Rhodanian }

 Urgonian } Neocomian } Wealden. Valengian }

One of the most peculiar and distinct of those unique types alluded toabove is that of the Rudistes, a singular Bivalve, in which the lowervalve is very deep and conical, while the upper valve sets into to it asinto a cup. The subjoined woodcut represents such a Bivalve. TheseRudistes are found suddenly in the Urgonian deposits; there are none inthe two preceding sets of beds; they disappear in the three followingperiods, and reappear again in great numbers in the Cenomanian, Turonian, and Senonian periods, and disappear again in the succeedingone. These can hardly be missed from any negligence or oversight in theexamination of these deposits, for they are by no means rare. They arefound always in great numbers, occupying crowded beds, like Oysters inthe present time. So numerous are they, where they occur at all, thatthe deposits containing them are called by many naturalists the first, second, third, and fourth _bank_ of Rudistes. Which of the ordinaryBivalves, then, gave rise to this very remarkable form in the class, allowed it to die out, and revived it again at various intervals? Thisis by no means the only instance of the same kind. There are a number oftypes making their appearance suddenly, lasting during one period orduring a succession of periods, and then disappearing forever, whileothers, like the Rudistes, come in, vanish, and reappear at a latertime. 

[Illustration: Rudistes. ]

I am well aware that the advocates of the development-theory do notstate their views as I have here presented them. On the contrary, theyprotest against any idea of sudden, violent, abrupt changes, andmaintain that by slow and imperceptible modifications during immenseperiods of time these new types have been introduced without involvingany infringement of the ordinary processes of development; and theyaccount for the entire absence of corroborative facts in the pasthistory of animals by what they call the "imperfection of the geologicalrecord. " Now, while I admit that our knowledge of geology is still veryincomplete, I assert that just where the direct sequence of geologicaldeposits is needed for this evidence, we have it. The Jurassic beds, without a single modern scaly Fish, are in immediate contact with theCretaceous beds, in which the Fishes of that kind are proportionatelyalmost as numerous as they are now; and between these two sets ofdeposits there is not a trace of any transition or intermediate form tounite the reptilian Fishes of the Jurassic with the common Fishes of theCretaceous times. Again, the Cretaceous beds in which the crowded banksof Rudistes, so singular and unique in form, first make theirappearance, follow immediately upon those in which all the Bivalves areof an entirely different character. In short, the deposits of this yearalong any sea-coast or at the mouth of any of our rivers do not followmore directly upon those of last year than do these successive sets ofbeds of past ages follow upon each other. In making these statements, Ido not forget the immense length of the geological periods; on thecontrary, I fully accede to it, and believe that it is more likely tohave been underrated than overstated. But let it be increased athousand-fold, the fact remains, that these new types occur commonly atthe dividing line where one period joins the next, just on the margin ofboth. 

For years I have collected daily among some of these deposits, and Iknow the Sea-Urchins, Corals, Fishes, Crustacea, and Shells of those oldshores as well as I know those of Nahant Beach, and there is nothingmore striking to a naturalist than the sudden, abrupt changes of speciesin passing from one to another. In the second set of Cretaceous beds, the Neocomian, there is found a little Terebratula (a small BivalveShell) in immense quantities: they may actually be collected by thebushel. Pass to the Urgonian beds, resting directly upon the Neocomian, and there is not one to be found, and an entirely new species comes in. There is a peculiar Spatangus (Sea-Urchin) found throughout the wholeseries of beds in which this Terebratula occurs. At the same moment thatyou miss the Shell, the Sea-Urchin disappears also, and another takesits place. Now, admitting for a moment that the later can have grown outof the earlier forms, I maintain, that, if this be so, the change isimmediate, sudden, without any gradual transitions, and is, therefore, wholly inconsistent with all our known physiological laws, as well aswith the transmutation-theory. 

There is a very singular group of Ammonites in the Cretaceous epoch, which, were it not for the suddenness of its appearance, might seemrather to favor the development-theory, from its great variety ofclosely allied forms. We have traced the Chambered Shells from thestraight, simple ones of the earliest epochs up to the intricate andclosely coiled forms of the Jurassic epoch. In the so-called Portlandstone, belonging to the upper set of Jurassic beds, there is only onetype of Ammonite; but in the Cretaceous beds, immediately above it, there set in a number of different genera and distinct species, including the most fantastic and seemingly abnormal forms. It is as ifthe close coil by which these shells had been characterized during theMiddle Age had been suddenly broken up and decomposed into an endlessvariety of outlines. Some of these new types still retain the coil, butthe whorls are much less compact than before, as in the Crioceras; inothers, the direction of the coil is so changed as to make a spiral, asin the Turrilites; or the shell starts with a coil, then proceeds in astraight line, and changes to a curve again at the other extremity, asin the Ancyloceras, or in the Scaphites, in which the first coil issomewhat closer than in the Ancyloceras; or the tendency to a coil isreduced to a single curve, so as to give the shell the outline of ahorn, as in the Toxoceras; or the coil is entirely lost, and the shellreduced to its primitive straight form, as in the Baculites, which, except for their undulating partitions, might be mistaken for theOrthoceratites of the Silurian and Devonian epochs. I have presentedhere but a few species of these extraordinary Cretaceous Ammonites, and, strange to say, with this breaking-up of the type into a number offantastic and often contorted shapes, it disappears. It is singular thatforms so unusual and so contrary to the previous regularity of thisgroup should accompany its last stage of existence, and seem to shadowforth by their strange contortions the final dissolution of their type. When I look upon a collection of these old shells, I can never divestmyself of an impression that the contortions of a death-struggle havebeen made the pattern of living types, and with that the whole group hasended. 

[Illustration: Crioceras. ]

[Illustration: Turrilites. ]

[Illustration: Ancyloceras. ]

[Illustration: Scaphites. ]

[Illustration: Toxoceras. ]

[Illustration: Baculites. ]

Now shall we infer that the compact, closely coiled Ammonites of theJurassic deposits, while continuing their own kind, brought forth avariety of other kinds, and so distributed these new organic elements asto produce a large number of distinct genera and species? I confess thatthese ideas are so contrary to all I have learned from Nature in thecourse of a long life that I should be forced to renounce completely theresults of my studies in Embryology and Palæontology before I couldadopt these new views of the origin of species. And while thedistinguished originator of this theory is entitled to our highestrespect for his scientific researches, yet it should not be forgottenthat the most conclusive evidence brought forward by him and hisadherents is of a negative character, drawn from a science in which theydo not pretend to have made personal investigations, that of Geology, while the proofs they offer us from their own departments of science, those of Zoölogy and Botany, are derived from observations, still veryincomplete, upon domesticated animals and cultivated plants, which cannever be made a test of the origin of wild species. [11]

[Footnote 11: The advocates of the development-theory allude to themetamorphosis of animals and plants as supporting their view of a changeof one species into another. They compare the passage of a common leafinto the calyx or crown-leaves in plants, or that of a larva into aperfect insect, to the passage of one species into another. The onlyobjection to this argument seems to be, that, whereas Nature dailypresents us myriads of examples of the one set of phenomena, showing itto be a norm, not a single instance of the other has ever been known tooccur either in the animal or in the vegetable kingdom. ]

In my next article I shall show the relation between the Cretaceous andTertiary epochs, and see whether there is any reason to believe that thegigantic Mammalia of more modern times were derived from the Reptiles ofthe Secondary age. 

 * * * * *

THE WHITE-THROATED SPARROW. 

 Hark! 't is our Northern Nightingale that sings In far-off, leafy cloisters, dark and cool, Flinging his flute-notes bounding from the skies!

 Thou wild musician of the mountain-streams, Most tuneful minstrel of the forest-choirs, Bird of all grace and harmony of soul, Unseen, we hail thee for thy blissful voice!

 Up in yon tremulous mist where morning wakes Illimitable shadows from their dark abodes, Or in this woodland glade tumultuous grown With all the murmurous language of the trees, No blither presence fills the vocal space. The wandering rivulets dancing through the grass, The gambols, low or loud, of insect-life, The cheerful call of cattle in the vales, Sweet natural sounds of the contented hours, -- All seem less jubilant when thy song begins. 

 Deep in the shade we lie and listen long; For human converse well may pause, and man Learn from such notes fresh hints of praise, That upward swelling from thy grateful tribe Circles the hills with melodies of joy. 

 * * * * *

THE FLEUR-DE-LIS IN FLORIDA. 

 [In the July number of this magazine is a sketch of the attempt of the Huguenots, under the auspices of Coligny, to found a colony at Port Royal. Two years later, an attempt was made to establish a Protestant community on the banks of the River St. John's, in Florida. The following paper embodies the substance of the letters and narratives of the actors in this striking episode of American history. ]

CHAPTER I. 

On the 25th of June, 1564, a French squadron anchored a second time offthe mouth of the River of May. There were three vessels, the smallest ofsixty tons, the largest of one hundred and twenty, all crowded with men. René de Laudonnière held command. He was of a noble race of Poitou, attached to the House of Châtillon, of which Coligny was the head;pious, we are told, and an excellent marine officer. An engraving, purporting to be his likeness, shows us a slender figure, leaningagainst the mast, booted to the thigh, with slouched hat and plume, slashed doublet, and short cloak. His thin oval face, with curledmoustache and close-trimmed beard, wears a thoughtful and somewhatpensive look, as if already shadowed by the destiny that awaited him. 

The intervening year since Ribaut's voyage had been a dark and deadlyyear for France. From the peaceful solitude of the River of May, thatvoyager returned to a land reeking with slaughter. But the carnival ofbigotry and hate had found a respite. The Peace of Amboise had beensigned. The fierce monk choked down his venom; the soldier sheathed hissword; the assassin, his dagger; rival chiefs grasped hands, and maskedtheir rancor under hollow smiles. The king and the queen-mother, helpless amid the storm of factions which threatened their destruction, smiled now on Condé, now on Guise, --gave ear to the Cardinal ofLorraine, or listened in secret to the emissaries of Theodore Beza. Coligny was again strong at Court. He used his opportunity, andsolicited with success the means of renewing his enterprise ofcolonization. With pains and zeal, men were mustered for the work. Inname, at least, they were all Huguenots; yet again, as before, thestaple of the projected colony was unsound: soldiers, paid out of theroyal treasury, hired artisans and tradesmen, joined with a swarm ofvolunteers from the young Huguenot noblesse, whose restless swords hadrusted in their scabbards since the peace. The foundation-stone was leftout. There were no tillers of the soil. Such, indeed, were rare amongthe Huguenots; for the dull peasants who guided the plough clung withblind tenacity to the ancient faith. Adventurous gentlemen, recklesssoldiers, discontented tradesmen, all keen for novelty and heated withdreams of wealth, --these were they who would build for their country andtheir religion an empire beyond the sea. 

With a few officers and twelve soldiers, Laudonnière landed where Ribauthad landed before him; and as their boat neared the shore, they saw anIndian chief who ran to meet them, whooping and clamoring welcome fromafar. It was Satouriona, the savage potentate who ruled some thirtyvillages around the lower St. John's and northward along the coast. Withhim came two stalwart sons, and behind trooped a host of tribesmenarrayed in smoke-tanned deerskins stained with wild devices in gaudycolors. They crowded around the voyagers with beaming visages and yelpsof gratulation. The royal Satouriona could not contain the exuberance ofhis joy, since in the person of the French commander he recognized thebrother of the Sun, descended from the skies to aid him against hisgreat rival, Outina. 

Hard by stood the column of stone, graven with the fleur-de-lis, planted here on the former voyage. The Indians had crowned the mysticemblem with evergreens, and placed offerings of maize on the groundbefore it; for with an affectionate and reverent wonder they had everremembered the steel-clad strangers whom, two summers before, JohnRibaut had led to their shores. 

Five miles up the St. John's, or River of May, there stands, on thesouthern bank, a hill some forty feet high, boldly thrusting itself intothe broad and lazy waters. It is now called St. John's Bluff. Thitherthe Frenchmen repaired, pushed through the dense semi-tropical forest, and climbed the steep acclivity. Thence they surveyed their Canaan. Beneath them moved the unruffled river, gliding around the reed-grownshores of marshy islands, the haunt of alligators, and betwixt thebordering expanse of wide, wet meadows, studded with island-like clumpsof pine and palmetto, and bounded by the sunny verge of distant forests. Far on their right, seen by glimpses between the shaggy cedar-boughs, the glistening sea lay stretched along the horizon. Before, in hazydistance, the softened green of the woodlands was veined with the mazesof the countless interlacing streams that drain the watery region behindSt. Mary's and Fernandina. To the left, the St. John's flowed gleamingbetwixt verdant shores beyond whose portals lay the El Dorado of theirdreams. "Briefly, " writes Laudonnière, "the place is so pleasant thatthose which are melancholicke would be inforced to change their humour. "

A fresh surprise awaited them. The allotted span of mortal life wasquadrupled in that benign climate. Laudonnière's lieutenant, Ottigny, ranging the neighboring forest with a party of soldiers, met a troop ofIndians who invited him to their dwellings. Mounted on the back of astout savage, who plunged with him through the deep marshes, and guidedhim by devious pathways through the tangled thickets, he arrived atlength, and beheld a wondrous spectacle. In the lodge sat a venerablechief, who assured him that he was the father of five successivegenerations, and that he had lived two hundred and fifty years. Opposite, sat a still more ancient veteran, the father of the first, shrunken to a mere anatomy, and "seeming to be rather a dead carkeisthan a living body. " "Also, " pursues the history, "his age was so greatthat the good man had lost his sight, and could not speak one onely wordbut with exceeding great paine. " Despite his dismal condition, thevisitor was told that he might expect to live in the course of Naturethirty or forty years more. As the two patriarchs sat face to face, halfhidden with their streaming white hair, Ottigny and his creduloussoldiers looked from one to the other, lost in wonder and admiration. 

Man and Nature alike seemed to mark the borders of the River of May asthe site of the new colony; for here, around the Indian towns, theharvests of maize, beans, and pumpkins promised abundant food, while theriver opened a ready way to the mines of gold and silver and the storesof barbaric wealth which glittered before the dreaming vision of thecolonists. Yet, the better to content himself and his men, Laudonnièreweighed anchor, and sailed for a time along the neighboring coasts. Returning, confirmed in his first impression, he set forth with a partyof officers and soldiers to explore the borders of the chosen stream. The day was hot. The sun beat fiercely on the woollen caps and heavydoublets of the men, till at length they gained the shade of one ofthose deep forests of pine where the dead and sultry air is thick withresinous odors, and the earth, carpeted with fallen leaves, gives nosound beneath the foot. Yet, in the stillness, deer leaped up on allsides as they moved along. Then they emerged into sunlight. A broadmeadow, a running brook, a lofty wall of encircling forests. The mencalled it the Vale of Laudonnière. The afternoon was spent, and the sunwas near its setting, when they reached the bank of the river. Theystrewed the ground with boughs and leaves, and, stretched on thatsylvan couch, slept the sleep of travel-worn and weary men. 

At daybreak they were roused by sound of trumpet. Men and officersjoined their voices in a psalm, then betook themselves to their task. Their task was the building of a fort, and this was the chosen spot. Itwas a tract of dry ground on the brink of the river, immediately aboveSt. John's Bluff. On the right was the bluff; on the left, a marsh; infront, the river; behind, the forest. 

Boats came up the stream with laborers, tents, provision, cannon, andtools. The engineers marked out the work in the form of a triangle; and, from the noble volunteer to the meanest artisan, all lent a hand tocomplete it. On the river side the defences were a palisade of timber. On the two other sides were a ditch, and a rampart of fascines, earth, and sods. At each angle was a bastion, in one of which was the magazine. Within was a spacious parade, and around it various buildings forlodging and storage. A large house with covered galleries was built onthe side towards the river for Laudonnière and his officers. In honor ofCharles IX the fort was named Fort Caroline. 

