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 +-------------------------------------------------+ |Transcriber's note: | | | |In this text a macron over letters has been | |represented by [=au], and a breve over a letter | |by [)i]. | +-------------------------------------------------+

IF, YES, AND PERHAPS. 

Four Possibilities and Six Exaggerations, with Some Bits of Fact. 

by

EDWARD E. HALE. 

Boston:Fields, Osgood, & Co. , Successors To Ticknor and Fields. 1869. 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1868, byTicknor and Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Districtof Massachusetts. 

University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co. , Cambridge. 

DEDICATION. 

I dedicate this book to the youngest of my friends, now two hours old. Fun, fact, and fancy, --may his fresh life mix the three in their justproportions. 

MILTON, June 6, 1868. 

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 

The title to this book has met with general opprobrium, except in a fewquarters, where it was fortunately regarded as beneath contempt. ColonelIngham even exacted an explanation by telegraph from the Editor, when helearned from the Governor-General of Northern Siberia what the titlewas. This explanation the Editor gave in the following note. It is, however, impossible to change the title, as he proposes. For reasonsknown to all statesmen, it is out of the question to swap horses incrossing a river; and all publishers know that it is equally impossibleto change titles under those circumstances. 

 BOSTON, October 17, 1868. MY DEAR COLONEL INGHAM:--

 I have your note complaining of the sensational title, "somewhat affected, " as you think, which I gave to our little story-book. Of course I am sorry you do not like the name; but, while you strike, I beg you to hear. 

 I readily acceded to your original title, and called the book in manuscript as you bade me, --

 "A Few Short Sketches taken from Ancient History, Modern Travel, and the Realm of Imagination, Illustrative of the Poetry of the Bible, the History of Christianity, the Manners of the Times, and the Politics of the Present and Past Generations. "

 This title would, I admit, meet the views of most of our present critics. But I abandoned it on my own responsibility, --you being then beyond the telegraph, at the mouth of the Oby River, --because it occurred to me, that, under the catalogue rules of Panizzi and the lamented Jewett, we should be indexed and catalogued at "Few. " I did not think that a good omen. 

 Relinquishing, therefore, the effort at description of subject, I tried description of object, and determined on this:--

 "Moral Sketches of Human Society, in the Past, the Present, and Imagined Worlds. " By F. I. , &c. , &c. , &c. 

 But, as I slept and waked on this, I said, "Who knows that these are _moral_ sketches?" We wished them to be moral, but Ingham's have been attacked by such patient critics as read them as being immoral, while many of the sketches seem to have no moral at all. Who are we, to claim that we have attained a moral standard?

 Waking and sleeping once more, I asked myself, "What are the things, --poor, nameless heathen children, that can get no sponsor and no Christian baptism?"

 I said, in reply, that at least one of them was the living truth, so far as it could be squeezed out of blue books and the most proper of documents. Others might have been true, if the destinies had so willed. Others would have been true, had they not been untrue. Others should have been true, had poetical justice been the working rule of a vulgar world. 

 "Might, Could, Would, or Should, " then, would have been an available name for most of them, --unless one took from the older grammars the title of "The Potential Mood. "

 But, you observe, my dear Ingham, that our little story-book is destined mostly for young readers, who know no more of "The Potential Mood" than they know of the surrender of Cornwallis (this day celebrated). And, besides, we have some facts in the treatise which are not hypothetical. Why ignore them? Do you not see that your miserable suggestion of "The Potential Mood" is as worthless as it is sensational and fails as not comprehensive, inadequate, unintelligible, and not true?

 For these reasons I settled on the plain, straightforward title of unadorned truth, viz. "Four Possibilities, Six Exaggerations, and some Bits of Fact"; and with this we went to the publisher. But, as I entered his shop, a boy from Dutton's rushed in with his order-book, and cried:--

 "I want seventy _Chimes_ and ninety _Ivanhoe_. "

 "What, " said I, "if, by any good fortune, it had been our story-book that was wanted, this boy would then have called for

 "'Seventy Four Possibilities. ' Can there be so many in a world which runs in grooves? Will he even get the number that he needs of our treatises? Alexander a robber! Let me reflect. "

 Reflecting thus, I determined that the title of a book must be, --

 1. Brief. 2. Intelligible. 3. Suggestive. 4. It must not begin with a numeral. 

 I took a Tremont Street car and returned home. 

 "What, " I said in the night-watches, "is the brief expression of a possibility? Surely it is in the word PERHAPS. 

 "What of a fact?

 "Surely it is YES. 

 "What of an exaggeration? Why, it is that which would be true If it had not been overstated. Our title then, clearly, is

 "PERHAPS, YES, AND IF. "

 I see that the critics would have been better satisfied with this. But, on the principle of the little elephants sacrificing themselves in the passage of a river, Mr. Fields and I determined to start the smallest word first, and thus to drive a gentle wedge into the close chasm of the public favor. Sensitive, however, as I am, dear Ingham, to your criticism, I will at the earliest opportunity consult with him as to a return to the original title:--

 "A Few Sketches * * * Illustrative, " &c. , &c. , &c. 

 Or might we not let the one word "Etcetera" stand alone? Or thus, with the stars, "* * * &c. , &c. , &c. "?

 Truly yours, E. E. HALE. 

CONTENTS. 

 PAGE THE CHILDREN OF THE PUBLIC 1

 A PIECE OF POSSIBLE HISTORY 58

 THE SOUTH AMERICAN EDITOR 78

 THE OLD AND THE NEW, FACE TO FACE 100

 THE DOT AND LINE ALPHABET 116

 THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE RESOLUTE 130

 MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME 171

 THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY 199

 THE LAST OF THE FLORIDA 242

 THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET 253

 CHRISTMAS WAITS IN BOSTON 270

THE CHILDREN OF THE PUBLIC. 

 [This story originated in the advertisement of the humbug which it describes. Some fifteen or twenty years since, when gift enterprises rose to one of their climaxes, a gift of a large sum of money, I think $10, 000, was offered in New York to the most successful ticket-holder in some scheme, and one of $5, 000 to the second. It was arranged that one of these parties should be a man and the other a woman; and the amiable suggestion was added, on the part of the undertaker of the enterprise, that if the gentleman and lady who drew these prizes liked each other sufficiently well when the distribution was made, they might regard the decision as a match made for them in Heaven, and take the money as the dowry of the bride. This thoroughly practical, and, at the same time, thoroughly absurd suggestion, arrested the attention of a distinguished story-teller, a dear friend of mine, who proposed to me that we should each of us write the history of one of the two successful parties, to be woven together by their union at the end. The plan, however, lay latent for years, --the gift enterprise of course blew up, --and it was not until the summer of 1862 that I wrote my half of the proposed story, with the hope of eliciting the other half. My friend's more important engagements, however, have thus far kept Fausta's detailed biography from the light. I sent my half to Mr. Frank Leslie, in competition for a premium offered by him, as is stated in the second chapter of the story. And the story found such favor in the eyes of the judges, that it received one of his second premiums. The first was very properly awarded to Miss Louisa Alcott, for a story of great spirit and power. "The Children of the Public" was printed in Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper for January 24 and January 31, 1863. The moral which it tries to illustrate, which is, I believe, an important one, was thus commended to the attention of the very large circle of the readers of that journal, --a journal to which I am eager to say I think this nation has been very largely indebted for the loyalty, the good sense, and the high tone which seem always to characterize it. During the war, the pictorial journals had immense influence in the army, and they used this influence with an undeviating regard to the true honor of the country. ]

CHAPTER I. 

THE PORK-BARREL. 

"Felix, " said my wife to me, as I came home to-night, "you will have togo to the pork-barrel. "

"Are you quite sure, " said I, --"quite sure? 'Woe to him, ' says theoracle, 'who goes to the pork-barrel before the moment of his need. '"

"And woe to him, say I, " replied my brave wife, --"woe and disaster tohim; but the moment of our need has come. The figures are here, and youshall see. I have it all in black and in white. "

And so it proved, indeed, that when Miss Sampson, the nurse, was paidfor her month's service, and when the boys had their winter boots, andwhen my life-insurance assessment was provided for, and the new paymentfor the insurance on the house, --when the taxes were settled with thecollector (and my wife had to lay aside double for the war), --when thepew-rent was paid for the year, and the water-rate, --we must have tostart with, on the 1st of January, one hundred dollars. This, as welive, would pay, in cash, the butcher, and the grocer, and the baker, and all the dealers in things that perish, and would buy the omnibustickets, and recompense Bridget till the 1st of April. And at my house, if we can see forward three months we are satisfied. But, at my house, we are never satisfied if there is a credit at any store for us. We aresworn to pay as we go. We owe no man anything. 

So it was that my wife said: "Felix, you will have to go to thepork-barrel. "

This is the story of the pork-barrel. 

It happened once, in a little parish in the Green Mountains, that thedeacon reported to Parson Plunkett, that, as he rode to meeting byChung-a-baug Pond, he saw Michael Stowers fishing for pickerel through ahole in the ice on the Sabbath day. The parson made note of thecomplaint, and that afternoon drove over to the pond in his "one-horseshay. " He made his visit, not unacceptable, on the poor Stowershousehold, and then crossed lots to the place where he saw poor Michaelhoeing. He told Michael that he was charged with Sabbath breaking, andbade him plead to the charge. And poor Mike, like a man, plead guilty;but, in extenuation, he said that there was nothing to eat in thehouse, and rather than see wife and children faint, he had cut a hole inthe ice, had put in his hook again and again, and yet again, and cominghome had delighted the waiting family with an unexpected breakfast. Thegood parson made no rebuke, nodded pensive, and drove straightway to thedeacon's door. 

"Deacon, " said he, "what meat did you eat for breakfast yesterday?"

The deacon's family had eaten salt pork, fried. 

"And where did you get the pork, Deacon?"

The Deacon stared, but said he had taken it from his pork-barrel. 

"Yes, Deacon, " said the old man; "I supposed so. I have been to seeBrother Stowers, to talk to him about his Sabbath-breaking; and, Deacon, I find the pond is his pork-barrel. "

The story is a favorite with me and with Fausta. But "woe, " says theoracle, "to him who goes to the pork-barrel before the moment of hisneed. " And to that "woe" both Fausta and I say "amen. " For we know thatthere is no fish in our pond for spendthrifts or for lazy-bones; nonefor people who wear gold chains or Attleborough jewelry; none for peoplewho are ashamed of cheap carpets or wooden mantelpieces. Not for thosewho run in debt will the fish bite; nor for those who pretend to bericher or better or wiser than they are. No! But we have found, in ourlives, that in a great democracy there reigns a great and gracioussovereign. We have found that this sovereign, in a reckless andunconscious way, is, all the time, making the most profuse provision forall the citizens. We have found that those who are not too grand totrust him fare as well as they deserve. We have found, on the otherhand, that those who lick his feet or flatter his follies fare worst ofliving men. We find that those who work honestly, and only seek a man'sfair average of life, or a woman's, get that average, though sometimesby the most singular experiences in the long run. And thus we find that, when an extraordinary contingency arises in life, as just now in ours, we have only to go to our pork-barrel, and the fish rises to our hook orspear. 

The sovereign brings this about in all sorts of ways, but he does notfail, if, without flattering him, you trust him. Of this sovereign thename is--"the Public. " Fausta and I are apt to call ourselves hischildren, and so I name this story of our lives, "THE CHILDREN OF THE PUBLIC. "

CHAPTER II. 

WHERE IS THE BARREL?

"Where is the barrel this time, Fausta?" said I, after I had added andsubtracted her figures three times, to be sure she had carried her tensand hundreds rightly. For the units, in such accounts, in face of Dr. Franklin, I confess I do not care. 

"The barrel, " said she, "is in FRANK LESLIE'S OFFICE. Here is the mark!"and she handed me FRANK LESLIE'S NEWSPAPER, with a mark at thisannouncement:--

 +$100+

 for the best Short Tale of from one to two pages of FRANK LESLIE'S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER, to be sent in on or before the 1st of November, 1862. 

"There is another barrel, " she said, "with $5, 000 in it, and anotherwith $1, 000. But we do not want $5, 000 or $1, 000. There is a littlebarrel with $50 in it. But see here, with all this figuring, I cannotmake it do. I have stopped the gas now, and I have turned the children'scoats, --I wish you would see how well Robert's looks, --and I have had anew tile put in the cook-stove, instead of buying that lovely new'Banner. ' But all will not do. We must go to this barrel. "

"And what is to be the hook, darling, this time?" said I. 

"I have been thinking of it all day. I hope you will not hate it, --Iknow you will not like it exactly; but why not write down just the wholestory of what it is to be 'Children of the Public'; how we came to livehere, you know; how we built the house, and--all about it?"

"How Felix knew Fausta, " said I; "and how Fausta first met Felix, perhaps; and when they first kissed each other; and what she said tohim when they did so. "

"Tell that, if you dare, " said Fausta; "but perhaps--the oracle says wemust not be proud--perhaps you might tell just a little. Youknow--really almost everybody is named Carter now; and I do not believethe neighbors will notice, --perhaps they won't read the paper. And ifthey do notice it, I don't care! There!"

"It will not be so bad as--"

But I never finished the sentence. An imperative gesture closed my lipsphysically as well as metaphorically, and I was glad to turn the subjectenough to sit down to tea with the children. After the bread and butterwe agreed what we might and what we might not tell, and then I wrotewhat the reader is now to see. 

CHAPTER III. 

MY LIFE TO ITS CRISIS. 

New-Yorkers of to-day see so many processions, and live through so manysensations, and hurrah for so many heroes in every year, that it is onlythe oldest of fogies who tells you of the triumphant procession ofsteamboats which, in the year 1824, welcomed General Lafayette on hisarrival from his tour through the country he had so nobly served. But, if the reader wishes to lengthen out this story, he may button the nextsilver-gray friend he meets, and ask him to tell of the broken Englishand broken French of the Marquis, of Levasseur, and the rest of them; ofthe enthusiasm of the people and the readiness of the visitors, and hewill please bear in mind that of all that am I. 

For it so happened that on the morning when, for want of better lions toshow, the mayor and governor and the rest of them took the Marquis andhis secretary, and the rest of them, to see the orphan asylum in DeeringStreet, --as they passed into the first ward, after having had "a littlerefreshment" in the managers' room, Sally Eaton, the head nurse, droppedthe first courtesy to them, and Sally Eaton, as it happened, held mescreaming in her arms. I had been sent to the asylum that morning with apaper pinned to my bib, which said my name was Felix Carter. 

"Eet ees verra fine, " said the Marquis, smiling blandly. 

"Ràvissant!" said Levasseur, and he dropped a five-franc piece intoSally Eaton's hand. And so the procession of exhibiting managers talkingbad French, and of exhibited Frenchmen talking bad English, passed on;all but good old Elkanah Ogden--God bless him!--who happened to havecome there with the governor's party, and who loitered a minute to talkwith Sally Eaton about me. 

Years afterwards she told me how the old man kissed me, how his eyeswatered when he asked my story, how she told again of the moment when Iwas heard screaming on the doorstep, and how she offered to go and bringthe paper which had been pinned to my bib. But the old man said it wasno matter, --"only we would have called him Marquis, " said he, "if hisname was not provided for him. We must not leave him here, " he said; "heshall grow up a farmer's lad, and not a little cockney. " And so, insteadof going the grand round of infirmaries, kitchens, bakeries, anddormitories with the rest, the good old soul went back into themanagers' room, and wrote at the moment a letter to John Myers, who tookcare of his wild land in St. Lawrence County for him, to ask him if Mrs. Myers would not bring up an orphan baby by hand for him; and if, bothtogether, they would not train this baby till he said "stop"; if, on theother hand, he allowed them, in the yearly account, a hundred dollarseach year for the charge. 

Anybody who knows how far a hundred dollars goes in the backwoods, inSt. Lawrence County, will know that any settler would be glad to take award so recommended. Anybody who knew Betsy Myers as well as old ElkanahOgden did, would know she would have taken any orphan brought to herdoor, even if he were not recommended at all. 

So it happened, thanks to Lafayette and the city council! that I had notbeen a "Child of the Public" a day, before, in its great, clumsy, liberal way, it had provided for me. I owed my healthy, happy home ofthe next fourteen years in the wilderness to those marvellous habits, which I should else call absurd, with which we lionize strangers. Because our hospitals and poorhouses are the largest buildings we have, we entertain the Prince of Wales and Jenny Lind alike, by showing themcrazy people and paupers. Easy enough to laugh at is the display; butif, dear Public, it happen, that by such a habit you ventilate yourBridewell or your Bedlam, is not the ventilation, perhaps, acompensation for the absurdity? I do not know if Lafayette was any thebetter for his seeing the Deering Street Asylum; but I do know I was. 

This is no history of my life. It is only an illustration of one of itsprinciples. I have no anecdotes of wilderness life to tell, and nosketch of the lovely rugged traits of John and Betsy Myers, --my realfather and mother. I have no quest for the pretended parents, who threwme away in my babyhood, to record. They closed accounts with me whenthey left me on the asylum steps, and I with them. I grew up with suchschooling as the public gave, --ten weeks in winter always, and ten insummer, till I was big enough to work on the farm, --better periods ofschools, I hold, than on the modern systems. Mr. Ogden I never saw. Regularly he allowed for me the hundred a year till I was nine yearsold, and then suddenly he died, as the reader perhaps knows. But JohnMyers kept me as his son, none the less. I knew no change until, when Iwas fourteen, he thought it time for me to see the world, and sent me towhat, in those days, was called a "Manual-Labor School. "

There was a theory coming up in those days, wholly unfounded inphysiology, that if a man worked five hours with his hands, he couldstudy better in the next five. It is all nonsense. Exhaustion isexhaustion; and if you exhaust a vessel by one stopcock, nothing isgained or saved by closing that and opening another. The old up-countrytheory is the true one. Study ten weeks and chop wood fifteen; study tenmore and harvest fifteen. But the "Manual-Labor School" offered itselffor really no pay, only John Myers and I carried over, I remember, adozen barrels of potatoes when I went there with my books. The schoolwas kept at Roscius, and if I would work in the carpenter's shop and onthe school farm five hours, why they would feed me and teach me all theyknew in what I had of the day beside. 

"Felix, " said John, as he left me, "I do not suppose this is the bestschool in the world, unless you make it so. But I do suppose you canmake it so. If you and I went whining about, looking for the best schoolin the world, and for somebody to pay your way through it, I should die, and you would lose your voice with whining, and we should not find oneafter all. This is what the public happens to provide for you and me. Wewon't look a gift-horse in the mouth. Get on his back, Felix; groom himwell as you can when you stop, feed him when you can, and at all eventswater him well and take care of him well. My last advice to you, Felix, is to take what is offered you, and never complain because nobody offersmore. "

Those words are to be cut on my seal-ring, if I ever have one, and ifDr. Anthon or Professor Webster will put them into short enough Latinfor me. That is the motto of the "Children of the Public. "

John Myers died before that term was out. And my more than mother, Betsy, went back to her friends in Maine. After the funeral I never sawthem more. How I lived from that moment to what Fausta and I call theCrisis is nobody's concern. I worked in the shop at the school, or onthe farm. Afterwards I taught school in neighboring districts. I neverbought a ticket in a lottery or a raffle. But whenever there was achance to do an honest stroke of work, I did it. I have walked fifteenmiles at night to carry an election return to the _Tribune's_ agent atGouverneur. I have turned out in the snow to break open the road whenthe supervisor could not find another man in the township. 

When Sartain started his magazine, I wrote an essay in competition forhis premiums, and the essay earned its hundred dollars. When themanagers of the "Orphan Home, " in Baltimore, offered their prizes forpapers on bad boys, I wrote for one of them, and that helped me on fourhard months. There was no luck in those things. I needed the money, andI put my hook into the pork-barrel, --that is, I trusted the Public. Inever had but one stroke of luck in my life. I wanted a new pair ofboots badly. I was going to walk to Albany, to work in the State libraryon the history of the Six Nations, which had an interest for me. I didnot have a dollar. Just then there passed Congress the bill dividing thesurplus revenue. The State of New York received two or three millions, and divided it among the counties. The county of St. Lawrence divided itamong the townships, and the township of Roscius divided it among thevoters. Two dollars and sixty cents of Uncle Sam's money came to me, andwith that money on my feet I walked to Albany. That I call luck! Howmany fools had to assent in an absurdity before I could study thehistory of the Six Nations!

But one instance told in detail is better than a thousand told ingeneral, for the illustration of a principle. So I will detain you nolonger from the history of what Fausta and I call

THE CRISIS. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE CRISIS. 

I was at work as a veneerer in a piano-forte factory at Attica, whensome tariff or other was passed or repealed; there came a greatfinancial explosion, and our boss, among the rest, failed. He owed usall six months' wages, and we were all very poor and very blue. JonathanWhittemore--a real good fellow, who used to cover the hammers withleather--came to me the day the shop was closed, and told me he wasgoing to take the chance to go to Europe. He was going to the MusicalConservatory at Leipsic, if he could. He would work his passage out as astoker. He would wash himself for three or four days at Bremen, and thenget work, if he could, with Voightlander or Von Hammer till he couldenter the Conservatory. By way of preparation for this he wanted me tosell him my Adler's German Dictionary. 

"I've nothing to give you for it, Felix, but this foolish thing, --it isone of Burrham's tickets, --which I bought in a frolic the night of oursleigh-ride. I'll transfer it to you. "

I told Jonathan he might have the dictionary and welcome. He was doing asensible thing, and he would use it twenty times as much as I should. As for the ticket, he had better keep it. I did not want it. But I sawhe would feel better if I took it, --so he indorsed it to me. 

Now the reader must know that this Burrham was a man who had got hold ofone corner of the idea of what the Public could do for its children. Hehad found out that there were a thousand people who would be glad tomake the tour of the mountains and the lakes every summer if they coulddo it for half-price. He found out that the railroad companies were gladenough to put the price down if they could be sure of the thousandpeople. He mediated between the two, and so "cheap excursions" came intobeing. They are one of the gifts the Public gives its children. Risingfrom step to step, Burrham had, just before the great financial crisis, conceived the idea of a great cheap combination, in which everybody wasto receive a magazine for a year and a cyclopædia, both at half-price;and not only so, but the money that was gained in the combination was tobe given by lot to two ticket-holders, one a man and one a woman, fortheir dowry in marriage. I dare say the reader remembers the prospectus. It savors too much of the modern "Gift Enterprise" to be reprinted infull; but it had this honest element, that everybody got more than hecould get for his money in retail. I have my magazine, the old _BostonMiscellany_, to this day, and I just now looked out Levasseur's name inmy cyclopædia; and, as you will see, I have reason to know that all theother subscribers got theirs. 

One of the tickets for these books, for which Whittemore had given fivegood dollars, was what he gave to me for my dictionary. And so weparted. I loitered at Attica, hoping for a place where I could put in myoar. But my hand was out at teaching, and in a time when all the world'sveneers of different kinds were ripping off, nobody wanted me to put onmore of my kind, --so that my cash ran low. I would not go in debt, --thatis a thing I never did. More honest, I say, to go to the poorhouse, andmake the Public care for its child there, than to borrow what you cannotpay. But I did not come quite to that, as you shall see. 

I was counting up my money one night, --and it was easily done, --when Iobserved that the date on this Burrham order was the 15th of October, and it occurred to me that it was not quite a fortnight before thosebooks were to be delivered. They were to be delivered at Castle Garden, at New York; and the thought struck me that I might go to New York, trymy chance there for work, and at least see the city, which I had neverseen, and get my cyclopædia and magazine. It was the least offer thePublic ever made to me; but just then the Public was in a collapse, andthe least was better than nothing. The plan of so long a journey wasQuixotic enough, and I hesitated about it a good deal. Finally I came tothis resolve: I would start in the morning to walk to the lock-stationat Brockport on the canal. If a boat passed that night where they wouldgive me my fare for any work I could do for them, I would go to Albany. If not, I would walk back to Lockport the next day, and try my fortunethere. This gave me, for my first day's enterprise, a foot journey ofabout twenty-five miles. It was out of the question, with my finances, for me to think of compassing the train. 

Every point of life is a pivot on which turns the whole action of ourafter-lives; and so, indeed, of the after-lives of the whole world. Butwe are so purblind that we only see this of certain special enterprisesand endeavors, which we therefore call critical. I am sure I see it ofthat twenty-five miles of fresh autumnal walking. I was in tiptopspirits. I found the air all oxygen, and everything "all right. " I didnot loiter, and I did not hurry. I swung along with the feeling thatevery nerve and muscle drew, as in the trades a sailor feels of everyrope and sail. And so I was not tired, not thirsty, till the brookappeared where I was to drink; nor hungry till twelve o'clock came, whenI was to dine. I called myself as I walked "The Child of Good Fortune, "because the sun was on my right quarter, as the sun should be when youwalk, because the rain of yesterday had laid the dust for me, and thefrost of yesterday had painted the hills for me, and the northwest windcooled the air for me. I came to Wilkie's Cross-Roads just in time tomeet the Claremont baker and buy my dinner loaf of him. And when my walkwas nearly done, I came out on the low bridge at Sewell's, which is adrawbridge, just before they raised it for a passing boat, instead ofthe moment after. Because I was all right I felt myself and calledmyself "The Child of Good Fortune. " Dear reader, in a world made by aloving Father, we are all of us children of good fortune, if we onlyhave wit enough to find it out, as we stroll along. 

The last stroke of good fortune which that day had for me was thesolution of my question whether or no I would go to Babylon. I was to goif any good-natured boatman would take me. This is a question, Mr. Millionnaire, more doubtful to those who have not drawn their dividendsthan to those who have. As I came down the village street at Brockport, I could see the horses of a boat bound eastward, led along from level tolevel at the last lock; and, in spite of my determination not to hurry, I put myself on the long, loping trot which the St. Regis Indians taughtme, that I might overhaul this boat before she got under way at her newspeed. I came out on the upper gate of the last lock just as she passedout from the lower gate. The horses were just put on, and a reckless boygave them their first blow after two hours of rest and corn. As theheavy boat started off under the new motion, I saw, and her skipper sawat the same instant, that a long new tow-rope of his, which had laincoiled on deck, was suddenly flying out to its full length. The outerend of it had been carried upon the lock-side by some chance or blunder, and there some idle loafer had thrown the looped bight of it over ahawser-post. The loafers on the lock saw, as I did, that the rope wasrunning out, and at the call of the skipper one of them condescended tothrow the loop overboard, but he did it so carelessly that the lazy roperolled over into the lock, and the loop caught on one of the valve-ironsof the upper gate. The whole was the business of an instant, of course. But the poor skipper saw, what we did not, that the coil of the rope ondeck was foul, and so entangled round his long tiller, that ten secondswould do one of three things, --they would snap his new rope in two, which was a trifle, or they would wrench his tiller-head off the rudder, which would cost him an hour to mend, or they would upset those twohorses, at this instant on a trot, and put into the canal the rowdyyoungster who had started them. It was this complex certainty which gavefire to the double cries which he addressed aft to us on the lock, andforward to the magnet boy, whose indifferent intelligence at that momentdrew him along. 

I was stepping upon the gate-head to walk across it. It took but aninstant, not nearly all the ten seconds, to swing down by my arms intothe lock, keeping myself hanging by my hands, to catch with my rightfoot the bight of the rope and lift it off the treacherous iron, to kickthe whole into the water, and then to scramble up the wet lock-sideagain. I got a little wet, but that was nothing. I ran down thetow-path, beckoned to the skipper, who sheered his boat up to the shore, and I jumped on board. 

At that moment, reader, Fausta was sitting in a yellow chair on thedeck of that musty old boat, crocheting from a pattern in _Godey'sLady's Book. _ I remember it as I remember my breakfast of this morning. Not that I fell in love with her, nor did I fall in love with mybreakfast; but I knew she was there. And that was the first time I eversaw her. It is many years since, and I have seen her every day from thatevening to this evening. But I had then no business with her. My affairwas with him whom I have called the skipper, by way of adapting thisfresh-water narrative to ears accustomed to Marryat and Tom Cringle. Itold him that I had to go to New York; that I had not time to walk, andhad not money to pay; that I should like to work my passage to Troy, ifthere were any way in which I could; and to ask him this I had come onboard. 

"Waal, " said the skipper, "'taint much that is to be done, and Zekieland I calc'late to do most of that; and there's that blamed boybeside--"

This adjective "blamed" is the virtuous oath by which simple people, whoare improving their habits, cure themselves of a stronger epithet, asmen take to flagroot who are abandoning tobacco. 

"He ain't good for nothin', as you see, " continued the skippermeditatively, "and you air, anybody can see that, " he added. "Ef you'vemind to come to Albany, you can have your vittles, poor enough they aretoo; and ef you are willing to ride sometimes, you can ride. I guesswhere there's room for three in the bunks there's room for four. 'Tainteverybody would have cast off that blamed hawser-rope as neat as youdid. "

From which last remark I inferred, what I learned as a certainty as wetravelled farther, that but for the timely assistance I had rendered himI should have plead for my passage in vain. 

This was my introduction to Fausta. That is to say, she heard the wholeof the conversation. The formal introduction, which is omitted in nocircle of American life to which I have ever been admitted, took placeat tea half an hour after, when Mrs. Grills, who always voyaged with herhusband, brought in the flapjacks from the kitchen. "Miss Jones, " saidGrills, as I came into the meal, leaving Zekiel at the tiller, --"MissJones, this is a young man who is going to Albany. I don't rightly knowhow to call your name, sir. " I said my name was Carter. Then he said, "Mr. Carter, this is Miss Jones. Mrs. Grills, Mr. Carter. Mr. Carter, Mrs. Grills. She is my wife. " And so our _partie carrée_ was establishedfor the voyage. 

In these days there are few people who know that a journey on a canal isthe pleasantest journey in the world. A canal has to go through finescenery. It cannot exist unless it follow through the valley of astream. The movement is so easy that, with your eyes shut, you do notknow you move. The route is so direct, that when you are once shieldedfrom the sun, you are safe for hours. You draw, you read, you write, oryou sew, crochet, or knit. You play on your flute or your guitar, without one hint of inconvenience. At a "low bridge" you duck your headlest you lose your hat, --and that reminder teaches you that you arehuman. You are glad to know this, and you laugh at the memento. For therest of the time you journey, if you are "all right" within, in elysium. 

I rode one of those horses perhaps two or three hours a day. At locks Imade myself generally useful. At night I walked the deck till oneo'clock, with my pipe or without it, to keep guard against thelock-thieves. The skipper asked me sometimes, after he found I could"cipher, " to disentangle some of the knots in his bills of lading forhim. But all this made but a little inroad in those lovely autumn days, and for the eight days that we glided along, --there is one blessed levelwhich is seventy miles long, --I spent most of my time with Fausta. Wewalked together on the tow-path to get our appetites for dinner and forsupper. At sunrise I always made a cruise inland, and collected thegentians and black alder-berries and colored leaves, with which shedressed Mrs. Grill's table. She took an interest in my wretchedsketchbook, and though she did not and does not draw well, she did showme how to spread an even tint, which I never knew before. I was workingup my French. She knew about as much and as little as I did, and weread Mad. Reybaud's Clementine together, guessing at the hard words, because we had no dictionary. 

Dear old Grill offered to talk French at table, and we tried it for afew days. But it proved he picked up his pronunciation at St. Catherine's, among the boatmen there, and he would say _shwo_ for"horses, " where the book said _chevaux_. Our talk, on the other hand, was not Parisian, --but it was not Catherinian, --and we subsided intoEnglish again. 

So sped along these blessed eight days. I told Fausta thus much of mystory, that I was going to seek my fortune in New York. She, of course, knew nothing of me but what she saw, and she told me nothing of herstory. 