Meanwhile, Satouriona, "lord of all that country, " as the narrativesstyle him, was seized with misgivings, learning these mightypreparations. The work was but begun, and all was din and confusionaround the incipient fort, when the startled Frenchmen saw theneighboring height of St. John's swarming with naked warriors. Theprudent Laudonnière set his men in array, and for a season pick andspade were dropped for arquebuse and pike. The savage potentatedescended to the camp. The artist Le Moyne, who saw him, drew hislikeness from memory, --a tall, athletic figure, tattooed in token of hisrank, plumed with feathers, hung with strings of beads, and girdled withtinkling pieces of metal which hung from the belt, his only garment. Hecame in regal state, a crowd of warriors around him, and, in advance, atroop of young Indians armed with spears. Twenty musicians followed, blowing a hideous discord through pipes of reeds. Arrived, he seatedhimself on the ground "like a monkey, " as Le Moyne has it in the graveLatin of his "Brevis Narratio. " A council followed, in which brokenwords were aided by signs and pantomime. A treaty of alliance was made, and Laudonnière had the folly to promise the chief that he would lendhim aid against his enemies. Satouriona, well pleased, ordered hisIndians to aid the French at their work. They obeyed with alacrity, andin two days the buildings of the fort were all thatched after the nativefashion with leaves of the palmetto. 

A word touching these savages. In the peninsula of Florida were severaldistinct Indian confederacies, with three of which the French werebrought into contact. The first was that of Satouriona. The next was thepotent confederacy of the Thimagoa, under a chief called Outina, whoseforty villages were scattered among the lakes and forests around theupper waters of this remarkable river. The third was that of "KingPotanou, " whose domain lay among the pine-barrens, cypress-swamps, andfertile hummocks, westward and northwestward of the St. John's. Thethree communities were at deadly enmity. Their social state was moreadvanced than that of the wandering hunter-tribes of the North. Theywere an agricultural people. Around all their villages were fields ofmaize, beans, and pumpkins. The harvest, due chiefly to the labor of thewomen, was gathered into a public granary, and on this they lived duringthree-fourths of the year, dispersing in winter to hunt among theforests. 

Their villages were clusters of huts thatched with palmetto. In themidst was the dwelling of the chief, much larger than the rest, andsometimes raised on an artificial mound. They were inclosed withpalisades, and, strange to say, some of them were approached by wideavenues, artificially graded, and several hundred yards in length. Remains of them may still be seen, as may also the mounds in which theFloridians, like the Hurons and various other tribes, collected atstated intervals the bones of their dead. 

The most prominent feature of their religion was sun-worship, and, likeother wild American tribes, they abounded in "medicine-men, " whocombined the functions of priest, physician, and necromancer. 

Social distinctions were sharply defined among them. Their chiefs, whoseoffice was hereditary, sometimes exercised a power almost absolute. Eachvillage had its chief, subordinate to the grand chief of the nation. Inthe language of the French narratives, they were all kings or lords, vassals of the great monarch Satouriona, Outina, or Potanou. All thesetribes are now extinct, and it is difficult to ascertain with precisiontheir tribal affinities. There can be no doubt that they were theauthors of the mounds and other remains at present found in variousparts of Florida. 

Their fort nearly finished, and their league made with Satouriona, thegold-hunting Huguenots were eager to spy out the secrets of theinterior. To this end the lieutenant, Ottigny, went up the river in asail-boat. With him were a few soldiers and two Indians, the lattergoing forth, says Laudonnière, as if bound to a wedding, keen for afight with the hated Thimagoa, and exulting in the havoc to be wroughtamong them by the magic weapons of their white allies. They were doomedto grievous disappointment. 

The Sieur d'Ottigny spread his sail, and calmly glided up the darkwaters of the St. John's. A scene fraught with strange interest to thenaturalist and the lover of Nature. Here, two centuries later, theBartrams, father and son, guided their skiff and kindled their nightlybivouac-fire; and here, too, roamed Audubon, with his sketch-book andhis gun. Each alike has left the record of his wanderings, fresh as thewoods and waters that inspired it. Slight, then, was the change sinceOttigny, first of white men, steered his bark along the still breast ofthe virgin river. Before him, like a lake, the redundant waters spreadfar and wide; and along the low shores, or jutting points, or thewaveless margin of deep and sheltered coves, towered wild, majesticforms of vegetable beauty. Here rose the magnolia, high abovesurrounding woods; but the gorgeous bloom had fallen, that a few weeksearlier studded the verdant dome with silver. From the edge of thebordering swamp the cypress reared its vast buttressed column and leafycanopy. From the rugged arms of oak and pine streamed the gray draperyof the long Spanish moss, swayed mournfully in the faintest breeze. Herewere the tropical plumage of the palm, the dark green masses of thelive-oak, the glistening verdure of wild orange-groves; and from out theshadowy thickets hung the wreaths of the jessamine and the scarlettrumpets of the bignonia. 

Nor less did the fruitful river teem with varied forms of animal life. From the caverns of leafy shade came the gleam and flicker ofmany-colored plumage. The cormorant, the pelican, the heron, floated onthe water, or stalked along its pebbly brink. Among the sedges, thealligator, foul from his native mud, outstretched his hideous length, or, sluggish and sullen, drifted past the boat, his grim head level withthe surface, and each scale, each folding of his horny hide, distinctlyvisible, as, with the slow movement of distended paws, he balancedhimself in the water. When, at sunset, they drew up their boat on thestrand, and built their camp-fire under the arches of the woods, theshores resounded with the roaring of these colossal lizards; all nightthe forest rang with the whooping of the owls; and in the morning thesultry mists that wrapped the river were vocal, far and near, with theclamor of wild turkeys. 

Among such scenes, for twenty leagues, the adventurous sail moved on. Far to the right, beyond the silent waste of pines, lay the realm ofthe mighty Potanou. The Thimagoa towns were still above them on theriver, when they saw three canoes of this people at no great distance infront. Forthwith the two Indians in the boat were fevered withexcitement. With glittering eyes they snatched pike and sword, andprepared for fight; but the sage Ottigny, bearing slowly down on thestrangers, gave them time to run their craft ashore and escape to thewoods. Then, landing, he approached the canoes, placed in them a fewtrinkets, and withdrew to a distance. The fugitives took heart, and, step by step, returned. An amicable intercourse was opened, withassurances of friendship on the part of the French, a procedure viewedby Satouriona's Indians with unspeakable disgust and ire. 

The ice thus broken, Ottigny returned to Fort Caroline; and a fortnightlater, an officer named Vasseur sailed up the river to pursue theadventure: for the French, thinking that the nation of the Thimagoa laybetwixt them and the gold-mines, would by no means quarrel with them, and Laudonnière repented him already of his rash pledge to Satouriona. 

As Vasseur moved on, two Indians hailed him from the shore, inviting himto their dwellings. He accepted their guidance, and presently saw beforehim the cornfields and palisades of an Indian town. Led through thewondering crowd to the lodge of the chief, Mollua, Vasseur and hisfollowers were seated in the place of honor and plentifully regaled withfish and bread. The repast over, Mollua began his discourse. He toldthem that he was one of the forty vassal chiefs of the great Outina, lord of all the Thimagoa, whose warriors wore armor of gold and silverplate. He told them, too, of Potanou, his enemy, a mighty and redoubtedprince; and of the two kings of the distant Appalachian Mountains, richbeyond utterance in gems and gold. While thus, with earnest pantomimeand broken words, the chief discoursed with his guests, Vasseur, intentand eager, strove to follow his meaning; and no sooner did he hear ofthese Appalachian treasures than he promised to join Outina in waragainst the two potentates of the mountains. Hereupon the sagaciousMollua, well pleased, promised that each of Outina's vassal chiefsshould requite their French allies with a heap of gold and silver twofeet high. Thus, while Laudonnière stood pledged to Satouriona, Vasseurmade alliance with his mortal enemy. 

Returning, he was met, near the fort, by one of Satouriona's chiefs, whoquestioned him touching his dealings with the Thimagoa. Vasseur replied, that he had set upon and routed them with incredible slaughter. But asthe chief, seeming as yet unsatisfied, continued his inquiries, thesergeant, Francis la Caille, drew his sword, and, like Falstaff beforehim, re-enacted his deeds of valor, pursuing and thrusting at theimaginary Thimagoa as they fled before his fury. Whereat the chief, atlength convinced, led the party to his lodge, and entertained them witha certain savory decoction with which the Indians were wont to regalethose whom they delighted to honor. 

Elate at the promise of a French alliance, Satouriona had summoned hisvassal chiefs to war. From the St. Mary's and the Satilla and thedistant Altamaha, from every quarter of his woodland realm, they hadmustered at his call. By the margin of the St. John's, the forest wasalive with their bivouacs. Ten chiefs were here, and some five hundredmen. And now, when all was ready, Satouriona reminded Laudonnière of hispromise, and claimed its fulfilment; but the latter gave evasive answersand a virtual refusal. Stifling his rage, the chief prepared to gowithout him. 

Near the bank of the river, a fire was kindled, and two large vessels ofwater placed beside it. Here Satouriona took his stand. His chiefscrouched on the grass around him, and the savage visages of his fivehundred warriors filled the outer circle, their long hair garnished withfeathers, or covered with the heads and skins of wolves, panthers, bears, or eagles. Satouriona, looking towards the country of his enemy, distorted his features to a wild expression of rage and hate; thenmuttered to himself; then howled an invocation to his god, the sun; thenbesprinkled the assembly with water from one of the vessels, and, turning the other upon the fire, suddenly quenched it. "So, " he cried, "may the blood of our enemies be poured out, and their livesextinguished!" and the concourse gave forth an explosion of responsiveyells, till the shores resounded with the wolfish din. 

The rites over, they set forth, and in a few days returned exulting withthirteen prisoners and a number of scalps. The latter were hung on apole before the royal lodge, and when night came, it brought with it apandemonium of dancing and whooping, drumming and feasting. 

A notable scheme entered the brain of Laudonnière. Resolved, cost whatit might, to make a friend of Outina, he conceived it a stroke of policyto send back to him two of the prisoners. In the morning he sent asoldier to Satouriona to demand them. The astonished chief gave a flatrefusal, adding that he owed the French no favors, for they hadshamefully broken faith with him. On this, Laudonnière, at the head oftwenty soldiers, proceeded to the Indian town, placed a guard at theopening of the great lodge, entered with his arquebusiers, and seatedhimself without ceremony in the highest place. Here, to show hisdispleasure, he remained in silence for a half-hour. At length he spoke, renewing his demand. For some moments Satouriona made no reply, thencoldly observed that the sight of so many armed men had frightened theprisoners away. Laudonnière grew peremptory, when the chiefs son, Athore, went out, and presently returned with the two Indians, whom theFrench led back to Fort Caroline. 

Satouriona dissembled, professed good-will, and sent presents to thefort; but the outrage rankled in his savage breast, and he never forgaveit. 

Captain Vasseur, with Arlac, the ensign, a sergeant, and ten soldiers, embarked to bear the ill-gotten gift to Outina. Arrived, they wereshowered with thanks by that grateful potentate, who, hastening to availhimself of his new alliance, invited them to join in a raid against hisneighbor, Potanou. To this end, Arlac and five soldiers remained, whileVasseur with the rest descended to Fort Caroline. 

The warriors were mustered, the dances were danced, and the songs weresung. Then the wild cohort took up its march. The wilderness throughwhich they passed holds its distinctive features to this day, --the shadydesert of the pine-barrens, where many a wanderer has miserably died, with haggard eye seeking in vain for clue or guidance in the pitiless, inexorable monotony. Yet the waste has its oases, the "hummocks, " wherethe live-oaks are hung with long festoons of grape-vines, --where the airis sweet with woodland odors, and vocal with the song of birds. Then thedeep cypress-swamp, where dark trunks rise like the columns of some vastsepulchre. Above, the impervious canopy of leaves; beneath, a black androot-encumbered slough. Perpetual moisture trickles down the clammybark, while trunk and limb, distorted with strange shapes of vegetabledisease, wear in the gloom a semblance grotesque and startling. Lifelessforms lean propped in wild disorder against the living, and from everyrugged stem and lank limb outstretched hangs the dark drapery of theSpanish moss. The swamp is veiled in mourning. No breath, no voice. Adeathly stillness, till the plunge of the alligator, lashing the watersof the black lagoon, resounds with hollow echo through the tomb-likesolitude. 

Next, the broad sunlight and the wide savanna. Wading breast-deep ingrass, they view the wavy sea of verdure, with headland and cape andfar-reaching promontory, with distant coasts, hazy and dim, havens andshadowed coves, islands of the magnolia and the palm, high, impendingshores of the mulberry and the elm, the ash, hickory, and maple. Herethe rich _gordonia_, never out of bloom, sends down its thirsty roots todrink at the stealing brook. Here the _halesia_ hangs out its silverybells, the purple clusters of the _wistaria_ droop from the supportingbough, and the coral blossoms of the _erythryna_ glow in the shadebeneath. From tufted masses of sword-like leaves shoot up the tallspires of the _yucca_, heavy with pendent flowers, of pallid hue, likethe moon, and from the grass gleams the blue eye of the starry _ixia_. 

Through forest, swamp, savanna, the valiant Frenchmen held their way. Atfirst, Outina's Indians kept always in advance; but when they reachedthe hostile district, the modest warriors fell to the rear, resigningthe post of honor to their French allies. 

An open country; a rude cultivation; the tall palisades of an Indiantown. Their approach was seen, and the warriors of Potanou, nowisedaunted, came swarming forth to meet them. But the sight of the beardedstrangers, the flash and report of the fire-arms, the fall of theirforemost chief, shot through the brain with the bullet of Arlac, filledthem with consternation, and they fled headlong within their defences. The men of Thimagoa ran screeching in pursuit. Pell-mell, all enteredthe town together. Slaughter; pillage; flame. The work was done, and theband returned triumphant. 

CHAPTER II. 

In the little world of Fort Caroline, a miniature France, cliques andparties, conspiracy and sedition, were fast stirring into life. Hopeshad been dashed; wild expectations had come to nought. The adventurershad found, not conquest and gold, but a dull exile in a petty fort by ahot and sickly river, with hard labor, ill fare, prospective famine, andnothing to break the weary sameness but some passing canoe or floatingalligator. Gathered in knots, they nursed each other's wrath, andinveighed against the commandant. 

Why are we put on half-rations, when he told us that provision should bemade for a full year? Where are the reinforcements and supplies that hesaid should follow us from France? Why is he always closeted withOttigny, Arlac, and this and that favorite, when we, men of blood asgood as theirs, cannot gain his ear for a moment? And why has he sent LaRoche Ferrière to make his fortune among the Indians, while we are kepthere, digging at the works?

Of La Roche Ferrière and his adventures, more hereafter. The youngnobles, of whom there were many, were volunteers, who had paid their ownexpenses, in expectation of a golden harvest, and they chafed inimpatience and disgust. The religious element in the colony--unlike theformer Huguenot emigration to Brazil--was evidently subordinate. Theadventurers thought more of their fortunes than of their faith; yetthere were not a few earnest enough in the doctrine of Geneva tocomplain loudly and bitterly that no ministers had been sent with them. The burden of all grievances was thrown upon Laudonnière, whose greatesterrors seem to have arisen from weakness and a lack of judgment, --fataldefects in his position. 

The growing discontent was brought to a partial head by one Roquette, who gave out that by magic he had discovered a mine of gold and silver, high up the river, which would give each of them a share of ten thousandcrowns, besides fifteen hundred thousand for the king. But forLaudonnière, he said, their fortunes would all be made. He found an allyin a gentleman named Genre, one of Laudonnière's confidants, who, stillprofessing fast adherence to the interests of the latter, is charged byhim with plotting against his life. Many of the soldiers were in theconspiracy. They made a flag of an old shirt, which they carried withthem to the rampart when they went to their work, at the same timewearing their arms, and watching an opportunity to kill the commandant. About this time, overheating himself, he fell ill, and was confined tohis quarters. On this, Genre made advances to the apothecary, urging himto put arsenic into his medicines; but the apothecary shrugged hisshoulders. They next devised a scheme to blow him up, by hiding a keg ofgunpowder under his bed; but here, too, they failed. Hints of Genre'smachinations reaching the ears of Laudonnière, the culprit fled to thewoods, whence he wrote repentant letters, with full confession, to hiscommander. 

Two of the ships meanwhile returned to France, --the third, the Breton, remaining at anchor opposite the fort. The malecontents took theopportunity to send home charges against Laudonnière of peculation, favoritism, and tyranny. 

Early in September, Captain Bourdet, apparently a private adventurer, had arrived from France with a small vessel. When he returned, about thetenth of November, Laudonnière persuaded him to carry home seven oreight of the malecontent soldiers. Bourdet left some of his sailors intheir place. The exchange proved most disastrous. These pirates joinedwith others whom they had won over, stole Laudonnière's two pinnaces, and set forth on a plundering excursion to the West Indies. They took asmall Spanish vessel off the coast of Cuba, but were soon compelled byfamine to put into Havana and surrender themselves. Here, to make theirpeace with the authorities, they told all they knew of the position andpurposes of their countrymen at Fort Caroline, and hence was forged thethunderbolt soon to be hurled against the wretched little colony. 

On a Sunday morning, Francis de la Caille came to Laudonnière'squarters, and, in the name of the whole company, requested him to cometo the parade-ground. He complied, and, issuing forth, his inseparableOttigny at his side, saw some thirty of his officers, soldiers, andgentlemen-volunteers waiting before the building with fixed and sombrecountenance. La Caille, advancing, begged leave to read, in behalf ofthe rest, a paper which he held in his hand. It opened withprotestations of duty and obedience; next came complaints of hard work, starvation, and broken promises, and a request that the petitionersshould be allowed to embark in the vessel lying in the river, and cruisealong the Spanish main in order to procure provision by purchase "orotherwise. " In short, the flower of the company wished to turnbuccaneers. 

Laudonnière refused, but assured them, that, so soon as the defences ofthe fort should be completed, a search should be begun in earnest forthe Appalachian gold-mine, and that meanwhile two small vessels thenbuilding on the river should be sent along the coast to barter forprovisions with the Indians. With this answer they were forced tocontent themselves; but the fermentation continued, and the plotthickened. Their spokesman, La Caille, however, seeing whither theaffair tended, broke with them, and, beside Ottigny, Vasseur, and thebrave Swiss, Arlac, was the only officer who held to his duty. 

A severe illness again seized Laudonnière and confined him to his bed. Improving their advantage, the malecontents gained over nearly all thebest soldiers in the fort. The ringleader was one Fourneaux, a man ofgood birth, but whom Le Moyne calls an avaricious hypocrite. He drew upa paper to which sixty-six names were signed. La Caille boldly opposedthe conspirators, and they resolved to kill him. His room-mate, LeMoyne, who had also refused to sign, received a hint from a friend thathe had better change his quarters; upon which he warned La Caille, whoescaped to the woods. It was late in the night. Fourneaux, with twentymen armed to the teeth, knocked fiercely at the commandant's door. Forcing an entrance, they wounded a gentleman who opposed them, andcrowded around the sick man's bed. Fourneaux, armed with steel cap andcuirass, held his arquebuse to Laudonnière's breast, and demanded leaveto go on a cruise among the Spanish islands. The latter kept hispresence of mind, and remonstrated with some firmness; on which, withoaths and menaces, they dragged him from his bed, put him in fetters, carried him out to the gate of the fort, placed him in a boat, and rowedhim to the ship anchored in the river. 

Two other gangs at the same time visited Ottigny and Arlac, whom theydisarmed, and ordered to keep their rooms till the night following, onpain of death. Smaller parties were busied, meanwhile, in disarming allthe loyal soldiers. The fort was completely in the hands of theconspirators. Fourneaux drew up a commission for his meditatedWest-India cruise, which he required Laudonnière to sign. The sickcommandant, imprisoned in the ship, with one attendant, at firstrefused; but, receiving a message from the mutineers, that, if he didnot comply, they would come on board and cut his throat, he at lengthyielded. 

The buccaneers now bestirred themselves to finish the two small vesselson which the carpenters had been for some time at work. In a fortnightthey were ready for sea, armed and provided with the king's cannon, munitions, and stores. Trenchant, an excellent pilot, was forced to jointhe party. Their favorite object was the plunder of a certain church, onone of the Spanish islands, which they proposed to assail during themidnight mass of Christmas, whereby a triple end would be achieved:first, a rich booty; secondly, the punishment of idolatry; thirdly, vengeance on the arch-enemies of their party and their faith. They setsail on the eighth of December, taunting those who remained, callingthem greenhorns, and threatening condign punishment, if, on theirtriumphant return, they should be refused free entrance to the fort. 

They were no sooner gone than the unfortunate Laudonnière was gladdenedin his solitude by the approach of his fast friends, Ottigny and Arlac, who conveyed him to the fort, and reinstated him. The entire command wasreorganized and new officers appointed. The colony was wofully depleted;but the bad blood had been drawn, and thenceforth all internal dangerwas at an end. In finishing the fort, in building two new vessels toreplace those of which they had been robbed, and in various intercoursewith the tribes far and near, the weeks passed until the twenty-fifth ofMarch, when an Indian came in with the tidings that a vessel washovering off the coast. Laudonnière sent to reconnoitre. The strangerlay anchored at the mouth of the river. She was a Spanish brigantine, manned by the returning mutineers, starving, downcast, and anxious tomake terms. Yet, as their posture seemed not wholly pacific, Laudonnièresent down La Caille with thirty soldiers, concealed at the bottom of hislittle vessel. Seeing only two or three on deck, the pirates allowed herto come along-side; when, to their amazement, they were boarded andtaken before they could snatch their arms. Discomfited, woebegone, anddrunk, they were landed under a guard. Their story was soon told. Fortune had flattered them at the outset. On the coast of Cuba, theytook a brigantine, with wine and stores. Embarking in her, they nextfell in with a caravel, which they also captured. Landing at a villageof Jamaica, they plundered and caroused for a week, and had hardlyreëmbarked when they fell in with a small vessel having on board thegovernor of the island. She made desperate fight, but was taken at last, and with her a rich booty. They thought to put the governor to ransom;but the astute official deceived them, and, on pretence of negotiatingfor the sum demanded, together with certain apes and parrots, for whichhis captors had also bargained, contrived to send instructions to hiswife. Whence it happened that at daybreak three armed vessels fell uponthem, retook the prize, and captured or killed all the pirates buttwenty-six, who, cutting the moorings of their brigantine, fled out tosea. Among these was the ringleader, Fourneaux, and, happily, the pilot, Trenchant. The latter, eager to return to Fort Caroline, whence he hadbeen forcibly taken, succeeded during the night in bringing the vesselto the coast of Florida. Great were the wrath and consternation of thediscomfited pirates, when they saw their dilemma; for, having noprovision, they must either starve or seek succor at the fort. Theychose the latter alternative, and bore away for the St. John's. A fewcasks of Spanish wine yet remained, and nobles and soldiers, fraternizedby the common peril of a halter, joined in a last carouse. As the winemounted to their heads, in the mirth of drink and desperation, theyenacted their own trial. One personated the judge, another thecommandant; witnesses were called, with arguments and speeches on eitherside. 

"Say what you like, " said one of them, after hearing the counsel for thedefence, "but if Laudonnière does not hang us all, I will never call himan honest man. "

They had some hope of gaining provision from the Indians at the mouth ofthe river, and then patting to sea again; but this was frustrated by LaCaille's sudden attack. A court-martial was called near Fort Caroline, and all were found guilty. Fourneaux and three others were sentenced tobe hanged. 

"Comrades, " said one of the condemned, appealing to the soldiers, "willyou stand by and see us butchered?"

"These, " retorted Laudonnière, "are no comrades of mutineers andrebels. "

At the request of his followers, however, he commuted the sentence toshooting. 

A file of men; a rattling volley; and the debt of justice was paid. Thebodies were hanged on gibbets at the river's mouth, and order reigned atFort Caroline. 

CHAPTER III. 

While the mutiny was brewing, one La Roche Ferrière had been sent out asan agent or emissary among the more distant tribes. Sagacious, bold, andrestless, he pushed his way from town to town, and pretended to havereached the mysterious mountains of Appalachee. He sent to the fortmantles woven with feathers, quivers covered with choice furs, arrowstipped with gold, wedges of a green stone like beryl or emerald, andother trophies of his wanderings. A gentleman named Grotaut took up thequest, and penetrated to the dominions of Hostaqua, who could musterthree or four thousand warriors, and who promised with the aid of ahundred arquebusiers to conquer all the kings of the adjacent mountains, and subject them and their gold-mines to the rule of the French. Ahumbler adventurer was Peter Gamble, a robust and daring youth, who hadbeen brought up in the household of Coligny, and was now a soldier underLaudonnière. The latter gave him leave to trade with the Indians, aprivilege which he used so well that he grew rich with his traffic, became prime favorite with the chief of Edelano, married his daughter, and, in his absence, reigned in his stead. But, as his sway vergedtowards despotism, his subjects took offence, and beat out his brainswith a hatchet. 

During the winter, Indians from the neighborhood of Cape Canaveralbrought to the fort two Spaniards, wrecked fifteen years before on thesouthwestern extremity of the peninsula. They were clothed like theIndians, --in other words, were not clothed at all, --and their uncut hairstreamed wildly down their backs. They brought strange tales of thoseamong whom they had dwelt. They told of the King of Calos, on whosedomains they had suffered wreck, a chief mighty in stature and in power. In one of his villages was a pit, six feet deep and as wide as ahogshead, filled with treasure gathered from Spanish wrecks on adjacentreefs and keys. The monarch was a priest, too, and a magician, withpower over the elements. Each year he withdrew from the public gaze tohold converse in secret with supernal or infernal powers; and each yearhe sacrificed to his gods one of the Spaniards whom the fortune of thesea had cast upon his shores. The name of the tribe is preserved in thatof the River Caloosa. In close league with him was the mighty Oathcaqua, dwelling near Cape Canaveral, who gave his daughter, a maiden ofwondrous beauty, in marriage to his great ally. But, as the bride, withher bridesmaids, was journeying towards Calos, escorted by a chosenband, they were assailed by a wild and warlike race, inhabitants of anisland called Sarrope, in the midst of a great lake, who put thewarriors to flight, bore the maidens captive to their watery fastness, espoused them all, and, as we are assured, "loved them above allmeasure. "

Outina, taught by Arlac the efficacy of the French fire-arms, begged forten arquebusiers to aid him on a new raid among the villages of Potanou, again alluring his greedy allies by the assurance, that, thusreinforced, he would conquer for them a free access to the phantomgold-mines of Appalachec. Ottigny set forth on this fool's-errand withthrice the force demanded. Three hundred Thimagoa and thirty Frenchmentook up their march through the pine-barrens. Outina's conjurer was ofthe number, and had well-nigh ruined the enterprise. Kneeling onOttigny's shield, that he might not touch the earth, with hideousgrimaces, howlings, and contortions, he wrought himself into a propheticfrenzy, and proclaimed to the astounded warriors that to advance fartherwould be destruction. Outina was for instant retreat, but Ottigny'ssarcasms shamed him into a show of courage. Again they moved forward, and soon encountered Potanou with all his host. Le Moyne drew a pictureof the fight. In the foreground Ottigny is engaged in single combat witha gigantic savage, who, with club upheaved, aims a deadly stroke at theplumed helmet of his foe; but the latter, with target raised to guardhis head, darts under the arms of the naked Goliath, and transfixes himwith his sword. The arquebuse did its work: panic, slaughter, and aplentiful harvest of scalps. But no persuasion could induce Outina tofollow up his victory. He went home to dance around his trophies, andthe French returned disgusted to Fort Caroline. 

And now, in ample measure, the French began to reap the harvest of theirfolly. Conquest, gold, military occupation, --such had been their aims. Not a rood of ground had been stirred with the spade. Their stores wereconsumed; the expected supplies had not come. The Indians, too, werehostile. Satouriona hated them as allies of his enemies; and histribesmen, robbed and maltreated by the lawless soldiers, exulted intheir miseries. Yet in these, their dark and subtle neighbors, was theironly hope. 

May-day came, the third anniversary of the day when Ribaut and hiscompanions, full of delighted anticipations, had explored the floweryborders of the St. John's. Dire was the contrast; for, within thehomesick precinct of Fort Caroline, a squalid band, dejected and worn, dragged their shrunken limbs about the sun-scorched area, or laystretched in listless wretchedness under the shade of the barracks. Somewere digging roots in the forest, or gathering a kind of sorrel upon themeadows. One collected refuse fish-bones and pounded them into meal. Yet, giddy with weakness, their skin clinging to their bones, theydragged themselves in turn to the top of St. John's Bluff, strainingtheir eyes across the sea to descry the anxiously expected sail. 

Had Coligny left them to perish? or had some new tempest of calamity, let loose upon France, drowned the memory of their exile? In vain thewatchman on the hill surveyed the solitude of waters. A deep dejectionfell upon them, a dejection that would have sunk to despair, could theireyes have pierced the future. 

The Indians had left the neighborhood, but, from time to time, broughtin meagre supplies of fish, which they sold to the famished soldiers atexorbitant prices. Lest they should pay the penalty of their extortion, they would not enter the fort, but lay in their canoes in the river, beyond gunshot, waiting for their customers to come out to them. "Oftentimes, " says Laudonnière, "our poor soldiers were constrained togive away the very shirts from their backs to get one fish. If at anytime they shewed unto the savages the excessive price which they tooke, these villaines would answere them roughly and churlishly: If thou makeso great account of thy marchandise, eat it, and we will eat our fish:then fell they out a laughing and mocked us with open throat. "

The spring wore away, and no relief appeared. One thought now engrossedthe colonists, the thought of return to France. Vasseur's ship, theBreton, still remained in the river, and they had also the Spanishbrigantine brought by the mutineers. But these vessels wereinsufficient, and they prepared to build a new one. The energy ofreviving hope lent new life to their exhausted frames. Some gatheredpitch in the pine forests; some made charcoal; some cut and sawed thetimber. The maize began to ripen, and this brought some relief; but theIndians, exasperated and greedy, sold it with reluctance, and murderedtwo half-famished Frenchmen who gathered a handful in the fields. 

The colonists applied to Outina, who owed them two victories. The resultwas a churlish message and a niggardly supply of corn, coupled with aninvitation to aid him against an insurgent chief, the plunder of whosevillages would yield an ample supply. The offer was accepted. Ottignyand Vasseur set forth, but were grossly deceived, led against adifferent enemy, and sent back empty-handed and half-starved. 

Pale with famine and with rage, a crowd of soldiers beset Laudonnière, and fiercely demanded to be led against Outina to take him prisoner andextort from his fears the supplies which could not be looked for fromhis gratitude. The commandant was forced to comply. Those who could bearthe weight of their armor put it on, embarked, to the number of fifty, in two barges, and sailed up the river under the commandant himself. Outina's landing reached, they marched inland, entered his village, surrounded his mud-plastered palace, seized him amid the yells andhowlings of his subjects, and led him prisoner to their boats. Here, anchored in mid-stream, they demanded a supply of corn and beans as theprice of his ransom. 

The alarm spread. Excited warriors, bedaubed with red, came throngingfrom all his villages. The forest along the shore was full of them; andtroops of women gathered at the water's edge with moans, outcries, andgestures of despair. Yet no ransom was offered, since, reasoning fromtheir own instincts, they never doubted, that, the price paid, thecaptive would be put to death. 

Laudonnière waited two days, then descended the river. In a rude chamberof Fort Caroline, pike in hand, the sentinel stood his guard, whilebefore him crouched the captive chief, mute, impassive, brooding on hiswoes. His old enemy, Satouriona, keen as a hound on the scent of prey, tried, by great offers, to bribe Laudonnière to give the prisoner intohis hands. Outina, however, was kindly treated, and assured of immediatefreedom on payment of the ransom. 

Meanwhile his captivity was entailing dire affliction on his realm; for, despairing of his return, his subjects mustered to the election of a newchief. Party-strife ran high. Some were for a boy, his son, and some foran ambitious kinsman who coveted the vacant throne. Outina chafed in hisprison, learning these dissensions, and, eager to convince hisover-hasty subjects that their king still lived, he was so profuse ofpromises, that he was again embarked and carried up the river. 