But I was very sorry when we came into the basin at Troy, for I knewthen that in all reason I must take the steamboat down. And I was veryglad, --I have seldom in my life been so glad, --when I found that shealso was going to New York immediately. She accepted, very pleasantly, my offer to carry her trunk to the Isaac Newton for her, and to act asher escort to the city. For me, my trunk, "in danger tried, " Swung in my hand, --"nor left my side. "

My earthly possessions were few anywhere. I had left at Attica most ofwhat they were. Through the voyage I had been man enough to keep on aworking-gear fit for a workman's duty. And old Grills had not yet graceenough to keep his boat still on Sunday. How one remembers littlethings! I can remember each touch of the toilet, as, in that corner of adark cuddy where I had shared "Zekiel's" bunk with him, I dressed myselfwith one of my two white shirts, and with the change of raiment whichhad been tight squeezed in my portmanteau. The old overcoat was the bestpart of it, as in a finite world it often is. I sold my felt hat toZekiel, and appeared with a light travelling-cap. I do not know howFausta liked my metamorphosis. I only know that, like butterflies, for aday or two after they go through theirs, I felt decidedly cold. 

As Carter, the canal man, I had carried Fausta's trunk on board. As Mr. Carter, I gave her my arm, led her to the gangway of the Newton, tookher passage and mine, and afterwards walked and sat through the splendidmoonlight of the first four hours down the river. 

Miss Jones determined that evening to breakfast on the boat. Be itobserved that I did not then know her by any other name. She was to goto an aunt's house, and she knew that if she left the boat on its earlyarrival in New York, she would disturb that lady by a premature ringingat her bell. I had no reason for haste, as the reader knows. Thedistribution of the cyclopædias was not to take place till the next day, and that absurd trifle was the only distinct excuse I had to myself forbeing in New York at all. I asked Miss Jones, therefore, if I might notbe her escort still to her aunt's house. I had said it would be hard tobreak off our pleasant journey before I had seen where she lived, and Ithought she seemed relieved to know that she should not be wholly astranger on her arrival. It was clear enough that her aunt would send noone to meet her. 

These preliminaries adjusted, we parted to our respective cabins. Andwhen, the next morning, at that unearthly hour demanded by Philadelphiatrains and other exigencies, the Newton made her dock, I rejoiced thatbreakfast was not till seven o'clock, that I had two hours more of theberth, which was luxury compared to Zekiel's bunk, --I turned upon myother side and slept on. 

Sorry enough for that morning nap was I for the next thirty-six hours. For when I went on deck, and sent in the stewardess to tell Miss Jonesthat I was waiting for her, and then took from her the check for hertrunk, I woke to the misery of finding that, in that treacherous twohours, some pirate from the pier had stepped on board, had seized thewaiting trunk, left almost alone, while the baggage-master's back wasturned, and that, to a certainty, it was lost. I did not return toFausta with this story till the breakfast-bell had long passed and thebreakfast was very cold. I did not then tell it to her till I had seenher eat her breakfast with an appetite much better than mine. I hadalready offered up stairs the largest reward to anybody who would bringit back which my scanty purse would pay. I had spoken to the clerk, whohad sent for a policeman. I could do nothing more, and I did not chooseto ruin her chop and coffee by ill-timed news. The officer came beforebreakfast was over, and called me from table. 

On the whole, his business-like way encouraged one. He had some clewswhich I had not thought possible. It was not unlikely that they shouldpounce on the trunk before it was broken open. I gave him a writtendescription of its marks; and when he civilly asked if "my lady" wouldgive some description of any books or other articles within, I readilypromised that I would call with such a description at the policestation. Somewhat encouraged, I returned to Miss Jones, and, when I ledher from the breakfast-table, told her of her misfortune. I took allshame to myself for my own carelessness, to which I attributed the loss. But I told her all that the officer had said to me, and that I hoped tobring her the trunk at her aunt's before the day was over. 

Fausta took my news, however, with a start which frightened me. All hermoney, but a shilling or two, was in the trunk. To place money in trunksis a weakness of the female mind which I have nowhere seen accountedfor. Worse than this, though, --as appeared after a moment's examinationof her travelling _sac_, --her portfolio in the trunk contained theletter of the aunt whom she came to visit, giving her her address inthe city. To this address she had no other clew but that her aunt wasMrs. Mary Mason, had married a few years before a merchant named Mason, whom Miss Jones had never seen, and of whose name and business this wasall she knew. They lived in a numbered street, but whether it was FourthStreet, or Fifty-fourth, or One Hundred and Twenty-fourth, or whether itwas something between, the poor child had no idea. She had put up theletter carefully, but had never thought of the importance of theaddress. Besides this aunt, she knew no human being in New York. 

"Child of the Public, " I said to myself, "what do you do now?" I hadappealed to my great patron in sending for the officer, and on the wholeI felt that my sovereign had been gracious to me, if not yet hopeful. But now I must rub my lamp again, and ask the genie where the unknownMason lived. The genie of course suggested the Directory, and I ran forit to the clerk's office. But as we were toiling down the pages of"Masons, " and had written off thirteen or fourteen who lived in numberedstreets, Fausta started, looked back at the preface and its date, flungdown her pencil in the only abandonment of dismay in which I ever sawher, and cried, "First of May! They were abroad until May. They havebeen abroad since the day they were married!" So that genie had to puthis glories into his pocket, and carry his Directory back to the officeagain. 

The natural thing to propose was, that I should find for Miss Jones arespectable boarding-house, and that she should remain there until hertrunk was found, or till she could write to friends who had this fataladdress, and receive an answer. But here she hesitated. She hardly likedto explain why, --did not explain wholly. But she did not say that shehad no friends who knew this address. She had but few relations in theworld, and her aunt had communicated with her alone since she came fromEurope. As for the boarding-house, "I had rather look for work, " shesaid bravely. "I have never promised to pay money when I did not knowhow to obtain it; and that"--and here she took out fifty or sixty centsfrom her purse--"and that is all now. In respectable boarding-houses, when people come without luggage, they are apt to ask for an advance. Or, at least, " she added, with some pride, "I am apt to offer it. "

I hastened to ask her to take all my little store; but I had to own thatI had not two dollars. I was sure, however, that my overcoat and thedress-suit I wore would avail me something, if I thrust them boldly upsome spout. I was sure that I should be at work within a day or two. Atall events, I was certain of the cyclopædia the next day. That should goto old Gowan's, --in Fulton Street it was then, --"the moral centre of theintellectual world, " in the hour I got it. And at this moment, for thefirst time, the thought crossed me, "If mine could only be the namedrawn, so that that foolish $5, 000 should fall to me. " In that case Ifelt that Fausta might live in "a respectable boarding-house" till shedied. Of this, of course, I said nothing, only that she was welcome tomy poor dollar and a half, and that I should receive the next day somemore money that was due me. 

"You forget, Mr. Carter, " replied Fausta, as proudly asbefore, --"you forget that I cannot borrow of you any more than of aboarding-house-keeper. I never borrow. Please God, I never will. It mustbe, " she added, "that in a Christian city like this there is somerespectable and fit arrangement made for travellers who find themselveswhere I am. What that provision is I do not know; but I will find outwhat it is before this sun goes down. "

I paused a moment before I replied. If I had been fascinated by thislovely girl before, I now bowed in respect before her dignity andresolution; and, with my sympathy, there was a delicious throb ofself-respect united, when I heard her lay down so simply, as principlesof her life, two principles on which I had always myself tried to live. The half-expressed habits of my boyhood and youth were now uttered forme as axioms by lips which I knew could speak nothing but right andtruth. 

I paused a moment. I stumbled a little as I expressed my regret that shewould not let me help her, --joined with my certainty that she was in theright in refusing, --and then, in the only stiff speech I ever made toher, I said:--

"I am the 'Child of the Public. ' If you ever hear my story, you willsay so too. At the least, I can claim this, that I have a right to helpyou in your quest as to the way in which the public will help you. Thusfar I am clearly the officer in his suite to whom he has intrusted you. Are you ready, then, to go on shore?"

Fausta looked around on that forlorn ladies' saloon, as if it were thelast link holding her to her old safe world. 

 "Looked upon skylight, lamp, and chain, As what she ne'er might see again. "

Then she looked right through me; and if there had been one mean thoughtin me at that minute, she would have seen the viper. Then she said, sadly, --

"I have perfect confidence in you, though people would say we werestrangers. Let us go. "

And we left the boat together. We declined the invitations of the noisyhackmen, and walked slowly to Broadway. 

We stopped at the station-house for that district, and to the attentivechief Fausta herself described those contents of her trunk which shethought would be most easily detected, if offered for sale. Her mother'sBible, at which the chief shook his head; Bibles, alas! brought nothingat the shops; a soldier's medal, such as were given as target prizes bythe Montgomery regiment; and a little silver canteen, marked with thedevice of the same regiment, seemed to him better worthy of note. Herportfolio was wrought with a cipher, and she explained to him that shewas most eager that this should be recovered. The pocket-book containedmore than one hundred dollars, which she described, but he shook hishead here, and gave her but little hope of that, if the trunk were onceopened. His chief hope was for this morning. 

"And where shall we send to you then, madam?" said he. 

I had been proud, as if it were my merit, of the impression Fausta hadmade upon the officer, in her quiet, simple, ladylike dress and manner. For myself, I thought that one slip of pretence in my dress or bearing, a scrap of gold or of pinchbeck, would have ruined both of us in ourappeal. But, fortunately, I did not disgrace her, and the man looked ather as if he expected her to say "Fourteenth Street. " What would shesay?

"That depends upon what the time will be. Mr. Carter will call at noon, and will let you know. "

We bowed, and were gone. In an instant more she begged my pardon, almostwith tears; but I told her that if she also had been a "Child of thePublic, " she could not more fitly have spoken to one of her father'sofficers. I begged her to use me as her protector, and not to apologizeagain. Then we laid out the plans which we followed out that day. 

The officer's manner had reassured her, and I succeeded in persuadingher that it was certain we should have the trunk at noon. How muchbetter to wait, at least so far, before she entered on any of theenterprises of which she talked so coolly, as of offering herself as anursery-girl, or as a milliner, to whoever would employ her, if only shecould thus secure an honest home till money or till aunt were found. Once persuaded that we were safe from this Quixotism, I told her that wemust go on, as we did on the canal, and first we must take ourconstitutional walk for two hours. 

"At least, " she said, "our good papa, the Public, gives us wonderfulsights to see, and good walking to our feet, as a better Father hasgiven us this heavenly sky and this bracing air. "

And with those words the last heaviness of despondency left her face forthat day. And we plunged into the delicious adventure of exploring a newcity, staring into windows as only strangers can, revelling inprint-shops as only they do, really seeing the fine buildings asresidents always forget to do, and laying up, in short, with thosestreets, nearly all the associations which to this day we have withthem. 

Two hours of this tired us with walking, of course. I do not know whatshe meant to do next; but at ten I said, "Time for French, Miss Jones. ""_Ah oui_, " said she, "_mais où?_" and I had calculated my distances, and led her at once into Lafayette Place; and, in a moment, pushed openthe door of the Astor Library, led her up the main stairway, and said, "This is what the Public provides for his children when they have tostudy. "

"This is the Astor, " said she, delighted. "And we are all right, as yousay, here?" Then she saw that our entrance excited no surprise among thefew readers, men and women, who were beginning to assemble. 

We took our seats at an unoccupied table, and began to revel in theluxuries for which we had only to ask that we might enjoy. I had alittle memorandum of books which I had been waiting to see. She needednone; but looked for one and another, and yet another, and between us wekept the attendant well in motion. A pleasant thing to me to be findingout her thoroughbred tastes and lines of work, and I was happy enough tointerest her in some of my pet readings; and, of course, for she was awoman, to get quick hints which had never dawned on me before. A veryshort hour and a half we spent there before I went to the station-houseagain. I went very quickly. I returned to her very slowly. 

The trunk was not found. But they were now quite sure they were on itstrack. They felt certain it had been carried from pier to pier and takenback up the river. Nor was it hopeless to follow it. The particularrascal who was supposed to have it would certainly stop either atPiermont or at Newburg. They had telegraphed to both places, and were intime for both. "The day boat, sir, will bring your lady's trunk, andwill bring me Rowdy Rob, too, I hope, " said the officer. But at the samemoment, as he rang his bell, he learned that no despatch had yet beenreceived from either of the places named. I did not feel so certain ashe did. 

But Fausta showed no discomfort as I told my news. "Thus far, " said she, "the Public serves me well. I will borrow no trouble by want of faith. "And I--as Dante would say--and I, to her, "will you let me remind you, then, that at one we dine; that Mrs. Grills is now placing the salt-porkupon the cabin table, and Mr. Grills asking the blessing; and, as thisis the only day when I can have the honor of your company, will you letme show you how a Child of the Public dines, when his finances are low?"

Fausta laughed, and said again, less tragically than before, "I haveperfect confidence in you, "--little thinking how she started my bloodwith the words; but this time, as if in token, she let me take her handupon my arm, as we walked down the street together. 

If we had been snobs, or even if I had been one, I should have taken herto Taylor's, and have spent all the money I had on such a luncheon asneither of us had ever eaten before. Whatever else I am, I am not a snobof that sort. I show my colors. I led her into a little cross-streetwhich I had noticed in our erratic morning pilgrimage. We stopped at aGerman baker's. I bade her sit down at the neat marble table, and Ibought two rolls. She declined lager, which I offered her in fun. Wetook water instead, and we had dined, and had paid two cents for ourmeal, and had had a very merry dinner, too, when the clock struck two. 

"And now, Mr. Carter, " said she, "I will steal no more of your day. Youdid not come to New York to escort lone damsels to the Astor Library orto dinner. Nor did I come only to see the lions or to read French. Iinsist on your going to your affairs, and leaving me to mine. If youwill meet me at the Library half an hour before it closes, I will thankyou; till then, " with a tragedy shake of the hand, and a merry laugh, "adieu!"

I knew very well that no harm could happen to her in two hours of anautumn afternoon. I was not sorry for her _congé_, for it gave me anopportunity to follow my own plans. I stopped at one or twocabinet-makers, and talked with the "jours" about work, that I mighttell her with truth that I had been in search of it;--then I sedulouslybegan on calling upon every man I could reach named Mason. O, how oftenI went through one phase or another of this colloquy:--

"Is Mr. Mason in?"

"That's my name, sir. "

"Can you give me the address of Mr. Mason who returned from Europe lastMay?"

"Know no such person, sir. "

The reader can imagine how many forms this dialogue could be repeatedin, before, as I wrought my way through a long line of dry-goods casesto a distant counting-room, I heard some one in it say, "No, madam, Iknow no such person as you describe"; and from the recess Fausta emergedand met me. Her plan for the afternoon had been the same with mine. Welaughed as we detected each other; then I told her she had had quiteenough of this, that it was time she should rest, and took her, _nolensvolens_, into the ladies' parlor of the St. Nicholas, and bade her waitthere through the twilight, with my copy of Clementine, till I shouldreturn from the police-station. If the reader has ever waited in such aplace for some one to come and attend to him, he will understand thatnobody will be apt to molest him when he has not asked for attention. 

Two hours I left Fausta in the rocking-chair, which there the Public hadprovided for her. Then I returned, sadly enough. No tidings of RowdyRob, none of trunk, Bible, money, letter, medal, or anything. Still wasmy district sergeant hopeful, and, as always, respectful. But I washopeless this time, and I knew that the next day Fausta would beplunging into the war with intelligence-houses and advertisements. Forthe night, I was determined that she should spend it in my ideal"respectable boarding-house. " On my way down town, I stopped in at oneor two shops to make inquiries, and satisfied myself where I would takeher. Still I thought it wisest that we should go after tea; and anothercross-street baker, and another pair of rolls, and another tap at theCroton, provided that repast for us. Then I told Fausta of therespectable boarding-house, and that she must go there. She did not sayno. But she did say she would rather not spend the evening there. "Theremust be some place open for us, " said she. "There! there is achurch-bell! The church is always home. Let us come there. "

So to "evening meeting" we went, startling the sexton by arriving anhour early. If there were any who wondered what was the use of thatWednesday-evening service, we did not. In a dark gallery pew we sat, sheat one end, I at the other; and, if the whole truth be told, each of usfell asleep at once, and slept till the heavy organ tones taught us thatthe service had begun. A hundred or more people had straggled in then, and the preacher, good soul, he took for his text, "Doth not God carefor the ravens?" I cannot describe the ineffable feeling of home thatcame over me in that dark pew of that old church. I had never been in solarge a church before. I had never heard so heavy an organ before. Perhaps I had heard better preaching, but never any that came to myoccasions more. But it was none of these things which moved me. It wasthe fact that we were just where we had a right to be. No impudentwaiter could ask us why we were sitting there, nor any petulantpoliceman propose that we should push on. It was God's house, and, because his, it was his children's. 

All this feeling of repose grew upon me, and, as it proved, upon Faustaalso. For when the service was ended, and I ventured to ask her whethershe also had this sense of home and rest, she assented so eagerly, thatI proposed, though with hesitation, a notion which had crossed me, thatI should leave her there. 

"I cannot think, " I said, "of any possible harm that could come to youbefore morning. "

"Do you know, I had thought of that very same thing, but I did not daretell you, " she said. 

Was not I glad that she had considered me her keeper! But I only said, "At the 'respectable boarding-house' you might be annoyed by questions. "

"And no one will speak to me here. I know that from Goody Two-Shoes. "

"I will be here, " said I, "at sunrise in the morning. " And so I bade hergood by, insisting on leaving in the pew my own great-coat. I knew shemight need it before morning. I walked out as the sexton closed the doorbelow on the last of the down-stairs worshippers. He passed along theaisles below, with his long poker which screwed down the gas. I saw atonce that he had no intent of exploring the galleries. But I loiteredoutside till I saw him lock the doors and depart; and then, happy in thethought that Miss Jones was in the safest place in New York, --ascomfortable as she was the night before, and much more comfortable thanshe had been any night upon the canal, I went in search of my ownlodging. 

"To the respectable boarding-house?"

Not a bit, reader. I had no shillings for respectable or disrespectableboarding-houses. I asked the first policeman where his district stationwas. I went into its office, and told the captain that I was green inthe city; had got no work and no money. In truth, I had left my purse inMiss Jones's charge, and a five-cent piece, which I showed the chief, was all I had. He said no word but to bid me go up two flights and turninto the first bunk I found. I did so; and in five minutes was asleep ina better bed than I had slept in for nine days. 

That was what the Public did for me that night. I, too, was safe!

I am making this story too long. But with that night and its anxietiesthe end has come. At sunrise I rose and made my easy toilet. I boughtand ate my roll, --varying the brand from yesterday's. I bought another, with a lump of butter, and an orange, for Fausta. I left my portmanteauat the station, while I rushed to the sexton's house, told his wife Ihad left my gloves in church the night before, --as was the truth, --andeasily obtained from her the keys. In a moment I was in thevestibule--locked in--was in the gallery, and there found Fausta, justawake, as she declared, from a comfortable night, reading her morninglesson in the Bible, and sure, she said, that I should soon appear. Norghost, nor wraith, had visited her. I spread for her a brown papertablecloth on the table in the vestibule. I laid out her breakfast forher, called her, and wondered at her toilet. How is it that women alwaysmake themselves appear as neat and finished as if there were noconflict, dust, or wrinkle in the world. 

[Here Fausta adds, in this manuscript, a parenthesis, to say that shefolded her undersleeves neatly, and her collar, before she slept, andput them between the cushions, upon which she slept. In the morning theyhad been pressed--without a sad-iron. ]

She finished her repast. I opened the church door for five minutes. Shepassed out when she had enough examined the monuments, and at arespectable distance I followed her. We joined each other, and took ouraccustomed morning walk; but then she resolutely said, "Good by, " forthe day. She would find work before night, --work and a home. And I mustdo the same. Only when I pressed her to let me know of her success, shesaid she would meet me at the Astor Library just before it closed. No, she would not take my money. Enough, that for twenty-four hours she hadbeen my guest. When she had found her aunt and told her the story, theyshould insist on repaying this hospitality. Hospitality, dear reader, which I had dispensed at the charge of six cents. Have you ever treatedMiranda for a day and found the charge so low? When I urged otherassistance she said resolutely, "No. " In fact, she had already made anappointment at two, she said, and she must not waste the day. 

I also had an appointment at two; for it was at that hour that Burrhamwas to distribute the cyclopædias at Castle Garden. The EmigrantCommission had not yet seized it for their own. I spent the morning inasking vainly for Masons fresh from Europe, and for work incabinet-shops. I found neither, and so wrought my way to the appointedplace, where, instead of such wretched birds in the bush, I was to getone so contemptible in my hand. 

Those who remember Jenny Lind's first triumph night at Castle Gardenhave some idea of the crowd as it filled gallery and floor of thatimmense hall when I entered. I had given no thought to the machinery ofthis folly. I only know that my ticket bade me be there at two P. M. Thisday. But as I drew near, the throng, the bands of policemen, the longqueues of persons entering, reminded me that here was an affair of tenthousand persons, and also that Mr. Burrham was not unwilling to make itas showy, perhaps as noisy, an affair as was respectable, by way ofadvertising future excursions and distributions. I was led to seat No. 3, 671 with a good deal of parade, and when I came there I found I wasvery much of a prisoner. I was late, or rather on the stroke of two. Immediately, almost, Mr. Burrham arose in the front and made a longspeech about his liberality, and the public's liberality, andeverybody's liberality in general, and the method of the distribution inparticular. The mayor and four or five other well-known and respectablegentlemen were kind enough to be present to guarantee the fairness ofthe arrangements. At the suggestion of the mayor and the police, thedoors would now be closed, that no persons might interrupt the ceremonytill it was ended. And the distribution of the cyclopædias would at oncego forward, in the order in which the lots were drawn, --earliest numberssecuring the earliest impressions; which, as Mr. Burrham almostregretted to say, were a little better than the latest. After these hadbeen distributed two figures would be drawn, --one green and one red, toindicate the fortunate lady and gentleman who would receive respectivelythe profits which had arisen from this method of selling thecyclopædias, after the expenses of printing and distribution had beencovered, and after the magazines had been ordered. 

Great cheering followed this announcement from all but me. Here I hadshut myself up in this humbug hall, for Heaven knew how long, on themost important day of my life. I would have given up willingly mycyclopædia and my chance at the "profits, " for the certainty of seeingFausta at five o'clock. If I did not see her then, what might befallher, and when might I see her again. An hour before this certainty wasmy own, now it was only mine by my liberating myself from this prison. Still I was encouraged by seeing that everything was conducted likeclock-work. From literally a hundred stations they were distributing thebooks. We formed ourselves into queues as we pleased, drew our numbers, and then presented ourselves at the bureaux, ordered our magazines, andtook our cyclopædias. It would be done, at that rate, by half past four. An omnibus might bring me to the Park, and a Bowery car do the rest intime. After a vain discussion for the right of exit with one or two ofthe attendants, I abandoned myself to this hope, and began studying mycyclopædia. 

It was sufficiently amusing to see ten thousand people resign themselvesto the same task, and affect to be unconcerned about the green and redfigures which were to divide the "profits. " I tried to make out who wereas anxious to get out of that tawdry den as I was. Four o'clock struck, and the distribution was not done. I began to be very impatient. What ifFausta fell into trouble? I knew, or hoped I knew, that she wouldstruggle to the Astor Library, as to her only place of rescue andrefuge, --her asylum. What if I failed her there? I who had pretended tobe her protector! "Protector, indeed!" she would say, if she knew I wasat a theatre witnessing the greatest folly of the age. And if I did notmeet her to-day, when should I meet her? If she found her aunt, howshould I find her? If she did not find her, --good God? that wasworse, --where might she not be before twelve hours were over? Then thefatal trunk! I had told the police agent he might send it to the St. Nicholas, because I had to give him some address. But Fausta did notknow this, and the St. Nicholas people knew nothing of us. I grew moreand more excited, and when at last my next neighbor told me that it washalf past four, I rose and insisted on leaving my seat. Two ushers withblue sashes almost held me down; they showed me the whole assemblysinking into quiet. In fact, at that moment Mr. Burrham was beggingevery one to be seated. I would not be seated. I would go to the door. Iwould go out. "Go, if you please!" said the usher next it, contemptuously. And I looked, and there was no handle! Yet this was nota dream. It is the way they arrange the doors in halls where they chooseto keep people in their places. I could have collared that grinning bluesash. I did tell him I would wring his precious neck for him, if he didnot let me out. I said I would sue him for false imprisonment; I wouldhave a writ of _habeas corpus_. 

"_Habeas corpus_ be d--d!" said the officer, with an irreverentdisrespect to the palladium. "If you are not more civil, sir, I willcall the police, of whom we have plenty. You say you want to go out; youare keeping everybody in. "

And, in fact, at that moment the clear voice of the mayor was announcingthat they would not go on until there was perfect quiet; and I felt thatI was imprisoning all these people, not they me. 

"Child of the Public, " said my mourning genius; "are you better thanother men?" So I sneaked back to seat No. 3, 671, amid the contemptuousand reproachful looks and sneers of my more respectable neighbors, whohad sat where they were told to do. We must be through in a moment, andperhaps Fausta would be late also. If only the Astor would keep openafter sunset! How often have I wished that since, and for less reasons!

Silence thus restored, Mr. A----, the mayor, led forward his littledaughter, blindfolded her, and bade her put her hand into a green box, from which she drew out a green ticket. He took it from her, and read, in his clear voice again, "No. 2, 973!" By this time we all knew wherethe "two thousands" sat. Then "nine hundreds" were not far from thefront, so that it was not far that that frightened girl, dressed all inblack, and heavily veiled, had to walk, who answered to this call. Mr. A---- met her, helped her up the stair upon the stage, took from her herticket, and read, "Jerusha Stillingfleet, of Yellow Springs, who, at herdeath, as it seems, transferred this right to the bearer. "

The disappointed nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine joined in arapturous cheer, each man and woman, to show that he or she was notdisappointed. The bearer spoke with Mr. Burrham, in answer to hisquestions, and, with a good deal of ostentation, he opened a check-book, filled a check and passed it to her, she signing a receipt as she tookit, and transferring to him her ticket. So far, in dumb show, all waswell. What was more to my purpose, it was rapid, for we should have beendone in five minutes more, but that some devil tempted some loafer in agallery to cry, "Face! face!" Miss Stillingfleet's legatee was stillheavily veiled. 

In one horrid minute that whole amphitheatre, which seemed to me thenmore cruel than the Coliseum ever was, rang out with a cry of "Face, face!" I tried the counter-cry of "Shame! shame!" but I was in disgraceamong my neighbors, and a counter-cry never takes as its prototype does, either. At first, on the stage, they affected not to hear or understand;then there was a courtly whisper between Mr. Burrham and the lady; butMr. A----, the mayor, and the respectable gentlemen, instantlyinterfered. It was evident that she would not unveil, and that they wereprepared to indorse her refusal. In a moment more she courtesied to theassembly; the mayor gave her his arm, and led her out through aside-door. 

O, the yell that rose up then! The whole assembly stood up, and, as ifthey had lost some vested right, hooted and shrieked, "Back! back! Face!face!" Mr. A---- returned, made as if he would speak, came forward tothe very front, and got a moment's silence. 

"It is not in the bond, gentlemen, " said he. "The young lady isunwilling to unveil, and we must not compel her. "

"Face! face!" was the only answer, and oranges from up stairs flewabout his head and struck upon the table, --an omen only fearful fromwhat it prophesied. Then there was such a row for five minutes as I hopeI may never see or hear again. People kept their places fortunately, under a vague impression that they should forfeit some magic rights ifthey left those numbered seats. But when, for a moment, a file ofpolicemen appeared in the orchestra, a whole volley of cyclopædias felllike rain upon their chief, with a renewed cry of "Face! face!"

At this juncture, with a good deal of knowledge of popular feeling, Mr. A---- led forward his child again. Frightened to death the poor thingwas, and crying; he tied his handkerchief round her eyes hastily, andtook her to the red box. For a minute the house was hushed. A cry of"Down! down!" and every one took his place as the child gave the redticket to her father. He read it as before, "No. 3, 671!" I heard thewords as if he did not speak them. All excited by the delay and the row, by the injustice to the stranger and the personal injustice of everybodyto me, I did not know, for a dozen seconds, that every one was lookingtowards our side of the house, nor was it till my next neighbor with thewatch said, "Go, you fool, " that I was aware that 3, 671 was I! Eventhen, as I stepped down the passage and up the steps, my only feelingwas, that I should get out of this horrid trap, and possibly find MissJones lingering near the Astor, --not by any means that I was invited totake a check for $5, 000. 

There was not much cheering. Women never mean to cheer, of course. Themen had cheered the green ticket, but they were mad with the red one. Igave up my ticket, signed my receipt, and took my check, shook handswith Mr. A---- and Mr. Burrham, and turned to bow to the mob, --for mob Imust call it now. But the cheers died away. A few people tried to go outperhaps, but there was nothing now to retain any in their seats asbefore, and the generality rose, pressed down the passages, and howled, "Face! face!" I thought for a moment that I ought to say something, butthey would not hear me, and, after a moment's pause, my passion todepart overwhelmed me. I muttered some apology to the gentlemen, andleft the stage by the stage door. 

I had forgotten that to Castle Garden there can be no back entrance. Icame to door after door, which were all locked. It was growing dark. Evidently the sun was set, and I knew the library door would be shut atsunset. The passages were very obscure. All around me rang this horridyell of the mob, in which all that I could discern was the cry, "Face, face!" At last, as I groped round, I came to a practicable door. Ientered a room where the western sunset glare dazzled me. I was notalone. The veiled lady in black was there. But the instant she saw meshe sprang towards me, flung herself into my arms, and cried:--

"Felix, is it you?--you are indeed my protector!"

It was Miss Jones! It was Fausta! She was the legatee of MissStillingfleet. My first thought was, "O, if that beggarly usher had letme go! Will I ever, ever think I have better rights than the Publicagain?"

I took her in my arms. I carried her to the sofa. I could hardly speakfor excitement. Then I did say that I had been wild with terror; that Ihad feared I had lost her, and lost her forever; that to have lost thatinterview would have been worse to me than death; for unless she knewthat I loved her better than man ever loved woman, I could not face alonely night, and another lonely day. 

"My dear, dear child, " I said, "you may think me wild; but I must saythis, --it has been pent up too long. "

"Say what you will, " she said after a moment, in which still I held herin my arms; she was trembling so that she could not have sat uprightalone, --"say what you will, if only you do not tell me to spend anotherday alone. "

And I kissed her, and I kissed her, and I kissed her, and I said, "Never, darling, God helping me, till I die!"

How long we sat there I do not know. Neither of us spoke again. For one, I looked out on the sunset and the bay. We had but just time torearrange ourselves in positions more independent, when Mr. A---- camein, this time in alarm, to say:--

"Miss Jones, we must get you out of this place, or we must hide yousomewhere. I believe, before God, they will storm this passage, and pullthe house about our ears. "

He said this, not conscious as he began that I was there. At thatmoment, however, I felt as if I could have met a million men. I startedforward and passed him, saying, "Let me speak to them. " I rushed uponthe stage, fairly pushing back two or three bullies who were alreadyupon it. I sprang upon the table, kicking down the red box as I did so, so that the red tickets fell on the floor and on the people below. Onestuck in an old man's spectacles in a way which made the people in thegalleries laugh. A laugh is a great blessing at such a moment. Curiosityis another. Three loud words spoken like thunder do a good deal more. And after three words the house was hushed to hear me. I said:--

"Be fair to the girl. She has no father nor mother. She has no brothernor sister. She is alone in the world, with nobody to help her but thePublic--and me!"

The audacity of the speech brought out a cheer, and we should have comeoff in triumph, when some rowdy--the original "face" man, Isuppose--said, --

"And who are you?"

If the laugh went against me now I was lost, of course. Fortunately Ihad no time to think. I said without thinking, --

"I am the Child of the Public, and her betrothed husband!"