At no great distance below Lake George, a small affluent of the St. John's gave access by water to a point within eighteen miles of Outina'sprincipal town. The two barges, crowded with soldiers, and bearing alsothe royal captive, rowed up this little stream. Indians awaited them atthe landing, with gifts of bread, beans, and fish, and piteous prayersfor their chief, upon whose liberation they promised an ample supply ofcorn. As they were deaf to all other terms, Laudonnière yielded, released the chief, and received in his place two hostages, who werefast bound in the boats. Ottigny and Arlac, with a strong detachment ofarquebusiers, set forth to receive the promised supplies, for which, from the first, full payment in merchandise had been offered. Arrived atthe village, they filed into the great central lodge, within whose duskyprecincts were gathered the magnates of the tribe. Council-chamber, forum, banquet-hall, dancing-hall, palace, all in one, the royaldwelling could hold half the population in its capacious confines. Herethe French made their abode. Their armor buckled, theirarquebuse-matches lighted, they stood, or sat, or reclined on theearthen floor, with anxious eyes watching the strange, dim scene, halflighted by the daylight that streamed down through the hole at the apexof the roof. Tall, dark forms stalked to and fro, quivers at theirbacks, bows and arrows in their hands, while groups, crouched in theshadow beyond, eyed the hated guests with inscrutable visages, andmalignant, sidelong eyes. Corn came in slowly, but warriors weremustering fast. The village without was full of them. The Frenchofficers grew anxious, and urged the chiefs to greater alacrity incollecting the promised ransom. The answer boded no good, "Our women areafraid, when they see the matches of your guns burning. Put them out, and they will bring the corn faster. "

Outina was nowhere to be seen. At length they learned that he was in oneof the small huts adjacent. Several of the officers went to him, complaining of the slow payment of his ransom. The kindness of hiscaptors at Fort Caroline seemed to have won his heart. He replied, thatsuch was the rage of his subjects that he could no longer controlthem, --that the French were in danger, --and that he had seen arrowsstuck in the ground by the side of the path, in token that war wasdeclared. Their peril was thickening hourly, and Ottigny resolved toregain the boats while there was yet time. 

On the twenty-seventh of July, at nine in the morning, he set his men inorder. Each shouldering a sack of corn, they marched through the rows ofsqualid huts that surrounded the great lodge, and out betwixt theinterfolding extremities of the palisade that encircled the town. Beforethem stretched a wide avenue, three or four hundred paces long, flankedby a natural growth of trees, --one of those curious monuments of nativeindustry to which allusion has been already made. Here Ottigny haltedand formed his line of march. Arlac with eight matchlockmen was sent inadvance, and flanking parties thrown into the woods on either side. Ottigny told his soldiers, that, if the Indians meant to attack them, they were probably in ambush at the other end of the avenue. He wasright. As Arlac's party reached the spot, the whole pack gave tongue atonce. The war-whoop quavered through the startled air, and a tempest ofstone-headed arrows clattered against the breastplates of the French, ortore, scorching like fire, through their unprotected limbs. They stoodfirm, and sent back their shot so steadily that several of theassailants were laid dead, and the rest, two or three hundred in number, gave way as Ottigny came up with his men. 

They moved on for a quarter of a mile through a country, as it seems, comparatively open; when again the war-cry pealed in front, and threehundred savages came bounding to the assault. Their whoops were echoedfrom the rear. It was the party whom Arlac had just repulsed, who, leaping and showering their arrows, were rushing on with a ferocityrestrained only by their lack of courage. There was no panic. The menthrew down their corn-bags, and took to their weapons. They blew theirmatches, and, under two excellent officers, stood well to their work. The Indians, on their part, showed a good discipline, after theirfashion, and were perfectly under the control of their chiefs. Withcries that imitated the yell of owls, the scream of cougars, and thehowl of wolves, they ran up in successive bands, let fly their arrows, and instantly fell back, giving place to others. At the sight of thelevelled arquebuse, they dropped flat on the earth. Whenever, sword inhand, the French charged upon them, they fled like foxes through thewoods; and whenever the march was resumed, the arrows were showeringagain upon the flanks and rear of the retiring band. The soldiers coollypicked them up and broke them as they fell. Thus, beset with swarmingsavages, the handful of Frenchmen pushed their march till nightfall, fighting as they went. 

The Indians gradually drew off, and the forest was silent again. Two ofthe French had been killed and twenty-two wounded, several so severelythat they were supported to the boats with the utmost difficulty. Of thecorn, two bags only had been brought off. 

Famine and desperation now reigned at Fort Caroline. The Indians hadkilled two of the carpenters; hence long delay in the finishing of thenew ship. They would not wait, but resolved to put to sea in the Bretonand the brigantine. The problem was to find food for the voyage; fornow, in their extremity, they roasted and ate snakes, a delicacy inwhich the neighborhood abounded. 

On the third of August, Laudonnière, perturbed and oppressed, waswalking on the hill, when, looking seaward, he saw a sight that shot athrill through his exhausted frame. A great ship was standing towardsthe river's mouth. Then another came in sight, and another, and another. He called the tidings to the fort below. Then languid forms rose anddanced for joy, and voices, shrill with weakness, joined in wildlaughter and acclamation. 

A doubt soon mingled with their joy. Who were the strangers? Were theythe succors so long hoped in vain? or were they Spaniards bringing steeland fire? They were neither. The foremost was a stately ship, of sevenhundred tons, a mighty burden at that day. She was named the Jesus; andwith her were three smaller vessels, the Solomon, the Tiger, and theSwallow. Their commander was "a right worshipful and valiantknight, "--for so the record styles him, --a pious man and a prudent, tojudge him by the orders he gave his crew, when, ten months before, hesailed out of Plymouth:--"Serve God daily, love one another, preserveyour victuals, beware of fire, and keepe good companie. " Nor were thecrew unworthy the graces of their chief; for the devout chronicler ofthe voyage ascribes their deliverance from the perils of the seas to"the Almightie God, who never suffereth his Elect to perish. "

Who, then, were they, this chosen band, serenely conscious of a specialProvidential care? Apostles of the cross, bearing the word of peace tobenighted heathendom? They were the pioneers of that detested trafficdestined to inoculate with its black infection nations yet unborn, parent of discord and death, with the furies in their train, fillinghalf a continent with the tramp of armies and the clash of fratricidalswords. Their chief was Sir John Hawkins, father of the Englishslave-trade. 

He had been to the coast of Guinea, where he bought and kidnapped acargo of slaves. These he had sold to the jealous Spaniards ofHispaniola, forcing them, with sword, matchlock, and culverin, to granthim free trade, and then to sign testimonials that he had borne himselfas became a peaceful merchant. Prospering greatly by this summarycommerce, but distressed by the want of water, he had put into the Riverof May to obtain a supply. 

Among the rugged heroes of the British marine, Sir John stood in thefront rank, and along with Drake, his relative, is extolled as "a manborne for the honour of the English name.... Neither did the West ofEngland yeeld such an Indian Neptunian paire as were these two Oceanpeeres, Hawkins and Drake. " So writes the old chronicler, Purchas, andall England was of his thinking. A hardy seaman, a bold fighter, overbearing towards equals, but kind, in his bluff way, to those beneathhim, rude in speech, somewhat crafty withal, and avaricious, he buffetedhis way to riches and fame, and died at last full of years and honor. Asfor the abject humanity stowed between the reeking decks of the shipJesus, they were merely in his eyes so many black cattle tethered forthe market. Queen Elizabeth had an interest in the venture, and receivedher share of the sugar, pearls, ginger, and hides which the vigorousmeasures of Sir John gained from his Spanish customers. 

Hawkins came up the river in a pinnace, and landed at Fort Caroline, "accompanied, " says Laudonnière, "with gentlemen honorably apparelled, yet unarmed. " Between the Huguenots and the English there was a doubletie of sympathy. Both hated priests, and both hated Spaniards. Wakeningfrom their apathetic misery, the starveling garrison hailed him as adeliverer. Yet Hawkins secretly rejoiced, when he learned their purposeto abandon Florida; for, though, not to tempt his cupidity, they hidfrom him the secret of their Appalachian gold-mine, he coveted for hisroyal mistress the possession of this rich domain. He shook his head, however, when he saw the vessels in which they proposed to embark, andoffered them all a free passage to France in his own ships. This, fromobvious motives of honor and prudence, Laudonnière declined, upon whichHawkins offered to lend or sell to him one of his smaller vessels. 

Hereupon arose a great clamor. A mob of soldiers and artisans besetLaudonnière's chamber, threatening loudly to desert him, and takepassage with Hawkins, unless the offer of the latter were accepted. Thecommandant accordingly resolved to buy the vessel. The generous slaver, whose reputed avarice nowise appears in the transaction, desired him toset his own price; and, in place of money, took the cannon of the fort, with other articles now useless to their late owners. He sent them, too, a gift of wine and biscuit, and supplied them with provision for thevoyage, receiving in payment Laudonnière's note, --"for which, " adds thelatter, "I am until this present indebted to him. " With a friendlyleave-taking he returned to his ships and stood out to sea, leavinggolden opinions among the grateful inmates of Fort Caroline. 

Before the English top-sails had sunk beneath the horizon, the colonistsbestirred themselves to depart. In a few days their preparations weremade. They waited only for a fair wind. It was long in coming, andmeanwhile their troubled fortunes assumed a new phase. 

On the twenty-eighth of August, the two captains, Vasseur and Verdier, came in with tidings of an approaching squadron. Again the fort was wildwith excitement. Friends or foes, French or Spaniards, succor or death:betwixt these were their hopes and fears divided. With the followingmorning, they saw seven barges rowing up the river, bristling withweapons and crowded with men in armor. The sentries on the bluffchallenged, and received no answer. One of them fired at the advancingboats. Still no response. Laudonnière was almost defenceless. He hadgiven his heavier cannon to Hawkins, and only two field-pieces wereleft. They were levelled at the foremost boats, and the word was aboutto be given, when a voice from among the strangers called that they wereFrench, commanded by John Ribaut. 

At the eleventh hour, the long-looked-for succors were come. Ribaut hadbeen commissioned to sail with seven ships for Florida. A disorderlyconcourse of disbanded soldiers, mixed with artisans and their families, and young nobles weary of a two-years' peace, were mustered at the portof Dieppe, and embarked, to the number of three hundred men, bearingwith them all things thought necessary to a prosperous colony. 

No longer in dread of the Spaniards, the colonists saluted thenew-comers with the cannon by which a moment before they had hoped toblow them out of the water. Laudonnière issued from his stronghold towelcome them, and regaled them with what cheer he might. Ribaut waspresent, conspicuous by his long beard, the astonishment of the Indians;and here, too, were officers, old friends of Laudonnière. Why, then, hadthey approached in the attitude of enemies? The mystery was soonexplained; for they expressed to the commandant their pleasure atfinding that the charges made against him had proved false. He begged toknow more, on which Ribaut, taking him aside, told him that thereturning ships had brought home letters filled with accusations ofarrogance, tyranny, cruelty, and a purpose of establishing anindependent command: accusations which he now saw to be unfounded, butwhich had been the occasion of his unusual and startling precaution. Hegave him, too, a letter from the Admiral Coligny. In brief, butcourteous terms, it required him to resign his command, and invited hisreturn to France to clear his name from the imputations cast upon it. Ribaut warmly urged him to remain; but Laudonnière declined his friendlyproposals. 

Worn in body and mind, mortified and wounded, he soon fell ill again. Apeasant-woman attended him, brought over, he says, to nurse the sick andtake charge of the poultry, and of whom Le Moyne also speaks as aservant, but who had been made the occasion of additional chargesagainst him, most offensive to the austere Admiral. 

Stores were landed, tents were pitched, women and children were sent onshore, feathered Indians mingled in the throng, and the sunny borders ofthe River of May swarmed with busy life. "But, lo, how oftentimesmisfortune doth search and pursue us, even then when we thinke to be atrest!" exclaims the unhappy Laudonnière. Behind the light and cheer ofrenovated hope, a cloud of blackest omen was gathering in the east. 

At half-past eleven on the night of Tuesday, the fourth of September, the crew of Ribaut's flag-ship, anchored on the still sea outside thebar, saw a huge hulk, grim with the throats of cannon, drifting towardsthem through the gloom; and from its stern rolled on the sluggish airthe portentous banner of Spain. 

Here opens a wilder act of this eventful drama. At another day we shalllift the curtain on its fierce and bloody scenes. 

 * * * * *

SEAWARD. 

TO ----. 

 How long it seems since that mild April night, When, leaning from the window, you and I Heard, clearly ringing from the shadowy bight, The loon's unearthly cry!

 Southwest the wind blew; million little waves Ran rippling round the point in mellow tune; But mournful, like the voice of one who raves, That laughter of the loon. 

 We called to him, while blindly through the haze Upclimbed the meagre moon behind us, slow, So dim, the fleet of boats we scarce could trace, Moored lightly, just below. 

 We called, and, lo, he answered! Half in fear, I sent the note back. Echoing rock and bay Made melancholy music far and near; Slowly it died away. 

 That schooner, you remember? Flying ghost! Her canvas catching every wandering beam, Aërial, noiseless, past the glimmering coast She glided like a dream. 

 Would we were leaning from your window now, Together calling to the eerie loon, The fresh wind blowing care from either brow, This sumptuous night of June!

 So many sighs load this sweet inland air, 'T is hard to breathe, nor can we find relief; However lightly touched, we all must share The nobleness of grief. 

 But sighs are spent before they reach your ear, Vaguely they mingle with the water's rune; No sadder sound salutes you than the clear, Wild laughter of the loon. 

 * * * * *

SIDE-GLANCES AT HARVARD CLASS-DAY. 

It happened to me once to "assist" at the celebration of Class-Day atHarvard University. Class-Day is the peculiar institution of the SeniorClass, and marks its completion of college study and release fromcollege rules. It is also an institution peculiar, I believe, toHarvard, and I was somewhat curious to observe its ceremonials, besidesfeeling a not entirely _unawful_ interest in being introduced for thefirst time to the _arcana_ of that renowned Alma Mater. 

She has set up her Lares and Penates in a fine old grove, or a fine oldgrove and green have sprouted up around her, as the case may be. At allevents, there is sufficient groundwork for any quantity of euphuismabout "classic shades, " "groves of Academe, " _et cetera_. Trollope hadhis fling at the square brick buildings; but it was a fling that theyrichly deserved, for they are in very deed as ugly as it is possible toconceive, --angular, formal, stiff, windowy, bricky, --and the farther inyou go, the worse it grows. Why, I pray to know, as the first inquirysuggested by Class-Day, is it necessary for boys' schools to be placedwithout the pale of civilization? Do boys take so naturally to theamenities of life that they can safely dispense with the conditions ofamenity? When I entered those brick boxes, I felt as if I were goinginto a stable. Wood-work dingy, unpainted, gashed, scratched; windowsdingy and dim; walls dingy and gray and smoked; everything unhomelike, unattractive, narrow, and rickety. Think, now, of taking a boy away fromhis home, from his mother and sisters, from carpets and curtains and allthe softening influences of cultivated taste, and turning him loose withdozens of other boys into a congeries of pens like this! Who wondersthat he comes out a boor? I felt a sinking at the heart in climbing upthose narrow, uncouth staircases. We talk about education. We boast ofhaving the finest system in the world. Harvard is, if not the mostdistinguished, certainly among the first institutions in the country;but, in my opinion, formed in the entry of the first Harvard house Ientered, Harvard has not begun to hit the nail on the head. Education!Do you call it education, to put a boy into a hole, and work out of hima certain amount of mathematics, and work into him a certain number oflanguages? Is a man dressed, because one arm has a spotless wristband, unquestionable sleeve-buttons, a handsome sleeve, and a well-fittingglove at the end, while the man is out at the other elbow, patched onboth knees, and down at the heels? Should we consider Nature a success, if she concerned herself only with carrying nutriment to the stomach, and left the heart and the lungs and the liver and the nerves to shiftfor themselves? Yet so do we, educating boys in these dens calledcolleges. We educate the mind, the memory, the intellectual faculties;but the manners, the courtesies, the social tastes, the greater part ofwhat goes to make life happy and genial, not to say good, we leave outof view. People talk about the "awkward age" of boys, --the age in whichtheir hands and feet trouble them, and in which they are a social burdento themselves and their friends. But one age need be no more awkwardthan another. I have seen boys that were gentlemen from the cradle tothe grave, --almost; certainly from the time they ceased to be babiestill they passed altogether out of my sight. Let boys have theassociations, the culture, the training, and the treatment of gentlemen, and I do not believe there will be a single moment of their lives inwhich they will be clowns. 