O Heavens! what a yell of laughter, of hurrahings, of satisfaction witha _dénouement_, rang through the house, and showed that all was well. Burrham caught the moment, and started his band, this timesuccessfully, --I believe with "See the Conquering Hero. " The doors, ofcourse, had been open long before. Well-disposed people saw they needstay no longer; ill-disposed people dared not stay; the blue-coated menwith buttons sauntered on the stage in groups, and I suppose the worstrowdies disappeared as they saw them. I had made my single speech, andfor the moment I was a hero. 

I believe the mayor would have liked to kiss me. Burrham almost did. They overwhelmed me with thanks and congratulations. All these Ireceived as well as I could, --somehow I did not feel at allsurprised, --everything was as it should be. I scarcely thought ofleaving the stage myself, till, to my surprise, the mayor asked me to gohome with him to dinner. 

Then I remembered that we were not to spend the rest of our lives inCastle Garden. I blundered out something about Miss Jones, that she hadno escort except me, and pressed into her room to find her. A group ofgentlemen was around her. Her veil was back now. She was very pale, butvery lovely. Have I said that she was beautiful as heaven? She was thequeen of the room, modestly and pleasantly receiving their felicitationsthat the danger was over, and owning that she had been very muchfrightened. "Until, " she said, "my friend, Mr. Carter, was fortunateenough to guess that I was here. How he did it, " she said, turning tome, "is yet an utter mystery to me. "

She did not know till then that it was I who had shared with her theprofits of the cyclopædias. 

As soon as we could excuse ourselves, I asked some one to order acarriage. I sent to the ticket-office for my valise, and we rode to theSt. Nicholas. I fairly laughed as I gave the hackman at the hotel doorwhat would have been my last dollar and a half only two hours before. Ientered Miss Jones's name and my own. The clerk looked, and said, inquiringly, --

"Is it Miss Jones's trunk which came this afternoon?"

I followed his finger to see the trunk on the marble floor. Rowdy Robhad deserted it, having seen, perhaps, a detective when he reachedPiermont. The trunk had gone to Albany, had found no owner, and hadreturned by the day boat of that day. 

Fausta went to her room, and I sent her supper after her. One kiss and"Good night" was all that I got from her then. 

"In the morning, " said she, "you shall explain. "

It was not yet seven. I went to my own room and dressed, and tenderedmyself at the mayor's just before his gay party sat down to dine. I met, for the first time in my life, men whose books I had read, and whosespeeches I had by heart, and women whom I have since known to honor;and, in the midst of this brilliant group, so excited had Mr. A---- beenin telling the strange story of the day, I was, for the hour, the lion. 

I led Mrs. A---- to the table; I made her laugh very heartily by tellingher of the usher's threats to me, and mine to him, and of the disgraceinto which I fell among the three thousand six hundreds. I had neverbeen at any such party before. But I found it was only rather simplerand more quiet than most parties I had seen, that its good breeding wasexactly that of dear Betsy Myers. 

As the party broke up, Mrs. A---- said to me, --

"Mr. Carter, I am sure you are tired, with all this excitement. You sayyou are a stranger here. Let me send round for your trunk to the St. Nicholas, and you shall spend the night here. I know I can make you abetter bed than they. "

I thought as much myself, and assented. In half an hour more I was inbed in Mrs. A----'s "best room. "

"I shall not sleep better, " said I to myself, "than I did last night. "

That was what the Public did for me that night. I was safe again!

CHAPTER LAST. 

FAUSTA'S STORY. 

Fausta slept late, poor child. I called for her before breakfast. Iwaited for her after. About ten she appeared, so radiant, so beautiful, and so kind! The trunk had revealed a dress I never saw before, and thesense of rest, and eternal security, and unbroken love had revealed acharm which was never there to see before. She was dressed for walking, and, as she met me, said, --

"Time for constitutional, Mr. Millionnaire. "

So we walked again, quite up town, almost to the region of pig-pens andcabbage-gardens which is now the Central Park. And after just the firstgush of my enthusiasm, Fausta said, very seriously:--

"I must teach you to be grave. You do not know whom you are asking to beyour wife. Excepting Mrs. Mason, No. 27 Thirty-fourth Street, sir, thereis no one in the world who is of kin to me, and she does not care for meone straw, Felix, " she said, almost sadly now. "You call yourself 'Childof the Public' I started when you first said so, for that is just what Iam. 

"I am twenty-two years old. My father died before I was born. My mother, a poor woman, disliked by his relatives and avoided by them, went tolive in Hoboken over there, with me. How she lived, God knows! but ithappened that of a strange death she died, I in her arms. "

After a pause, the poor girl went on:--

"There was a great military review, an encampment. She was tempted outto see it. Of a sudden by some mistake, a ramrod was fired from acareless soldier's gun, and it pierced her through her heart. I tellyou, Felix, it pinned my baby frock into the wound, so that they couldnot part me from her till it was cut away. 

"Of course every one was filled with horror. Nobody claimed poor me, thebaby. But the battalion, the Montgomery Battalion, it was, which had, bymischance, killed my mother, adopted me as their child. I was voted'Fille du Regiment. ' They paid an assessment annually, which the colonelexpended for me. A kind old woman nursed me. "

"She was your Betsy Myers, " interrupted I. 

"And when I was old enough I was sent into Connecticut, to the best ofschools. This lasted till I was sixteen. Fortunately for me, perhaps, the Montgomery Battalion then dissolved. I was finding it hard to answerthe colonel's annual letters. I had my living to earn, --it was best Ishould earn it. I declined a proposal to go out as a missionary. I hadno call. I answered one of Miss Beecher's appeals for Western teachers. Most of my life since has been a school-ma'am's. It has had ups anddowns. But I have always been proud that the Public was my godfather;and, as you know, " she said, "I have trusted the Public well. I havenever been lonely, wherever I went. I tried to make myself of use. WhereI was of use I found society. The ministers have been kind to me. Ialways offered my services in the Sunday schools and sewing-rooms. Theschool committees have been kind to me. They are the Public's highchamberlains for poor girls. I have written for the journals. I won oneof Sartain's hundred-dollar prizes--"

"And I another, " interrupted I. 

"When I was very poor, I won the first prize for an essay on bad boys. "

"And I the second, " answered I. 

"I think I know one bad boy better than he knows himself, " said she. Butshe went on. "I watched with this poor Miss Stillingfleet the night shedied. This absurd 'distribution' had got hold of her, and she would notbe satisfied till she had transferred that strange ticket, No. 2, 973, tome, writing the indorsement which you have heard. I had had a longing tovisit New York and Hoboken again. This ticket seemed to me to beckon me. I had money enough to come, if I would come cheaply. I wrote to myfather's business partner, and enclosed a note to his only sister. Sheis Mrs. Mason. She asked me, coldly enough, to her house. Old Mr. Grillsalways liked me, --he offered me escort and passage as far as Troy orAlbany. I accepted his proposal, and you know the rest. "

When I told Fausta my story, she declared I made it up as I went along. When she believed it, --as she does believe it now, --she agreed with mein declaring that it was not fit that two people thus joined should everbe parted. Nor have we been, ever!

She made a hurried visit at Mrs. Mason's. She prepared there for herwedding. On the 1st of November we went into that same church which wasour first home in New York; and that dear old raven-man made us

 ONE!

A PIECE OF POSSIBLE HISTORY. 

 [This essay was first published in the Monthly Religious Magazine, Boston, for October, 1851. One or another professor of chronology has since taken pains to tell me that it is impossible. But until they satisfy themselves whether Homer ever lived at all, I shall hold to the note which I wrote to Miss Dryasdust's cousin, which I printed originally at the end of the article, and which will be found there in this collection. The difficulties in the geography are perhaps worse than those of chronology. ]

A summer bivouac had collected together a little troop of soldiers fromJoppa, under the shelter of a grove, where they had spread theirsheep-skins, tethered their horses, and pitched a single tent. With thecarelessness of soldiers, they were chatting away the time till sleepmight come, and help them to to-morrow with its chances; perhaps offight, perhaps of another day of this camp indolence. Below the gardenslope where they were lounging, the rapid torrent of Kishon ran brawlingalong. A full moon was rising above the rough edge of the Eastern hills, and the whole scene was alive with the loveliness of an Easternlandscape. 

As they talked together, the strains of a harp came borne down thestream by the wind, mingling with the rippling of the brook. 

"The boys were right, " said the captain of the little company. "Theyasked leave to go up the stream to spend their evening with theCarmel-men; and said that they had there a harper, who would sing andplay for them. "

"Singing at night, and fighting in the morning! It is the true soldier'slife, " said another. 

"Who have they there?" asked a third. 

"One of those Ziklag-men, " replied the chief. "He came into camp a fewdays ago, seems to be an old favorite of the king's, and is posted withhis men, by the old tomb on the edge of the hill. If you cross thebrook, he is not far from the Carmel post; and some of his young menhave made acquaintance there. "

"One is not a soldier for nothing. If we make enemies at sight, we makefriends at sight too. "

"Echish here says that the harper is a Jew. "

"What!--a deserter?"

"I do not know that; that is the king's lookout. Their company came up aweek ago, were reviewed the day I was on guard at the outposts, and theyhad this post I tell you of assigned to them. So the king is satisfied;and, if he is, I am. "

"Jew or Gentile, Jehovah's man or Dagon's man, " said one of the youngersoldiers, with a half-irreverent tone, "I wish we had him here to singto us. "

"And to keep us awake, " yawned another. 

"Or to keep us from thinking of to-morrow, " said a third. 

"Can nobody sing here, or play, or tell an old-time story?"

There was nobody. The only two soldiers of the post, who affectedmusical skill, were the two who had gone up to the Carmelites' bivouac;and the little company of Joppa--catching louder notes and louder, asthe bard's inspiration carried him farther and farther away--crept asfar up the stream as the limits of their station would permit; and lay, without noise, to catch, as they best could, the rich tones of the musicas it swept down the valley. 

Soothed by the sound, and by the moonlight, and by the summer breeze, they were just in mood to welcome the first interruption which broke thequiet of the night. It was the approach of one of their company, who hadbeen detached to Accho a day or two before; and who came hurrying in toannounce the speedy arrival of companions, for whom he bespoke awelcome. Just as they were to leave Accho, he said, that day, on theirreturn to camp, an Ionian trading-vessel had entered port. He and hisfellow-soldiers had waited to help her moor, and had been chatting withher seamen. They had told them of the chance of battle to which theywere returning; and two or three of the younger Ionians, enchanted atthe relief from the sea's imprisonment, had begged them to let themvolunteer in company with them. These men had come up into the countrywith the soldiers, therefore; and he who had broken the silence of thelisteners to the distant serenade had hurried on to tell his comradesthat such visitors were on their way. 

They soon appeared on foot, but hardly burdened by the light packs theybore. 

A soldier's welcome soon made the Ionian sailors as much at home withthe men of the bivouac, as they had been through the day with thedetachment from the sea-board. A few minutes were enough to draw outsheep-skins for them to lie upon, a skin of wine for their thirst, abunch of raisins and some oat-cakes for their hunger; a few minutes morehad told the news which each party asked from the other; and then thesesons of the sea and these war-bronzed Philistines were as much at easewith each other as if they had served under the same sky for years. 

"We were listening to music, " said the old chief, "when you came up. Some of our young men have gone up, indeed, to the picket yonder, tohear the harper sing, whose voice you catch sometimes, when we are notspeaking. "

"You find the Muses in the midst of arms, then, " said one of the youngIonians. 

"Muses?" said the old Philistine, laughing. "That sounds like youGreeks. Ah! sir, in our rocks here we have few enough Muses, but thosewho carry these lances, or teach us how to trade with the islands fortin. "

"That's not quite fair, " cried another. "The youngsters who are gonesing well; and one of them has a harp I should be glad you should see. He made it himself from a gnarled olive-root. " And he turned to look forit. 

"You'll not find it in the tent: the boy took it with him. They hopedthe Ziklag minstrel might ask them to sing, I suppose. "

"A harp of olive-wood, " said the Ionian, "seems Muse-born andPallas-blessed. "

And, as he spoke, one of the new-comers of the Philistines leaned over, and whispered to the chief: "He is a bard himself, and we made himpromise to sing to us. I brought his harp with me that he might cheer upour bivouac. Pray, do you ask him. "

The old chief needed no persuasion; and the eyes of the whole forcebrightened as they found they had a minstrel "of their own" now, whenthe old man pressed the young Ionian courteously to let them hear him:"I told you, sir, that we had no Muses of our own; but we welcome allthe more those who come to us from over seas. "

Homer smiled; for it was Homer whom he spoke to, --Homer still in thefreshness of his unblinded youth. He took the harp which the youngPhilistine handed to him, thrummed upon its chords, and as he tuned themsaid: "I have no harp of olive-wood; we cut this out, it was years ago, from an old oleander in the marshes behind Colophon. What will you hear, gentlemen?"

"The poet chooses for himself, " said the courtly old captain. 

"Let me sing you, then, of _the Olive Harp_"; and he struck the chordsin a gentle, quieting harmony, which attuned itself to his own spirit, pleased as he was to find music and harmony and the olive of peace inthe midst of the rough bivouac, where he had come up to look for war. But he was destined to be disappointed. Just as his prelude closed, oneof the young soldiers turned upon his elbow, and whisperedcontemptuously to his neighbor: "Always _olives_, always _peace_: that'sall your music's good for!"

The boy spoke too loud, and Homer caught the discontented tone and wordswith an ear quicker than the speaker had given him credit for. He endedthe prelude with a sudden crash on the strings, and said shortly, "Andwhat is better to sing of than the olive?"

The more courteous Philistines looked sternly on the young soldier; buthe had gone too far to be frightened, and he flashed back: "War isbetter. My broadsword is better. If I could sing, I would sing to yourAres; we call him Mars!"

Homer smiled gravely. "Let it be so, " said he; and, in a lower tone, tothe captain, who was troubled at the breach of courtesy, he added, "Letthe boy see what war and Mars are for. "

He struck another prelude and began. Then was it that Homer composed his"Hymn to Mars. " In wild measure, and impetuous, he swept along throughthe list of Mars's titles and attributes; then his key changed, and hishearers listened more intently, more solemnly, as in a graver strain, with slower music, and an almost awed dignity of voice, the bard wenton:--

 "Helper of mortals, hear! As thy fires give The present boldnesses that strive In youth for honor; So would I likewise wish to have the power To keep off from my head thy bitter hour, And quench the false fire of my soul's low kind, By the fit ruling of my highest mind! Control that sting of wealth That stirs me on still to the horrid scath Of hideous battle!

 "Do thou, O ever blessed! give me still Presence of mind to put in act my will, Whate'er the occasion be; And so to live, unforced by any fear, Beneath those laws of peace, that never are Affected with pollutions popular Of unjust injury, As to bear safe the burden of hard fates, Of foes inflexive, and inhuman hates!"

The tones died away; the company was hushed for a moment; and the oldchief then said gravely to his petulant follower, "That is what _men_fight for, boy. " But the boy did not need the counsel. Homer's manner, his voice, the music itself, the spirit of the song, as much as thewords, had overcome him; and the boasting soldier was covering his tearswith his hands. 

Homer felt at once (the prince of gentlemen he) that the littleoutbreak, and the rebuke of it, had jarred the ease of their unexpectedmeeting. How blessed is the presence of mind with which the musician ofreal genius passes from song to song, "whate'er the occasion be!" Withthe ease of genius he changed the tone of his melody again, and sang hisown hymn, "To Earth, the Mother of all. "

The triumphant strain is one which harmonizes with every sentiment; andhe commanded instantly the rapt attention of the circle. So engrossedwas he, that he did not seem to observe, as he sang, an addition totheir company of some soldiers from above in the valley, just as heentered on the passage:--

 "Happy, then, are they Whom thou, O great in reverence! Are bent to honor. They shall all things find In all abundance! All their pastures yield Herds in all plenty. All their roofs are filled With rich possessions. High happiness and wealth attend them, While, with laws well-ordered, they Cities of happy households sway; And their sons exult in the pleasure of youth, And their daughters dance with the flower-decked girls, Who play among the flowers of summer! Such are the honors thy full hands divide; Mother of Gods and starry Heaven's bride!"[1]

A buzz of pleasure and a smile ran round the circle, in which thenew-comers joined. They were the soldiers who had been to hear and jointhe music at the Carmel-men's post. The tones of Homer's harp hadtempted them to return; and they had brought with them the Hebrewminstrel, to whom they had been listening. It was the outlaw David, ofBethlehem Ephrata. 

David had listened to Homer more intently than any one; and, as thepleased applause subsided, the eyes of the circle gathered upon him, andthe manner of all showed that they expected him, in minstrel-fashion, totake up the same strain. 

He accepted the implied invitation, played a short prelude, and takingHomer's suggestion of topic, sang in parallel with it:--

 "I will sing a new song unto thee, O God! Upon psaltery and harp will I sing praise to thee. Thou art He that giveth salvation to kings, That delivereth David, thy servant, from the sword. Rid me and save me from those who speak vanity, Whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood, -- That our sons may be as plants in fresh youth; That our daughters may be as corner-stones, -- The polished stones of our palaces; That our garners may be full with all manner of store; That our sheep may bring forth thousands and ten thousands in the way; That there may be no cry nor complaint in our streets. Happy is the people that is in such a case; Yea, happy is the people whose God is the Lord!"

The melody was triumphant; and the enthusiastic manner yet more so. ThePhilistines listened delighted, --too careless of religion, they, indeednot to be catholic in presence of religious enthusiasm; and Homer worethe exalted expression which his face seldom wore. For the first timesince his childhood, Homer felt that he was not alone in the world!

Who shall venture to tell what passed between the two minstrels, whenHomer, leaving his couch, crossed the circle at once, flung himself onthe ground by David's side, gave him his hand; when they looked eachother in the face, and sank down into the rapid murmuring of talk, whichconstant gesture illustrated, but did not fully explain to the rough menaround them? They respected the poets' colloquy for a while; but then, eager again to hear one harp or the other, they persuaded one of theIonian sailors to ask Homer again to sing to them. 

It was hard to persuade Homer. He shook his head, and turned back to thesoldier-poet. 

"What should _I_ sing?" he said. 

They did not enter into his notion: hearers will not always. And so, taking his question literally, they replied, "Sing? Sing us of thesnow-storm, the storm of stones, of which you sang at noon. "

Poor Homer! It was easier to do it than to be pressed to do it; and hestruck his harp again:--

 "It was as when, some wintry day, to men Jove would, in might, his sharp artillery show; He wills his winds to sleep, and over plain And mountains pours, in countless flakes, his snow. Deep it conceals the rocky cliffs and hills, Then covers all the blooming meadows o'er, All the rich monuments of mortals' skill, All ports and rocks that break the ocean-shore. Rock, haven, plain, are buried by its fall; But the near wave, unchanging, drinks it all. So while these stony tempests veil the skies, While this on Greeks, and that on Trojans flies, The walls unchanged above the clamor rise. "[2]

The men looked round upon David, whose expression, as he returned theglance, showed that he had enjoyed the fragment as well as they. Butwhen they still looked expectant, he did not decline the unspokeninvitation; but, taking Homer's harp, sang, as if the words werefamiliar to him:--

 "He giveth snow like wool; He scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes; He casteth forth his ice like morsels; Who can stand before his cold? He sendeth forth his word, and melteth them; He causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow. "

"Always this '_He_, '" said one of the young soldiers to another. 

"Yes, " he replied; "and it was so in the beginning of the evening, whenwe were above there. "

"There is a strange difference between the two men, though the one playsas well as the other, and the Greek speaks with quite as little foreignaccent as the Jew, and their subjects are the same. "

"Yes, " said the young Philistine harper; "if the Greek should sing oneof the Hebrew's songs, you would know he had borrowed it, in a moment. "

"And so, if it were the other way. "

"Of course, " said their old captain, joining in this conversation. "Homer, if you call him so, sings the thing made: David sings the maker. Or, rather, Homer thinks of the thing made: David thinks of the maker, whatever they sing. "

"I was going to say that Homer would sing of cities; and David, of thelife in them. "

"It is not what they say so much, as the way they look at it. The Greeksees the outside, --the beauty of the thing; the Hebrew--"

"Hush!"

For David and his new friend had been talking too. Homer had told him ofthe storm at sea they met a few days before; and David, I think, hadspoken of a mountain-tornado, as he met it years before. In theexcitement of his narrative he struck the harp, which was still in hishand, and sung:--

 "Then the earth shook and trembled, The foundations of the hills moved and were shaken, Because He was wroth; There went up a smoke out of his nostrils, And fire out of his mouth devoured; It burned with living coal. He bowed the heavens also, and came down, And darkness was under his feet; He rode upon a cherub and did fly, Yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness his resting-place, His pavilion were dark waters and clouds of the skies; At the brightness before him his clouds passed by, Hail-stones and coals of fire. The Lord also thundered in the heavens, And the highest gave his voice; Hail-stones and coals of fire. Yea, he sent out his arrows, and scattered them, And he shot out his lightnings, and discomfited them. Then the channels of waters were seen, And the foundations of the world were made known, At thy rebuke, O Lord! At the blast of the breath of thy nostrils. He sent from above, he took me, He drew me out of many waters. "

"Mine were but a few verses, " said Homer. "I am more than repaid byyours. Imagine Neptune, our sea-god, looking on a battle:--

 "There he sat high, retired from the seas; There looked with pity on his Grecians beaten; There burned with rage at the god-king who slew them. Then he rushed forward from the rugged mountains, Quickly descending; He bent the forests also as he came down, And the high cliffs shook under his feet. Three times he trod upon them, And with his fourth step reached the home he sought for. 

 "There was his palace, in the deep waters of the seas, Shining with gold, and builded forever. There he yoked him his swift-footed horses; Their hoofs are brazen, and their manes are golden. He binds them with golden thongs, He seizes his golden goad, He mounts upon his chariot, and doth fly: Yes! he drives them forth into the waves! And the whales rise under him from the depths, For they know he is their king; And the glad sea is divided into parts, That his steeds may fly along quickly; And his brazen axle passes dry between the waves, So, bounding fast, they bring him to his Grecians. "[3]

And the poets sank again into talk. 

"You see it, " said the old Philistine. "He paints the picture. Davidsings the life of the picture. "

"Yes: Homer sees what he sings; David feels his song. "

"Homer's is perfect in its description. "

"Yes; but for life, for the soul of the description, you need theHebrew. "

"Homer might be blind; and, with that fancy and word-painting power ofhis, and his study of everything new, he would paint pictures as hesang, though unseen. "

"Yes, " said another; "but David--" And he paused. 

"But David?" asked the chief. 

"I was going to say that he might be blind, deaf, imprisoned, exiled, sick, or all alone, and that yet he would never know he was alone;feeling as he does, as he must to sing so, of the presence of this Lordof his!"

"He does not think of a snow-flake, but as sent from him. "

"While the snow-flake is reminding Homer of that hard, worrying, slinging work of battle. He must have seen fight himself. "

They were hushed again. For, though they no longer dared ask the poetsto sing to them, --so engrossed were they in each other's society, --thesoldiers were hardly losers from this modest courtesy. For the poetswere constantly arousing each other to strike a chord, or to sing somesnatch of remembered song. And so it was that Homer, _àpropos_ of I donot know what, sang in a sad tone:--

 "Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground: Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise. So generations in their course decay, So flourish these, when those have passed away. "[4]

David waited for a change in the strain; but Homer stopped. The youngHebrew asked him to go on; but Homer said that the passage whichfollowed was mere narrative, from a long narrative poem. David lookedsurprised that his new friend had not pointed a moral as he sang; andsaid simply, "We sing that thus:--

 "As for man, his days are as grass; As a flower of the field, so he flourisheth; For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone, And the place thereof shall know it no more. But the mercy of the Lord Is from everlasting to everlasting Of them that fear him; And his righteousness Unto children's children, To such as keep his covenant, As remember his commandments to do them!"

Homer's face flashed delighted. "I, like you, 'keep his covenant, '" hecried; and then without a lyre, for his was still in David's hands, hesang, in clear tone:--

 "Thou bid'st me birds obey;--I scorn their flight, If on the left they rise, or on the right! Heed them who may, the will of Jove I own, Who mortals and immortals rules alone!"[5]

"That is more in David's key, " said the young Philistine harper, seeingthat the poets had fallen to talk together again. "But how would itsound in one of the hymns on one of our feast-days?"

 "Who mortals and immortals rules alone. "

"How, indeed?" cried one of his young companions. "There would be moresense in what the priests say and sing, if each were not quarrelling forhis own, --Dagon against Astarte, and Astarte against Dagon. "

The old captain bent over, that the poets might not hear him, andwhispered: "There it is that the Hebrews have so much more heart than wein such things. Miserable fellows though they are, so many of them, yet, when I have gone through their whole land with the caravans, the chanceshave been that any serious-minded man spoke of no God but this '_He_'of David's. "

"What is his name?"

"They do not know themselves, I believe. "

"Well, as I said an hour ago, God's man or Dagon's man, --for those aregood names enough for me, --I care little; but I should like to sing asthat young fellow does. "

"My boy, " said the old man, "have not you heard him enough to see thatit is not _he_ that sings, near as much as this love of his for a Spirithe does not name? It is that spirited heart of his that sings. "

"_You_ sing like him? Find his life, boy; and perhaps it may sing foryou. "

"We should be more manly men, if he sang to us every night. "

"Or if the other did, " said an Ionian sailor. 

"Yes, " said the chief. "And yet, I think, if your countryman sang everynight to me, he would make me want the other. Whether David's singingwould send me to his, I do not feel sure. But how silly to compare them!As well compare the temple in Accho with the roar of a whirlwind--"

"Or the point of my lance with the flight of an eagle. The men are intwo worlds. "

"O, no! that is saying too much. You said that one could paintpictures--"

"--Into which the other puts life. Yes, I did say so. We are fortunatethat we have them together. "

"For this man sings of men quite as well as the other does; and to havethe other sing of God--"

"--Why, it completes the song. Between them they bring the two worldstogether. "

"He bows the heavens, and comes down, " said the boy of the olive-harp, trying to hum David's air. 

"Let us ask them--"

And just then there rang along the valley the sound of a distantconch-shell. The soldiers groaned, roused up, and each looked for hisown side-arms and his own skin. 

But the poets talked on unheeding. 

The old chief knocked down a stack of lances; but the crash did notrouse them. He was obliged himself to interrupt their eager converse. 

"I am sorry to break in; but the night-horn has sounded to rest, and theguard will be round to inspect the posts. I am sorry to hurry you away, sir, " he said to David. 

David thanked him courteously. 

"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest, " said Homer, with a smile. 

"We will all meet to-morrow. And may to-night's dreams be good omens!"

"If we dream at all, " said Homer again:--

 "Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, And asks no omen but his country's cause. "

They were all standing together, as he made this careless reply to thecaptain; and one of the young men drew him aside, and whispered thatDavid was in arms against his country. 

Homer was troubled that he had spoken as he did. But the young Jewlooked little as if he needed sympathy. He saw the doubt and regretwhich hung over their kindly faces; told them not to fear for him;singing, as he bade them good night, and with one of the Carmel-menwalked home to his own outpost:--

 "The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion, The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the bear, He will deliver me. "

And he smiled to think how his Carmelite companion would start, if heknew when first he used those words. 

So they parted, as men who should meet on the morrow. 

But God disposes. 

David had left to-morrow's dangers for to-morrow to care for. It seemedto promise him that he must be in arms against Saul. But, unlike us inour eagerness to anticipate our conflicts of duty, David _waited_. 

And the Lord delivered him. While they were singing by the brookside, the proud noblemen of the Philistine army had forced an interview withtheir king; and, in true native Philistine arrogance, insisted that"this Hebrew" and his men should be sent away. 

With the light of morning the king sent for the minstrel, andcourteously dismissed him, because "the princes of the Philistines havesaid, 'He shall not go up with us to the battle. '"

So David marched his men to Ziklag. 

And David and Homer never met on earth again. 

 NOTE. --This will be a proper place to print the following note, which I was obliged to write to a second cousin of Miss Dryasdust after she had read the MS. Of the article above:--

 "DEAR MADAM:--I thank you for your kind suggestion, in returning my paper, that it involves a piece of impossible history. You inform me, that, 'according to the nomenclatured formulas and homophonic analogies of Professor Gouraud, of never-to-be-forgotten memory, "A NEEDLE is less useful for curing a DEAF HEAD, than for putting ear-rings into a _Miss's lily-ears_"; and that this shows that the second king of Judah, named David (or Deaf-head) began to reign in 1055 B. C. , and died 1040 B. C. '; and further, that, according to the same authority, '_Homer flourished_ when the Greeks were fond of his POETRY'; which, being interpreted, signifies that he flourished in 914 B. C. , and, consequently, could have had no more to do with David than to plant ivy over his grave, in some of his voyages to Phoenicia. 

 "I thank you for the suggestion. I knew the unforgetting professor; and I do not doubt that he remembered David and Homer as his near friends. But, of course, to such a memory, a century or two might easily slip aside. 

 "Now, did you look up Clement? And did you not forget the Arundelian Marbles? For, if you will take the long estimates, you will find that some folks think Homer lived as long ago as the year 1150, and some that it was as 'short ago' as 850. And some set David as long ago as 1170, and some bring him down to a hundred and fifty years later. These are the long measures and the short measures. So the long and short of it is, that you can keep the two poets 320 years apart, while I have rather more than a century which I can select any night of, for a bivouac scene, in which to bring them together. Believe me, my dear Miss D. , always yours, &c. 

 "Confess that you forgot the Arundelian Marbles!"

FOOTNOTES:

[1] After Chapman. 

[2] After Cowper and Pope. Long after!

[3] Iliad, vi. 

[4] Iliad, vi. --POPE. 

[5] Iliad, xii. , after Sotheby. 

THE SOUTH AMERICAN EDITOR

 [I am tempted to include this little burlesque in this collection simply in memory of the Boston Miscellany, the magazine in which it was published, which won for itself a brilliant reputation in its short career. There was not a large staff of writers for the Miscellany, but many of the names then unknown have since won distinction. To quote them in the accidental order in which I find them in the table of contents, where they are arranged by the alphabetical order of the several papers, the Miscellany contributors were Edward Everett, George Lunt, Nathan Hale, Jr. , Nathaniel Hawthorne, N. P. Willis, W. W. Story, J. R. Lowell, C. N. Emerson, Alexander H. Everett, Sarah P. Hale, W. A. Jones, Cornelius Matthews, Mrs. Kirkland, J. W. Ingraham, H. T. Tuckerman, Evart A. Duyckinck, Francis A. Durivage, Mrs. J. Webb, Charles F. Powell, Charles W. Storey, Lucretia P. Hale, Charles F. Briggs, William E. Channing, Charles Lanman, G. H. Hastings, and Elizabeth B. Barrett, now Mrs. Browning, some of whose earliest poems were published in this magazine. These are all the contributors whose names appear, excepting the writers of a few verses. They furnished nine tenths of the contents of the magazine. The two Everetts, Lowell, William Story, and my brother, who was the editor, were the principal contributors. And I am tempted to say that I think they all put some of their best work upon this magazine. 

 The misfortune of the Miscellany, I suppose, was that its publishers had no capital. They had to resort to the claptraps of fashion-plates and other engravings, in the hope of forcing an immediate sale upon persons who, caring for fashion-plates, did not care for the literary character of the enterprise. It gave a very happy escape-pipe, however, for the high spirits of some of us who had just left college, and, through my brother's kindness, I was sometimes permitted to contribute to the journal. In memory of those early days of authorship, I select "The South American Editor" to publish here. For the benefit of the New York Observer, I will state that the story is not true. And lest any should complain that it advocates elopements, I beg to observe, in the seriousness of mature life, that the proposed elopement did not succeed, and that the parties who proposed it are represented as having no guardians or keepers but themselves. The article was first published in 1842. ]

It is now more than six years since I received the following letter froman old classmate of mine, Harry Barry, who had been studying divinity, and was then a settled minister. It was an answer to a communication Ihad sent him the week before. 