And among the first necessities are the surroundings of a gentleman. When a man is grown up, he can live in a sty and not be a pig; but turna horde of boys in, and when they come out they will root out. A man isstrong and stiff. His inward, inherent power, toughened by exposure andfortified by knowledge, overmasters opposing circumstances. He canneglect the prickles and assume the rose of his position. He standsscornfully erect amid the grovelling influences that would pull himdown. It may perhaps be, also, that here and there a boy, with a strongnative predilection to refinement, shall be eclectic, and, with thewater-lily's instinct, select from coarse contiguities only that whichwill nourish a delicate soul. But human nature in its infancy is usuallya very susceptible material. It grows as it is trained. It will be rude, if it is left rude, and fine only as it is wrought finely. Educate a boyto tumbled hair and grimy hands, and he will go tumbled and grimy to hisgrave. Put a hundred boys together where they will have theappurtenances of a clown, and I do not believe there will be ten out ofthe hundred who will not become precisely to that degree clownish. I amnot battling for the luxuries of life, but I am for its decencies. Iwould not turn boys into Sybarites, but neither would I let them riotinto Satyrs. The effeminacy of a false aristocracy is no nearer theheights of true manhood than the clumsiness of the clod, but I think itis just as near. I would have college rooms, college entrances, and allcollege domains cleanly and attractive. I would, in the first place, have every rough board planed, and painted in soft and cheerful tints. Iwould have the walls pleasantly colored, or covered with delicate, orbright, or warm-hued paper. The floor should be either tiled, or hiddenunder carpets, durable, if possible, at any rate, decent. Straw or ropematting is better than brown, yawning boards. There you have things putupon an entirely new basis. At no immoderate expense there is a new sky, a new earth, a new horizon. If a boy is rich and can furnish his roomhandsomely, the furnishings will not shame the room and its vicinity. Ifhe is poor and can provide but cheaply, he will still have a comely homeprovided for him by the Mater who then will be Alma to some purpose. 

Do you laugh at all this? So did Sarah laugh at the angels, but theangels had the right of it for all that. 

I am told that it would all be useless, --that the boys would deface anddestroy, till the last state of the buildings would be worse than thefirst. I do not believe one word of it. It is inferred that they woulddeface, because they deface now. But what is it that they deface?Deformity. And who blames them? You see a rough board, and, by naturalinstinct, you dive into it with your jackknife. A base bare wall is astanding invitation to energetic and unruly pencils. Give the boys alittle elegance and the tutors a little tact, and I do not believe therewould be any trouble. If I had a thousand dollars, --as I did have once, but it is gone: shall I ever look upon its like again?--I would not beafraid to stake the whole of it upon the good behavior of collegestudents, --that is, if I could have the managing of them. I would makethem "a speech, " when they came back at the end of one of their longvacations, telling them what had been done, why it had been done, andthe objections that had been urged against doing it. Then I would putthe matter entirely into their hands. I would appeal solely to theirhonor. I would repose in them so much confidence that they could by nopossibility betray it. We don't trust people half enough. We hedgeourselves about with laws and locks and deeds and bonds, and neglect theweightier matters of inherent right and justice that lie in every bosom. 

It may be thought hardly polite to accept hospitality and then go awayand inveigh against the hospital; but my animadversions, you will do methe justice to observe, are not aimed at my entertainers. I am maraudingfor, not against them. 

 * * * * *

The Oration and Poem form the first public features of Class-Day, but, arriving late, I could only eddy on the surge that swept around thedoor. Strains of distant eloquence would occasionally float musically tomy ear; now and then a single word would steer clear of the thousands ofheads and come into my port unharmed. Frequent waves of laughter beatand broke into the vestibule; but what is more "trying" to a frailtemper than laughter in which one cannot join? So we tarried long enoughto mark the fair faces and fine dresses, and then rambled under the oldtrees till the hour for the "collation" came; and this is the secondpoint on which I purpose to dwell. 

Each member of the Senior Class prepares a banquet, --sometimesseparately and sometimes in clubs, at an expense varying from fifty tofive hundred dollars, --to which he invites as many friends as hechooses, or as are available. The banquet is quite as rich, varied, andelegant as you find at ordinary evening parties, and the occasion is amerry and pleasant one. But it occurred to me that there may beunpleasant things connected with this custom. In a class ofseventy-five, in a country like America, it is quite probable that acertain proportion are ill able to meet the expense which such a customnecessitates. Some have fought their own way through college. Some musthave been fought through by their parents. To them I should think thiselaborate and considerable outlay must be a very sensible inconvenience. The mere expense of books and board, tuition and clothing, cannot be metwithout strict economy and much parental and family sacrifice. And atthe end of it all, when every nerve has been strained, and must bestrained harder still before the man can be considered fairly on hisfeet and able to run his own race in life, comes this new call forentirely uncollegiate disbursements. Of course it is only a custom. There is no college by-law, I suppose, which prescribes a valedictory_symposium_. Probably it grew up gradually from small ice-creambeginnings to its present formidable proportions; but a custom is asrigid as a chain. I wondered whether the moral character of the youngmen was generally strong enough, by the time they were in their fourthcollegiate year, to enable them to go counter to the custom, if itinvolved personal sacrifice at home, --whether there was generallysufficient courtliness, not to say Christianity, in the class, whetherthere was sufficient courtesy, chivalry, high-breeding, to make theomission of this party-giving unnoticeable or not unpleasant. I by nomeans say that the inability of a portion of the students to entertaintheir friends sumptuously should prevent those who are able from doingso. As the world is, some will be rich and some will be poor. This is afact which they have to face the moment they go out into the world; andthe sooner they grapple with it, and find out its real bearings andworth or worthlessness, the better. Boys are usually old enough by thetime they are graduated to understand and take philosophically such adistinction. Nor do I admit that poor people have any right to be soreon the subject of their poverty. The one sensitiveness which I cannotcomprehend, with which I have no sympathy, for which I have no pity, andof which I have no tolerance, is sensitiveness about poverty. I think itis an essentially vulgar feeling. I cannot conceive how a man who hasany exaltation of life, any real elevation of character, anyself-respect, can for a moment experience so ignoble a shame. One may beannoyed at the inconveniences and impatient of the restraints ofpoverty; but to be ashamed to be called poor or to be thought poor, toresort to shifts, not for the sake of being comfortable or elegant, butof seeming to be above the necessity of shifts, is an indication of aninferior mind, whether it dwell in prince or in peasant. The man whodoes it shows that he has not in his own opinion character enough tostand alone. He must be supported by adventitious circumstances, or hemust fall. Nobody, therefore, need ever expect to receive sympathy fromme in recounting the social pangs or slights of poverty. You never canbe slighted, if you do not slight yourself. People may attempt to doit, but their shafts have no barb. You turn it all into natural history. It is a psychological phenomenon, a study, something to be analyzed, classified, reasoned from, and bent to your own convenience, but not tobe taken to heart. It amuses you; it interests you; it adds to yourstock of facts; it makes life curious and valuable: but if you sufferfrom it, it is because you have not basis, stamina; and probably youdeserve to be slighted. This, however, is true only when people havebecome somewhat concentrated. Children know nothing of it. They livechiefly from without, not from within. Only gradually as they approachmaturity do they cut loose from the scaffolding and depend upon theirown centre of gravity. Appearances are very strong in school. Money andprodigality have great weight there, notwithstanding the democracy ofattainments and abilities. If I live a thousand years, I do not believeI shall ever do a more virtuous deed than I did long ago in staying athome for the sake of a quarter of a dollar when the rest of the schoolwent to see Tom Thumb, the late bewritten bridegroom. I call itvirtuous, because I had the quarter and could have gone, and could notexplain the reason why I did not go. And though a senior class inHarvard College may reasonably be supposed to be beyond the eminentdomain of Tom Thumb and quarter-dollars, the principle is precisely thesame, --only the temptation, I suppose, is much stronger, as the stake islarger. Have they self-poise enough to refrain from these festiveexpenses without suffering mortification? Have they virtue enough torefrain from them with the certainty of incurring such suffering? Havethey nobility and generosity and largeness of soul enough, whileabstaining themselves for conscience sake, to share in the plans andsympathize without servility in the pleasures of their rich comrades? tolook on with friendly interest, without cynicism or concealed malice, atthe preparations in which they do not join? Or do they yield toselfishness, and gratify their own vanity, weakness, self-indulgence, and love of pleasure, at whatever cost to their parents? Or is theresuch a state of public opinion and usage in college that this custom isequally honored in the breach and in the observance?

 * * * * *

When the feasting was over, the most picturesque part of the day began. The college green put off suddenly its antique gravity, and became

 "Embrouded ... As it were a mede Alle ful of fresshe floures, white and rede, "--

"floures" which to their gay hues and graceful outlines added the rarecharm of fluttering in perpetual motion. It was a kaleidoscope withoutangles. To me, niched in the embrasure of an old upper window, thescene, it seemed, might have stepped out of the Oriental splendor ofArabian Nights. I think I may safely say I never saw so manywell-dressed people together in my life before. That seems a rather tamefact to buttress Arabian Nights withal, but it implies much. Thedistance was a little too great for one to note personal and individualbeauty; but since I have heard that Boston is famous for its ugly women, perhaps that was an advantage, as diminishing likewise individualugliness. If no one was strikingly handsome, no one was strikinglyplain. And though you could not mark the delicacies of faces, you couldhave the full effect of costumes, --rich, majestic, floating, gossamery, impalpable. Everything was fresh, spotless, and in tune. It scarcelyneeded music to resolve all the incessant waver and shimmer into adance; but the music came, and, like sand-grains under the magnet, thebeautiful atoms swept into stately shapes and tremulous measuredactivity, --

 "A fine, sweet earthquake gently moved By the soft wind of whispering silks. "

Then it seemed like a German festival, and came back to me theFatherland, the lovely season of the Blossoming, the short, sweetbliss-month among the Blumenthal Mountains. 

Nothing can be more appropriate, more harmonious, than dancing on thegreen. Youth and gayety and beauty--and in summer we are all young andgay and beautiful--mingle well with the eternal youth of blue sky andvelvet sward and the light breezes toying in the tree-tops. Youth andNature kiss each other in the bright, clear purity of the happysummer-tide. Whatever objections lie against dancing elsewhere must veiltheir faces there. 

Yet I must confess I wish men would not dance. It is the most unbecomingexercise which they can adopt. In women you have the sweep and wave ofdrapery, gentle undulations, summer-cloud floatings, soft, sinuousmovements, the fluency of pliant forms, the willowy bend and rebound oflithe and lovely suppleness. It is grace generic, --the sublime, theevanescent mysticism of motion, without use, without aim, except its ownoverflowing and all-sufficing fascination. But when a man dances, itreminds me of that amusing French book called "Le Diable Boiteux, " whichhas been or may be free-thinkingly translated, "The Devil on TwoSticks. " In saying this, I design to cast no slur on the moral characterof masculine dancers. It is unquestionably above reproach; but let anangel put on the black coat and trousers which constitute the"full-dress" of a modern gentleman, and therein antic through the"Lancers, " and he would simply be ridiculous, --which is all I allegeagainst Thomas, Richard, and Henry, Esq. A woman's dancing is gliding, swaying, serpentine. A man's is jerks, hops, convulsions, and acuteangles. The woman is light, airy, indistinctly defined: airy movementsare in keeping. The man is sombre in hue, grave in tone, distinctlyoutlined; and nothing is more incongruous, to my thinking, than thisdancing, well portrayed in the contraband melody of

 "Old Joe, " etc. 

The feminine drapery conceals processes and gives results. The masculineabsence of drapery reveals processes and thereby destroys results. 

Once upon a time, long before the Flood, the clergyman of acountry-village, possessed with such a zeal as Paul bore record ofconcerning Israel, conceived it his duty to "make a note" of sundryyoung members of his flock who had met for a drive and a supper, with adance fringed upon the outskirts. The fame thereof being noised abroad, a sturdy old farmer, with a good deal of shrewd sense and mother-wit inhis brains, and a fine, indirect way of hitting the nail on the headwith a side-stroke, was questioned in a neighboring village as to thefacts of the case. "Yes, " he said, surlily, "the young folks had aparty, and got up a dance, and the minister was mad, --and I don't blamehim, --he thinks nobody has any business to dance, unless he knows howbetter than they did!" It was a rather different _casus belli_ from thatwhich the worthy clergyman would have preferred before a council; but it"meets my views" precisely as to the validity of the objections urgedagainst dancing. I would have women dance, because it is the mostbeautiful thing in the world. I would have men dance, if it isnecessary, in order to "set off" women, and to keep themselves out ofmischief; but in point of grace, or elegance, or attractiveness, Ishould beg men to hold their peace--and their pumps. 

From my window overlooking the green, I was led away into some one orother of the several halls to see the "round dances"; and it was likegoing from Paradise to Pandemonium. From the pure and healthy lawn, allthe purer for the pure and peaceful people pleasantly walking up anddown in the sunshine and shade, or grouped in the numerous windows, likebouquets of rare tropical flowers, --from the green, rainbowed in vividsplendor, and alive with soft, tranquil motion, fair forms, and theflutter of beautiful and brilliant colors, --from the green, sanctifiedalready by the pale faces of sick and wounded and maimed soldiers whohad gone out from the shadows of those sheltering trees to draw thesword for country, and returned white wraiths of their vigorous youth, the sad vanguard of that great army of blessed martyrs who shall keepforever in the mind of this generation how costly and precious a thingis liberty, who shall lift our worldly age out of the plough of itsmaterial prosperity into the sublimity of suffering and sacrifice, --fromsuggestions and fancies and dreamy musing and "phantasms sweet, " intothe hall, where, for flower-scented summer air were thick clouds offine, penetrating dust, and for lightly trooping fairies a jam of heatedhuman beings, so that you shall hardly come nigh the dancers for thepress; and when you have, with difficulty and many contortions and muchapologizing, threaded the solid mass, piercing through the forest offans, --what? An inclosure, but no more illusion. 

Waltzing is a profane and vicious dance. Always. When it is prosecutedin the centre of a great crowd, in a dusty hall, on a warm midsummerday, it is also a disgusting dance. Night is its only appropriate time. The blinding, dazzling gas-light throws a grateful glare over thesalient points of its indecency, and blends the whole into a wild whirlthat dizzies and dazes one; but the uncompromising afternoon, pouring inthrough manifold windows, tears away every illusion, and reveals thewhole coarseness and commonness and all the repulsive details of thismost alien and unmaidenly revel. The very _pose_ of the dance isprofanity. Attitudes which are the instinctive expression of intimateemotions, glowing rosy-red in the auroral time of tenderness, andjustified in unabashed freedom only by a long and faithful habitude ofunselfish devotion, are here openly, deliberately, and carelesslyassumed by people who have but a casual and partialsociety-acquaintance. This I reckon profanity. This is levity the mostculpable. This is a guilty and wanton waste of delicacy. 

That it is practised by good girls and tolerated by good mothers doesnot prove that it is good. Custom blunts the edge of many perceptions. Agood thing soiled may be redeemed by good people; but waltz as many asyou may, spotless maidens, you will only smut yourselves, and notcleanse the waltz. It is of itself unclean. 

There were, besides, peculiar _désagréments_ on this occasion. How canpeople, --I could not help saying to myself, --how can people endure suchproximity in such a sweltering heat? For, as I said, there was noillusion, --not a particle. It was no Vale of Tempe, with Nymphs andApollos. The boys were boys, appallingly young, full of healthfulpromise, but too much in the husk for exhibition, and not entirely atease in their situation, --indeed, very much _not_ at ease, --unmistakablywarm, nervous, and uncomfortable. The girls were pretty enough girls, Idare say, under ordinary circumstances, --one was really lovely, withsoft cheeks, long eyelashes, eyes deep and liquid, and Tasso's gold inher hair, though of a bad figure, ill set off by a bad dress, --but Venusherself could not have been seen to advantage in such evil plight asthey, panting, perspiring, ruffled, frowsy, --puff-balls revolvingthrough an atmosphere of dust, --a maze of steaming, reeking humancouples, inhumanly heated and simmering together with a more thanSpartan fortitude. 

It was remarkable, and at the same time amusing, to observe thedifference in the demeanor of the two sexes. The lions and the fawnsseemed to have changed hearts, --perhaps they had. It was the boys thatwere nervous. The girls were unquailing. The boys were, however, heroic. They tried bravely to hide the fox and his gnawings; but traces werevisible. They made desperate feint of being at the height of enjoymentand unconscious of spectators; but they had much modesty, for all that. The girls threw themselves into it _pugnis et calcibus_, --unshrinking, indefatigable. 

There is another thing which girls and their mothers do not seem toconsider. The present mode of dress renders waltzing almost asobjectionable in a large room as the boldest feats of a Frenchballet-dancer. Not to put too fine a point on it, I mean that thesegirls' gyrations in the centre of their gyrating and centrifugal hoopsmake a most operatic drapery-display. I saw scores and scores of publicwaltzing-girls last summer, and among them all I saw but one whounderstood the art, or, at any rate, who practised the art, of avoidingan indecent exposure. In the glare and glamour of gas-light it is onlyflash and clouds and indistinctness. In the broad and honest daylight, it is not. Do I shock ears polite? I trust so. If the saying of shockingthings might prevent the doing of shocking things, I should be wellcontent. And is it an unpardonable sin for me to sit alone in my ownroom and write about what you go into a great hall, before hundreds ofstrange men and women, and do?

I do not speak thus about waltzing because I like to say it; but ye havecompelled me. If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it. Irespect and revere woman, and I cannot see her destroying or debasingthe impalpable fragrance and delicacy of her nature without feeling theshame and shudder in my own heart. Great is my boldness of speechtowards you, because great is my glorying of you. Though I speak as afool, yet as a fool receive me. My opinions may be rustic. They are atleast honest; and may it not be that the first fresh impressions of anunprejudiced and uninfluenced observer are as likely to be natural andcorrect views as those which are the result of many afterthoughts, longuse, and an experience of multifold fascinations, combined with theoriginal producing cause? My opinions may be wrong, but they will do noharm; the penalty will rest alone on me: while, if they are right, theymay serve as a nail or two to be fastened by the masters of assemblies. 

The funny part of Class-Day comes last, --not so very funny to tell, butamazingly funny to see, --only a wreath of bouquets fastened around thetrunk of an old tree, perhaps eight or ten feet from the ground, andthen the four classes range themselves around it in four circles withtheir hands fast locked together, the Freshman Class on the outside, theSenior Class within, grotesquely tricked out in vile old coats and"shocking bad hats. " Then the two alternate classes go one way aroundthe tree and the two others the opposite, pell-mell, harum-scarum, pushing and pulling, down and up again, only keeping fast hold of hands, singing, shouting, cheering _ad libitum_, _ad throatum_, (theirs, ) _adearsum_, (ours, ) and going all the time in that din and yell and crowdand crash dear to the hearts of boys. At a given signal there is apause, and the Senior Class make sudden charge upon the bouquets, huddling and hustling and crowding and jumping at the foot of the oldtree; bubbling up on each other's shoulders into momentary prominenceand prospect of success, and immediately disappearing ignominiously;making frantic grasps and clutches with a hundred long arms and eageroutstretched hands, and finally succeeding, by shoulders and fists, inbringing the wreath away piecemeal; and then they give themselves up tomutual embraces, groans, laments, and all the enginery of patheticaffection in the last gasping throes of separation, --to the dolefultearing of hair and the rending of their fantastic garments. It is thepersonification of legalized rowdyism; and if young men would butconfine themselves to such rowdyism as may be looked at and laughed atby their mothers and sisters, they would find life just as amusing and athousand times more pure and profitable. 

 * * * * *

It occurs to me here that there is one subject on which I desire to"give my views, " though it is quite unconnected with Class-Day. But itis probable that in the whole course of my natural life it will neveragain happen to me to be writing about colleges, so I desire to say inthis paper everything I have to say on the subject. I refer to thepractice of "hazing, " which is an abomination. If we should find itamong hinds, a remnant of the barbarisms of the Dark Ages, blindlyhanded down by such slow-growing people as go to mill with their meal onone side of the saddle and a stone on the other to balance, as theirfathers did, because it never occurred to their loggerheads to dividethe meal into two parcels and make it balance itself, we should not besurprised; but hazing occurs among boys who have been accustomed to thecirculation of ideas, boys old enough and intelligent enough tounderstand the difference between brutality and frolic, old enough toknow what honor and courage mean, and therefore I cannot conceive howthey should countenance a practice which entirely ignores and defieshonor, and whose brutality has not a single redeeming feature. It hasneither wisdom nor wit, no spirit, no genius, no impulsiveness, scarcelythe mirth of boyish frolic. A narrow range of stale practical jokes, lighted up by no gleam of originality, is transmitted from year to yearwith as much fidelity as the Hebrew Bible, and not half the latitudeallowed to clergymen of the English Established Church. But besides itsplatitude, its one overpowering and fatal characteristic is its intenseand essential cowardice. Cowardice is its head and front and bones andblood. One boy does not single out another boy of his own weight, andtake his chances in a fair stand-up fight. But a party of Sophomoresclub together in such numbers as to render opposition useless, andpounce upon their victim unawares, as Brooks and his minions pouncedupon Sumner, and as the Southern chivalry is given to doing. For sweetpity's sake, let this mode of warfare be monopolized by the Southernchivalry. 

The lame excuse is offered, that it does the Freshmen good, --takes theconceit out of them. But if there is any class in college so divested ofconceit as to be justified in throwing stones, it is surely not theSophomore Class. Moreover, whatever good it may do the sufferers, itdoes harm, and only harm, to the perpetrators; and neither the law northe gospel requires a man to improve other people's characters at theexpense of his own. Nobody can do a wrong without injuring himself; andno young man can do a mean, cowardly wrong like this without sufferingseverest injury. It is the very spirit of the slaveholder, a dastardlyand detestable, a tyrannical and cruel spirit. If young men are soblinded by custom and habit that a meanness is not to them a meannessbecause it has been practised for years, so much the worse for the youngmen, and so much the worse for our country, whose sweat of blood atteststhe bale and blast which this evil spirit has wrought. If uprightness, if courage, if humanity and rectitude and the mind conscious to itselfof right, are anything more than a name. Let the young men who mean tomake time minister to life scorn and scotch and kill this debasing andstupid practice. 

And why is not some legitimate and wholesome safety-valve provided byauthority to let off superabundant vitality, that boys may not, by themere occasions of their own natures, be driven into wickedness?Class-Day is very well, but it comes only once a year, and what isneeded is an opportunity for daily ebullition, so that each night maysquare its own account and forestall explosion. Why should there not be, for instance, a military department to every college, as well as amathematical department? Why might not every college be a militarynormal school? The exuberance and riot of animal spirits, the young, adventurous strength and joy in being, would not only be kept fromstriking out as now in illegitimate, unworthy, and hurtful directions, but it would become the very basis and groundwork of useful purposes. Such exercise would be so promotive of health and discipline, it wouldso train and harmonize and _limber_ the physical powers, that thesuperior quality of study would, I doubt not, more than atone forwhatever deficiency in quantity might result. And even suppose a littleless attention should be given to Euclid and Homer, which is of thegreater importance nowadays, an ear that can detect a false quantity ina Greek verse, or an eye that can sight a Rebel nine hundred yards off, and a hand that can pull a trigger and shoot him? Knowledge is power;but knowledge must sharpen its edges and polish its points, if it wouldbe greatliest available in days like these. The knowledge that can plantbatteries and plan campaigns, that is fertile in expedients and wise tobaffle the foe, is just now the strongest power. Diagrams andfirst-aorists are good, and they who have fed on such meat have growngreat, and done the State service in their generation; but these timesdemand new measures and new men. It is conceded that we shall probablybe for many years a military nation. At least a generation of vigilanceshall be the price of our liberty. And even of peace we can have nostronger assurance than a wise and wieldy readiness for war. Now theeducation of our unwarlike days is not adequate to the emergencies ofthis martial hour. We must be seasoned with something stronger thanAttic salt, or we shall be cast out and trodden under foot of men. True, all education is worthy. Everything that exercises the mind fits it forits work; but professional education is indispensable to professionalmen. And the profession, _par excellence_, of every man of thisgeneration is war. Country overrides all personal considerations. Lawyer, minister, what not, a man's first duty is the salvation of hiscountry. When she calls, he must go; and before she calls, let him, ifpossible, prepare himself to serve her in the best manner. As things arenow, college-boys are scarcely better than cow-boys for the army. Theircostly education runs greatly to waste. It gives them no directadvantage over the clod who stumbles against a trisyllable. So far as itmakes them better men, of course they are better soldiers; but for allof military education which their college gives them, they are fit onlyfor privates, whose sole duty is to obey. They know nothing of militarydrill or tactics or strategy. The State cannot afford this waste. Shecannot afford to lose the fruits of mental toil and discipline. Sheneeds trained mind even more than trained muscle. It is harder to findbrains than to find hands. The average mental endowment may be no higherin college than out; but granting it to be as high, the culture which itreceives gives it immense advantage. The fruits of that culture, readiness, resources, comprehensiveness, should all be held in theservice of the State. Military knowledge and practice should be impartedand enforced to utilize ability, and make it the instrument, not only ofpersonal, but of national welfare. That education which gives men theadvantage over others in the race of life should be so directed as toconvey that advantage to country, when she stands in need. Every collegemight and should be made a nursery of athletes in mind and body, clear-eyed, stout-hearted, strong-limbed, cool-brained, --a nursery ofsoldiers, quick, self-possessed, brave and cautious and wary, ready ininvention, skilful to command men and evolve from a mob an army, --anursery of gentlemen, reminiscent of no lawless revels, midnight orgies, brutal outrages, launching out already attainted into an attaintingworld, but with many a memory of adventure, wild, it may be, and notover-wise, yet pure as a breeze from the hills, --banded and sworn

 "To serve as model for the mighty world, To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, To lead sweet lives in purest chastity, Not only to keep down the base in man, But teach high thought, and amiable words. And courtliness, and the desire of fame, And love of truth, and all that makes a man. "

 * * * * *

LOVE'S CHALLENGE. 

 I picked this trifle from the floor, Unknowing from whose tender hand It fell, --but now would fain restore A thing which hath my heart unmanned. 

 I say unmanned, for 't is not now A manly mood to dream of Love, When each bold champion knits his brow, And for War's gauntlet doffs his glove. 

 But we're exempt, and have no heart Of wreak within us for the fray; And therefore teach our souls the art With life and life's concerns to play. 

 Yet, lady, trust me, 't is not all In play that I proclaim intent, When next thou lett'st thy gauntlet fall, To take it as a challenge meant. 

 REPLY. 

 SIR CARPET-KNIGHT, who canst not fight, Thy gallantries are not for me; The man whom I with love requite Must sing in a more martial key. 

 I have two brothers on the field, And one beneath it, --none knows where; And I shall keep my spirit steeled To any save a soldier's prayer. 

 If thou have music in thy soul, Yet hast no sinew for the strife, Go teach thyself the war-drum's roll, And woo me better with a fife!

 * * * * *

POLITICAL PROBLEMS, AND CONDITIONS OF PEACE. 

The relations existing between the Federal Government and the severalStates, and the reciprocal rights and powers of each, have never beensettled, except in part. Upon matters of taxation and commerce, and thediversified questions that arise in times of peace, the decisions of theSupreme Court have marked the boundary-lines of State and Federal powerwith considerable clearness and precision. But all these questions aresuperficial and trivial, when compared with those which are coming upfor decision out of the great struggle in which we are now engaged. TheSouthern Rebellion, greater than any recorded in history since the worldbegan, must necessarily call for the exercise of all the powers withwhich the Government is clothed. And we need not be surprised, if, inresorting to the new measures which the great exigency of the newcondition seems to require, it shall be found, after the storm hasceased and the clouds have rolled away, that in some things theGovernment has transcended its legitimate powers, while in others it hassuffered, because fearing to use those which it really possesses. It isdependent in many things upon the States; and yet it is supreme overthem all. There can be no Senate, as a branch either of the executive orof the legislative department, without the action of the States; and yetthe Government emanates directly from the people. In defending itselfagainst an armed rebellion of nearly half the States themselves, struggling for self-preservation, it may rightfully, as in other wars, grasp all the means within its reach. War makes its own methods, for allof which necessity is a sufficient plea. But when the defence shall havebeen made, when the attack is repelled, and the Rebellion shall havebeen fully suppressed, then will come the questions, What are the bestmeans of restoration? and, How shall a recurrence of the evil beprevented?

Though the Federal Government is one of limited powers, _the people_possess _all governmental powers_; and these are spoken of as powers_delegated_ and powers _reserved_. So far as these are reserved to _thepeople_, they may be exercised either through the _Federal Government_or the _State_. And the Federal Government, though limited in itspowers, is restricted in _the subjects upon which it can act_, ratherthan in the _quantum_ of power it can exercise over those matters withinits jurisdiction. Over those interests which are committed to its careit has all the powers incident to any other government in theworld, --powers necessary by implication to accomplish the purposeintended. The construction of the grant in the Constitution is not to becritical and stringent, as if the people, by its adoption, were_selling_ power to a _stranger_, --but liberal, considering that theywere enabling _their own agents_ to achieve a noble work for them. 

We have been accustomed to extol the wisdom of our fathers, in framingand establishing such a form of government; but our highest praises havebeen too small. We have hitherto had but a partial conception of theirwisdom. We knew not the terrible test to which their work was to beexposed. After the long discipline of the Revolutionary War, and theexperience of the weakness and impending anarchy of the Confederation, they understood, far better than we, the dangers to which everygovernment is liable, from within and from without. And we are just nowbeginning to see, that, in the Constitution they adopted, they not onlyprovided for the interests of peace, but for the dangers and emergenciesof war. Brief sentences, hardly noticed before, now throw open theirdoors like a magazine of arms, ready for use in the hour of peril. Andwhile we shall come out of this struggle, and the political contestthat will follow it, without impairing any of the rights of the States, the Federal Government _restored_ will stand before the world in amajesty of strength of which we have before had no conception. 

The questions evolved by the war are already attracting publicattention. It is well that they should do so. The peace and prosperityof the country in future years depend upon their solution. They are sointerwoven that a mistake in regard to one may involve us in othererrors. The power of the Government so to remove the cause of thepresent rebellion as to prevent its recurrence, if it have any suchpower, is one which it is imperatively bound to exercise, --else all thetreasure and blood expended in quelling it will be wasted. Has it anysuch power? Can Slavery be exterminated? And can the Rebel States beheld as conquests, and be restored only upon condition of being foreverfree? It is proposed briefly to discuss these questions. 

EMANCIPATION. 

There are those who believe that the President's Proclamation will ceaseto be of any force at the close of the war, and that no slaves will haveany right to their freedom by it except such as may be actuallyliberated by the military authorities. 

There are others, who hold that the Proclamation has the force oflaw, --that by it every slave within the designated territory has now alegal right to his liberty, --and that, if the military power does notsecure that right to him _during the war_, he may successfully appeal tothe civil power _afterwards_. 

If the Proclamation is a law, it must be conceded, that, like all thelaws of war, it will cease to be in force when the war is closed. Butif, like a legislative act, it confers actual rights on the slaves, whether they are able to secure them in fact or not, then those _rights_are not lost, though the law cease to exist. On the other hand, if itconfers no actual rights on any who are beyond its reach, --if it ismerely an _offer_ of freedom to all who can come and receive it, --thenthose only who do receive it while the offer continues will have anyrights by it when it has ceased to be in force. 

The position of Mr. Adams on this subject seems to have beenmisunderstood. When his remarks in Congress are carefully examined, itwill be found that he did not claim that the proclamation of a militarycommander would operate, like a statute, to confer the right of freedomupon all the slaves in an invaded country. But he asserted a generalprinciple of international law, --that the commander of an invading armyis not bound to recognize the municipal laws of the country, --that hemay treat all as freemen, though some are slaves. And he claimed, that, in case of a servile war in this country, our army would have a right tosuppress the insurrection by giving freedom to the insurgents. In regardto the effect of such a proclamation upon those not liberated by themilitary power, he expressed no opinion. 

The precedents usually cited are not any more satisfactory. In Hayti, and in the South-American republics, emancipation became an establishedfact by the action of the civil power. In each case a proclamation bythe military power was the initial step; but the consummation wasattained by the fact that the same power afterwards became dominant incivil, as well as in military affairs. 

Conceding, then, that the Proclamation is but a declaration of thewar-policy, designed and adapted to secure a still higher end, --thepreservation and perpetuity of our free institutions, --it is stillclaimed that the Government has the right to pursue this policy untilSlavery is abolished, _and forever prohibited_, within all the RebelStates. 

Though we speak of the Rebellion as an "insurrection, " it has assumedsuch proportions that we are in a state of actual war. Nor does it makeany difference that it is a _civil_ war. It has just been decided bythe Supreme Court of the United States, _that we have the same rightsagainst the people and States in rebellion_, by the law of nations, thatwe should have against _alien enemies_. The property of non-combatantsis liable to confiscation, as _enemies'_ property; and it makes nodifference that some of them are _personally_ loyal. All the inhabitantsof the Rebel States have the rights of _enemies_ only. The recent casesof the Brilliant, Hiawatha, and Amy Warwick settle this beyond allquestion. There was some difference of opinion among the judges, butonly on the question whether this condition _preceded_ the Act ofCongress of July, 1861, --a majority holding that it did, commencing withthe proclamation of the blockade. So that it cannot be denied that wemay treat the Rebel States as _enemies_, and adopt all measures againstthem _which any belligerents engaged in a just war may adopt_. 