 "TOPSHAM, R. I. , January 22, 1836. 

 "To say the truth, my dear George, your letter startled me a little. To think that I, scarcely six months settled in the profession, should be admitted so far into the romance of it as to unite forever two young runaways like yourself and Miss Julia What's-her-name is at least curious. But, to give you your due, you have made a strong case of it, and as Miss ---- (what is her name, I have not yours at hand) is not under any real guardianship, I do not see but I am perfectly justified in complying with your rather odd request. You see I make a conscientious matter of it. 

 "Write me word when it shall be, and I will be sure to be ready. Jane is of course in my counsels, and she will make your little wife feel as much at home as in her father's parlor. Trust us for secrecy. 

 "I met her last week--"

But the rest of the letter has nothing to do with the story. 

The elopement alluded to in it (if the little transaction deserves sohigh-sounding a name) was, in every sense of the words, strictlynecessary. Julia Wentworth had resided for years with her grandfather, apragmatic old gentleman, to whom from pure affection she had longyielded an obedience which he would have had no right to extort, andwhich he was sometimes disposed to abuse. He had declared in the mostingenuous manner that she should never marry with his consent any man ofless fortune than her own would be; and on his consent rested theprospect of her inheriting his property. 

Julia and I, however, care little for money now, we cared still lessthen; and her own little property and my own little salary made usesteem ourselves entirely independent of the old gentleman and his will. 

His intention respecting the poor girl's marriage was thundered in herears at least once a week, so that we both knew that I had no need tomake court to him; indeed, I had never seen him, always having met herin walking, or in the evening at party, spectacle, concert, or lecture. He had lately been more domineering than usual, and I had but littledifficulty in persuading the dear girl to let me write to Harry Barry, to make the arrangement to which he assented in the letter which I havecopied above. The reasoning which I pressed upon her is obvious. Weloved each other, --the old gentleman could not help that; and as hemanaged to make us very uncomfortable in Boston, in the existing stateof affairs, we naturally came to the conclusion that the sooner wechanged that state the better. Our excursion to Topsham would, wesupposed, prove a very disagreeable business to him; but we knew itwould result very agreeably for us, and so, though with a good deal ofmaidenly compunction and granddaughterly compassion on Julia's part, weoutvoted him. 

I have said that I had no fortune to enable me to come near the oldgentleman's _beau ideal_ of a grand-son-in-law. I was then living on mysalary as a South American editor. Does the reader know what that is?The South American editor of a newspaper has the uncontrolled charge ofits South American news. Read any important commercial paper for amonth, and at the end of it tell me if you have any clear conception ofthe condition of the various republics (!) of South America. If youhave, it is because that journal employs an individual for the solepurpose of setting them in the clearest order before you, and thatindividual is its South American editor. The general-news editor of thepaper will keep the run of all the details of all the histories of allthe rest of the world, but he hardly attempts this in addition. If hedoes, he fails. It is therefore necessary, from the most cogent reasons, that any American news office which has a strong regard for theconsistency or truth of its South American intelligence shall employsome person competent to take the charge which I held in theestablishment of the Boston Daily Argus at the time of which I amspeaking. Before that enterprising paper was sold, I was its "SouthAmerican man"; this being my only employment, excepting that by aspecial agreement, in consideration of an addition to my salary, I wasengaged to attend to the news from St. Domingo, Guatemala, andMexico. [6]

Monday afternoon, just a fortnight after I received Harry Barry'sletter, in taking my afternoon walk round the Common, I happened to meetJulia. I always walked in the same direction when I was alone. Juliaalways preferred to go the other way; it was the only thing in which wediffered. When we were together I always went her way of course, andliked it best. 

I had told her, long before, all about Harry's letter, and the deargirl in this walk, after a little blushing and sighing, and halffaltering and half hesitating and feeling uncertain, yielded to my lastand warmest persuasions, and agreed to go to Mrs. Pollexfen's ball thatevening, ready to leave it with me in my buggy sleigh, for a threehours' ride to Topsham, where we both knew Harry would be waiting forus. I do not know how she managed to get through tea that evening withher lion of a grandfather, for she could not then cover her tearful eyeswith a veil as she did through the last half of our walk together. Iknow that I got through my tea and such like ordinary affairs byskipping them. I made all my arrangements, bade Gage and Streeter beready with the sleigh at my lodgings (fortunately only two doors fromMrs. Pollexfen's) at half-past nine o'clock, and was the highestspirited of men when, on returning to those lodgings myself at eighto'clock, I found the following missives from the Argus office, which hadbeen accumulating through the afternoon. 

 No. 1. 

 "4 o'clock, P. M. 

 "DEAR SIR:--The southern mail, just in, brings Buenos Ayres papers six days later, by the Medora, at Baltimore. 

 "In haste, J. C. "

(Mr. C. Was the gentleman who opened the newspapers, and arranged thedeaths and marriages; he always kindly sent for me when I was out of theway. )

 No. 2. 

 "5 o'clock, P. M. 

 "DEAR SIR:-- The U. S. Ship Preble is in at Portsmouth; latest from Valparaiso. The mail is not sorted. 

 "Yours, J. D. "

(Mr. D. Arranged the ship news for the Argus. )

 No. 3. 

 "6 o'clock, P. M. 

 "DEAR SIR:--I boarded, this morning, off Cape Cod, the Blunderhead, from Carthagena, and have a week's later papers. 

 "Truly yours, J. E. "

(Mr. E. Was the enterprising commodore of our news-boats. )

 No. 4. 

 "6¼ o'clock, P. M. 

 "DEAR SIR:--I have just opened accidentally the enclosed letter, from our correspondent at Panama. You will see that it bears a New Orleans post-mark. I hope it may prove exclusive. 

 "Yours, J. F. "

(Mr. F. Was general editor of the Argus. )

 No. 5. 

 "6½ o'clock, P. M. 

 "DEAR SIR:--A seaman, who appears to be an intelligent man, has arrived this morning at New Bedford, and says he has later news of the rebellion in Ecuador than any published. The Rosina (his vessel) brought no papers. I bade him call at your room at eight o'clock, which he promised to do. 

 "Truly yours, J. G. "

(Mr. G. Was clerk in the Argus counting-room. )

 No. 6. 

 "7½ o'clock, P. M. 

 "DEAR SIR:--The papers by the Ville de Lyon, from Havre, which I have just received, mention the reported escape of M. Bonpland from Paraguay, the presumed death of Dr. Francia, the probable overthrow of the government, the possible establishment of a republic, and a great deal more than I understand in the least. 

 "These papers had not come to hand when I wrote you this afternoon. I have left them on your desk at the office. 

 "In haste, J. F. "

I was taken all aback by this mass of odd-looking little notes. I hadspent the afternoon in drilling Singleton, the kindest of friends, as towhat he should do in any probable contingency of news of the nextforty-eight hours, for I did not intend to be absent on a wedding toureven longer than that time; but I felt that Singleton was entirelyunequal to such a storm of intelligence as this; and, as I hurried downto the office, my chief sensation was that of gratitude that the cloudhad broken before I was out of the way; for I knew I could do a greatdeal in an hour, and I had faith that I might slur over my digest asquickly as possible, and be at Mrs. Pollexfen's within the timearranged. 

I rushed into the office in that state of zeal in which a man may doanything in almost no time. But first, I had to go into theconversation-room, and get the oral news from my sailor; then Mr. H. , from one of the little news-boats, came to me in high glee, with someVenezuela Gazettes, which he had just extorted from a skipper, who, withgreat plausibility, told him that he knew his vessel had brought nonews, for she never had before. (N. B. In this instance she was the onlyvessel to sail, after a three months' blockade. ) And then I had handedto me by Mr. J. , one of the commercial gentlemen, a private letter fromRio Janeiro, which had been lent him. After these delays, with fullmaterials, I sprang to work--read, read, read; wonder, wonder, wonder;guess, guess, guess; scratch, scratch, scratch; and scribble, scribble, scribble, make the only transcript I can give of the operations whichfollowed. At first, several of the other gentlemen in the room sataround me; but soon Mr. C. , having settled the deaths and marriages, andthe police and municipal reporters immediately after him, screwed outtheir lamps and went home; then the editor himself, then the legislativereporters, then the commercial editors, then the ship-news conductor, and left me alone. 

I envied them that they got through so much earlier than usual, butscratched on, only interrupted by the compositors coming in for thepages of my copy as I finished them; and finally, having made my lasttranslation from the last _Boletin Extraordinario_, sprang up, shouting, "Now for Mrs. P. 's, " and looked at my watch. It was half past one![7] Ithought of course it had stopped, --no; and my last manuscript page wasnumbered twenty-eight! Had I been writing there five hours? Yes!

Reader, when you are an editor, with a continent's explosions todescribe, you will understand how one may be unconscious of the passageof time. 

I walked home, sad at heart. There was no light in all Mr. Wentworth'shouse; there was none in any of Mrs. Pollexfen's windows;[8] and thelast carriage of her last relation had left her door. I stumbled upstairs in the dark, and threw myself on my bed. What should I say, whatcould I say, to Julia? Thus pondering, I fell asleep. 

If I were writing a novel, I should say that, at a late hour the nextday, I listlessly drew aside the azure curtains of my couch, andlanguidly rang a silver bell which stood on my dressing-table, andreceived from a page dressed in an Oriental costume the notes andletters which had been left for me since morning, and the newspapers ofthe day. 

I am not writing a novel. 

The next morning, about ten o'clock, I arose and went down tobreakfast. As I sat at the littered table which every one else had left, dreading to attack my cold coffee and toast, I caught sight of themorning papers, and received some little consolation from them. Therewas the Argus with its three columns and a half of "Important from SouthAmerica, " while none of the other papers had a square of anyintelligibility excepting what they had copied from the Argus the daybefore. I felt a grim smile creeping over my face as I observed thissignal triumph of our paper, and ventured to take a sip of the blackbroth as I glanced down my own article to see if there were any glaringmisprints in it. Before I took the second sip, however, a loud peal atthe door-bell announced a stranger, and, immediately after, a note wasbrought in for me which I knew was in Julia's handwriting. 

 "DEAR GEORGE:--Don't be angry; it was not my fault, really it was not. Grandfather came home just as I was leaving last night, and was so angry, and said I should not go to the party, and I had to sit with him all the evening. Do write to me or let me see you; do something--"

What a load that note took off my mind! And yet, what must the poor girlhave suffered! Could the old man suspect? Singleton was true to me assteel, I knew. He could not have whispered, --nor Barry; but that Jane, Barry's wife. O woman! woman! what newsmongers they are! Here were Juliaand I, made miserable for life, perhaps, merely that Jane Barry mighthave a good story to tell. What right had Barry to a wife? Not fouryears out of college, and hardly settled in his parish. To think that Ihad been fool enough to trust even him with the particulars of myall-important secret! But here I was again interrupted, coffee-cup stillfull, toast still untasted, by another missive. 

 "Tuesday morning. 

 "SIR:--I wish to see you this morning. Will you call upon me, or appoint a time and place where I may meet you?

 "Yours, JEDEDIAH WENTWORTH. "

 "Send word by the bearer. "

"Tell Mr. Wentworth I will call at his house at eleven o'clock. "

The cat was certainly out; Mrs. Barry had told, or some one else had, who I did not know and hardly cared. The scene was to come now, and Iwas almost glad of it. Poor Julia! what a time she must have had withthe old bear!

At eleven o'clock I was ushered into Mr. Wentworth's sitting-room. Juliawas there, but before I had even spoken to her the old gentleman camebustling across the room, with his "Mr. Hackmatack, I suppose"; andthen followed a formal introduction between me and her, which both of usbore with the most praiseworthy fortitude and composure, neitherevincing, even by a glance, that we had ever seen or heard of each otherbefore. Here was another weight off my mind and Julia's. I had wrongedpoor Mrs. Barry. The secret was not out--what could he want? It verysoon appeared. 

After a minute's discussion of the weather, the snow, and thethermometer, the old gentleman drew up his chair to mine, with "I think, sir, you are connected with the Argus office?"

"Yes, sir; I am its South American editor. "

"Yes!" roared the old man, in a sudden rage. "Sir, I wish South Americawas sunk in the depths of the sea!"

"I am sure I do, sir, " replied I, glancing at Julia, who did not, however, understand me. I had not fully passed out of my last night'sdistress. 

My sympathizing zeal soothed the old gentleman a little, and he saidmore coolly, in an undertone: "Well, sir, you are well informed, nodoubt; tell me, in strict secrecy, sir, between you and me, do you--doyou place full credit--entire confidence in the intelligence in thismorning's paper?"

"Excuse me, sir; what paper do you allude to? Ah! the Argus, I see. Certainly, sir; I have not the least doubt that it is perfectlycorrect. "

"No doubt, sir! Do you mean to insult me?--Julia, I told you so; hesays there is no doubt it is true. Tell me again there is some mistake, will you?" The poor girl had been trying to soothe him with the constantremark of uninformed people, that the newspapers are always in thewrong. He turned from her, and rose from his chair in a positive rage. She was half crying. I never saw her more distressed. What did all thismean? Were one, two, or all of us crazy?

It soon appeared. After pacing the length of the room once or twice, Wentworth came up to me again, and, attempting to appear cool, saidbetween his closed lips: "Do you say you have no doubt that Rio Janeirois strictly blockaded?"

"Not the slightest in the world, " said I, trying to seem unconcerned. 

"Not the slightest, sir? What are you so impudent and cool about it for?Do you think you are talking of the opening of a rose-bud or the deathof a mosquito? Have you no sympathy with the sufferings of afellow-creature? Why, sir!" and the old man's teeth chattered as hespoke, "I have five cargoes of flour on their way to Rio, and theircaptains will--Damn it, sir, I shall lose the whole venture. "

The secret was out. The old fool had been sending flour to Rio, knowingas little of the state of affairs there as a child. 

"And do you really mean, sir, " continued the old man, "that there is anembargo in force in Monte Video?"

"Certainly, sir; but I'm very sorry for it. "

"Sorry for it! of course you are;--and that all foreigners are sent outof Buenos Ayres?"

"Undoubtedly, sir. I wish--"

"Who does not wish so? Why, sir, my corresponding friends there are halfacross the sea by this time. I wish Rosas was in ---- and that theIndians have risen near Maranham?"

"Undoubtedly, sir. "

"Undoubtedly! I tell you, sir, I have two vessels waiting for cargoes ofIndia-rubbers there, under a blunder-headed captain, who will do nothinghe has not been bidden to, --obey his orders if he breaks his owners. Yousmile, sir? Why, I should have made thirty thousand dollars this winter, sir, by my India-rubbers, if we had not had this devilish mild, openweather, you and Miss Julia there have been praising so. But next wintermust be a severe one, and with those India-rubbers I should havemade--But now those Indians, --pshaw! And a revolution in Chili?"

"Yes, sir. "

"No trade there! And in Venezuela?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir! Sir, I am ruined. Say 'Yes, sir, ' to that. I have thirteen vessels at this moment in the SouthAmerican trade, sir; say 'Yes, sir, ' to that. Half of them will betaken by the piratical scoundrels; say 'Yes, sir, ' to that. Theirinsurance will not cover them; say 'Yes, sir, ' to that. The other halfwill forfeit their cargoes, or sell them for next to nothing; say 'Yes, sir, ' to that. I tell you I am a ruined man, and I wish the SouthAmerica, and your daily Argus, and you--"

Here the old gentleman's old-school breeding got the better of his rage, and he sank down in his arm-chair, and, bursting into tears, said:"Excuse me, sir, --excuse me, sir, --I am too warm. "

We all sat for a few moments in silence, but then I took my share of theconversation. I wish you could have seen the old man's face light uplittle by little, as I showed him that to a person who understood thepolitics and condition of the mercurial country with which he hadignorantly attempted to trade, his condition was not near so bad as hethought it; that though one port was blockaded, another was opened; thatthough one revolution thwarted him, a few weeks would show another whichwould favor him; that the goods which, as he saw, would be worthless atthe port to which he had sent them, would be valuable elsewhere; thatthe vessels which would fail in securing the cargoes he had orderedcould secure others; that the very revolutions and wars which troubledhim would require in some instances large government purchases, perhapslarge contracts for freight, possibly even for passage, --his vesselsmight be used for transports; that the very excitement of somedistricts might be made to turn to our advantage; that, in short, therewere a thousand chances open to him which skilful agents could readilyimprove. I reminded him that a quick run in a clipper schooner couldcarry directions to half these skippers of his, to whom, with aninfatuation which I could not and cannot conceive, he had left nodiscretion, and who indeed were to be pardoned if they could use none, seeing the tumult as they did with only half an eye. I talked to him forhalf an hour, and went into details to show that my plans were notimpracticable. The old gentleman grew brighter and brighter, and Julia, as I saw, whenever I stole a glance across the room, felt happier andhappier. The poor girl had had a hard time since he had first heard thisnews whispered the evening before. 

His difficulties were not over, however; for when I talked to him of thenecessity of sending out one or two skilful agents immediately to takethe personal superintendence of his complicated affairs, the old mansighed, and said he had no skilful agents to send. 

With his customary suspicion, he had no partners, and had neverintrusted his clerks with any general insight into his business. Besides, he considered them all, like his captains, blunder-headed tothe last degree. I believe it was an idea of Julia's, communicated to mein an eager, entreating glance, which induced me to propose myself asone of these confidential agents, and to be responsible for the other. I thought, as I spoke, of Singleton, to whom I knew I could explain myplans in full, and whose mercantile experience would make him a valuablecoadjutor. The old gentleman accepted my offer eagerly. I told him thattwenty-four hours were all I wanted to prepare myself. He immediatelytook measures for the charter of two little clipper schooners which layin port then; and before two days were past, Singleton and I were on ourvoyage to South America. Imagine, if you can, how these two days werespent. Then, as now, I could prepare for any journey in twenty minutes, and of course I had no little time at my disposal for last words withMr. And--Miss Wentworth. How I won on the old gentleman's heart in thosetwo days! How he praised me to Julia, and then, in as natural affection, how he praised her to me! And how Julia and I smiled through our tears, when, in the last good-bys, he said he was too old to write or read anybut business letters, and charged me and her to keep up a closecorrespondence, which on one side should tell all that I saw and did, and on the other hand remind me of all at home. 

I have neither time nor room to give the details of that South Americanexpedition. I have no right to. There were revolutions accomplished inthose days without any object in the world's eyes; and, even in mine, only serving to sell certain cargoes of long cloths and flour. Thedetails of those outbreaks now told would make some patriotic presidentstremble in their seats; and I have no right to betray confidence atwhatever rate I purchased it. Usually, indeed, my feats and Singleton'swere only obtaining the best information and communicating the mostspeedy instructions to Mr. Wentworth's vessels, which were made to movefrom port to port with a rapidity and intricacy of movement which nonebesides us two understood in the least. It was in that expedition that Itravelled almost alone across the continent. I was, I think, the firstwhite man who ever passed through the mountain path of Xamaulipas, nowso famous in all the Chilian picturesque annuals. I was carryingdirections for some vessels which had gone round the Cape; and what atime Burrows and Wheatland and I had a week after, when we rode into thepublic square of Valparaiso shouting, "Muera la Constitucion, --VivaLibertad!" by our own unassisted lungs actually raising a rebellion, and, which was of more importance, a prohibition on foreign flour, whileBahamarra and his army were within a hundred miles of us. How thosevessels came up the harbor, and how we unloaded them, knowing that atbest our revolution could only last five days! But as I said, I must becareful, or I shall be telling other people's secrets. 

The result of that expedition was that those thirteen vessels all madegood outward voyages, and all but one or two eventually made profitablehome voyages. When I returned home, the old gentleman received me withopen arms. I had rescued, as he said, a large share of that fortunewhich he valued so highly. To say the truth, I felt and feel that he hadplanned his voyages so blindly, that, without some wiser head than his, they would never have resulted in anything. They were his last, as theywere almost his first, South American ventures. He returned to his oldcourse of more methodical trading for the few remaining years of hislife. They were, thank Heaven, the only taste of mercantile businesswhich I ever had. Living as I did, in the very sunshine of Mr. Wentworth's favor, I went through the amusing farce of paying myaddresses to Julia in approved form, and in due time received the oldgentleman's cordial assent to our union, and his blessing upon it. Insix months after my return, we were married; the old man as happy as aking. He would have preferred a little that the ceremony should havebeen performed by Mr. B----, his friend and pastor, but readily assentedto my wishes to call upon a dear and early friend of my own. 

Harry Barry came from Topsham and performed the ceremony, "assisted byRev. Mr. B. "

G. H. 

ARGUS COTTAGE, April 1, 1842. 

FOOTNOTES:

[6] I do not know that this explanation is at all clear. Letme, as the mathematicians say, give an instance which will illustratethe importance of this profession. It is now a few months since Ireceived the following note from a distinguished member of theCabinet:--

 "WASHINGTON, January --, 1842. 

 "DEAR SIR:--We are in a little trouble about a little thing. There are now in this city no less than three gentlemen bearing credentials to government as Chargés from the Republic of Oronoco. They are, of course, accredited from three several home governments. The President signified, when the first arrived, that he would receive the Chargé from that government, on the 2d proximo, but none of us know who the right Chargé is. The newspapers tell nothing satisfactory about it. I suppose you know: can you write me word before the 2d?

 "The gentlemen are: Dr. Estremadura, accredited from the 'Constitutional Government, '--his credentials are dated the 2d of November; Don Paulo Vibeira, of the 'Friends of the People, ' 5th of November; M. Antonio de Vesga, 'Constitution of 1823, ' October 27th. They attach great importance to our decision, each having scrip to sell. In haste, truly yours. "

To this letter I returned the following reply:--

 "SIR:--Our latest dates from Oronoco are to the 13th ultimo. The 'Constitution of '23' was then in full power. If, however, the policy of our government be to recognize the gentlemen whose principals shall be in office on the 2d proximo, it is a very different affair. 

 "You may not be acquainted with the formulas for ascertaining the duration of any given modern revolution. I now use the following, which I find almost exactly correct. 

 "Multiply the age of the President by the number of statute miles from the equator, divide by the number of pages in the given Constitution; the result will be the length of the outbreak, in days. This formula includes, as you will see, an allowance for the heat of the climate, the zeal of the leader, and the verbosity of the theorists. The Constitution of 1823 was reproclaimed on the 25th of October last. If you will give the above formula into the hands of any of your clerks, the calculation from it will show that that government will go out of power on the 1st of February, at 25 minutes after 1, P. M. Your choice, on the 2d, must be therefore between Vibeira and Estremadura; here you will have no difficulty. Bobádil (Vibeira's principal) was on the 13th ultimo confined under sentence of death, at such a distance from the capital that he cannot possibly escape and get into power before the 2d of February. The 'Friends of the People, ' in Oronoco, have always moved slowly; they never got up an insurrection in less than nineteen days' canvassing; that was in 1839. Generally they are even longer. Of course, Estremadura will be your man. 

 "Believe me, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant, "GEORGE HACKMATACK. "

The Cabinet had the good sense to act on my advice. My informationproved nearly correct, the only error being one of seven minutes in thedownfall of the 1823 Constitution. This arose from my making noallowance for difference of longitude between Piaut, where theirgovernment was established, and Opee, where it was crushed. Thedifference of time between those places is six minutes and fifty-threeseconds, as the reader may see on a globe. 

Estremadura was, of course, presented to the President, and sold hisscrip. 

[7] Newspaper men of 1868 will be amused to think that halfpast one was late in 1836. At that time the "Great Western Mail" was duein Boston at 6 P. M. , and there was no later news except "local, " or anoccasional horse express. 

[8] The reader will observe the Arcadian habits of 1836, whenthe German was yet unknown. 

THE OLD AND THE NEW, FACE TO FACE. 

A THUMB-NAIL SKETCH. 

[This essay was published in Sartain's Magazine, in 1852, as "AThumb-nail Sketch, " having received one of ten premiums which Mr. Sartain offered to encourage young writers. It had been written a fewyears earlier, some time before the studies of St. Paul's life byConybeare and Howson, now so well known, were made public. Thechronology of my essay does not precisely agree with that of thesedistinguished scholars. But I make no attempt now either to recast theessay or to discuss the delicate and complicated questions which belongto the chronology of Paul's life or to that of Nero; for there is noquestion with regard to the leading facts. At the end of twenty years Imay again express the wish that some master competent to the greatestthemes might take the trial of Paul as the subject of a picture. ]

In a Roman audience-chamber, the old civilization and the newcivilization brought out, at the very birth of the new, their chosenchampions. 

In that little scene, as in one of Rembrandt's thumbnail studies for agreat picture, the lights and shades are as distinct as they will everbe in the largest scene of history. The champions were perfectrepresentatives of the parties. And any man, with the soul of a man, looking on, could have prophesied the issue of the great battle from theissue of that contest. 

The old civilization of the Roman Empire, just at that time, had reacheda point which, in all those outward forms which strike the eye, wouldregard our times as mean indeed. It had palaces of marble, where evenmodern kings would build of brick with a marble front to catch the eye;it counted its armies by thousands, where we count ours by hundreds; itsurmounted long colonnades with its exquisite statues, for which modernlabor digs deep in ruined cities, because it cannot equal them from itsown genius; it had roads, which are almost eternal, and which, for theirpurposes, show a luxury of wealth and labor that our boasted locomotioncannot rival. These are its works of a larger scale. And if you enterthe palaces, you find pictures of matchless worth, rich dresses whichmodern looms cannot rival, and sumptuous furniture at which modern timescan only wonder. The outside of the ancient civilization is unequalledby the outside of ours, and for centuries will be unequalled by it. Wehave not surpassed it there. And we see how it attained thisdistinction, such as it was. It came by the constant concentration ofpower. Power in few hands is the secret of its display and glory. Andthus that form of civilization attained its very climax in the moment ofthe greatest unity of the Roman Empire. When the Empire nestled intorest; after the convulsions in which it was born; when a generation hadpassed away of those who had been Roman citizens; when a generationarose, which, excepting one man, the emperor, was a nation of Romansubjects, --then the Empire was at its height of power, itscentralization was complete, the system of its civilization was at thezenith of its success. 

At that moment it was that there dawned at Rome the first graymorning-light of the new civilization. 

At that moment it was that that short scene, in that one chamber, contrasted the two as clearly as they can be contrasted even in longcenturies. 

There is one man, the emperor, who is a precise type, an exactrepresentative, of the old. That man is brought face to face withanother who is a precise type, an exact representative, of the new. 

Only look at them as they stand there! The man who best illustrates theold civilization owes to it the most careful nurture. From his childhoodhe has been its petted darling. Its principal is concentration under onehead. He is that head. When he is a child, men know he will be emperorof the world. The wise men of the world teach him; the poets of theworld flatter him; the princes of the world bow to him. He is trained inall elegant accomplishments; he is led forward through a graceful, luxurious society. His bearing is that of an emperor; his face is theface of fine physical beauty. Imagine for yourself the sensualcountenance of a young Bacchus, beautiful as Milton's devils; imaginehim clad in splendor before which even English luxury is mean; arrayedin jewels, to which even Eastern pomp is tinsel; imagine an expressionof tired hate, of low, brutal lust, hanging on those exquisitelicentious features, and you have before you the type of Romancivilization. It is the boy just budding into manhood, whom later timeswill name as the lowest embodiment of meanness and cruelty! You arelooking upon Nero!

Not only is this man an exact type of the ancient civilization, itscentral power, its outside beauty, but the precise time of this sketchof ours is the exact climax of the _moral_ results of the ancientcivilization. We are to look at Nero just when he has returned to Romefrom a Southern journey. [9] That journey had one object, whichsucceeded. To his after-life it gives one memory, which never dies. Hehas travelled to his beautiful country palace, that he might kill hismother!

We can picture to ourselves Agrippina, by knowing that she was Nero'smother, and our picture will not fail in one feature. She has all thebeauty of sense, all the attraction of passion. Indeed, she is theEmpress of Rome, because she is queen of beauty--and of lust. She ismost beautiful among the beautiful of Rome; but what is that beauty offeature in a state of whose matrons not one is virtuous, of whosedaughters not one is chaste? It is the beauty of sense alone, fitadornment of that external grandeur, of that old society. 

In the infancy of her son, this beautiful Agrippina consulted a troop offortune-tellers as to his fate; and they told her that he would live tobe Emperor of Rome, and to kill his mother. With all the ecstasy of amother's pride fused so strangely with all the excess of an ambitiouswoman's love of power, she cried in answer, "He may kill me, if only herules Rome!"[10]

She spoke her own fate in these words. 

Here is the account of it by Tacitus. Nero had made all thepreparations; had arranged a barge, that of a sudden its deck might fallheavily upon those in the cabin, and crush them in an instant. He meantthus to give to the murder which he planned the aspect of an accident. To this fatal vessel he led Agrippina. He talked with her affectionatelyand gravely on the way; "and when they parted at the lakeside, with hisold boyish familiarity he pressed her closely to his heart, either toconceal his purpose, or because the last sight of a mother, on the eveof death, touched even his cruel nature, and then bade her farewell. "

Just at the point upon the lake where he had directed, as the Empresssat in her cabin talking with her attendants, the treacherous deck waslet fall upon them all. But the plot failed. She saw dead at her feetone of her favorites, crushed by the sudden blow. But she had escapedit. She saw that death awaited them all upon the vessel. The men aroundsprang forward, ready to do their master's bidding in a less clumsy andmore certain way. But the Empress, with one of her attendants, sprangfrom the treacherous vessel into the less treacherous waves. And there, this faithful friend of hers, with a woman's wit and a woman's devotion, drew on her own head the blows and stabs of the murderers above, bycrying, as if in drowning, "Save me, I am Nero's mother!" Uttering thosewords of self-devotion, she was killed by the murderers above, while theEmpress, in safer silence, buoyed up by fragments of the wreck, floatedto the shore. 

Nero had failed thus in secret crime, and yet he knew that he could notstop here. And the next day after his mother's deliverance, he sent asoldier to her palace, with a guard; and there, where she was desertedeven by her last attendant, without pretence of secrecy, they put todeath the daughter and the mother of a Cæsar. And Nero only waits tolook with a laugh upon the beauty of the corpse, before he returns toresume his government at Rome. 

That moment was the culminating moment of the ancient civilization. Itis complete in its centralizing power; it is complete in its externalbeauty; it is complete in its crime. Beautiful as Eden to the eye, withluxury, with comfort, with easy indolence to all; but dust and ashesbeneath the surface! It is corrupted at the head! It is corrupted atthe heart! There is nothing firm!

This is the moment which I take for our little picture. At this verymoment there is announced the first germ of the new civilization. In thevery midst of this falsehood, there sounds one voice of truth; in thevery arms of this giant, there plays the baby boy who is to cleave himto the ground. This Nero slowly returns to the city. He meets thecongratulations of a senate, which thank him and the gods that he hasmurdered his own mother. With the agony of an undying consciencetorturing him, he strives to avert care by amusement. He hopes to turnthe mob from despising him by the grandeur of their publicentertainments. He enlarges for them the circus. He calls unheard-ofbeasts to be baited and killed for their enjoyment. The finest actorsrant, the sweetest musicians sing, that Nero may forget his mother, andthat his people may forget him. 

At that period, the statesmen who direct the machinery of affairs informhim that his personal attention is required one morning for a statetrial, to be argued before the Emperor in person. Must the Emperor bethere? May he not waste the hours in the blandishments of lyingcourtiers, or the honeyed falsehoods of a mistress? If he chooses thusto postpone the audience, be it so; Seneca, Burrhus, and his othercounsellors will obey. But the time will come when the worn-out boy willbe pleased some morning with the almost forgotten majesty of state. Thetime comes one day. Worn out by the dissipation of the week, fretted bysome blunder of his flatterers, he sends for his wiser counsellers, andbids them lead him to the audience-chamber, where he will attend tothese cases which need an Emperor's decision. It is at that moment thatwe are to look upon him. 

He sits there, upon that unequalled throne, his face sickly pale withboyish debauchery; his young forehead worn with the premature sensualwrinkles of lust; and his eyes bloodshot with last night's intemperance. He sits there, the Emperor-boy, vainly trying to excite himself, andforget her, in the blazonry of that pomp, and bids them call in theprisoner. 

A soldier enters, at whose side the prisoner has been chained for years. This soldier is a tried veteran of the Prætorian cohorts. He wasselected, that from him this criminal could not escape; and for thatpurpose they have been inseparably bound. But, as he leads that otherthrough the hall, he looks at him with a regard and earnestness whichsay he is no criminal to him. Long since, the criminal has been theguardian of his keeper. Long since, the keeper has cared for theprisoner with all the ardor of a new-found son's affection. 

They lead that gray-haired captive forward, and with his eagle eye heglances keenly round the hall. That flashing eye has ere now bademonarchs quail; and those thin lips have uttered words which shall makethe world ring till the last moment of the world shall come. The statelyEastern captive moves unawed through the assembly, till he makes asubject's salutation to the Emperor-judge who is to hear him. And when, then, the gray-haired sage kneels before the sensual boy, you see theprophet of the new civilization kneel before the monarch of the old! Yousee Paul make a subject's formal reverence to Nero![11]

Let me do justice to the court which is to try him. In thatjudgment-hall there are not only the pomp of Rome, and its crime; wehave also the best of its wisdom. By the dissolute boy, Nero, therestands the prime minister Seneca, the chief of the philosophers of histime; "Seneca the saint, " cry the Christians of the next century. Wewill own him to be Seneca the wise, Seneca almost the good. To this sagehad been given the education of the monster who was to rule the world. This sage had introduced him into power, had restrained his madness whenhe could, and with his colleague had conducted the generaladministration of the Empire with the greatest honor, while the boy waswearing out his life in debauchery in the palace. Seneca dared say moreto Nero, to venture more with him, than did any other man. For the youngtiger was afraid of his old master long after he had tasted blood. YetSeneca's system was a cowardly system. It was the best of Roman moralityand Greek philosophy, and still it was mean. His daring was the bravestof the men of the old civilization. He is the type of their excellences, as is Nero the model of their power and their adornments. And yet allthat Seneca's daring could venture was to seduce the baby-tyrant intothe least injurious of tyrannies. From the plunder of a province hewould divert him by the carnage of the circus. From the murder of asenator he could lure him by some new lust at home. From the ruin of theEmpire, he could seduce him by diverting him with the ruin of a noblefamily. And Seneca did this with the best of motives. He said he usedall the power in his hands, and he thought he did. He was one of thosemen of whom all times have their share. The bravest of his time, hesatisfied himself with alluring the beardless Emperor by petty crimefrom public wrong; he could flatter him to the expedient. He dared notorder him to the right. 

But Seneca knew what was right. Seneca also had a well-trainedconscience, which told him of right and of wrong. Seneca's brother, Gallio, had saved Paul's life when a Jewish mob would have dragged himto pieces in Corinth; and the legend is that Seneca and Paul hadcorresponded with each other before they stood together in Nero'spresence, the one as counsellor, the other as the criminal. [12] WhenPaul arose from that formal salutation, when the apostle of the newcivilization spoke to the tottering monarch of the old, if there hadbeen one man in that assemblage, could he have failed to see that thatwas a turning-point in the world's history? Before him in that littlehall, in that little hour, was passing the scene which for centurieswould be acted out upon the larger stage. 

Faith on the one side, before expediency and cruelty on the other! Paulbefore Seneca and Nero! He was ready to address Nero, with the eloquenceand vehemence which for years had been demanding utterance. 

He stood at length before the baby Cæsar, to whose tribunal he hadappealed from the provincial court of a doubting Festus and a tremblingAgrippa. 

And who shall ask what words the vigorous Christian spoke to the dastardboy! Who that knows the eloquence which rung out on the ears ofastonished Stoics at Athens, which commanded the incense and thehecatombs of wandering peasants in Asia, which stilled the gabblingclamor of a wild mob at Jerusalem, --who will doubt the tone in whichPaul spoke to Nero! The boy quailed for the moment before the man! Thegilded dotard shrunk back from the home truths of the new, young, vigorous faith: the ruler of a hundred legions was nothing before theGod-commissioned prisoner. 

No; though at this audience all men forsook Paul, as he tells us; thoughnot one of the timid converts were there, but the soldier chained athis side, --still he triumphed over Nero and Nero's minister. 

From that audience-hall those three men retire. The boy, grown old inlust, goes thence to be an hour alone, to ponder for an hour on thisGod, this resurrection, and this truth, of which the Jew, in suchuncourtly phrase, has harangued him. To be alone, until the spectre of adying mother rises again to haunt him, to persecute him and drive himforth to his followers and feasters, where he will try to forget Pauland the Saviour and God, where he would be glad to banish them forever. He does not banish them forever! Henceforward, whenever that spectre ofa mother comes before him, it must re-echo the words of God and eternitywhich Paul has spoken. Whenever the chained and bleeding captive of thearena bends suppliant before him, there must return the memory of theonly captive who was never suppliant before him, and his words of sturdypower!

And Seneca? Seneca goes home with the mortified feelings of a great manwho has detected his own meanness. 

We all know the feeling; for all God's children might be great, and itis with miserable mortification that we detect ourselves in one oranother pettiness. Seneca goes home to say: "This wild _Easterner_ hasrebuked the Emperor as I have so often wanted to rebuke him. He stoodthere, as I have wanted to stand, a man before a brute. 

"He said what I have thought, and have been afraid to say. Downright, straightforward, he told the Emperor truths as to Rome, as to man, andas to his vices, which I have longed to tell him. He has done what I amafraid to do. He has dared this, which I have dallied with, and leftundone. _What is the mystery of his power?_"

Seneca did not know. Nero did not know. The "Eastern mystery" was inpresence before them, and they knew it not!

What was the mystery of Paul's power?

Paul leaves them with the triumph of a man who has accomplished the hopeof long years. Those solemn words of his, "After that, I _must_ also seeRome, " expressed the longing of years, whose object now, in part, atleast, is gratified. He must see Rome!

It is God's mission to him that he see Rome and its Emperor. Paul hasseen with the spirit's eye what we have seen since in history, --that heis to be the living link by which the electric fire of life should passfirst from religious Asia to quicken this dead, brutish Europe. He knowsthat he is God's messenger to bear this mystery of life eternal from theone land to the other, and to unfold it there. And to-day has made real, in fact, this his inward confidence. To-day has put the seal of fact onthat vision of his, years since, when he first left his Asiatic home. Aprisoner in chains, still he has to-day seen the accomplishment of thevows, hopes, and resolutions of that field of Troy, most truly famousfrom the night he spent there. There was another of these hours when Godbrings into one spot the acts which shall be the _argument_ of centuriesof history. Paul had come down there in his long Asiaticjourneys, --Eastern in his lineage, Eastern in his temperament, Easternin his outward life, and Eastern in his faith, --to that narrowHellespont, which for long ages has separated East from West, tore madlyup the chains which would unite them, overwhelmed even love when itsought to intermarry them, and left their cliffs frowning eternal hatefrom shore to shore. Paul stood upon the Asian shore and looked acrossupon the Western. There were Macedonia and the hills of Greece, hereTroas and the ruins of Ilium. The names speak war. The blue Hellesponthas no voice but separation, except to Paul. But to Paul, sleeping, itmight be, on the tomb of Achilles, that night the "man of Macedonia"appears, and bids him come over to avenge Asia, to pay back the debt ofTroy. 

"Come over _and help us_. " Give us life, for we gave you death. Give ushelp for we gave you ruin. Paul was not disobedient to the heavenlyvision. The Christian Alexander, he crosses to Macedon with the words ofpeace instead of war, --the Christian shepherd of the people, he carriesto Greece, from Troy, the tidings of salvation instead of carnage, ofcharity instead of license. And he knows that to Europe it is thebeginning of her new civilization, it is the dawn of her new warfare, ofher new poetry, of her reign of heroes who are immortal. 

That _faith_ of his, now years old, has this day received its crowningvictory. This day, when he has faced Nero and Seneca together, may wellstand in his mind as undoing centuries of bloodshed and of license. 

And in this effort, and in that spiritual strength which had nerved himin planning it and carrying it through, was the "Asian mystery. " Askwhat was the secret of Paul's power as he bearded the baby Emperor, andabashed the baby Philosopher? What did he give the praise to, as he leftthat scene? What was the principle in action there, but faith in the newlife, faith in the God who gave it!

We do not wonder, as Seneca wondered, that such a man as Paul dared sayanything to such a boy as Nero! The absolute courage of the new faithwas the motive-power which forced it upon the world. Here were thesternest of morals driven forward with the most ultra bravery. 

Perfect faith gave perfect courage to the first witnesses. And there wasthe "mystery" of their victories. 

And so, in this case, when after a while Seneca again reminded Nero ofhis captive, poor Nero did not dare but meet him again. Yet, when he methim again in that same judgment-hall, he did not dare hear him long;and we may be sure that there were but few words before, with suchaffectation of dignity as he could summon, he bade them set the prisonerfree. 

Paul free! The old had faced the new. Each had named its champion. Andthe new conquers!

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Anno Christi, 60. 

[10] Tacit. Annal. , xiv. 9. 

[11] Anno Christi, 60. See Neander, P. & T. , B. Iii. Ch. X. 

[12] This correspondence, as preserved in the collections of fragments, has too much the aspect of a school-boy exercise to claim much credit, though high authorities support it as genuine. But the probability thatthere was such a correspondence, though now lost, is very strong. 

THE DOT AND LINE ALPHABET. 

 [This sketch was originally published in the Atlantic Monthly for October, 1858, just at the time that the first Atlantic Cable, whose first prattle had been welcomed by the acclamations of a continent, gasped its last under the manipulations of De Sauty. It has since been copied by Mr. Prescott in his valuable hand-book of the electric telegraph. 

 The war, which has taught us all so much, has given a brilliant illustration of the dot and line alphabet, wholly apart from the electric use of it, which will undoubtedly be often repeated. In the movements of our troops under General Foster in North Carolina, Dr. J. B. Upham of Boston, the distinguished medical director in that department, equally distinguished for the success with which he has led forward the musical education of New England, trained a corps of buglers to converse with each other by long and short bugle-notes, and thus to carry information with literal accuracy from point to point at any distance within which the tones of a bugle could be heard. It will readily be seen that there are many occasions in military affairs when such means of conversation might prove of inestimable value. Mr. Tuttle, the astronomer, on duty in the same campaign, made a similar arrangement with long and short flashes of light. ]

Just in the triumph week of that Great Telegraph which takes its namefrom the Atlantic Monthly, I read in the September number of thatjournal the revelations of an observer who was surprised to find that hehad the power of reading, as they run, the revelations of the wire. Ihad the hope that he was about to explain to the public the more generaluse of this instrument, --which, with a stupid fatuity, the public has asyet failed to grasp. Because its signals have been first applied bymeans of electro-magnetism, and afterwards by means of the chemicalpower of electricity, the many-headed people refuses to avail itself, asit might do very easily, of the same signals for the simplertransmission of intelligence, whatever the power employed. 

The great invention of Mr. Morse is his register and alphabet. Hehimself eagerly disclaims any pretension to the original conception ofthe use of electricity as an errand-boy. Hundreds of people had thoughtof that and suggested it; but Morse was the first to give the errand-boysuch a written message, that he could not lose it on the way, normistake it when he arrived. The public, eager to thank Morse, as hedeserves, thanks him for something he did not invent. For this heprobably cares very little; nor do I care more. But the public does notthank him for what he did originate, --this invaluable and simplealphabet. Now, as I use it myself in every detail of life, and see everyhour how the public might use it, if it chose, I am really sorry forthis negligence, --both on the score of his fame, and of generalconvenience. 

Please to understand, then, ignorant Reader, that this curious alphabetreduces all the complex machinery of Cadmus and the rest of thewriting-masters to characters as simple as can be made by a dot, aspace, and a line, variously combined. Thus, the marks . - designate theletter A. The marks -. .. Designate the letter B. All the other lettersare designated in as simple a manner. 

Now I am stripping myself of one of the private comforts of my life, (but what will one not do for mankind?) when I explain that this simplealphabet need not be confined to electrical signals. _Long_ and _short_make it all, --and wherever long and short can be combined, be it inmarks, sounds, sneezes, fainting-fits, canes, or children, ideas can beconveyed by this arrangement of the long and short together. Only lastnight I was talking scandal with Mrs. Wilberforce at a summer party atthe Hammersmiths. To my amazement, my wife, who scarcely can play "TheFisher's Hornpipe, " interrupted us by asking Mrs. Wilberforce if shecould give her the idea of an air in "The Butcher of Turin. " Mrs. Wilberforce had never heard that opera, --indeed, had never heard of it. My angel-wife was surprised, --stood thrumming at the piano, --wonderedshe could not catch this very odd bit of discordant accord at all, --butchecked herself in her effort, as soon as I observed that her long notesand short notes, in their tum-tee, tee, --tee-tee, tee-tum tum, meant, "He's her brother. " The conversation on her side turned from "TheButcher of Turin, " and I had just time on the hint thus given me by Mrs. I. To pass a grateful eulogium on the distinguished statesman whom Mrs. Wilberforce, with all a sister's care, had rocked in hisbaby-cradle, --whom, but for my wife's long and short notes, I shouldhave clumsily abused among the other statesmen of the day. 

You will see, in an instant, awakening Reader, that it is not thebusiness simply of "operators" in telegraphic dens to know this Morsealphabet, but your business, and that of every man and woman. If ourschool committees understood the times, it would be taught, even beforephonography or physiology, at school. I believe both these sciences nowprecede the old English alphabet. 

As I write these words, the bell of the South Congregational strikesdong, dong, dong, --dong, dong, dong, dong, --dong, --dong. Nobody hasunlocked the church-door. I know that, for I am locked up in the vestry. The old tin sign, "In case of fire, the key will be found at theopposite house, " has long since been taken down, and made into the noseof a water-pot. Yet there is no Goody Two-Shoes locked in. No one exceptme, and certainly I am not ringing the bell. No! But, thanks to Dr. Channing's Fire Alarm, [13] the bell is informing the South End thatthere is a fire in District Dong-dong-dong, --that is to say, DistrictNo. 3. Before I have explained to you so far, the "Eagle" engine, with agood deal of noise, has passed the house on its way to that fateddistrict. An immense improvement this on the old system, when theengines radiated from their houses in every possible direction, and thefire was extinguished by the few machines whose lines of quest happenedto cross each other at the particular place where the child had beenbuilding cob-houses out of lucifer-matches in a paper warehouse. Yes, itis a very great improvement. All those persons, like you and me, whohave no property in District Dong-dong-dong, can now sit at home atease;--and little need we think upon the mud above the knees of thosewho have property in that district and are running to look after it. Butfor them the improvement only brings misery. You arrive wet, hot orcold, or both, at the large District No. 3, to find that thelucifer-matches were half a mile away from your store, --and that yourown private watchman, even, had not been waked by the working of thedistant engines. Wet property-holder, as you walk home, consider this. When you are next in the Common Council, vote an appropriation forapplying Morse's alphabet of long and short to the bells. Then they canbe made to sound intelligibly. D[=au]ng d[)i]ngd[)i]ng, --d[)i]ng, --d[)i]ng d[=au]ng, --d[=au]ng d[=au]ng d[=au]ng, andso on, will tell you as you wake in the night that it is Mr. B. 's storewhich is on fire, and not yours, or that it is yours and not his. Thisis not only a convenience to you and a relief to your wife and family, who will thus be spared your excursions to unavailable andunsatisfactory fires, and your somewhat irritated return, --it will be agreat relief to the Fire Department. How placid the operations of a firewhere none attend except on business! The various engines arrive, but nothrong of distant citizens, men and boys, fearful of the destruction oftheir all. They have all roused on their pillows to learn that it is No. 530 Pearl Street which is in flames. All but the owner of No. 530 PearlStreet have dropped back to sleep. He alone has rapidly repaired to thescene. That is he, who stands in the uncrowded street with the ChiefEngineer, on the deck of No. 18, as she plays away. His propertydestroyed, the engines retire, --he mentions the amount of his insuranceto those persons who represent the daily press, they all retire to theirhomes, --and the whole is finished as simply, almost, as was his privateentry in his day-book the afternoon before. [14]

This is what might be, if the magnetic alarm only struck _long_ and_short_, and we had all learned Morse's alphabet. Indeed, there isnothing the bells could not tell, if you would only give them timeenough. We have only one chime, for musical purposes, in the town. But, without attempting tunes, only give the bells the Morse alphabet, andevery bell in Boston might chant in monotone the words of "HailColumbia" at length, every Fourth of July. Indeed, if Mr. Barnard shouldreport any day that a discouraged 'prentice-boy had left town for hiscountry home, all the bells could instantly be set to work to speakarticulately, in language regarding which the dullest imagination neednot be at loss, "Turn again, Higginbottom, Lord Mayor of Boston!"

I have suggested the propriety of introducing this alphabet into theprimary schools. I need not say I have taught it to my ownchildren, --and I have been gratified to see how rapidly it made head, against the more complex alphabet, in the grammar schools. Of course itdoes;--an alphabet of two characters matched against one oftwenty-six, --or of forty-odd, as the very odd one of the phonotypistsemploy! On the Franklin-medal day I went to the Johnson-Schoolexamination. One of the committee asked a nice girl what was the capitalof Brazil. The child looked tired and pale, and, for an instant, hesitated. But, before she had time to commit herself, all answering wasrendered impossible by an awful turn of whooping-cough which one of myown sons was seized with, --who had gone to the examination with me. Hawm, hem hem;--hem hem hem;--hem, hem;--hawm, hem hem;--hem hemhem;--hem, hem, --barked the poor child, who was at the opposite extremeof the school-room. The spectators and the committee looked to see himfall dead with a broken blood-vessel. I confess that I felt no alarm, after I observed that some of his gasps were long and some very_staccato_;--nor did pretty little Mabel Warren. She recovered hercolor, --and, as soon as silence was in the least restored, answered, "_Rio_ is the capital of Brazil, "--as modestly and properly as if shehad been taught it in her cradle. They are nothing but children, any ofthem, --but that afternoon, after they had done all the singing the cityneeded for its annual entertainment of the singers, I saw Bob and Mabelstart for a long expedition into West Roxbury, --and when he came back, Iknow it was a long featherfew, from her prize school-bouquet, that hepressed in his Greene's "Analysis, " with a short frond of maiden's hair. 

I hope nobody will write a letter to "The Atlantic, " to say that theseare very trifling uses. The communication of useful information is nevertrifling. It is as important to save a nice child from mortification onexamination-day, as it is to tell Mr. Fremont that he is not electedPresident. If, however, the reader is distressed, because theseillustrations do not seem to his more benighted observation to belong tothe big bow-wow strain of human life, let him consider the arrangementwhich ought to have been made years since, for lee shores, railroadcollisions, and that curious class of maritime accidents where onesteamer runs into another under the impression that she is a lighthouse. Imagine the Morse alphabet applied to a steam-whistle, which isoften heard five miles. It needs only _long_ and _short_ again. "_StopComet_, " for instance, when you send it down the railroad line, by thewire, is expressed thus:

 . .. - . . . .. .. . .. . . -- . -

Very good message, if Comet happens to be at the telegraph station whenit comes! But what if Comet has gone by? Much good will your trumperymessage do then! If, however, you have the wit to sound your long andshort on an engine-whistle, thus;--Scre scre, scre; screeee; scre scre;scre scre scre scre scre; scre scre scre, --scre scre; screeeee screeeee;scre; screeeee;--why, then the whole neighborhood, for five milesaround, will know that Comet must stop, if only they understand spokenlanguage, --and among others, the engineman of Comet will understand it;and Comet will not run into that wreck of worlds which gives theorder, --with the nucleus of hot iron and his tail of five hundred tonsof coal. --So, of the signals which fog-bells can give, attached tolight-houses. How excellent to have them proclaim through the darkness, "I am Wall"! Or of signals for steamship-engineers. When our friendswere on board the "Arabia" the other day, and she and the "Europa"pitched into each other, --as if, on that happy week, all the continentswere to kiss and join hands all round, --how great the relief to thepassengers on each, if, through every night of their passage, collisionhad been prevented by this simple expedient! One boat would havescreamed, "Europa, Europa, Europa, " from night to morning, --and theother, "Arabia, Arabia, Arabia, "--and neither would have been mistaken, as one unfortunately was, for a light-house. 

The long and short of it is, that whoever can mark distinctions of timecan use this alphabet of long-and-short, however he may mark them. It istherefore within the compass of all intelligent beings, except those whoare no longer conscious of the passage of time, having exchanged itslimitations for the wider sweep of eternity. The illimitable range ofthis alphabet, however, is not half disclosed when this has been said. Most articulate language addresses itself to one sense, or at most totwo, sight and sound. I see, as I write, that the particularillustrations I have given are all of them confined to signals seen orsignals heard. But the dot-and-line alphabet, in the few years of itshistory, has already shown that it is not restricted to these twosenses, but makes itself intelligible to all. Its message, of course, isheard as well as read. Any good operator understands the sounds of itsticks upon the flowing strip of paper, as well as when he sees it. As helies in his cot at midnight, he will expound the passing message withoutstriking a light to see it. But this is only what may be said of anywritten language. You can read this article to your wife, or she canread it, as she prefers; that is, she chooses whether it shall addressher eye or her ear. But the long-and-short alphabet of Morse and hisimitators despises such narrow range. It addresses whichever of the fivesenses the listener chooses. This fact is illustrated by a curious setof anecdotes, --never yet put in print, I think, --of that criticaldespatch which in one night announced General Taylor's death to thiswhole land. Most of the readers of these lines probably read thatdespatch in the morning's paper. The compositors and editors had readit. To them it was a despatch to the eye. But half the operators at thestations _heard_ it ticked out, by the register stroke, and knew itbefore they wrote it down for the press. To them it was a despatch tothe ear. My good friend Langenzunge had not that resource. He had justbeen promised, by the General himself (under whom he served at PaloAlto), the office of Superintendent of the Rocky Mountain Lines. He wasreturning from Washington over the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, on afreight-train, when he heard of the President's danger. Langenzungeloved Old Rough and Ready, --and he felt badly about his own office, too. But his extempore train chose to stop at a forsaken shanty-village onthe Potomac, for four mortal hours, at midnight. What does he do, butwalk down the line into the darkness, climb a telegraph-post, cut awire, and applied the two ends to his tongue, to _taste_, at the fatalmoment, the words, "Died at half past ten. " Poor Langenzunge! he hardlyhad nerve to solder the wire again. Cogs told me that they had justfitted up the Naguadavick stations with Bain's chemical revolving disk. This disk is charged with a salt of potash, which, when the electricspark passes through it, is changed to Prussian blue. Your despatch isnoiselessly written in dark blue dots and lines. Just as the diskstarted on that fatal despatch, and Cogs bent over it to read, hisspirit-lamp blew up, --as the dear things will. They were besidethemselves in the lonely, dark office; but, while the men were fumblingfor matches, which would not go, Cogs's sister, Nydia, a sweet blindgirl, who had learned Bain's alphabet from Dr. Howe at South Boston, bent over the chemical paper, and _smelt_ out the prussiate of potash, as it formed itself in lines and dots to tell the sad story. Almostanybody used to reading the blind books can read the embossed Morsemessages with the finger, --and so this message was read at all themidnight way-stations where no night-work is expected, and where thecompanies do not supply fluid or oil. Within my narrow circle ofacquaintance, therefore, there were these simultaneous instances, wherethe same message was seen, heard, smelled, tasted, and felt. Souniversal is the dot-and-line alphabet, --for Bain's is on the sameprinciple as Morse's. 

The reader sees, therefore, first, that the dot-and-line alphabet can beemployed by any being who has command of any long and short symbols, --bethey long and short notches, such as Robinson Crusoe kept his accountswith, or long and short waves of electricity, such as these whichValentia is sending across to the Newfoundland bay, so prophetically andappropriately named "The Bay of Bulls. " Also, I hope the reader seesthat the alphabet can be understood by any intelligent being who has anyone of the five senses left him, --by all rational men, that is, excepting the few eyeless deaf persons who have lost both taste andsmell in some complete paralysis. The use of Morse's telegraph is by nomeans confined to the small clique who possess or who understandelectrical batteries. It is not only the torpedo or the _Gymnotuselectricus_ that can send us messages from the ocean. Whales in the seacan telegraph as well as senators on land, if they will only note thedifference between long spoutings and short ones. And they can listen, too. If they will only note the difference between long and short, theeel of Ocean's bottom may feel on his slippery skin the smooth messagesof our Presidents, and the catfish, in his darkness, look fearless onthe secrets of a Queen. Any beast, bird, fish, or insect, which candiscriminate between long and short, may use the telegraph alphabet, ifhe have sense enough. Any creature, which can hear, smell, taste, feel, or see, may take note of its signals, if he can understand them. A tiredlistener at church, by properly varying his long yawns and his shortones, may express his opinion of the sermon to the opposite gallerybefore the sermon is done. A dumb tobacconist may trade with hiscustomers in an alphabet of short-sixes and long-nines. A beleagueredSebastopol may explain its wants to the relieving army beyond the lineof the Chernaya, by the lispings of its short Paixhans and its longtwenty-fours. 

FOOTNOTES:

[13] The Fire Alarm is the invention of Dr. William F. Channing:

 "A wizard of such dreaded fame, That when in Salamanca's cave, Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame. "

[14] I am proud to say that such suggestions have had so muchweight, that in 1868 the alarm strikes the number of the box which firsttelegraphs danger, six-four, six-four, &c. , six being the districtnumber, and four the box number in that district. 

THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE RESOLUTE. 

 [I had some opportunities, which no other writer for the press had, I believe, of examining the Resolute on her return from that weird voyage which is the most remarkable in the history of the navies of the world. And, as I know of no other printed record of the whole of that voyage than this, which was published in the Boston Daily Advertiser of June 11, 1856, I reprint it here. Readers should remember that the English government abandoned all claim on the vessel; that the American government then bought her off the salvors, refitted her completely, and sent her to England as a present to the Queen. The Queen visited the ship, and accepted the present in person. The Resolute has never since been to sea. I do not load the page with authorities; but I studied the original reports of the Arctic expeditions carefully in preparing the paper, and I believe it to be accurate throughout. 

 The voyage from New London to England, when she was thus returned, is strictly her last voyage. But when this article was printed its name was correct. ]

It was in early spring in 1852, early on the morning of the 21st ofApril, that the stout English discovery ship Resolute, manned by a largecrew, commanded by a most manly man, Henry Kellett, left her mooringsin the great river Thames, a little below the old town of London, wastaken in tow by a fussy steam-tug, and proudly started as one of a fineEnglish squadron in the great search of the nations for the lost SirJohn Franklin. It was late in the year 1855, on the 24th of December, that the same ship, weatherworn, scantily rigged, without her lightermasts, all in the trim of a vessel which has had a hard fight with wind, water, ice, and time, made the light-house of _New_ London, --waited forday and came round to anchor in the other river Thames, of _New_England. Not one man of the English crew was on board. The gallantCaptain Kellett was not there; but in his place an American master, whohad shown, in his way, equal gallantry. The sixty or seventy men withwhom she sailed were all in their homes more than a year ago. The elevenmen with whom she returned had had to double parts, and to work hard tomake good the places of the sixty. And between the day when theEnglishmen left her, and the day the Americans found her, she had spentfifteen months and more alone. She was girt in by the ice of the Arcticseas. No man knows where she went, what narrow scapes she passedthrough, how low her thermometers marked cold;--it is a bit of herhistory which was never written. Nor what befell her little tender, the"Intrepid, " which was left in her neighborhood, "ready for occupation, "just as she was left. No man will ever tell of the nip that proved toomuch for her, --of the opening of her seams, and her disappearancebeneath the ice. But here is the hardy Resolute, which, on the 15th ofMay, 1854, her brave commander left, as he was ordered, "ready foroccupation, "--which the brave Captain Buddington found September 10, 1855, more than a thousand miles from there, and pronounced still "readyfor occupation";--and of what can be known of her history from OldLondon to New London, from Old England's Thames to New England's Thames, we will try to tell the story; as it is written in the letters of herold officers and told by the lips of her new rescuers. 

For Arctic work, if ships are to go into every nook and lane of ice thatwill yield at all to wind and steam, they must be as nearlyindestructible as man can make them. For Arctic work, therefore, and fordiscovery work, ships built of the _teak_ wood of Malabar and Java areconsidered most precisely fitted. Ships built of teak are said to bewholly indestructible by time. To this we owe the fact, which nowbecomes part of a strange coincidence, that one of the old CaptainCook's ships which went round the world with him has been, till within afew years, a whaling among the American whalers, revisiting, as afamiliar thing, the shores which she was first to discover. The Englishadmiralty, eager to fit out for Arctic service a ship of the best buildthey could find, bought the two teak-built ships Baboo and Ptarmigan in1850, --sent them to their own dock-yards to be refitted, and the Baboobecame the Assistance, --the Ptarmigan became the Resolute, of theirsquadrons of Arctic discovery. 

Does the reader know that in the desolation of the Arctic shores thePtarmigan is the bird most often found? It is the Arctic grouse orpartridge, [15] and often have the ptarmigans of Melville Islandfurnished sport and even dinners to the hungry officers of the"Resolute, " wholly unconscious that she had ever been their god-child, and had thrown off their name only to take that which she now wears. 

Early in May, 1850, just at the time we now know that brave Sir JohnFranklin and the remnant of his crew were dying of starvation at themouth of Back's River, the "Resolute" sailed first for the Arctic seas, the flag-ship of Commodore Austin, with whose little squadron our own DeHaven and his men had such pleasant intercourse near Beechey Island. Inthe course of that expedition she wintered off Cornwallis Island, --andin autumn of the next year returned to England. 

Whenever a squadron or a man or an army returns to England, unless inthe extreme and exceptional case of complete victory over obstacleinvincible, there is always dissatisfaction. This is the English way. And so there was dissatisfaction when Captain Austin returned with hisships and men. There was also still a lingering hope that some trace ofFranklin might yet be found, perhaps some of his party. Yet more, therewere two of the searching ships which had entered the Polar seas fromBehring's Straits on the west, the "Enterprise" and "Investigator, "which might need relief before they came through or returned. Arcticsearch became a passion by this time, and at once a new squadron wasfitted out to take the seas in the spring of 1852. This squadronconsisted of the "Assistance" and "Resolute" again, which had beenrefitted since their return, of the "Intrepid" and "Pioneer, " twosteamships used as tenders to the "Assistance" and "Resolute"respectively, and of the "North Star, " which had also been in thoseregions, and now went as a storeship to the rest of the squadron. To thecommand of the whole Sir Edward Belcher was appointed, an officer whohad served in some of the earlier Arctic expeditions. Officers and menvolunteered in full numbers for the service, and these five vesselstherefore carried out a body of men who brought more experience of theNorthern seas together than any expedition which had ever visited them. 

Of these, Captain Henry Kellett had command of the "Resolute, " and wassecond in seniority to Sir Edward Belcher, who made the "Assistance" theflag-ship. It shows what sort of man he was, to say that for more thanten years he spent only part of one in England, and was the rest of thetime in an antipodean hemisphere or a hyperborean zone. Before brave SirJohn Franklin sailed, Captain Kellett was in the Pacific. Just as he wasto return home, he was ordered into the Arctic seas to search for SirJohn. Three years successively, in his ship the "Herald, " he passedinside Behring's Straits, and far into the Arctic Ocean. He discovered"Herald Island, " the farthest land known there. He was one of the lastmen to see McClure in the "Investigator" before she entered the Polarseas from the northwest. He sent three of his men on board that ship tomeet them all again, as will be seen, in strange surroundings. Aftermore than seven years of this Pacific and Arctic life, he returned toEngland, in May or June, 1851, and in the next winter volunteered to trythe eastern approach to the same Arctic seas in our ship, the"Resolute. " Some of his old officers sailed with him. 