And no principle of the law of nations is more universally admitted thanthis, --that the party in the right, after the war is commenced, maycontinue to carry it on until the enemy shall submit to such terms aswill be a sufficient indemnity for all the losses and expenses caused byit, _and will prevent another war in the future_. And to this end he mayconquer and hold in subjection people and territory, until such termsare submitted to. And until then, the state of war continues. The rightto impose such terms as will _secure peace in the future_ is one of thefundamental principles of international law. 

"Of the absolute international rights of States, " says Mr. Wheaton, "oneof the most essential and important, and that which lies at thefoundation of all the rest, is _the right of self-preservation_. Thisright necessarily involves all other incidental rights which areessential as means to give effect to the principal end. "

"The end of a just war, " says Vattel, "is to avenge, _or prevent_, injury. "

"If _the safety of the State_ lies at stake, our precaution andforesight cannot be extended too far. Must we delay to arrest our ruinuntil it has become inevitable?"

"Where the end is lawful, he who has the right to pursue that end has, of course, a right to employ all the means necessary for itsattainment. "

"When the conqueror has totally subdued a nation, he undoubtedly may, inthe first place, do himself justice respecting the object which hadgiven rise to the war, and indemnify himself for the expenses anddamages sustained by it; he may, according to the exigency of the case, subject the nation to punishment by way of example; and he may, _ifprudence require it, render her incapable of doing mischief with thesame ease in future_. "

"Every nation, " says Chancellor Kent, "has an undoubted right to providefor its own safety, and to take due precaution against _distant_, aswell as impending danger. "

Our rights _as belligerents_, therefore, are ample for our security intime to come. The Rebel States will not cease to be enemies by beingdefeated and exhausted and disabled from continuing active hostilities. They have invoked the laws of war, and they must abide the decision ofthe tribunal to which they have appealed. We may hold them _as enemies_until they submit to such reasonable terms of peace as we may demand. Whether we shall require any indemnity for the vast expenditures andlosses to which we have been subjected is a question of great magnitude;but it is of little importance compared with that of guarding against arecurrence of the Rebellion, by removing _the cause_ of it. It would beworse than madness to restore them to all their former rights under thegovernment they have done their utmost to destroy, and at the same timepermit them to retain a system that would surely involve us or ourchildren in another struggle of the same kind. 

Slavery and freedom cannot permanently coexist under the samegovernment. There is an inevitable, perpetual, irrepressible conflictbetween them. The present rebellion is but the culmination of thisconflict, long existing, --transferred from social and political life tothe camp and the battle-field. _In the new arena, we have all the rightsof belligerents in an international war. _ Slavery has taken the sword;let it perish by the sword. If we spare it, its wickedness will beexceeded by our folly. As victors, the world concedes our right todemand, for our own future peace, as the only terms of restoration, notonly the abolition of Slavery in all the Rebel States, but itsprohibition in all coming time. It cannot be, that, with the terriblelessons of these passing years, we shall be so utterly destitute ofwisdom and prudence as to leave our children exposed to the dangers ofanother rebellion, after entailing upon them the vast burdens of this, by our national debt. 

It has been said, that, if Slavery should be abolished, the States couldafterwards reestablish it. This is claimed, on the ground that everyState may determine for itself the character of its own domesticinstitutions. The right to do so has been conceded to some of the newStates. 

But it should be remembered that this right has been, to establishSlavery _by bringing in slaves from the old States_, --not by taking_citizens of the United States_, and reducing _them_ to slavery. If onesuch citizen can be enslaved, then can any other; and the veryfoundations of the Federal Government can be overturned by a State. Fora government that cannot protect _its own citizens_ from loss ofcitizenship by being chattellized is no government at all. 

Citizenship is a reciprocal relation. The citizen owes allegiance; thegovernment owes protection. When a person is naturalized, he takes theoath of allegiance. Does he got nothing in return? Can a State annul allthe rights which the Federal Government has conferred? Then, indeed, would it be better for those who come to our shores to remain citizensof the old nations; for _they_ could protect them, but _we_ cannot. Then, to be a citizen of the United States--a privilege we had thoughtgreater than that of Roman citizenship when that empire was in itsglory--is a privilege which any State may annul at its pleasure!

The power and position of a nation depend upon the number, wealth, intelligence, and power of its citizens. And the nation, in order toemploy and develop its resources, must have free scope for the use ofits powers. No State has a right to block the path of the United States, or in any way to "retard, impede, or burden it, in the execution of itspowers. " For this reason, if a citizen is wealthy enough to lend moneyto the Federal Government, a State cannot _tax his scrip_ to the amountof one cent. But, if the doctrine contended for by some is sound, thenit may take _the citizen himself_, confiscate the whole of his property, blot out his citizenship, and make a chattel of him, and the FederalGovernment can afford him no protection! Among all the doctrines thatSlavery has originated in this country, there is none more monstrousthan this. 

But this is not a question of any practical importance at this time. There is no danger that Slavery will ever be tolerated where it has beenonce abolished. It may go into new fields; it seldom returns to thosefrom which it has been driven. The institutions of learning and religionthat follow in the path of freedom, if they find a congenial soil, arenot likely to be supplanted by the dark and noxious exotics of ignoranceand barbarism. 

And besides, as we have already seen, it is our right, as one of theconditions of restoration, to provide for the _perpetual prohibition_ ofSlavery within the Rebel States. This, like the Ordinance of 1787, willstand as an insurmountable barrier in all time to come. And the securityit will afford will be even more certain. For, while there may be adifference of opinion in regard to the effect of a law of Congressrelating to existing Territories, there is no doubt that conditionsimposed at the time upon the admission of new States, or the restorationof the Rebel States, will be of perpetual obligation. 

RIGHTS OF REBEL STATES. 

On this subject there are two theories, each of which has advocatesamong our most eminent statesmen. 

By some it is claimed that the Rebels have lost all rights as citizensof States, and are in the condition of the inhabitants of unorganizedterritories belonging to the United States, --and that, having forfeitedtheir rights, they can never be restored to their former position, except by the consent of the Federal Government. This consent may begiven by admitting them as new States, or restoring them as old, --theGovernment having the right in either case to annex terms andconditions. 

There are others who contend that the Rebel States, though in rebellion, have lost none of their rights as States, --that the moment they submitthey may choose members of Congress and Presidential electors, anddemand, and we must concede, the same position they formerly held. Thistheory has been partially recognized by the present Administration, butnot to an extent that precludes the other from being adopted, if it isright. 

If the people of the States which have seceded, as soon as they submit, have an absolute right to resume their former position in theGovernment, with their present constitutions upholding Slavery, itcertainly will be a great, if not an insurmountable, obstacle to theadoption of those measures which may be necessary to secure our peace inthe future. That they have no such right, it is believed may be madeperfectly clear. 

If we triumph, we shall have all the rights which, by the laws ofnations, belong to conquerors in a just war. In a civil war, the rightsof conquest may not be of the same nature as in a war between differentnations; but that there are such rights in all wars has already beenstated on the highest authority. If a province, having definiteconstitutional rights, revolts, and attempts to overthrow the power ofthe central government, it would be a strange doctrine, to claim, that, after being subdued, it had risked and lost nothing by the undertaking. No authority can be found to sustain such a proposition. A rebellionputs everything at risk. Any other doctrine would hold out encouragementto all wicked and rebellious spirits. If they revolt, they know thateverything is staked upon the chances of success. Everything is lost bydefeat. By the laws of war, long established among the nations, --lawswhich the Rebel States have themselves invoked, --if they fail, they willhave no right to be restored, except upon such terms as our Governmentmay prescribe. The right to make war, conferred by the Constitution, carries with it all the rights and powers incident to a war, necessaryfor its successful prosecution, and essential to prevent its recurrence. 

But without resorting to the extraordinary powers incident to a state ofwar, the same conclusion, in regard to the effect of a rebellion by aState Government, results from the relations which the States sustain tothe Federal Government. Though they cannot escape its jurisdiction, their position, _as States_, is one which may be forfeited and lost. 

It has been objected that this doctrine is equivalent to a recognitionof the right of Secession, because it concedes the power of any oneState to withdraw from the Union. But the fallacy of this objection iseasily demonstrated. 

The Federal Government does not emanate from the States, but directlyfrom the people. The relation between them is that _of protection_ onthe one hand and _allegiance_ on the other. This relation cannot bedissolved by either party, unless by voluntary or compulsoryexpatriation. It subsists alike in States and Territories, not beingdependent upon any local government. The Rebels claim the right todissolve this relation, and to become free from and independent of theFederal Government, though retaining the same territory as before. Wedeny any such right, and hold, that, though they may forfeit theirrights _as a State_, they are still bound by, and under the jurisdictionof, the Federal Government. This jurisdiction, though absolute in allplaces, is not the same in all. 

In the District of Columbia, and in all unorganized territories, thejurisdiction of the Federal Government is exclusive in its _extent_, aswell as in its _nature_. It must protect the inhabitants in _all_ theirrights, --for there is no other power to protect them. They oweallegiance to it, and to no other. 

The inhabitants of the _organized_ territories, though under the generaljurisdiction of the Federal Government, are, to some extent, under thejurisdiction of the Territorial Governments. Each is bound to protectthem in certain things; they are bound to support and obey each incertain things. 

The people of a State are also under the absolute jurisdiction of theFederal Government in all matters embraced in the Constitution. They oweit unqualified allegiance and support in those things. But they arealso, in some matters, under the jurisdiction of the State Government, and owe allegiance to that. There are many matters over which both havejurisdiction, and in which the citizens have a right to look to each, orboth, for protection. The courts of each issue writs of _habeas corpus_, and give the citizens their liberty, unless there is legal cause fortheir custody or restraint. 

Now, if a State Government forfeits all right to the allegiance andsupport of its citizens, they are not thereby absolved from theirallegiance to the Federal Government. On the contrary, the jurisdictionof the Federal Government is thereby enlarged; for it is then the onlyGovernment which the citizens are bound to obey. Take, for illustration, the State of Arkansas. By seceding, the State Government forfeited allclaim to the obedience of the citizens. The inhabitants no longer owe itany allegiance. If loyal, they will not obey it, except as compelled byforce. But they still owe allegiance to the United States Government. And there being no other Government which they are bound to obey, theyare in the same condition as before the State was admitted into theUnion, or any Territorial Government was organized. 

The same is true of South Carolina. For, though it was an independentState before the Constitution was adopted, its citizens voluntarilyyielded up that position, and became subject to the Federal Government, claiming the privileges and assuming the liabilities of a highercitizenship. And if, by reason of its rebellion, their State Governmenthas forfeited its claim upon them, and its right to rule over them, theyowe no allegiance to any except the Government of the United States. 

But it is argued by some, that a State, once admitted into the Union, cannot forfeit its rights as a State under the Constitution, because itcannot, as such, be guilty of treason; that the inhabitants may all betraitors, and the State Government secede, and engage in a war againstthe Republic, and yet retain all its rights intact. 

A State, in the meaning of public law, has been defined to be a body ofpersons _united together_ in one community, for the defence of theirrights. They do not constitute a State until _organized_. If theorganization ceases to exist, they are no longer a State. If the Stateorganization becomes despotic, and the inhabitants overthrow it by arevolution, it then ceases to exist. The people are remitted to theiroriginal rights, and must organize a new State. 

A State, as such, may be guilty of treason. Crimes may be committed byorganized bodies of men. Corporations are often convicted, and punishedby fines, or by a forfeiture of all corporate rights. And though we haveno provision for putting a State on trial, it may, as a State, beguilty. Treason is defined by the Constitution to be "levying waragainst the United States. " This is just what South Carolina, as aState, is doing. Not only the people, but _the State Government_, hasrevolted. The people owe it no allegiance. It is their duty, not tosupport, but to _oppose_ it. The Federal Government owes it norecognition. It has the right to destroy and exterminate it. A StateGovernment in rebellion has no rights under the Constitution. _It isitself a rebellion_, and must necessarily cease to exist when therebellion is suppressed. 

And when the State Government which has revolted shall be conquered andoverthrown, there will then be no South Carolina in existence. If therewere loyal people enough there, bond or free, to rise up and overthrowit, they would be no more bound to revive the old Constitution, with itstyrannical provisions, than were our fathers to return to the BritishGovernment. Such a revolution is inaugurated in that State, by loyalmen, to overthrow the despotic power of the State Government. If theState Government had remained loyal, it might have called on the FederalGovernment. But by seceding it has justified the Federal Government inaiding or organizing a revolution against it, for its utter overthrowand extinction. 

It is true, indeed, the idea prevails that there is still, somehow, aState of South Carolina, besides that which is in rebellion. But theState must exist _in fact_, or it has no existence. There is no suchthing as a merely theoretical State, separate and different from theactual. The revolted States are the same States that were once loyal. And when some loyal citizens in each of them, with the aid of theFederal Government, have overthrown and destroyed them, the ground willbe cleared for the formation of new States, or the _reorganization_ ofthe old; and they may be admitted or restored, upon such conditions asmay be deemed wise and prudent, to promote and secure the future peaceand welfare of the whole country. 

There is no evidence that loyal persons in the Rebel States claim ordesire to uphold the existence of those States, under their presentconstitutions, with the system of Slavery. But if there are any suchpersons, their wishes are not to override the interests of the Republic. It is their misfortune to reside in States that have revolted; and alltheir losses, pecuniary and political, are chargeable to those States, and not to the Federal Government. If they are so blind as to supposethat their losses will be increased by emancipation, _that_, also, willbe chargeable to the rebellion of those States. _Their_ loyalty does notsave those States from being treated as enemies; it does not prevent_their own_ condition from being determined by that of their States. Asit is well known, a portion of their property has been confiscated by anAct of Congress, on the ground that they are, in part, responsible forthe rebellion of those States. The theory, therefore, that such loyalmen constitute loyal States, still existing, in distinction from theStates that have rebelled, is utterly groundless. On this point wecannot do better than quote from the opinion of the Supreme Court of theUnited States in a case already referred to, sustaining the belligerentlegislation of Congress. 

"In organizing this rebellion, _they have acted as States_, claiming tobe sovereign over all persons and property within their respectivelimits, and claiming the right to absolve their citizens from theirallegiance to the Federal Government. Several of these States havecombined to form a new Confederacy, claiming to be acknowledged by theworld as a sovereign State. Their right to do so is now being decided bywager of battle. The ports and territory of each of these States areheld in hostility to the General Government. It is no loose, unorganizedinsurrection, having no defined boundary or possession. It has aboundary, marked by lines of bayonets, and which can be crossed only byforce. South of this line is enemy's territory, because it is claimedand held in possession by an organized, hostile, and belligerent power. All persons residing within this territory, whose property may be usedto increase the revenues of the hostile power, are in this contestliable to be treated as enemies. "

It is not to be presumed that Congress will do anything unnecessarily toadd to the misfortunes of loyal men in the South. On the contrary, allthat is being done is more directly for their benefit than for that ofany other class of men. The vast expenditure of treasure and blood inthis war is for the purpose of protecting them first of all, andrestoring to them the blessings of a good government. And if it shall befound practicable to indemnify them for all losses, whether byemancipation or otherwise, no one will object. 

 * * * * *

The object of this article is to prove that the Government possessesample power, according to the law of nations, to suppress the Rebellion, and secure the country against the danger of another, by Emancipation, through the military power; that, though Emancipation is a _policy_, andnot a _law_, the war may be prosecuted until this end is accomplished, and Slavery in future forever prohibited; that, by secession andrebellion, the revolted States have forfeited all right to theallegiance of their citizens, who are thereby remitted to the conditionand rights of citizens solely of the United States; and that the FederalGovernment, as well _under the Constitution_ as _by right of conquest_, may impose such terms upon the reorganization and restoration of thoseStates as may be necessary to secure present safety, and avert danger intime to come. These views are presented in as brief and simple terms aspossible, with the hope that they may be adopted by the people and bythe Government. It is confidently believed, that, if the President andCongress will act in accordance with them, their acts will be fullysustained by the Supreme Court, --and that, the element and source ofdiscord being at last entirely removed from the country, a career ofpeace and prosperity will then begin which shall be the admiration ofthe world. 