We know nothing of Captain Kellett but what his own letters, despatches, and instructions show, as they are now printed in enormous parliamentaryblue-books, and what the despatches and letters of his officers and ofhis commander show. But these papers present the picture of a vigorous, hearty man, kind to his crew and a great favorite with them, brave inwhatever trial, always considerate, generous to his officers, reposingconfidence in their integrity; a man, in short, of whom the world willbe apt to hear more. His commander, Sir Edward Belcher, tried by thesame standard, appears a brave and ready man, apt to talk of himself, not very considerate of his inferiors, confident in his own opinion; inshort, a man with whom one would not care to spend three Arctic winters. With him, as we trace the "Resolute's" fortunes, we shall have much todo. Of Captain Kellett we shall see something all along till the daywhen he sadly left her, as bidden by Sir Edward Belcher, "ready foroccupation. "

With such a captain, and with sixty-odd men, the "Resolute" cast off hermoorings in the gray of the morning on the 21st of April, 1852, to go insearch of Sir John Franklin. The brave Sir John had died two yearsbefore, but no one knew that, nor whispered it. The river steam-tug"Monkey" took her in tow, other steamers took the "Assistance" and the"North Star"; the "Intrepid" and "Pioneer" got up their own steam, andto the cheers of the little company gathered at Greenhithe to see themoff, they went down the Thames. At the Nore, the steamship "Desperate"took the "Resolute" in charge, Sir Edward Belcher made the signal"Orkneys" as the place of rendezvous, and in four days she was there, inStromness outer harbor. Here there was a little shifting of provisionsand coal-bags, those of the men who could get on shore squandered theirspending-money, and then, on the 28th of April, she and hers bade goodby to British soil. And, though they have welcomed it again long since, she has not seen it from then till now. 

The "Desperate" steamer took her in tow, she sent her own tow-lines tothe "North Star, " and for three days in this procession of so wild andweird a name, they three forged on westward toward Greenland, --a trainwhich would have startled any old Viking had he fallen in with it, witha fresh gale blowing all the time and "a nasty sea. " On the fourth dayall the tow-lines broke or were cast off however, Neptune and the windsclaimed their own, and the "Resolute" tried her own resources. Thetowing steamers were sent home in a few days more, and the squadron leftto itself. 

We have too much to tell in this short article to be able to dwell onthe details of her visits to the hospitable Danes of Greenland, or ofher passage through the ice of Baffin's Bay. But here is one incident, which, as the event has proved, is part of a singular coincidence. Onthe 6th of July all the squadron, tangled in the ice, joined a fleet ofwhalers beset in it, by a temporary opening between the gigantic masses. Caught at the head of a bight in the ice, with the "Assistance" and the"Pioneer, " the "Resolute" was, for the emergency, docked there, and, bythe ice closing behind her, was, for a while, detained. Meanwhile therest of the fleet, whalers and discovery ships, passed on by a littlelane of water, the American whaler "McLellan" leading. This "McLellan"was one of the ships of the spirited New London merchants, Messrs. Perkins & Smith, another of whose vessels has now found the "Resolute"and befriended her in her need in those seas. The "McLellan" was theirpioneer vessel there. 

The "North Star" of the English squadron followed the "McLellan. " Along train stretched out behind. Whalers and government ships, as theyhappened to fall into line, --a long three quarters of a mile. It waslovely weather, and, though the long lane closed up so that they couldneither go back nor forward, --nobody apprehended injury till it wasannounced on the morning of the 7th that the poor "McLellan" was nippedin the ice and her crew were deserting her. Sir Edward Belcher was thenin condition to befriend her, sent his carpenters to examine her, --put afew charges of powder into the ice to relieve the pressure uponher, --and by the end of the day it was agreed that her injuries could berepaired, and her crew went on board again. But there is no saying whatice will do next. The next morning there was a fresh wind, the"McLellan" was caught again, and the water poured into her, a steadystream. She drifted about unmanageable, now into one ship, now intoanother, and the English whalemen began to pour on board, to helpthemselves to such plunder as they chose. At the Captain's request, SirEdward Belcher put an end to this, sent sentries on board, and workingparties, to clear her as far as might be, and keep account of what herstores were and where they went to. In a day or two more she sank to thewater's edge and a friendly charge or two of powder put her out of theway of harm to the rest of the fleet. After such a week spent togetherit will easily be understood that the New London whalemen did not feelstrangers on board one of Sir Edward's vessels when they found her"ready for occupation" three years and more afterwards. 

In this tussle with the ice, the "Resolute" was nipped once or twice, but she has known harder nips than that since. As July wore away, shemade her way across Baffin's Bay, and on the 10th of August made BeecheyIsland, --known now as the head-quarters for years of the searchingsquadrons, because, as it happened, the place where the last traces ofFranklin's ships were found, --the wintering place of his first winter. But Captain Kellett was on what is called the "western search, " and heonly stayed at Beechey Island to complete his provisions from thestoreships, and in the few days which this took, to see for himself thesad memorials of Franklin's party, --and then the "Resolute" and"Intrepid" were away, through Barrow's Straits, --on the track whichParry ran along with such success thirty-three years before, --and whichno one had followed with as good fortune as he, until now. 

On the 15th of August Captain Kellett was off; bade good by to the partyat Beechey Island, and was to try his fortune in independent command. Hehad not the best of luck at starting. The reader must remember that onegreat object of these Arctic expeditions was to leave provisions forstarving men. For such a purpose, and for travelling parties of his ownover the ice, Captain Kellett was to leave a depot at Assistance Bay, some thirty miles only from Beechey Island. In nearing for that purposethe "Resolute" grounded, was left with but seven feet of water, the icethrew her over on her starboard bilge, and she was almost lost. Notquite lost, however, or we should not be telling her story. At midnightshe was got off, leaving sixty feet of her false keel behind. CaptainKellett forged on in her, --left a depot here and another there, --and atthe end of the short Arctic summer had come as far westward as SirEdward Parry came. Here is the most westerly point the reader will findon most maps far north in America, --the Melville Island of CaptainParry. Captain Kellett's associate, Captain McClintock of the"Intrepid, " had commanded the only party which had been here sinceParry. In 1851 he came over from Austin's squadron with a sledge party. So confident is every one there that nobody has visited those partsunless he was sent, that McClintock encouraged his men one day bytelling them that if they got on well, they should have an old cartParry had left thirty-odd years before, to make a fire of. Sure enough;they came to the place, and there was the wreck of the cart just asParry left it. They even found the ruts the old cart left in the groundas if they had not been left a week. 

Captain Kellett came into harbor, and with great spirit he and hisofficers began to prepare for the extended searching parties of the nextspring. The "Resolute" and her tender came to anchor off Dealy Island, and there she spent the next eleven months of her life, with great newsaround her in that time. 

There is not much time for travelling in autumn. The days grow veryshort and very cold. But what days there were were spent in sending outcarts and sledges with depots of provisions, which the parties of thenext spring could use. Different officers were already assigned todifferent lines of search in spring. On their journeys they would begone three months and more, with a party of some eight men, --dragging asled very like a Yankee wood-sled with their instruments and provisions, over ice and snow. To extend those searches as much as possible, and toprepare the men for that work when it should come, advanced depots werenow sent forward in the autumn, under the charge of the gentlemen whowould have to use them in the spring. 

One of these parties, the "South line of Melville Island" party, wasunder a spirited young officer Mr. Mecham, who had tried such service inthe last expedition. He had two of "her Majesty's sledges, " "TheDiscovery" and "The Fearless, " a depot of twenty days' provision to beused in the spring, and enough for twenty-five days' present use. Allthe sledges had little flags, made by some young lady friends of SirEdward Belcher's. Mr. Mecham's bore an armed hand and sword on a whiteground, with the motto, "_Per mare, per terram, per glaciem_. " Over mud, land, snow, and ice they carried their dépot, and were nearly back, when, on the 12th of October, 1852, Mr. Mecham made the great discoveryof the expedition. 

On the shore of Melville Island, above Winter Harbor, is a greatsandstone boulder, ten feet high, seven or eight broad, and twenty andmore long, which is known to all those who have anything to do withthose regions as "Parry's sandstone, " for it stood near Parry'sobservatory the winter he spent here, and Mr. Fisher, his surgeon, cuton a flat face of it this inscription:--

 HIS BRITANNIC MAJESTY'S SHIPS HECLA AND GRIPER, COMMANDED BY W. E. PARRY AND MR. LIDDON, WINTERED IN THE ADJACENT HARBOR 1819-20. A. FISHER, SCULPT. 

It was a sort of God Terminus put up to mark the end of that expedition, as the Danish gentlemen tell us our Dighton rock is the last point ofThorfinn's expedition to these parts. Nobody came to read Mr. Fisher'sinscription for thirty years and more, --a little Arctic hare took up herhome under the great rock, and saw the face of man for the first timewhen, on the 5th of June, 1851, Mr. McClintock, on his first expeditionthis way, had stopped to see whether possibly any of Franklin's men hadever visited it. He found no signs of them, had not so much time as Mr. Fisher for stone-cutting, but carved the figures 1851 on the stone, andleft it and the hare. To this stone, on his way back to the "Resolute, "Mr. Mecham came again (as we said) on the 12th of October, one memorableTuesday morning, having been bidden to leave a record there. He went onin advance of his party, meaning to cut 1852 on the stone. On top of itwas a small cairn of stones built by Mr. McClintock the year before. Mecham examined this, and to his surprise a copper cylinder rolled outfrom under a spirit tin. "On opening it, I drew out a roll folded in abladder, which, being frozen, broke and crumbled. From its dilapidatedappearance, I thought at the moment it must be some record of Sir EdwardParry, and, fearing I might damage it, laid it down with the intentionof lighting the fire to thaw it. My curiosity, however, overcame myprudence, and on opening it carefully with my knife, I came to a roll ofcartridge paper with the impression fresh upon the seals. Myastonishment may be conceived on finding it contained an account of theproceedings of H. M. Ship 'Investigator' since parting company with the'Herald' [Captain Kellett's old ship] in August, 1850, in Behring'sStraits. Also a chart which disclosed to view not only the long-soughtNorthwest Passage, but the completion of the survey of Banks andWollaston lands. Opened and indorsed Commander McClintock's despatch;found it contained the following additions:--

 "'Opened and copied by his old friend and messmate upon this date, April 28, 1852. ROBERT MCCLURE

 "'Party all well and return to Investigator to-day. '"

A great discovery indeed to flash across one in a minute. The"Investigator" had not been heard from for more than two years. Here wasnews of her not yet six months old. The Northwest Passage had beendreamed of for three centuries and more. Here was news of itsdiscovery, --news that had been known to Captain McClure for two years. McClure and McClintock were lieutenants together in the "Enterprise"when she was sent after Sir John Franklin in 1848, and wintered togetherat Port Leopold the next winter. Now, from different hemispheres, theyhad come so near meeting at this old block of sandstone. Mr. Mecham badehis mate build a new cairn, to put the record of the story in, andhurried on to the "Resolute" with his great news, --news of almosteverybody but Sir John Franklin. Strangely enough, the other expedition, Captain Collinson's, had had a party in that neighborhood, between theother two, under Mr. Parks; but it was his extreme point possible, andhe could not reach the Sandstone, though he saw the ruts of McClure'ssleigh. This was not known till long afterwards. 

The "Investigator, " as it appeared from this despatch of CaptainMcClure's, had been frozen up in the Bay of Mercy of Banks Land: BanksLand having been for thirty years at once an Ultima Thule and TerraIncognita, put down on the maps where Captain Parry saw it across thirtymiles of ice and water in 1819. Perhaps she was still in that same bay:these old friends wintering there, while the "Resolute" and "Intrepid"were lying under Dealy Island, and only one hundred and seventy milesbetween. It must have been tantalizing to all parties to wait the winterthrough, and not even get a message across. But until winter made it toocold and dark to travel, the ice in the strait was so broken up that itwas impossible to attempt to traverse it, even with a light boat, forthe lanes of water. So the different autumn parties came in, the last onthe last of October, and the officers and men entered on their winter'swork and play, to push off the winter days as quickly as they could. 

The winter was very severe; and it proved that, as the "Resolute" lay, they were a good deal exposed to the wind. But they kept themselvesbusy, --exercised freely, --found game quite abundant within reasonabledistances on shore, whenever the light served, --kept schoolsfor the men, --delivered scientific lectures to whoever wouldlisten, --established the theatre for which the ship had been provided athome, --and gave juggler's exhibitions by way of variety. The recentsystem of travelling in the fall and spring cuts in materially to thelength of the Arctic winters as Ross, Parry, and Back used to experienceit, and it was only from the 1st of November to the 10th of March thatthey were left to their own resources. Late in October one of the"Resolute's" men died, and in December one of the "Intrepid's, " but, excepting these cases, they had little sickness, for weeks no one onthe sick-list; indeed, Captain Kellett says cheerfully that asufficiency of good provisions, with plenty of work in the open air, will insure good health in that climate. 

As early in the spring as he dared risk a travelling party, namely, onthe 10th of March, 1853, he sent what they all called a forlorn hopeacross to the Bay of Mercy, to find any traces of the "Investigator";for they scarcely ventured to hope that she was still there. This startwas earlier by thirty-five days than the early parties had started onthe preceding expedition. But it was every way essential that, ifCaptain McClure had wintered in the Bay of Mercy, the messenger shouldreach him before he sent off any or all his men, in travelling parties, in the spring. The little forlorn hope consisted of ten men under thecommand of Lieutenant Pim, an officer who had been with Captain Kellettin the "Herald" on the Pacific side, had spent a winter in the "Plover"up Behring's Straits, and had been one of the last men whom the"Investigator" had seen before they put into the Arctic Ocean, todiscover, as it proved, the Northwest Passage. 

Here we must stop a moment, to tell what one of these sledge parties isby whose efforts so much has been added to our knowledge of Arcticgeography, in journeys which could never have been achieved in ships orboats. In the work of the "Resolute's" parties, in this spring of 1852, Commander McClintock travelled 1, 325 miles with his sledge, andLieutenant Mecham 1, 163 miles with his, through regions before whollyunexplored. The sledge, as we have said, is in general contour notunlike a Yankee wood-sled, about eleven feet long. The runners arecurved at each end. The sled is fitted with a light canvas trough, soadjusted that, in case of necessity, all the stores, &c. , can be ferriedover any narrow lane of water in the ice. There are packed on this sleda tent for eight or ten men, five or six pikes, one or more of which isfitted as an ice-chisel; two large buffalo-skins, a water-tightfloor-cloth, which contrives

 "a double debt to pay, A floor by night, the sledge's sail by day"

(and it must be remembered that "day" and "night" in those regions arevery equivocal terms). There are, besides, a cooking-apparatus, of whichthe fire is made in spirit or tallow lamps, one or two guns, a pick andshovel, instruments for observation, pannikins, spoons, and a littlemagazine of such necessaries, with the extra clothing of the party. Thenthe provision, the supply of which measures the length of theexpedition, consists of about a pound of bread and a pound of pemmicanper man per day, six ounces of pork, and a little preserved potato, rum, lime-juice, tea, chocolate, sugar, tobacco, or other such creaturecomforts. The sled is fitted with two drag-ropes, at which the men haul. The officer goes ahead to find the best way among hummocks of ice ormasses of snow. Sometimes on a smooth floe, before the wind, thefloor-cloth is set for a sail, and she runs off merrily, perhaps withseveral of the crew on board, and the rest running to keep up. Butsometimes over broken ice it is a constant task to get her on at all. You hear, "One, two, three, _haul_, " all day long, as she is worked outof one ice "cradle-hole" over a hummock into another. Different partiesselect different hours for travelling. Captain Kellett finallyconsidered that the best division of time, when, as usual, they hadconstant daylight, was to start at four in the afternoon, travel tillten P. M. , _breakfast_ then, tent and rest four hours; travel four more, tent, dine, and sleep nine hours. This secured sleep, when the sun wasthe highest and most trying to the eyes. The distances accomplished withthis equipment are truly surprising. 

Each man, of course, is dressed as warmly as flannel, woollen cloth, leather, and seal-skin will dress him. For such long journeying, thestudy of boots becomes a science, and our authorities are full ofdiscussions as to canvas or woollen, or carpet or leather boots, ofstrings and of buckles. When the time "to tent" comes, the pikes arefitted for tent-poles, and the tent set up, its door to leeward, on theice or snow. The floor-cloth is laid for the carpet. At an hour fixed, all talking must stop. There is just room enough for the party to lieside by side on the floor-cloth. Each man gets into a long felt bag, made of heavy felting literally nearly half an inch thick. He bringsthis up wholly over his head, and buttons himself in. He has a littlehole in it to breathe through. Over the felt is sometimes a brownholland bag, meant to keep out moisture. The officer lies farthest inthe tent, --as being next the wind, the point of hardship and so ofhonor. The cook for the day lies next the doorway, as being first to becalled. Side by side the others lie between. Over them all Mackintoshblankets with the buffalo-robes are drawn, by what power this deponentsayeth not, not knowing. No watch is kept, for there is little danger ofintrusion. Once a whole party was startled by a white bear smelling atthem, who waked one of their dogs, and a droll time they had of it, springing to their arms while enveloped in their sacks. But we rememberno other instance where a sentinel was needed. And occasionally in thejournals the officer notes that he overslept in the morning, and did not"call the cook" early enough. What a passion is sleep, to be sure, thatone should oversleep with such comforts round him!

Some thirty or forty parties, thus equipped, set out from the "Resolute"while she was under Captain Kellett's charge, on various expeditions. Asthe journey of Lieutenant Pim to the "Investigator" at Banks Land wasthat on which turned the great victory of her voyage, we will let thatstand as a specimen of all. None of the others, however, were undertakenat so early a period of the year, and, on the other hand, several otherswere much longer, --some of them, as has been said, occupying threemonths and more. 

Lieutenant Pim had been appointed in the autumn to the "Banks Landsearch, " and had carried out his depots of provisions when the otherofficers took theirs. Captain McClure's chart and despatch made it nolonger necessary to have that coast surveyed, but made it all the morenecessary to have some one go and see if he was still there. The chanceswere against this, as a whole summer had intervened since he was heardfrom. Lieutenant Pim proposed, however, to travel all round Banks Land, which is an island about the size and shape of Ireland, in search ofhim, Collinson, Franklin, or anybody. Captain Kellett, however, told himnot to attempt this with his force, but to return to the ship by theroute he went. First he was to go to the Bay of Mercy; if the"Investigator" was gone, he was to follow any traces of her, and, ifpossible, communicate with her or her consort, the "Enterprise. "

Lieutenant Pim started with a sledge and seven men, and a dog-sledgewith two under Dr. Domville, the surgeon, who was to bring back theearliest news from the Bay of Mercy to the captain. There was a reliefsledge to go part way and return. For the intense cold of this earlyseason they had even more careful arrangements than those we havedescribed. Their tent was doubled. They had extra Mackintoshes, andwhatever else could be devised. They had bad luck at starting, --brokedown one sledge and had to send back for another; had bad weather, andmust encamp, once for three days. "Fortunately, " says the lieutenant ofthis encampment, "the temperature arose from fifty-one below zero tothirty-six below, and there remained, " while the drift accumulated tosuch a degree around the tents, that within them the thermometer wasonly twenty below, and, when they cooked, rose to zero. A pleasant timeof it they must have had there on the ice, for those three days, intheir bags smoking and sleeping! No wonder that on the fourth day theyfound they moved slowly, so cramped and benumbed were they. This morninga new sledge came to them from the ship; they got out of their bags, packed, and got under way again. They were still running along shore, but soon sent back the relief party which had brought the new sled, andin a few days more set out to cross the strait, some twenty-five tothirty miles wide, which, when it is open, as no man has ever seen it, is one of the Northwest Passages discovered by these expeditions. 

Horrible work it was! Foggy and dark, so they could not choose the road, and, as it happened, lit on the very worst mass of broken ice in thechannel. Just as they entered on it, one black raven must needs appear. "Bad luck, " said the men. And when Mr. Pim shot a musk-ox, their first, and the wounded creature got away, "So much for the raven, " they croakedagain. Only three miles the first day, four miles the second day, twoand a half the third, and half a mile the fourth; this was all theygained by most laborious hauling over the broken ice, dragging onesledge at a time, and sometimes carrying forward the stores separatelyand going back for the sledges. Two days more gave them eight milesmore, but on the seventh day on this narrow strait, the dragging being alittle better, the great sledge slipped off a smooth hummock, broke onerunner to smash, and "there they were. "

If the two officers had a little bit of a "tiff" out there on the ice, with the thermometer at eighteen below, only a little dog-sledge to getthem anywhere, their ship a hundred miles off, fourteen days' travel asthey had come, nobody ever knew it; they kept their secret from us, itis nobody's business, and it is not to be wondered at. Certainly theydid not agree. The Doctor, whose sled, the "James Fitzjames, " was stillsound, thought they had best leave the stores and all go back; but theLieutenant, who had the command, did not like to give it up, so he tookthe dogs and the "James Fitzjames" and its two men and went on, leavingthe Doctor on the floe, but giving him directions to go back to landwith the wounded sledge and wait for him to return. And the Doctor didit, like a spirited fellow, travelling back and forth for what he couldnot take in one journey, as the man did in the story who had a peck ofcorn, a goose, and a wolf to get across the river. Over ice, overhummock, the Lieutenant went on his way with his dogs, not a bear nor aseal nor a hare nor a wolf to feed them with; preserved meats, whichhad been put up with dainty care for men and women, all he had for theravenous, tasteless creatures, who would have been more pleased withblubber, came to Banks Land at last, but no game there; awful drifts;shut up in the tent for a whole day, and he himself so sick he couldscarcely stand! There were but three of them in all; and the captain ofthe sledge not unnaturally asked poor Pim, when he was at the worst, "What shall I do, sir, if you die?" Not a very comforting question!

He did not die. He got a few hours' sleep, felt better and startedagain, but had the discouragement of finding such tokens of an openstrait the last year that he felt sure that the ship he was going tolook for would be gone. One morning, he had been off for game for thedogs unsuccessfully, and, when he came back to his men, learned thatthey had seen seventeen deer. After them goes Pim; finds them to be_three hares_, magnified by fog and mirage, and their long earsanswering for horns. This same day they got upon the Bay of Mercy. Noship in sight! Right across it goes the Lieutenant to look for records;when, at two in the afternoon, Robert Hoile sees something black up thebay. Through the glass the Lieutenant makes it out to be a ship. Theychange their direction at once. Over the ice towards her! He leaves thesledge at three and goes on. How far it seems! At four he can see peoplewalking about, and a pile of stones and flag-staff on the beach. Keepon, Pim: shall one never get there? At five he is within a hundredyards of her, and no one has seen him. But just then the very personssee him who ought to! Pim beckons, waves his arms as the Esquimaux do insign of friendship. Captain McClure and his lieutenant Haswell are"taking their exercise, " the chief business of those winters, and atlast see him! Pim is black as Erebus from the smoke of cooking in thelittle tent. McClure owns, not to surprise only, but to a twinge ofdismay. "I paused in my advance, " says he, "doubting who or what itcould be, a denizen of this or the other world. " But this only lasts amoment. Pim speaks. Brave man that he can. How his voice must havechoked, as if he were in a dream. "I am Lieutenant Pim, late of'Herald. ' Captain Kellett is at Melville Island. " Well-chosen words, Pim, to be sent in advance over the hundred yards of floe! Nothing aboutthe "Resolute, "--that would have confused them. But "Pim, " "Herald, " and"Kellett" were among the last signs of England they had seen, --all thiswas intelligible. An excellent little speech, which the brave man hadbeen getting ready, perhaps, as one does a telegraphic despatch, for thehours that he had been walking over the floe to her. Then such shakinghands, such a greeting. Poor McClure could not speak at first. One ofthe men at work got the news on board; and up through the hatches pouredeverybody, sick and well, to see the black stranger, and to hear hisnews from England. It was nearly three years since they had seen anycivilized man but themselves. 

The 28th of July, three years before, Commander McClure had sent hislast despatch to the Admiralty. He had then prophesied just what inthree years he had almost accomplished. In the winter of 1850 he haddiscovered the Northwest Passage. He had come round into one branch ofit, Banks Straits, in the next summer; had gladly taken refuge on theBay of Mercy in a gale; and his ship had never left it since. Let it besaid, in passing, that most likely she is there now. In his lastdespatches he had told the Admiralty not to be anxious about him if hedid not arrive home before the autumn of 1854. As it proved, that autumnhe did come with all his men, except those whom he had sent home before, and those who had died. When Pim found them, all the crew but thirtywere under orders for marching, some to Baffin's Bay, some to theMackenzie River, on their return to England. McClure was going to staywith the rest, and come home with the ship, if they could; if not, bysledges to Port Leopold, and so by a steam-launch which he had seen leftthere for Franklin in 1849. But the arrival of Mr. Pim put an end to allthese plans. We have his long despatch to the Admiralty explaining them, finished only the day before Pim arrived. It gives the history of histhree years' exile from the world, --an exile crowded full of effectivework, --in a record which gives a noble picture of the man. The Queenhas made him Sir Robert Le Mesurier McClure since, in honor of his greatdiscovery. 

Banks Land, or Baring Island, the two names belong to the same island, on the shores of which McClure and his men had spent most of these twoyears or more, is an island on which they were first of civilized men toland. For people who are not very particular, the measurement of itwhich we gave before, namely, that it is about the size and shape ofIreland, is precise enough. There is high land in the interior probably, as the winds from in shore are cold. The crew found coal and dwarfwillow which they could burn; lemmings, ptarmigan, hares, reindeer, andmusk-oxen, which they could eat. 

 "Farewell to the land where I often have wended My way o'er its mountains and valleys of snow; Farewell to the rocks and the hills I've ascended, The bleak arctic homes of the buck and the doe; Farewell to the deep glens where oft has resounded The snow-bunting's song, as she carolled her lay To hillside and plain, by the green sorrel bounded, Till struck by the blast of a cold winter's day. "

There is a bit of description of Banks Land, from the anthology of thatcountry, which, so far as we know, consists of two poems by a seamannamed Nelson, one of Captain McClure's crew. The highest temperatureever observed on this "gem of the sea" was 53° in midsummer. The lowestwas 65° below zero in January, 1853; that day the thermometer did notrise to 60° below, that month was never warmer than 16° below, and theaverage of the month was 43° below. A pleasant climate to spend threeyears in!

One day for talk was all that could be allowed, after Mr. Pim's amazingappearance. On the 8th of April, he and his dogs, and Captain McClureand a party, were ready to return to our friend the "Resolute. " Theypicked up Dr. Domville on the way; he had got the broken sledge mended, and killed five musk-oxen, against they came along. He went on in thedog-sledge to tell the news, but McClure and his men kept pace withthem; and he and Dr. Domville had the telling of the news together. 

It was decided that the "Investigator" should be abandoned, and the"Intrepid" and "Resolute" made room for her men. Glad greeting they gavethem too, as British seamen can give. More than half the crews were awaywhen the "Investigator's" parties came in, but by July everybody hadreturned. They had found islands where the charts had guessed there wassea, and sea where they had guessed there was land; had changedpeninsulas into islands and islands into peninsulas. Away off beyond theseventy-eighth parallel, Mr. McClintock had christened the farthest dotof land "Ireland's Eye, " as if his native island were peering off intothe unknown there;--a great island, which will be our farthest now, foryears to come, had been named "Prince Patrick's Land, " in honor of thebaby prince who was the youngest when they left home. Will he not betempted, when he is a man, to take a crew, like another Madoc, and, asyounger sons of queens should, go and settle upon this temptinggod-child? They had heard from Sir Edward Belcher's part of thesquadron; they had heard from England; had heard of everything but SirJohn Franklin. They had even found an ale-bottle of Captain Collinson'sexpedition, --but not a stick nor straw to show where Franklin or his menhad lived or died. Two officers of the "Investigator" were sent home toEngland this summer by a ship from Beechey Island, the head-quarters;and thus we heard, in October, 1853, of the discovery of the NorthwestPassage. 

After their crews were on board again, and the "Investigator's" sixtystowed away also, the "Resolute" and "Intrepid" had a dreary summer ofit. The ice would not break up. They had hunting-parties on shore andraces on the floe; but the captain could not send the "Investigators"home as he wanted to, in his steam tender. All his plans were made, andmade on a manly scale, --if only the ice would open. He built astorehouse on the island for Collinson's people, or for you, reader, andus, if we should happen there, and stored it well, and left thisrecord:--

"This is a house which I have named the 'Sailor's Home, ' under theespecial patronage of my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty. 

"_Here_ royal sailors and marines are fed, clothed, and receive doublepay for inhabiting it. "

In that house is a little of everything, and a good deal of victuals anddrink; but nobody has been there since the last of the "Resolute's" mencame away. 

At last, the 17th of August, a day of foot-racing and jumping in bagsand wrestling, all hands present, as at a sort of "Isthmian games, "ended with a gale, a cracking up of ice, and the "Investigators" thoughtthey were on their way home, and Kellett thought he was to have a monthof summer yet. But no; "there is nothing certain in this navigation fromone hour to the next. " The "Resolute" and "Intrepid" were never reallyfree of ice all that autumn; drove and drifted to and fro in Barrow'sStraits till the 12th of November; and then froze up, without anchoring, off Cape Cockburn, perhaps one hundred and forty miles from their harborof the last winter. The log-book of that winter is a curious record; theingenuity of the officer in charge was well tasked to make one daydiffer from another. Each day has the first entry for "ship's position"thus: "In the floe off Cape Cockburn. " And the blank for the secondentry, thus: "In the same position. " Lectures, theatricals, schools, &c. , whiled away the time; but there could be no autumn travellingparties, and not much hope for discovery in the summer. 

Spring came. The captain went over ice in his little dog-sled toBeechey Island, and received his directions to abandon his ships. Itappears that he would rather have sent most of his men forward, and witha small crew brought the "Resolute" home that autumn or the next. ButSir Edward Belcher considered his orders peremptory "that the safety ofthe crews must preclude any idea of extricating the ships. " Both shipswere to be abandoned. Two distant travelling parties were away, one atthe "Investigator, " one looking for traces of Collinson, which theyfound. Word was left for them, at a proper point, not to seek the shipagain, but to come on to Beechey Island. And at last, having fitted the"Intrepid's" engines so that she could be under steam in two hours, having stored both ships with equal proportions of provisions, and madeboth vessels "ready for occupation, " the captain calked down thehatches, and with all the crew he had not sent on before, --forty-twopersons in all, --left her Monday, the 15th of May, 1854, and startedwith the sledges for Beechey Island. 