At this time we present a humiliating spectacle to other nations: nearlyhalf of our national temple in ruins, --the work of blind folly and madambition. The people of the North claimed no right to tear it down, oreven to repair it. But since the people of the South have risen inrebellion, let us believe that there is now an opportunity, nay, animperative _necessity_, to remove from its foundations the rock ofOppression, that was sure to crumble in the refining fires of aChristian civilization, and establish in its place the stone ofLIBERTY, --unchanging and eternal as its Author. Let us rejoice in thehope, already brightening into fruition, that out of these ruins ourtemple shall rise again, in a fresher beauty, a firmer strength, abrighter glory, --and above it again shall float the old flag, every starrestored, henceforth to all, of every color and every race, the flag ofthe free. 

 * * * * *

REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES. 

_Journal of a Residence on a Georgian Plantation in 1838-39. _ By FRANCESANNE KEMBLE. New York: Harper & Brothers. 

Those who remember the "Journal of a Residence in America, " of FrancesAnne Kemble, or, as she was universally and kindly called, FannyKemble, --a book long since out of print, and entirely out of theknowledge of our younger readers, --will not cease to wonder, as theyclose these thoughtful, tranquil, and tragical pages. The earlierjournal was the dashing, fragmentary diary of a brilliant girl, halfimpatient of her own success in an art for which she was peculiarlygifted, yet the details of which were sincerely repugnant to her. Itcrackled and sparkled with _naïve_ arrogance. It criticized a new worldand fresh forms of civilization with the amusing petulance of a spoileddaughter of John Bull. It was flimsy, flippant, laughable, rollicking, vivid. It described scenes and persons, often with airy grace, oftenwith profound and pensive feeling. It was the slightest of diaries, written in public for the public; but it was universally read, as itsauthor had been universally sought and admired in the sphere of her art;and no one who knew anything of her truly, but knew what an incisiveeye, what a large heart, what a candid and vigorous mind, what realhumanity, generosity, and sympathy, characterized Miss Kemble. 

The dazzling phantasmagoria which life had been to the young actress wassuddenly exchanged for the most practical acquaintance with itsrealities. She was married, left the stage, and as a wife and motherresided for a winter on the plantations of her husband upon the coast ofGeorgia. And now, after twenty-five years, the journal of her residencethere is published. It has been wisely kept. For never could such a bookspeak with such power as at this moment. The tumult of the war will beforgotten, as you read, in the profound and appalled attention enforcedby this remarkable revelation of the interior life of Slavery. Thespirit, the character, and the purpose of the Rebellion are here laidbare. Its inevitability is equally apparent. The book is a permanent andmost valuable chapter in our history; for it is the first ample, lucid, faithful, detailed account, from the actual head-quarters of aslave-plantation in this country, of the workings of the system, --itspersistent, hopeless, helpless crushing of humanity in the slave, andthe more fearful moral and mental dry-rot it generates in the master. 

We have had plenty of literature upon the subject. First of all, inspirit and comprehension, the masterly, careful, copious, and patientworks of Mr. Olmsted. But he, like Arthur Young in France, was only anobserver. He could be no more. "Uncle Tom, " as its "Key" shows, and asMrs. Kemble declares, was no less a faithful than the most famouswitness against the system. But it was a novel. Then there was "AmericanSlavery as it is, " a work of authenticated facts, issued by the AmericanAnti-Slavery Society in 1839, and the fearful mass of testimonyincessantly published by the distinctively Abolition papers, periodicals, books, and orators, during the last quarter of a century. But the world was deaf. "They have made it a business. They select allthe horrors. They accumulate exceptions. " Such were the objections thatlimited the power of this tremendous battery. Meanwhile, also, it wasanswered. Foreign tourists were taken to "model plantations. " They shedtears over the patriarchal benignity of this venerable and beautifulprovision of Divine Providence for the spiritual training of our Africanfellow-creatures. The affection of "Mammy" for "Massa and Missis" wassomething unknown where hired labor prevailed. Graver voices took up theburden of the song. There was no pauperism in a slave-country. Therewere no prostitutes. It had its disadvantages, certainly; but what formof society, what system of labor has not? Besides, here it was. It wasthe interest of slaveholders to be kind. And what a blessing to bringthe poor heathen from benighted Africa and pagan servitude to theennobling influences of Slavery, as practised among SouthwesternChristians in America, and "professors" in South Carolina and Georgia!See the Reverend Mr. Adams and Miss Murray _passim_. This was theanswer made to the statements of the actual facts of the system, when itwas found that the question had gone before public opinion, and would bedecided upon its merits by that tribunal, all the panders, bullies, assassins, apologists, and chaplains of Slavery to the contrarynotwithstanding. In fact, when that was once clearly perceived, theissue was no less visible; only whether it were to be reached by war orpeace was not so plain. 

Yet in all this tremendous debate which resounds through the last thirtyyears of our history, rising and swelling until every other sound waslost in its imperious roar, one decisive voice was silent. It wasprecisely that which is heard in this book. General statements, harrowing details from those who had been slaveholders, and who hadrenounced Slavery, were sometimes made public. Indeed, the most crueland necessary incidents, the hunting with blood-hounds, the branding, the maiming, the roasting, the whipping of pregnant women, could not bekept from knowledge. They blazed into print. But the public, hundreds ofmiles away, while it sighed and shuddered a little, resolved that suchatrocities were exceptional. 'Twas a shocking pity, to be sure! Poorthings! Women, too! Tut, tut!

Now, at last, we have no general statement, no single, sickeningincident, but the diary of the mistress of plantations of seven hundredslaves, living under the most favorable circumstances, upon the islandsat the mouth of the Altamaha River, in Georgia. It is a journal, keptfrom day to day, of the actual ordinary life of the plantation, wherethe slaves belonged to educated, intelligent, and what are called themost respectable people, --not persons imbruted by exile among slavesupon solitary islands, but who had lived in large Northern cities andthe most accomplished society, subject to all the influences of thehighest civilization. It is the journal of a hearty, generous, clear-sighted woman, who went to the plantation, loving the master, andbelieving, that, though Slavery might be sad, it might also bemitigated, and the slave might be content. It is the record of ghastlyundeceiving, --of the details of a system so wantonly, brutally, damnablyunjust, inhuman, and degrading, that it blights the country, paralyzescivilization, and vitiates human nature itself. The brilliant girl ofthe earlier journal is the sobered and solemnized matron of this. Thevery magnitude of the misery that surrounds her, the traces of whicheverywhere sadden her eye and wring her heart, compel her to thesimplest narration. There is no writing for effect. There is not asingle "sensational" passage. The story is monotonous; for the wrong itdescribes is perpetual and unrelieved. "There is not a single naturalright, " she says, after some weeks' residence, "that is not taken awayfrom these unfortunate people; and the worst of all is, that theircondition does not appear to me, upon further observation of it, to besusceptible of even partial alleviation, as long as the fundamentalevil, the Slavery itself, remains. "

As the mistress of the plantation, she was brought into constantintercourse with the slave-women; and no other account of this class isso thorough and plainly stated. So pitiful a tale was seldom told. Itwas a "model plantation"; but every day was darkened to the mistress bythe appeals of these women and her observation of their condition. Theheart of the reader sickens as hers despaired. To produce "littleniggers" for Massa and Missis was the enforced ambition of these poorwomen. After the third week of confinement they were sent into thefields to work. If they lingered or complained, they were whipped. Forbeseeching the mistress to pray for some relief in their sad straits, they were also whipped. If their tasks were unperformed, or the driverlost his temper, they were whipped again. If they would not yield to theembrace of the overseer, they were whipped once more. How are theywhipped? They are tied by the wrists to a beam or the branch of a tree, their feet barely touching the ground, so that they are utterlypowerless to resist; their clothes are turned over their heads, andtheir backs scarred with a leathern thong, either by the driver himself, or by father, brother, husband, or lover, if the driver choose to orderit. What a blessing for these poor heathen that they are brought to aChristian land! When a band of pregnant women came to their master toimplore relief from overwork, he seemed "positively degraded" to hiswife, as he stood urging them to do their allotted tasks. She began tofear lest she should cease to respect the man she loved; "for thedetails of slaveholding are so unmanly, letting alone every otherconsideration, that I know not how any one with the spirit of a man cancondescend to them. " The master gives a slave as a present to anoverseer whose administration of the estate was agreeable to him. Theslave is intelligent and capable, the husband of a wife and the fatherof children, and they are all fondly attached to each other. Hepassionately declares that he will kill himself rather than follow hisnew master and leave wife and children behind. Roused by the storm ofgrief, the wife opens the door of her room, and beholds her husband, with his arms folded, advising his slave "not to make a fuss about whatthere is no help for. " The same master insists that there is no hardshipor injustice in whipping a woman who asks his wife to intercede for her, but confesses that it is "disagreeable. " At last he tells her that shemust no longer fatigue him with the "stuff" and "trash" which "theniggers, " who are "all d----d liars, " make her believe, andhenceforward closes his ears to all complaint. 

Yet this was a model plantation, and this was probably not a hardmaster, as masters go. "These are the conditions which can only be knownto one who lives among them. Flagrant acts of cruelty may be rare, butthis ineffable state of utter degradation, this really _beastly_existence, is the normal condition of these men and women; and of thatno one seems to take heed, nor had I ever heard it described so as toform any adequate conception of it, till I found myself plunged intoit.... Industry, man's crown of honor elsewhere, is here his badge ofutter degradation; and so comes all by which I am heresurrounded, --pride, profligacy, idleness, cruelty, cowardice, ignorance, squalor, dirt, and ineffable abasement. "

And yet this is the system which we have been in the habit of callingpatriarchal, because the model masters said it was so, and trade was tooprosperous to allow any difference with them! And these are the modelmasters, supported in luxury by all this unpaid labor and untold woe, these women-whippers and breeders of babies for sale, who have figuredin our talk and imaginations as "the chivalry" and "gentlemen"! Theseare they to whom American society has koo-too'd, and in whose presenceit has been ill-bred and uncourteous to say that every man has rights, that every laborer is worthy of his hire, that injustice is unjust, anduncleanness foul. No wonder that Russell, coming to New York, andfinding the rich men and the political confederates of the conspiratorsdeclaring that the Government of the United States could not helpitself, and that they would allow no interference with their Southernfriends, sincerely believed what he wished to, and wrote to John Bull, whose round face was red with eager desire to hear it, that theRevolution was virtually accomplished. No wonder that the haughtyslaveholders, smeared with sycophantic slime, at Newport, at Saratoga, in the "polite" and "conservative" Northern circles, believed what Mr. Hunter of Virginia told a Massachusetts delegate to the PeaceCongress, --that there would be no serious trouble, and that theMontgomery Constitution would be readily adopted by the "conservative"sentiment of the North. 

Mrs. Kemble's book shows what the miserable magic is that enchants theseSouthern American citizens into people whose philosophy of society woulddisgrace the Dark Ages, and whose social system is that of Dahomey. 

The life that she describes upon the model plantation is the necessarylife of Slavery everywhere, --injustice, ignorance, superstition, terror, degradation, brutality; and this is the system to which a greatpolitical party--counting upon the enervation of prosperity, thetimidity of trade, the distance of the suffering, the legal quibbles, the moral sophisms, the hatred of ignorance, the jealousy of race, andthe possession of power--has conspired to keep the nation blind anddeaf, trusting that its mind was utterly obscured and its consciencewholly destroyed. 

But the nation is young, and of course the effort has ended in civilwar. Slavery, industrially and politically, inevitably resists Christiancivilization. The natural progress and development of men into aconstantly higher manhood must cease, or this system, which strives toconvert men into things, must give way. Its haughty instinct knows it, and therefore Slavery rebels. This Rebellion is simply the insurrectionof Barbarism against Civilization. It would overthrow the Government, not for any wrong the Government has done, for that is not alleged. Itknows that the people are the Government, --that the spirit of the peopleis progressive and intelligent, --and that there is no hope for permanentand expansive injustice, so long as the people freely discuss anddecide. It would therefore establish a new Government, of which thismeanest and most beastly despotism shall be the chief corner-stone. In aletter to C. G. , in the appendix of her book, Mrs. Kemble sets this truthin the clearest light. But whoever would comprehend the real socialscope of the Rebellion should ponder every page of the journal itself. It will show him that Slavery and rebellion to this Government areidentical, not only in fact, but of necessity. It will teach him thatthe fierce battle between Slavery and the Government, once engaged, canend only in the destruction of one or the other. 

This is not a book which a woman like Mrs. Kemble publishes without asolemn sense of responsibility. A sadder book the human hand neverwrote, nor one more likely to arrest the thoughts of all those in theworld who watch our war and are yet not steeled to persuasion andconviction. An Englishwoman, she publishes it in England, which hatesus, that a testimony which will not be doubted may be useful to thecountry in which she has lived so long, and with which her sweetest andsaddest memories are forever associated. It is a noble service noblydone. The enthusiasm, the admiration, the affection, which in our day ofseemingly cloudless prosperity greeted the brilliant girl, have beenbountifully repaid by the true and timely words now spoken in ourseeming adversity by the grave and thoughtful woman. 

 * * * * *

_An Historical Research respecting the Opinions of the Founders of theRepublic on Negroes as Slaves, as Citizens, and as Soldiers. _ Readbefore the Massachusetts Historical Society, August 14, 1862. By GEORGELIVERMORE. Third Edition. Boston: A. Williams & Co. 

This Historical Research is one of the most valuable works that havebeen called out by the existing Rebellion. It is a thorough and candidexposition of the opinions of the founders of the Republic on negroes asslaves, as citizens, and as soldiers, and has done more, perhaps, thanany other single essay to form the public opinion of the present time inrespect to the position that the negro should rightfully hold in ourState and our army. It has, therefore, and will retain, a doubleinterest, as exhibiting and illustrating the opinions prevalent duringthe two most important periods of our history. It was first printed, several months since, for private distribution only. More than athousand copies were thus distributed by its public-spirited author. Bythis means the attention of persons in positions of influence was morereadily secured than it could have been, had the essay been published inthe ordinary way. The manner in which the research was conducted, theevidence afforded by every page of the author's conscientious labor, impartial selection, and exhaustive investigation, won immediateconfidence in his statements, while his obvious candor, fairness ofjudgment, and love of truth secured respect for his conclusions. Theinterest excited by the work extended to a wider circle than could besatisfied by any private issue, while its value became more and moreevident, so that, after its publication in the Proceedings of theMassachusetts Historical Society, the permission of the author wasobtained by the New-England Loyal Publication Society to issue the workin a form for general circulation. 

We are glad to assist, by our hearty commendation, the extension of theinfluence of this essay. It forms, as now issued, a handsome pamphlet oftwo hundred pages, with a full Table of Contents and a copious Index, and is for sale at a price which brings it within the means of every onewho may wish to obtain it. It is a book which should be in thereading-room of every Loyal League throughout the country, and of everymilitary hospital. Editors of the loyal press should be provided withit, as containing an arsenal of incontrovertible arguments with which tomeet the false assertions by which the maligners of the negro race andthe supporters of Slavery too often undertake to maintain their badcause. 

Exhibiting, as Mr. Livermore's book does, the contrast between theopinions of the founders of the Republic and those professed by thewould-be destroyers of the Republic, and showing, as it does, how far alarge portion even of the people of the North have fallen away from thejust and generous doctrine of the earlier time, it must lead everythoughtful reader to a deep sense of the need of a regeneration of thespirit of the nation, and to a confirmed conviction of theincompatibility of Slavery with national greatness and virtue. TheRebellion has taught us that the Republic is not safe while Slavery ispermitted to exercise any political power. It ought to teach us also, that, as long as Slavery exists in any of the States, it will not ceaseto exercise political power, and that the only means to make the nationsafe is utterly to abolish and destroy Slavery, wherever it is foundwithin its limits. Nor is this all; the lesson of the Rebellion is buthalf learned, unless we resolve that henceforth there shall be no fataldivision between our consciences, our principles, our theories, and ourtreatment of the black race, and unless we acknowledge their inalienableright to that justice by which alone the most ancient heavens and themost sacred institutions are fresh and strong. 

There is no better textbook for enforcing these lessons than Mr. Livermore's Research. 

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