Poor old "Resolute"! All this gay company is gone who have made hersides split with their laughter. Here is Harlequin's dress, lying in oneof the wardrooms, but there is nobody to dance Harlequin's dances. "Hereis a lovely clear day, --surely to-day they will come on deck and take ameridian!" No, nobody comes. The sun grows hot on the decks; but it isall one, nobody looks at the thermometer! "And so the poor ship wasleft all alone. " Such gay times she has had with all these brave youngmen on board! Such merry winters, such a lightsome summer! So much fun, so much nonsense! So much science and wisdom, and now it is all sostill! Is the poor "Resolute" conscious of the change? Does she miss theraces on the ice, the scientific lecture every Tuesday, the occasionalracket and bustle of the theatre, and the worship of every Sunday? Hasnot she shared the hope of Captain Kellett, of McClure, and of the crew, that she may _break out well!_ She sees the last sledge leave her. Thecaptain drives off his six dogs, --vanishes over the ice, and they areall gone. "Will they not come back again?" says the poor ship. And shelooks wistfully across the ice to her little friend the steam tender"Intrepid, " and she sees there is no one there. "Intrepid! Intrepid!have they really deserted us? We have served them so well, and have theyreally left us alone? A great many were away travelling last year, butthey came home. Will not any of these come home now?" No, poor"Resolute"! Not one of them ever came back again! Not one of them meantto. Summer came. August came. No one can tell how soon, but some day orother this her icy prison broke up, and the good ship found herself onher own element again; shook herself proudly, we cannot doubt, noddedjoyfully across to the "Intrepid, " and was free. But alas! there was nomaster to take latitude and longitude, no helmsman at the wheel. Inclear letters cast in brass over her helm there are these words, "England expects each man to do his duty. " But here is no man to heedthe warning, and the rudder flaps this way and that way, no longerdirecting her course, but stupidly swinging to and fro. And she driftshere and there, --drifts out of sight of her little consort, --strands ona bit of ice floe now, and then is swept off from it, --and findsherself, without even the "Intrepid's" company, alone on these blue seaswith those white shores. But what utter loneliness! Poor "Resolute"! Shelonged for freedom, --but what is freedom where there is no law? What isfreedom without a helmsman! And the "Resolute" looks back so sadly tothe old days when she had a master. And the short bright summer passes. And again she sees the sun set from her decks. And now even her topmastssee it set. And now it does not rise to her deck. And the next day itdoes not rise to her topmast. Winter and night together! She has knownthem before! But now it is winter and night and loneliness all together. This horrid ice closes up round her again. And there is no one to bringher into harbor, --she is out in the open sound. If the ice drifts west, she must go west. If it goes east, she must go east. Her seeming freedomis over, and for that long winter she is chained again. But her heart istrue to old England. And when she can go east, she is so happy! and whenshe must go west, she is so sad! Eastward she does go! Southward shedoes go! True to the instinct which sends us all home, she tracksundirected and without a sail fifteen hundred miles of that sea, withouta beacon, which separates her from her own. And so goes a dismal year. "Perhaps another spring they will come and find me out, and fix thingsbelow. It is getting dreadfully damp down there; and I cannot keep theguns bright and the floors dry. " No, good old "Resolute. " May and Junepass off the next year, and nobody comes; and here you are all alone outin the bay, drifting in this dismal pack. July and August, --the days aregrowing shorter again. "Will nobody come and take care of me, and cutoff these horrid blocks of ice, and see to these sides of bacon in thehold, and all these mouldy sails, and this powder, and the bread and thespirit that I have kept for them so well? It is September, and the sunbegins to set again. And here is another of those awful gales. Will itbe my very last? I all alone here, --who have done so much, --and if theywould only take care of me I can do so much more. Will nobody come?Nobody?. .. What! Is it ice blink, --are my poor old lookouts blind? Isnot there the 'Intrepid'? Dear 'Intrepid, ' I will never look down on youagain! No! there is no smoke-stack, it is not the 'Intrepid. ' But it issomebody. Pray see me, good somebody. Are you a Yankee whaler? I am gladto see the Yankee whalers. I remember the Yankee whalers verypleasantly. We had a happy summer together once. .. . It will be dreadfulif they do not see me! But this ice, this wretched ice! They do seeme, --I know they see me, but they cannot get at me. Do not go away, goodYankees; pray come and help me. I know I can get out, if you will help alittle. .. . But now it is a whole week and they do not come! Are thereany Yankees, or am I getting crazy? I have heard them talk of crazy oldships, in my young days. .. . No! I am not crazy. They are coming! theyare coming. Brave Yankees! over the hummocks, down into the sludge. Donot give it up for the cold. There is coal below, and we will have afire in the Sylvester, and in the captain's cabin. .. . There is a horridlane of water. They have not got a Halkett. O, if one of these boats ofmine would only start for them, instead of lying so stupidly on my deckhere! But the men are not afraid of water! See them ferry over on thatice block! Come on, good friends! Welcome, whoever you be, --Dane, Dutch, French, or Yankee, come on! come on! It is coming up a gale, but I canbear a gale. Up the side, men. I wish I could let down the gangwayalone. But here are all these blocks of ice piled up, --you can scrambleover them! Why do you stop? Do not be afraid. I will make you verycomfortable and jolly. Do not stay talking there. Pray come in. There isport in the captain's cabin, and a little preserved meat in the pantry. You must be hungry; pray come in! O, he is coming, and now all four arecoming. It would be dreadful if they had gone back! They are on deck. Now I shall go home! How lonely it has been!"

It was true enough that when Mr. Quail, the brother of the captain ofthe "McLellan, " whom the "Resolute" had befriended, the mate of theGeorge Henry, whaler, whose master, Captain Buddington, had discoveredthe "Resolute" in the ice, came to her after a hard day's journey withhis men, the men faltered with a little superstitious feeling, andhesitated for a minute about going on board. But the poor lonely shipwooed them too lovingly, and they climbed over the broken ice and cameon deck. She was lying over on her larboard side, with a heavy weight ofice holding her down. Hatches and companion were made fast, as CaptainKellett had left them. But, knocking open the companion, groping downstairs to the after cabin they found their way to the captain's table;somebody put his hand on a box of lucifers, struck a light, andrevealed--books scattered in confusion, a candle standing, which helighted at once, the glasses and the decanters from which Kellett andhis officers had drunk good by to the vessel. The whalemen filled themagain, and undoubtedly felt less discouraged. Meanwhile night came on, and a gale arose. So hard did it blow, that for two days these four werethe whole crew of the "Resolute, " and it was not till the 19th ofSeptember that they returned to their own ship, and reported what theirprize was. 

All these ten days, since Captain Buddington had first seen her, thevessels had been nearing each other. On the 19th he boarded her himself;found that in her hold, on the larboard side, was a good deal of ice; onthe starboard side there seemed to be water. In fact, her tanks hadburst from the extreme cold; and she was full of water, nearly to herlower deck. Everything that could move from its place had moved;everything was wet; everything that would mould was mouldy. "A sort ofperspiration" settled on the beams above. Clothes were wringing wet. Thecaptain's party made a fire in Captain Kellett's stove, and soon starteda sort of shower from the vapor with which it filled the air. The"Resolute" has, however, four fine force-pumps. For three days thecaptain and six men worked fourteen hours a day on one of these, and hadthe pleasure of finding that they freed her of water, --that she wastight still. They cut away upon the masses of ice; and on the 23d ofSeptember, in the evening, she freed herself from her encumbrances, andtook an even keel. This was off the west shore of Baffin's Bay, inlatitude 67°. On the shortest tack she was twelve hundred miles fromwhere Captain Kellett left her. 

There was work enough still to be done. The rudder was to be shipped, the rigging to be made taut, sail to be set; and it proved, by the way, that the sail on the yards was much of it still serviceable, while asuit of new linen sails below were greatly injured by moisture. In aweek more they had her ready to make sail. The pack of ice still driftedwith both ships; but on the 21st of October, after a long northwestgale, the "Resolute" was free, --more free than she had been for morethan two years. 

Her "last voyage" is almost told. Captain Buddington had resolved tobring her home. He had picked ten men from the "George Henry, " leavingher fifteen, and with a rough tracing of the American coast drawn on asheet of foolscap, with his lever watch and a quadrant for hisinstruments, he squared off for New London. A rough, hard passage theyhad of it. The ship's ballast was gone, by the bursting of the tanks;she was top-heavy and under manned. He spoke a British whaling bark, andby her sent to Captain Kellett his epaulettes, and to his own ownersnews that he was coming. They had heavy gales and head winds, weredriven as far down as the Bermudas; the water left in the ship's tankswas brackish, and it needed all the seasoning which the ship's chocolatewould give to make it drinkable. "For sixty hours at a time, " says thespirited captain, "I frequently had no sleep"; but his perseverance wascrowned with success at last, and on the night of the 23d-24th ofDecember he made the light off the magnificent harbor from which hesailed; and on Sunday morning, the 24th, dropped anchor in the Thames, opposite _New_ London, ran up the royal ensign on the shorn masts of the"Resolute, " and the good people of the town knew that he and his weresafe, and that one of the victories of peace was won. 

As the fine ship lies opposite the piers of that beautiful town, sheattracts visitors from everywhere, and is, indeed, a very remarkablecuriosity. Seals were at once placed, and very properly, on thecaptain's book-cases, lockers, and drawers, and wherever privateproperty might be injured by wanton curiosity, and two keepers are onduty on the vessel, till her destination is decided. But nothing ischanged from what she was when she came into harbor. And, from stem tostern, every detail of her equipment is a curiosity, to the sailor or tothe landsman. The candlestick in the cabin is not like a Yankeecandlestick. The hawse hole for the chain cable is fitted as has notbeen seen before. And so of everything between. There is the aspect ofwet over everything now, after months of ventilation;--the rifles, whichwere last fired at musk-oxen in Melville Island, are red with rust, asif they had lain in the bottom of the sea; the volume of Shakespeare, which you find in an officer's berth, has a damp feel, as if you hadbeen reading it in the open air in a March north-easter. The old seamenlook with most amazement, perhaps, on the preparations foramusement, --the juggler's cups and balls, or Harlequin's spangled dress;the quiet landsman wonders at the gigantic ice-saws, at the cast-offcanvas boots, the long thick Arctic stockings. It seems almost wrong togo into Mr. Hamilton's wardroom, and see how he arranged his soap-cupand his tooth-brush; and one does not tell of it, if he finds on a blankleaf the secret prayer a sister wrote down for the brother to whom shegave a prayer-book. There is a good deal of disorder now, --thanks to hersudden abandonment, and perhaps to her three months' voyage home. Alittle union-jack lies over a heap of unmended and unwashedunderclothes; when Kellett left the ship, he left his country's flagover his arm-chair as if to keep possession. Two officers' swords and apair of epaulettes were on the cabin table. Indeed, what is there notthere, --which should make an Arctic winter endurable, --make a long nightinto day, --or while long days away?

The ship is stanch and sound. The "last voyage" which we have describedwill not, let us hope, be the last voyage of her career. But wherevershe goes, under the English flag or under our own, she will scarcelyever crowd more adventure into one cruise than into that which sealedthe discovery of the Northwest Passage; which gave new lands to England, nearest to the pole of all she has; which spent more than a year, no manknows where, self-governed and unguided; and which, having begun underthe strict _régime_ of the English navy, ended under the remarkablemutual rules, adopted by common consent, in the business of Americanwhalemen. 

Is it not worth noting that in this chivalry of Arctic adventure, theships which have been wrecked have been those of the fight or horror?They are the "Fury, " the "Victory, " the "Erebus, " the "Terror. " But theships which never failed their crews, --which, for all that man knows, are as sound now as ever, --bear the names of peaceful adventure; the"Hecla, " the "Enterprise, " and "Investigator, " the "Assistance" and"Resolute, " the "Pioneer" and "Intrepid, " and our "Advance" and "Rescue"and "Arctic, " never threatened any one, even in their names. And theynever failed the men who commanded them or who sailed in them. 

FOOTNOTE:

[15] Tetrao lagopus. 

MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME

ONE OF THE INGHAM PAPERS. 

 [A Boston journal, in noticing this story, called it improbable I think it is. But I think the moral important. It was first published in the Atlantic Monthly for September, 1859. ]

It is not often that I trouble the readers of the Atlantic Monthly. Ishould not trouble them now, but for the importunities of my wife, who"feels to insist" that a duty to society is unfulfilled, till I havetold why I had to have a double, and how he undid me. She is sure, shesays, that intelligent persons cannot understand that pressure uponpublic servants which alone drives any man into the employment of adouble. And while I fear she thinks, at the bottom of her heart, that myfortunes will never be remade, she has a faint hope that, as anotherRasselas, I may teach a lesson to future publics, from which they mayprofit, though we die. Owing to the behavior of my double, or, if youplease, to that public pressure which compelled me to employ him, I haveplenty of leisure to write this communication. 

I am, or rather was, a minister, of the Sandemanian connection. I wassettled in the active, wide-awake town of Naguadavick, on one of thefinest water-powers in Maine. We used to call it a Western town in theheart of the civilization of New England. A charming place it was andis. A spirited, brave young parish had I; and it seemed as if we mighthave all "the joy of eventful living" to our heart's content. 

Alas! how little we knew on the day of my ordination, and in thosehalcyon moments of our first housekeeping! To be the confidential friendin a hundred families in the town, --cutting the social trifle, as myfriend Haliburton says, "from the top of the whipped syllabub to thebottom of the sponge-cake, which is the foundation, "--to keep abreast ofthe thought of the age in one's study, and to do one's best on Sunday tointerweave that thought with the active life of an active town, and toinspirit both and make both infinite by glimpses of the Eternal Glory, seemed such an exquisite forelook into one's life! Enough to do, and allso real and so grand! If this vision could only have lasted!

The truth is, that this vision was not in itself a delusion, nor, indeed, half bright enough. If one could only have been left to do hisown business, the vision would have accomplished itself and brought outnew paraheliacal visions, each as bright as the original. The misery wasand is, as we found out, I and Polly, before long, that besides thevision, and besides the usual human and finite failures in life (such asbreaking the old pitcher that came over in the "Mayflower, " and puttinginto the fire the Alpenstock with which her father climbed MontBlanc), --besides these, I say (imitating the style of Robinson Crusoe), there were pitchforked in on us a great rowen-heap of humbugs, handeddown from some unknown seed-time, in which we were expected, and Ichiefly, to fulfil certain public functions before the community, of thecharacter of those fulfilled by the third row of supernumeraries whostand behind the Sepoys in the spectacle of the "Cataract of theGanges. " They were the duties, in a word, which one performs as memberof one or another social class or subdivision, wholly distinct from whatone does as A. By himself A. What invisible power put these functions onme, it would be very hard to tell. But such power there was and is. AndI had not been at work a year before I found I was living two lives, onereal and one merely functional, --for two sets of people, one my parish, whom I loved, and the other a vague public, for whom I did not care twostraws. All this was in a vague notion, which everybody had and has, that this second life would eventually bring out some great results, unknown at present, to somebody somewhere. 

Crazed by this duality of life, I first read Dr. Wigan on the "Dualityof the Brain, " hoping that I could train one side of my head to do theseoutside jobs, and the other to do my intimate and real duties. ForRichard Greenough once told me, that, in studying for the statue ofFranklin, he found that the left side of the great man's face wasphilosophic and reflective, and the right side funny and smiling. If youwill go and look at the bronze statue, you will find he has repeatedthis observation there for posterity. The eastern profile is theportrait of the statesman Franklin, the western of poor Richard. But Dr. Wigan does not go into these niceties of this subject, and I failed. Itwas then that, on my wife's suggestion, I resolved to look out for aDouble. 

I was, at first, singularly successful. We happened to be recreating atStafford Springs that summer. We rode out one day, for one of therelaxations of that watering-place, to the great Monson Poorhouse. Wewere passing through one of the large halls, when my destiny wasfulfilled!

He was not shaven. He had on no spectacles. He was dressed in a greenbaize roundabout and faded blue overalls, worn sadly at the knee. But Isaw at once that he was of my height, five feet four and a half. He hadblack hair, worn off by his hat. So have and have not I. He stooped inwalking. So do I. His hands were large, and mine. And--choicest gift ofFate in all--he had, not "a strawberry-mark on his left arm, " but a cutfrom a juvenile brickbat over his right eye, slightly affecting the playof that eyebrow. Reader, so have I! My fate was sealed!

A word with Mr. Holley, one of the inspectors, settled the whole thing. It proved that this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fellow, of theclass known as shiftless, who had sealed his fate by marrying a dumbwife, who was at that moment ironing in the laundry. Before I leftStafford, I had hired both for five years. We had applied to JudgePynchon, then the probate judge at Springfield, to change the name ofDennis Shea to Frederic Ingham. We had explained to the Judge, what wasthe precise truth, that an eccentric gentleman wished to adopt Dennis, under this new name, into his family. It never occurred to him thatDennis might be more than fourteen years old. And thus, to shorten thispreface, when we returned at night to my parsonage at Naguadavick, thereentered Mrs. Ingham, her new dumb laundress, myself, who am Mr. FredericIngham, and my double, who was Mr. Frederic Ingham by as good right asI. 

O the fun we had the next morning in shaving his beard to my pattern, cutting his hair to match mine, and teaching him how to wear and how totake off gold-bowed spectacles! Really, they were electro-plate, and theglass was plain (for the poor fellow's eyes were excellent). Then infour successive afternoons I taught him four speeches. I had found thesewould be quite enough for the supernumerary-Sepoy line of life, and itwas well for me they were; for though he was good-natured, he was veryshiftless, and it was, as our national proverb says, "like pullingteeth" to teach him. But at the end of the next week he could say, withquite my easy and frisky air, --

1. "Very well, thank you. And you?" This for an answer to casualsalutations. 

2. "I am very glad you liked it. "

3. "There has been so much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that Iwill not occupy the time. "

4. "I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of the room. "

At first I had a feeling that I was going to be at great cost forclothing him. But it proved, of course, at once, that, whenever he wasout, I should be at home. And I went, during the bright period of hissuccess, to so few of those awful pageants which require a blackdress-coat and what the ungodly call, after Mr. Dickens, a white choker, that in the happy retreat of my own dressing-gowns and jackets my dayswent by as happily and cheaply as those of another Thalaba. And Pollydeclares there was never a year when the tailoring cost so little. Helived (Dennis, not Thalaba) in his wife's room over the kitchen. He hadorders never to show himself at that window. When he appeared in thefront of the house, I retired to my sanctissimum and my dressing-gown. In short, the Dutchman and his wife, in the old weather-box, had notless to do with each other than he and I. He made the furnace-fire andsplit the wood before daylight; then he went to sleep again, and sleptlate; then came for orders, with a red silk bandanna tied round hishead, with his overalls on, and his dress-coat and spectacles off. If wehappened to be interrupted, no one guessed that he was Frederic Inghamas well as I; and, in the neighborhood, there grew up an impression thatthe minister's Irishman worked daytimes in the factory-village at NewCoventry. After I had given him his orders, I never saw him till thenext day. 

I launched him by sending him to a meeting of the Enlightenment Board. The Enlightenment Board consists of seventy-four members, of whomsixty-seven are necessary to form a quorum. One becomes a member underthe regulations laid down in old Judge Dudley's will. I became one bybeing ordained pastor of a church in Naguadavick. You see you cannothelp yourself, if you would. At this particular time we had had foursuccessive meetings, averaging four hours each, --wholly occupied inwhipping in a quorum. At the first only eleven men were present; at thenext, by force of three circulars, twenty-seven; at the third, thanks totwo days' canvassing by Auchmuty and myself, begging men to come, we hadsixty. Half the others were in Europe. But without a quorum we could donothing. All the rest of us waited grimly for our four hours, andadjourned without any action. At the fourth meeting we had flagged, andonly got fifty-nine together. But on the first appearance of mydouble, --whom I sent on this fatal Monday to the fifth meeting, --he wasthe _sixty-seventh_ man who entered the room. He was greeted with astorm of applause! The poor fellow had missed his way, --read the streetsigns ill through his spectacles (very ill, in fact, without them), --andhad not dared to inquire. He entered the room, --finding the presidentand secretary holding to their chairs two judges of the Supreme Court, who were also members _ex officio_, and were begging leave to go away. On his entrance all was changed. _Presto_, the by-laws were suspended, and the Western property was given away. Nobody stopped to converse withhim. He voted, as I had charged him to do, in every instance, with theminority. I won new laurels as a man of sense, though a littleunpunctual, --and Dennis, _alias_ Ingham, returned to the parsonage, astonished to see with how little wisdom the world is governed. He cut afew of my parishioners in the street; but he had his glasses off, and Iam known to be near-sighted. Eventually he recognized them more readilythan I. 

I "set him again" at the exhibition of the New Coventry Academy; andhere he undertook a "speaking part, "--as, in my boyish, worldly days, Iremember the bills used to say of Mlle. Celeste. We are all trustees ofthe New Coventry Academy; and there has lately been "a good deal offeeling" because the Sandemanian trustees did not regularly attend theexhibitions. It has been intimated, indeed, that the Sandemanians areleaning towards Free-Will, and that we have, therefore, neglected thesesemiannual exhibitions, while there is no doubt that Auchmuty last yearwent to Commencement at Waterville. Now the head master at New Coventryis a real good fellow, who knows a Sanskrit root when he sees it, andoften cracks etymologies with me, --so that, in strictness, I ought to goto their exhibitions. But think, reader, of sitting through three longJuly days in that Academy chapel, following the programme from

 TUESDAY MORNING. _English Composition. _ "SUNSHINE. " Miss Jones. 

round to

 _Trio on Three Pianos. _ Duel from the Opera of "Midshipman Easy. " _Marryat. _

coming in at nine, Thursday evening! Think of this, reader, for men whoknow the world is trying to go backward, and who would give their livesif they could help it on! Well! The double had succeeded so well at theBoard, that I sent him to the Academy. (Shade of Plato, pardon!) Hearrived early on Tuesday, when, indeed, few but mothers and clergymenare generally expected, and returned in the evening to us, covered withhonors. He had dined at the right hand of the chairman, and he spoke inhigh terms of the repast. The chairman had expressed his interest in theFrench conversation. "I am very glad you liked it, " said Dennis; and thepoor chairman, abashed, supposed the accent had been wrong. At the endof the day, the gentlemen present had been called upon forspeeches, --the Rev. Frederic Ingham first, as it happened; upon whichDennis had risen, and had said, "There has been so much said, and, onthe whole, so well said, that I will not occupy the time. " The girlswere delighted, because Dr. Dabney, the year before, had given them atthis occasion a scolding on impropriety of behavior at lyceum lectures. They all declared Mr. Ingliam was a love, --and _so_ handsome! (Dennis isgood-looking. ) Three of them, with arms behind the others' waists, followed him up to the wagon he rode home in; and a little girl with ablue sash had been sent to give him a rosebud. After this _début_ inspeaking, he went to the exhibition for two days more, to the mutualsatisfaction of all concerned. Indeed, Polly reported that he hadpronounced the trustees' dinners of a higher grade than those of theparsonage. When the next term began, I found six of the Academy girlshad obtained permission to come across the river and attend our church. But this arrangement did not long continue. 

After this he went to several Commencements for me, and ate the dinnersprovided; he sat through three of our Quarterly Conventions forme, --always voting judiciously, by the simple rule mentioned above, ofsiding with the minority. And I, meanwhile, who had before been losingcaste among my friends, as holding myself aloof from the associations ofthe body, began to rise in everybody's favor. "Ingham's a goodfellow, --always on hand"; "never talks much, but does the right thing atthe right time"; "is not as unpunctual as he used to be, --he comesearly, and sits through to the end. " "He has got over his old talkativehabit, too. I spoke to a friend of his about it once; and I think Inghamtook it kindly, " etc. , etc. 

This voting power of Dennis was particularly valuable at the quarterlymeetings of the proprietors of the Naguadavick Ferry. My wife inheritedfrom her father some shares in that enterprise, which is not yet fullydeveloped, though it doubtless will become a very valuable property. Thelaw of Maine then forbade stockholders to appear by proxy at suchmeetings. Polly disliked to go, not being, in fact, a "hens'-rightshen, " transferred her stock to me. I, after going once, disliked it morethan she. But Dennis went to the next meeting, and liked it very much. He said the arm-chairs were good, the collation good, and the free ridesto stockholders pleasant. He was a little frightened when they firsttook him upon one of the ferry-boats, but after two or three quarterlymeetings he became quite brave. 

Thus far I never had any difficulty with him. Indeed, being, as Iimplied, of that type which is called shiftless, he was only too happyto be told daily what to do, and to be charged not to be forthputting orin any way original in his discharge of that duty. He learned, however, to discriminate between the lines of his life, and very much preferredthese stockholders' meetings and trustees' dinners and Commencementcollations to another set of occasions, from which he used to beg offmost piteously. Our excellent brother, Dr. Fillmore, had taken a notionat this time that our Sandemanian churches needed more expression ofmutual sympathy. He insisted upon it that we were remiss. He said, that, if the Bishop came to preach at Naguadavick, all the Episcopal clergy ofthe neighborhood were present; if Dr. Pond came, all the Congregationalclergymen turned out to hear him; if Dr. Nichols, all the Unitarians;and he thought we owed it to each other, that, whenever there was anoccasional service at a Sandemanian church, the other brethren shouldall, if possible, attend. "It looked well, " if nothing more. Now thisreally meant that I had not been to hear one of Dr. Fillmore's lectureson the Ethnology of Religion. He forgot that he did not hear one of mycourse on the "Sandemanianism of Anselm. " But I felt badly when he saidit; and afterwards I always made Dennis go to hear all the brethrenpreach, when I was not preaching myself. This was what he tookexceptions to, --the only thing, as I said, which he ever did except to. Now came the advantage of his long morning-nap, and of the green teawith which Polly supplied the kitchen. But he would plead, so humbly, tobe let off, only from one or two! I never excepted him, however. I knewthe lectures were of value, and I thought it best he should be able tokeep the connection. 

Polly is more rash than I am, as the reader has observed in the outsetof this memoir. She risked Dennis one night under the eyes of her ownsex. Governor Gorges had always been very kind to us, and, when he gavehis great annual party to the town, asked us. I confess I hated to go. Iwas deep in the new volume of Pfeiffer's "Mystics, " which Haliburton hadjust sent me from Boston. "But how rude, " said Polly, "not to return theGovernor's civility and Mrs. Gorges's, when they will be sure to ask whyyou are away!" Still I demurred, and at last she, with the wit of Eveand of Semiramis conjoined, let me off by saying that, if I would go inwith her, and sustain the initial conversations with the Governor andthe ladies staying there, she would risk Dennis for the rest of theevening. And that was just what we did. She took Dennis in training allthat afternoon, instructed him in fashionable conversation, cautionedhim against the temptations of the supper-table, --and at nine in theevening he drove us all down in the carryall. I made the grandstar-_entrée_ with Polly and the pretty Walton girls, who were stayingwith us. We had put Dennis into a great rough top-coat, without hisglasses; and the girls never dreamed, in the darkness, of looking athim. He sat in the carriage, at the door, while we entered. I did theagreeable to Mrs. Gorges, was introduced to her niece, Miss Fernanda; Icomplimented Judge Jeffries on his decision in the great case ofD'Aulnay _vs. _ Laconia Mining Company; I stepped into the dressing-roomfor a moment, stepped out for another, walked home after a nod withDennis and tying the horse to a pump; and while I walked home, Mr. Frederic Ingham, my double, stepped in through the library into theGorges's grand saloon. 

Oh! Polly died of laughing as she told me of it at midnight! And evenhere, where I have to teach my hands to hew the beech for stakes tofence our cave, she dies of laughing as she recalls it, --and says thatsingle occasion was worth all we have paid for it. Gallant Eve that sheis! She joined Dennis at the library-door, and in an instant presentedhim to Dr. Ochterlony, from Baltimore, who was on a visit in town, andwas talking with her as Dennis came in. "Mr. Ingham would like to hearwhat you were telling us about your success among the Germanpopulation. " And Dennis bowed and said, in spite of a scowl from Polly, "I'm very glad you liked it. " But Dr. Ochterlony did not observe, andplunged into the tide of explanation; Dennis listened like aprime-minister, and bowing like a mandarin, which is, I suppose, thesame thing. Polly declared it was just like Haliburton's Latinconversation with the Hungarian minister, of which he is very fond oftelling. "_Quæne sit historia Reformationis in Ungariâ?_" quothHaliburton, after some thought. And his _confrère_ replied gallantly, "_In seculo decimo tertio_, " etc. , etc. , etc. ; and from _decimotertio_[16] to the nineteenth century and a half lasted till theoysters came. So was it that before Dr. Ochterlony came to the"success, " or near it, Governor Gorges came to Dennis, and asked him tohand Mrs. Jeffries down to supper, a request which he heard with greatjoy. 

Polly was skipping round the room, I guess, gay as a lark. Auchmuty cameto her "in pity for poor Ingham, " who was so bored by the stupidpundit, --and Auchmuty could not understand why I stood it so long. Butwhen Dennis took Mrs. Jeffries down, Polly could not resist standingnear them. He was a little flustered, till the sight of the eatables anddrinkables gave him the same Mercian courage which it gave Diggory. Alittle excited then, he attempted one or two of his speeches to theJudge's lady. But little he knew how hard it was to get in even a_promptu_ there edgewise. "Very well, I thank you, " said he, after theeating elements were adjusted; "and you?" And then did not he have tohear about the mumps, and the measles, and arnica, and belladonna, andchamomile-flower, and dodecatheon, till she changed oysters for salad;and then about the old practice and the new, and what her sister said, and what her sister's friend said, and what the physician to hersister's friend said, and then what was said by the brother of thesister of the physician of the friend of her sister, exactly as if ithad been in Ollendorff? There was a moment's pause, as she declinedChampagne. "I am very glad you liked it, " said Dennis again, which henever should have said but to one who complimented a sermon. "Oh! youare so sharp, Mr. Ingham! No! I never drink any wine at all, --exceptsometimes in summer a little currant shrub, --from our own currants, youknow. My own mother, --that is, I call her my own mother, because, youknow, I do not remember, " etc. , etc. , etc. ; till they came to thecandied orange at the end of the feast, when Dennis, rather confused, thought he must say something, and tried No. 4, --"I agree, in general, with my friend the other side of the room, "--which he never should havesaid but at a public meeting. But Mrs. Jeffries, who never listensexpecting to understand, caught him up instantly with "Well, I'm sure myhusband returns the compliment; he always agrees with you, --though we doworship with the Methodists; but you know, Mr. Ingham, " etc. , etc. , etc. , till the move up-stairs; and as Dennis led her through the hall, he was scarcely understood by any but Polly, as he said, "There has beenso much said, and, on the whole, so well said, that I will not occupythe time. "

His great resource the rest of the evening was standing in the library, carrying on animated conversations with one and another in much the sameway. Polly had initiated him in the mysteries of a discovery of mine, that it is not necessary to finish your sentences in a crowd, but by asort of mumble, omitting sibilants and dentals. This, indeed, if yourwords fail you, answers even in public extempore speech, but betterwhere other talking is going on. Thus: "We missed you at the NaturalHistory Society, Ingham. " Ingham replies, "I am very gligloglum, thatis, that you were mmmmm. " By gradually dropping the voice, theinterlocutor is compelled to supply the answer. "Mrs. Ingham, I hopeyour friend Augusta is better. " Augusta has not been ill. Polly cannotthink of explaining, however, and answers, "Thank you, Ma'am; she isvery rearason wewahwewoh, " in lower and lower tones. And Mrs. Throckmorton, who forgot the subject of which she spoke as soon as sheasked the question, is quite satisfied. Dennis could see into thecard-room, and came to Polly to ask if he might not go and playall-fours. But, of course, she sternly refused. At midnight they camehome delighted, --Polly, as I said, wild to tell me the story of thevictory; only both the pretty Walton girls said, "Cousin Frederic, youdid not come near me all the evening. "

We always called him Dennis at home, for convenience, though his realname was Frederic Ingham, as I have explained. When the election-daycame round, however, I found that by some accident there was only oneFrederic Ingham's name on the voting-list; and as I was quite busy thatday in writing some foreign letters to Halle, I thought I would foregomy privilege of suffrage, and stay quietly at home, telling Dennis thathe might use the record on the voting-list, and vote. I gave him aticket, which I told him he might use, if he liked to. That was thatvery sharp election in Maine which the readers of the Atlantic so wellremember, and it had been intimated in public that the ministers woulddo well not to appear at the polls. Of course, after that, we had toappear by self or proxy. Still, Naguadavick was not then a city, andthis standing in a double queue at town-meeting several hours to votewas a bore of the first water; and so when I found that there was butone Frederic Ingham on the list, and that one of us must give up, Istayed at home and finished the letters (which, indeed, procured forFothergill his coveted appointment of Professor of Astronomy atLeavenworth), and I gave Dennis, as we called him, the chance. Somethingin the matter gave a good deal of popularity to the Frederic Inghamname; and at the adjourned election, next week, Frederic Ingham waschosen to the legislature. Whether this was I or Dennis I never reallyknew. My friends seemed to think it was I; but I felt that as Dennis haddone the popular thing, he was entitled to the honor; so I sent him toAugusta when the time came, and he took the oaths. And a very valuablemember he made. They appointed him on the Committee on Parishes; but Iwrote a letter for him, resigning, on the ground that he took aninterest in our claim to the stumpage in the minister's sixteenths ofGore A, next No. 7, in the 10th Range. He never made any speeches, andalways voted with the minority, which was what he was sent to do. Hemade me and himself a great many good friends, some of whom I did notafterwards recognize as quickly as Dennis did my parishioners. On one ortwo occasions, when there was wood to saw at home, I kept him at home;but I took those occasions to go to Augusta myself. Finding myself oftenin his vacant seat at these times, I watched the proceedings with a gooddeal of care; and once was so much excited that I delivered my somewhatcelebrated speech on the Central School-District question, a speech ofwhich the "State of Maine" printed some extra copies. I believe there isno formal rule permitting strangers to speak; but no one objected. 

Dennis himself, as I said, never spoke at all. But our experience thissession led me to think that if, by some such "general understanding" asthe reports speak of in legislation daily, every member of Congressmight leave a double to sit through those deadly sessions and answer toroll-calls and do the legitimate party-voting, which appears stereotypedin the regular list of Ashe, Bocock, Black, etc. , we should gaindecidedly in working-power. As things stand, the saddest State prison Iever visit is that Representatives' Chamber in Washington. If a manleaves for an hour, twenty "correspondents" may be howling, "Where wasMr. Pendergrast when the Oregon bill passed?" And if poor Pendergraststays there! Certainly the worst use you can make of a man is to put himin prison!

I know, indeed, that public men of the highest rank have resorted tothis expedient long ago. Dumas's novel of the "Iron Mask" turns on thebrutal imprisonment of Louis the Fourteenth's double. There seems littledoubt, in our own history, that it was the real General Pierce who shedtears when the delegate from Lawrence explained to him the sufferings ofthe people there, and only General Pierce's double who had given theorders for the assault on that town, which was invaded the next day. Mycharming friend, George Withers, has, I am almost sure, a double, whopreaches his afternoon sermons for him. This is the reason that thetheology often varies so from that of the forenoon. But that double isalmost as charming as the original. Some of the most well-defined men, who stand out most prominently on the background of history, are in thisway stereoscopic men, who owe their distinct relief to the slightdifferences between the doubles. All this I know. My present suggestionis simply the great extension of the system, so that all publicmachine-work may be done by it. 

But I see I loiter on my story, which is rushing to the plunge. Let mestop an instant more, however, to recall, were it only to myself, thatcharming year while all was yet well. After the double had become amatter of course, for nearly twelve months before he undid me, what ayear it was! Full of active life, full of happy love, of the hardestwork, of the sweetest sleep, and the fulfilment of so many of the freshaspirations and dreams of boyhood! Dennis went to every school-committeemeeting, and sat through all those late wranglings which used to keep meup till midnight and awake till morning. He attended all the lectures towhich foreign exiles sent me tickets begging me to come for the love ofHeaven and of Bohemia. He accepted and used all the tickets for charityconcerts which were sent to me. He appeared everywhere where it wasspecially desirable that "our denomination, " or "our party, " or "ourclass, " or "our family, " or "our street, " or "our town, " or "ourcountry, " or "our State, " should be fully represented. And I fell backto that charming life which in boyhood one dreams of, when he supposeshe shall do his own duty and make his own sacrifices, without being tiedup with those of other people. My rusty Sanskrit, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, Spanish, German, and English began to takepolish. Heavens! how little I had done with them while I attended to my_public_ duties! My calls on my parishioners became the friendly, frequent, homelike sociabilities they were meant to be, instead of thehard work of a man goaded to desperation by the sight of his lists ofarrears. And preaching! what a luxury preaching was when I had on Sundaythe whole result of an individual, personal week, from which to speak toa people whom all that week I had been meeting as hand-to-handfriend;--I, never tired on Sunday, and in condition to leave the sermonat home if I chose, and preach it extempore, as all men should doalways. Indeed, I wonder, when I think that a sensible people, likeours, --really more attached to their clergy than they were in the lostdays, when the Mathers and Nortons were noblemen, --should choose toneutralize so much of their ministers' lives, and destroy so much oftheir early training, by this undefined passion for seeing them inpublic. It springs from our balancing of sects. If a spiritedEpiscopalian takes an interest in the almshouse, and is put on the PoorBoard, every other denomination must have a minister there, lest thepoorhouse be changed into St. Paul's Cathedral. If a Sandemanian ischosen president of the Young Men's Library, there must be a Methodistvice-president and a Baptist secretary. And if a UniversalistSunday-School Convention collects five hundred delegates, the nextCongregationalist Sabbath-School Conference must be as large, "lest'they'--whoever _they_ may be--should think 'we'--whoever _we_ maybe--are going down. "

Freed from these necessities, that happy year I began to know my wife bysight. We saw each other sometimes. In those long mornings, when Denniswas in the study explaining to map-peddlers that I had eleven maps ofJerusalem already, and to school-book agents that I would see themhanged before I would be bribed to introduce their text-books into theschools, --she and I were at work together, as in those old dreamydays, --and in these of our log-cabin again. But all this could notlast, --and at length poor Dennis, my double, overtasked in turn, undidme. 

It was thus it happened. There is an excellent fellow, once aminister, --I will call him Isaacs, --who deserves well of the world tillhe dies, and after, because he once, in a real exigency, did the rightthing, in the right way, at the right time, as no other man could do it. In the world's great football match, the ball by chance found himloitering on the outside of the field; he closed with it, "camped" it, charged it home, --yes, right through the other side, --not disturbed, notfrightened by his own success, --and breathless found himself a greatman, as the Great Delta rang applause. But he did not find himself arich man; and the football has never come in his way again. From thatmoment to this moment he has been of no use, that one can see at all. Still, for that great act we speak of Isaacs gratefully and remember himkindly; and he forges on, hoping to meet the football somewhere again. In that vague hope, he had arranged a "movement" for a generalorganization of the human family into Debating-Clubs, County Societies, State Unions, etc. , etc. , with a view of inducing all children to takehold of the handles of their knives and forks, instead of the metal. Children have bad habits in that way. The movement, of course, wasabsurd; but we all did our best to forward, not it, but him. It cametime for the annual county-meeting on this subject to be held atNaguadavick. Isaacs came round, good fellow! to arrange for it, --got thetown-hall, got the Governor to preside (the saint!--he ought to havetriplet doubles provided him by law), and then came to get me to speak. "No, " I said, "I would not speak, if ten Governors presided. I do notbelieve in the enterprise. If I spoke, it should be to say childrenshould take hold of the prongs of the forks and the blades of theknives. I would subscribe ten dollars, but I would not speak a mill. " Sopoor Isaacs went his way sadly, to coax Auchmuty to speak, andDelafield. I went out. Not long after he came back, and told Polly thatthey had promised to speak, the Governor would speak, and he himselfwould close with the quarterly report, and some interesting anecdotesregarding Miss Biffin's way of handling her knife and Mr. Nellis's wayof footing his fork. "Now if Mr. Ingham will only come and sit on theplatform, he need not say one word; but it will show well in thepaper, --it will show that the Sandemanians take as much interest in themovement as the Armenians or the Mesopotamians, and will be a greatfavor to me. " Polly, good soul! was tempted, and she promised. She knewMrs. Isaacs was starving, and the babies, --she knew Dennis was athome, --and she promised! Night came, and I returned. I heard her story. I was sorry. I doubted. But Polly had promised to beg me, and I daredall! I told Dennis to hold his peace, under all circumstances, and senthim down. 

It was not half an hour more before he returned, wild withexcitement, --in a perfect Irish fury, --which it was long before Iunderstood. But I knew at once that he had undone me!

What happened was this. The audience got together, attracted by GovernorGorges's name. There were a thousand people. Poor Gorges was late fromAugusta. They became impatient. He came in direct from the train atlast, really ignorant of the object of the meeting. He opened it in thefewest possible words, and said other gentlemen were present who wouldentertain them better than he. The audience were disappointed, butwaited. The Governor, prompted by Isaacs, said, "The Honorable Mr. Delafield will address you. " Delafield had forgotten the knives andforks, and was playing the Ruy Lopez opening at the chess-club. "TheRev. Mr. Auchmuty will address you. " Auchmuty had promised to speaklate, and was at the school-committee. "I see Dr. Stearns in the hall;perhaps he will say a word. " Dr. Stearns said he had come to listen andnot to speak. The Governor and Isaacs whispered. The Governor looked atDennis, who was resplendent on the platform; but Isaacs, to give him hisdue, shook his head. But the look was enough. A miserable lad, ill-bred, who had once been in Boston, thought it would sound well to call for me, and peeped out, "Ingham!" A few more wretches cried, "Ingham! Ingham!"Still Isaacs was firm; but the Governor, anxious, indeed, to prevent arow, knew I would say some thing, and said, "Our friend Mr. Ingham isalways prepared; and, though we had not relied upon him, he will say aword perhaps. " Applause followed, which turned Dennis's head. He rose, fluttered, and tried No. 3: "There has been so much said, and, on thewhole, so well said, that I will not longer occupy the time!" and satdown, looking for his hat; for things seemed squally. But the peoplecried, "Go on! go on!" and some applauded. Dennis, still confused, butflattered by the applause, to which neither he nor I are used, roseagain, and this time tried No. 2: "I am very glad you liked it!" in asonorous, clear delivery. My best friends stared. All the people who didnot know me personally yelled with delight at the aspect of the evening;the Governor was beside himself, and poor Isaacs thought he was undone!Alas, it was I! A boy in the gallery cried in a loud tone, "It's all aninfernal humbug, " just as Dennis, waving his hand, commanded silence, and tried No. 4: "I agree, in general, with my friend the other side ofthe room. " The poor Governor doubted his senses and crossed to stophim, --not in time, however The same gallery-boy shouted, "How's yourmother?" and Dennis, now completely lost, tried, as his last shot, No. 1, vainly: "Very well, thank you; and you?"

I think I must have been undone already. But Dennis, like anotherLockhard, chose "to make sicker. " The audience rose in a whirl ofamazement, rage, and sorrow. Some other impertinence, aimed at Dennis, broke all restraint, and, in pure Irish, he delivered himself of anaddress to the gallery, inviting any person who wished to fight to comedown and do so, --stating, that they were all dogs and cowards and thesons of dogs and cowards, --that he would take any five of themsingle-handed. "Shure, I have said all his Riverence and the Misthressbade me say, " cried he, in defiance; and, seizing the Governor's canefrom his hand, brandished it, quarter-staff fashion, above his head. Hewas, indeed, got from the hall only with the greatest difficulty by theGovernor, the City Marshal, who had been called in, and theSuperintendent of my Sunday-School. 

The universal impression, of course, was, that the Rev. Frederic Inghamhad lost all command of himself in some of those haunts of intoxicationwhich for fifteen years I have been laboring to destroy. Till thismoment, indeed, that is the impression in Naguadavick. This number ofthe Atlantic will relieve from it a hundred friends of mine who havebeen sadly wounded by that notion now for years; but I shall not belikely ever to show my head there again. 

No! My double has undone me. 

We left town at seven the next morning. I came to No. 9, in the ThirdRange, and settled on the Minister's Lot. In the new towns in Maine, thefirst settled minister has a gift of a hundred acres of land. I am thefirst settled minister in No. 9. My wife and little Paulina are myparish. We raise corn enough to live on in summer. We kill bear's meatenough to carbonize it in winter. I work on steadily on my "Traces ofSandemanianism in the Sixth and Seventh Centuries, " which I hope topersuade Phillips, Sampson, & Co. To publish next year. We are veryhappy, but the world thinks we are undone. 

FOOTNOTE:

[16] Which means, "In the thirteenth century, " my dear littlebell-and-coral reader. You have rightly guessed that the question means, "What is the history of the Reformation in Hungary?"

THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY. 

FROM THE INGHAM PAPERS. 

 [This story was written in the summer of 1863, as a contribution, however humble, towards the formation of a just and true national sentiment, or sentiment of love to the nation. It was at the time when Mr. Vallandigham had been sent across the border. It was my wish, indeed, that the story might be printed before the autumn elections of that year, --as my "testimony" regarding the principles involved in them, --but circumstances delayed its publication till the December number of the Atlantic appeared. 

 It is wholly a fiction, "founded on fact. " The facts on which it is founded are these, --that Aaron Burr sailed down the Mississippi River in 1805, again in 1806, and was tried for treason in 1807. The rest, with one exception to be noticed, is all fictitious. 

 It was my intention that the story should have been published with no author's name, other than that of Captain Frederic Ingham, U. S. N. Whether writing under his name or my own, I have taken no liberties with history other than such as every writer of fiction is privileged to take, --indeed, must take, if fiction is to be written at all. 

 The story having been once published, it passed out of my hands. From that moment it has gradually acquired different accessories, for which I am not responsible. Thus I have heard it said, that at one bureau of the Navy Department they say that Nolan was pardoned, in fact, and returned home to die. At another bureau, I am told, the answer to questions is, that, though it is true that an officer was kept abroad all his life, his name was not Nolan. A venerable friend of mine in Boston, who discredits all tradition, still recollects this "Nolan court-martial. " One of the most accurate of my younger friends had noticed Nolan's death in the newspaper, but recollected "that it was in September, and not in August. " A lady in Baltimore writes me, I believe in good faith, that Nolan has two widowed sisters residing in that neighborhood. A correspondent of the Philadelphia Despatch believed "the article untrue, as the United States corvette 'Levant' was lost at sea nearly three years since, between San Francisco and San Juan. " I may remark that this uncertainty as to the place of her loss rather adds to the probability of her turning up after three years in Lat. 2° 11' S. , Long. 131° W. A writer in the New Orleans Picayune, in a careful historical paper, explained at length that I had been mistaken all through; that Philip Nolan never went to sea, but to Texas; that there he was shot in battle, March 21, 1801, and by orders from Spain every fifth man of his party was to be shot, had they not died in prison. Fortunately, however, he left his papers and maps, which fell into the hands of a friend of the Picayune's correspondent. This friend proposes to publish them, --and the public will then have, it is to be hoped, the true history of Philip Nolan, the man without a country. 

 With all these continuations, however, I have nothing to do. I can only repeat that my Philip Nolan is pure fiction. I cannot send his scrap-book to my friend who asks for it, because I have it not to send. 

 I remembered, when I was collecting material for my story, that in General Wilkinson's galimatias, which he calls his "Memoirs, " is frequent reference to a Jorkins-like partner of his, of the name of Nolan, who, at some time near the beginning of this century, was killed in Texas. Whenever Wilkinson found himself in rather a deeper bog than usual, he used to justify himself by saying that he could not explain such or such a charge because "the papers referring to it were lost when _Mr. Nolan_ was imprisoned in Texas. " Finding this mythical character in the mythical legends of a mythical time, I took the liberty to give him a brother, rather more mythical, whose adventures should be on the seas. I had the impression that Wilkinson's friend was named Stephen, --and as such he is spoken of in this story at page 232. But long after this was printed, I found that the New Orleans paper was right in saying that the Texan hero was named Philip. I am very sorry that I changed him inadvertently to Stephen. It is too late for me to change him back again. I remember to have heard a distinguished divine preach on St. Philip's day, by accident, a discourse on the life of the Evangelist Stephen. If such a mistake can happen in the best regulated of pulpits, I must be pardoned for mistaking Philip for Stephen Nolan. The reader must observe that he was dead some years before the action of this story begins. In the same connection I must add that Mr. P. Nolan, the teamster in Boston, whose horse and cart I venture to recommend to an indulgent public, is no relation of the hero of this tale. 

 If any reader considers the invention of a brother too great a liberty to take in fiction, I venture to remind him that "'Tis sixty years since"; and that I should have the highest authority in literature even for much greater liberties taken with annals so far removed from our time. 

 A Boston paper, in noticing the story of "My Double, " contained in another part of this collection, said it was highly _improbable_. I have always agreed with that critic. I confess I have the same opinion of the story of Philip Nolan. It passes on ships which had no existence, is vouched for by officers who never lived. Its hero is in two or three places at the same time, under a process wholly impossible under any conceivable administration of affairs. In reply, therefore, to a kind adviser in Connecticut, who told me that the story must be apologized for, because it was doing great injury to the national cause by asserting such continued cruelty of the Federal Government through a half-century, I must be permitted to say that the public, being the Supreme Court of the United States, "may be supposed to know something. "]

I suppose that very few casual readers of the New York Herald of August13th observed, in an obscure corner, among the "Deaths, " theannouncement, --

 "NOLAN. Died, on board U. S. Corvette Levant, Lat. 2° 11' S. , Long. 131° W. , on the 11th of May, PHILIP NOLAN. "

I happened to observe it, because I was stranded at the oldMission-House in Mackinaw, waiting for a Lake Superior steamer which didnot choose to come, and I was devouring to the very stubble all thecurrent literature I could get hold of, even down to the deaths andmarriages in the Herald. My memory for names and people is good, and thereader will see, as he goes on, that I had reason enough to rememberPhilip Nolan. There are hundreds of readers who would have paused atthat announcement, if the officer of the Levant who reported it hadchosen to make it thus:--"Died, May 11th, THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY. "For it was as "The Man without a Country" that poor Philip Nolan hadgenerally been known by the officers who had him in charge during somefifty years, as, indeed, by all the men who sailed under them. I daresay there is many a man who has taken wine with him once a fortnight, ina three years' cruise, who never knew that his name was "Nolan, " orwhether the poor wretch had any name at all. 

There can now be no possible harm in telling this poor creature's story. Reason enough there has been till now, ever since Madison'sadministration went out in 1817, for very strict secrecy, the secrecy ofhonor itself, among the gentlemen of the navy who have had Nolan insuccessive charge. And certainly it speaks well for the _esprit decorps_ of the profession, and the personal honor of its members, that tothe press this man's story has been wholly unknown, --and, I think, tothe country at large also. I have reason to think, from someinvestigations I made in the Naval Archives when I was attached to theBureau of Construction, that every official report relating to him wasburned when Ross burned the public buildings at Washington. One of theTuckers, or possibly one of the Watsons, had Nolan in charge at the endof the war; and when, on returning from his cruise, he reported atWashington to one of the Crowninshields, --who was in the Navy Departmentwhen he came home, --he found that the Department ignored the wholebusiness. Whether they really knew nothing about it or whether it was a"_Non mi ricordo_, " determined on as a piece of policy, I do not know. But this I do know, that since 1817, and possibly before, no navalofficer has mentioned Nolan in his report of a cruise. 

But, as I say, there is no need for secrecy any longer. And now thepoor creature is dead, it seems to me worth while to tell a little ofhis story, by way of showing young Americans of to-day what it is to beA MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY. 

Philip Nolan was as fine a young officer as there was in the "Legion ofthe West, " as the Western division of our army was then called. WhenAaron Burr made his first dashing expedition down to New Orleans in1805, at Fort Massac, or somewhere above on the river, he met, as theDevil would have it, this gay, dashing, bright young fellow, at somedinner-party, I think. Burr marked him, talked to him, walked with him, took him a day or two's voyage in his flat-boat, and, in short, fascinated him. For the next year, barrack-life was very tame to poorNolan. He occasionally availed himself of the permission the great manhad given him to write to him. Long, high-worded, stilted letters thepoor boy wrote and rewrote and copied. But never a line did he have inreply from the gay deceiver. The other boys in the garrison sneered athim, because he sacrificed in this unrequited affection for a politicianthe time which they devoted to Monongahela, hazard, and high-low-jack. Bourbon, euchre, and poker were still unknown. But one day Nolan had hisrevenge. This time Burr came down the river, not as an attorney seekinga place for his office, but as a disguised conqueror. He had defeated Iknow not how many district-attorneys; he had dined at I know not howmany public dinners; he had been heralded in I know not how many WeeklyArguses, and it was rumored that he had an army behind him and an empirebefore him. It was a great day--his arrival--to poor Nolan. Burr had notbeen at the fort an hour before he sent for him. That evening he askedNolan to take him out in his skiff, to show him a canebrake or acotton-wood tree, as he said, --really to seduce him; and by the time thesail was over, Nolan was enlisted body and soul. From that time, thoughhe did not yet know it, he lived as A MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY. 

What Burr meant to do I know no more than you, dear reader. It is noneof our business just now. Only, when the grand catastrophe came, andJefferson and the House of Virginia of that day undertook to break onthe wheel all the possible Clarences of the then House of York, by thegreat treason-trial at Richmond, some of the lesser fry in that distantMississippi Valley, which was farther from us than Puget's Sound isto-day, introduced the like novelty on their provincial stage, and, towhile away the monotony of the summer at Fort Adams, got up, for_spectacles_, a string of court-martials on the officers there. One andanother of the colonels and majors were tried, and, to fill out thelist, little Nolan, against whom, Heaven knows, there was evidenceenough, --that he was sick of the service, had been willing to be falseto it, and would have obeyed any order to march any-whither with anyone who would follow him had the order been signed, "By command of HisExc. A. Burr. " The courts dragged on. The big flies escaped, --rightlyfor all I know. Nolan was proved guilty enough, as I say; yet you and Iwould never have heard of him, reader, but that, when the president ofthe court asked him at the close, whether he wished to say anything toshow that he had always been faithful to the United States, he criedout, in a fit of frenzy, --

"D--n the United States! I wish I may never hear of the United Statesagain!"

I suppose he did not know how the words shocked old Colonel Morgan, whowas holding the court. Half the officers who sat in it had servedthrough the Revolution, and their lives, not to say their necks, hadbeen risked for the very idea which he so cavalierly cursed in hismadness. He, on his part, had grown up in the West of those days, in themidst of "Spanish plot, " "Orleans plot, " and all the rest. He had beeneducated on a plantation where the finest company was a Spanish officeror a French merchant from Orleans. His education, such as it was, hadbeen perfected in commercial expeditions to Vera Cruz, and I think hetold me his father once hired an Englishman to be a private tutor for awinter on the plantation. He had spent half his youth with an olderbrother, hunting horses in Texas; and, in a word, to him "United States"was scarcely a reality. Yet he had been fed by "United States" for allthe years since he had been in the army. He had sworn on his faith as aChristian to be true to "United States. " It was "United States" whichgave him the uniform he wore, and the sword by his side. Nay, my poorNolan, it was only because "United States" had picked you out first asone of her own confidential men of honor that "A. Burr" cared for you astraw more than for the flat-boat men who sailed his ark for him. I donot excuse Nolan; I only explain to the reader why he damned hiscountry, and wished he might never hear her name again. 

He never did hear her name but once again. From that moment, September23, 1807, till the day he died, May 11, 1863, he never heard her nameagain. For that half-century and more he was a man without a country. 

Old Morgan, as I said, was terribly shocked. If Nolan had comparedGeorge Washington to Benedict Arnold, or had cried, "God save KingGeorge, " Morgan would not have felt worse. He called the court into hisprivate room, and returned in fifteen minutes, with a face like a sheet, to say, --

"Prisoner, hear the sentence of the Court! The Court decides, subject tothe approval of the President, that you never hear the name of theUnited States again. "

Nolan laughed. But nobody else laughed. Old Morgan was too solemn, andthe whole room was hushed dead as night for a minute. Even Nolan losthis swagger in a moment. Then Morgan added, --

"Mr. Marshal, take the prisoner to Orleans in an armed boat, anddeliver him to the naval commander there. "

The Marshal gave his orders and the prisoner was taken out of court. 

"Mr. Marshal, " continued old Morgan, "see that no one mentions theUnited States to the prisoner. Mr. Marshal, make my respects toLieutenant Mitchell at Orleans, and request him to order that no oneshall mention the United States to the prisoner while he is on boardship. You will receive your written orders from the officer on duty herethis evening. The court is adjourned without day. "

I have always supposed that Colonel Morgan himself took the proceedingsof the court to Washington City, and explained them to Mr. Jefferson. Certain it is that the President approved them, --certain, that is, if Imay believe the men who say they have seen his signature. Before theNautilus got round from New Orleans to the Northern Atlantic coast withthe prisoner on board the sentence had been approved, and he was a manwithout a country. 

The plan then adopted was substantially the same which was necessarilyfollowed ever after. Perhaps it was suggested by the necessity ofsending him by water from Fort Adams and Orleans. The Secretary of theNavy--it must have been the first Crowninshield, though he is a man I donot remember--was requested to put Nolan on board a government vesselbound on a long cruise, and to direct that he should be only so farconfined there as to make it certain that he never saw or heard of thecountry. We had few long cruises then, and the navy was very much out offavor; and as almost all of this story is traditional, as I haveexplained, I do not know certainly what his first cruise was. But thecommander to whom he was intrusted, --perhaps it was Tingey or Shaw, though I think it was one of the younger men, --we are all old enoughnow, --regulated the etiquette and the precautions of the affair, andaccording to his scheme they were carried out, I suppose, till Nolandied. 

When I was second officer of the "Intrepid, " some thirty years after, Isaw the original paper of instructions. I have been sorry ever sincethat I did not copy the whole of it. It ran, however, much in thisway:--

 "WASHINGTON (with a date, which must have been late in 1807). 

 "SIR, --You will receive from Lieutenant Neale the person of Philip Nolan, late a Lieutenant in the United States Army. 

 "This person on his trial by court-martial expressed with an oath the wish that he might 'never hear of the United States again. '

 "The Court sentenced him to have his wish fulfilled. 

 "For the present, the execution of the order is intrusted by the President to this Department. 

 "You will take the prisoner on board your ship, and keep him there with such precautions as shall prevent his escape. 

 "You will provide him with such quarters, rations, and clothing as would be proper for an officer of his late rank, if he were a passenger on your vessel on the business of his Government. 

 "The gentlemen on board will make any arrangements agreeable to themselves regarding his society. He is to be exposed to no indignity of any kind, nor is he ever unnecessarily to be reminded that he is a prisoner. 

 "But under no circumstances is he ever to hear of his country or to see any information regarding it; and you will specially caution all the officers under your command to take care, that, in the various indulgences which may be granted, this rule, in which his punishment is involved, shall not be broken. 

 "It is the intention of the Government that he shall never again see the country which he has disowned. Before the end of your cruise you will receive orders which will give effect to this intention. "Respectfully yours, "W. SOUTHARD, for the Secretary of the Navy. "

If I had only preserved the whole of this paper, there would be no breakin the beginning of my sketch of this story. For Captain Shaw, if itwere he, handed it to his successor in the charge, and he to his, and Isuppose the commander of the Levant has it to-day as his authority forkeeping this man in this mild custody. 

The rule adopted on board the ships on which I have met "the man withouta country" was, I think, transmitted from the beginning. No mess likedto have him permanently, because his presence cut off all talk of homeor of the prospect of return, of politics or letters, of peace or ofwar, --cut off more than half the talk men liked to have at sea. But itwas always thought too hard that he should never meet the rest of us, except to touch hats, and we finally sank into one system. He was notpermitted to talk with the men, unless an officer was by. With officershe had unrestrained intercourse, as far as they and he chose. But hegrew shy, though he had favorites: I was one. Then the captain alwaysasked him to dinner on Monday. Every mess in succession took up theinvitation in its turn. According to the size of the ship, you had himat your mess more or less often at dinner. His breakfast he ate in hisown state-room, --he always had a state-room, --which was where a sentinelor somebody on the watch could see the door. And whatever else he ate ordrank, he ate or drank alone. Sometimes, when the marines or sailors hadany special jollification, they were permitted to invite"Plain-Buttons, " as they called him. Then Nolan was sent with someofficer, and the men were forbidden to speak of home while he wasthere. I believe the theory was that the sight of his punishment didthem good. They called him "Plain-Buttons, " because, while he alwayschose to wear a regulation army-uniform, he was not permitted to wearthe army-button, for the reason that it bore either the initials or theinsignia of the country he had disowned. 

I remember, soon after I joined the navy, I was on shore with some ofthe older officers from our ship and from the Brandywine, which we hadmet at Alexandria. We had leave to make a party and go up to Cairo andthe Pyramids. As we jogged along (you went on donkeys then), some of thegentlemen (we boys called them "Dons, " but the phrase was long sincechanged) fell to talking about Nolan, and some one told the system whichwas adopted from the first about his books and other reading. As he wasalmost never permitted to go on shore, even though the vessel lay inport for months, his time at the best hung heavy; and everybody waspermitted to lend him books, if they were not published in America andmade no allusion to it. These were common enough in the old days, whenpeople in the other hemisphere talked of the United States as little aswe do of Paraguay. He had almost all the foreign papers that came intothe ship, sooner or later; only somebody must go over them first, andcut out any advertisement or stray paragraph that alluded to America. This was a little cruel sometimes, when the back of what was cut outmight be as innocent as Hesiod. Right in the midst of one of Napoleon'sbattles, or one of Canning's speeches, poor Nolan would find a greathole, because on the back of the page of that paper there had been anadvertisement of a packet for New York, or a scrap from the President'smessage. I say this was the first time I ever heard of this plan, whichafterwards I had enough and more than enough to do with. I remember it, because poor Phillips, who was of the party, as soon as the allusion toreading was made, told a story of something which happened at the Capeof Good Hope on Nolan's first voyage; and it is the only thing I everknew of that voyage. They had touched at the Cape, and had done thecivil thing with the English Admiral and the fleet, and then, leavingfor a long cruise up the Indian Ocean, Phillips had borrowed a lot ofEnglish books from an officer, which, in those days, as indeed in these, was quite a windfall. Among them, as the Devil would order, was the "Layof the Last Minstrel, " which they had all of them heard of, but whichmost of them had never seen. I think it could not have been publishedlong. Well, nobody thought there could be any risk of anything nationalin that, though Phillips swore old Shaw had cut out the "Tempest" fromShakespeare before he let Nolan have it, because he said "the Bermudasought to be ours, and, by Jove, should be one day. " So Nolan waspermitted to join the circle one afternoon when a lot of them sat ondeck smoking and reading aloud. People do not do such things so oftennow; but when I was young we got rid of a great deal of time so. Well, so it happened that in his turn Nolan took the book and read to theothers; and he read very well, as I know. Nobody in the circle knew aline of the poem, only it was all magic and Border chivalry, and was tenthousand years ago. Poor Nolan read steadily through the fifth canto, stopped a minute and drank something, and then began, without a thoughtof what was coming, --

 "Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, "--

It seems impossible to us that anybody ever heard this for the firsttime; but all these fellows did then, and poor Nolan himself went on, still unconsciously or mechanically, --

 "This is my own, my native land!"

Then they all saw something was to pay; but he expected to get through, I suppose, turned a little pale, but plunged on, --

 "Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand?-- If such there breathe, go, mark him well, "--

By this time the men were all beside themselves, wishing there was anyway to make him turn over two pages; but he had not quite presence ofmind for that; he gagged a little, colored crimson, and staggered on, --

 "For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, Despite these titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, "--

and here the poor fellow choked, could not go on, but started up, swungthe book into the sea, vanished into his state-room, "And by Jove, " saidPhillips, "we did not see him for two months again. And I had to make upsome beggarly story to that English surgeon why I did not return hisWalter Scott to him. "

That story shows about the time when Nolan's braggadocio must havebroken down. At first, they said, he took a very high tone, consideredhis imprisonment a mere farce, affected to enjoy the voyage, and allthat; but Phillips said that after he came out of his state-room henever was the same man again. He never read aloud again, unless it wasthe Bible or Shakespeare, or something else he was sure of. But it wasnot that merely. He never entered in with the other young men exactly asa companion again. He was always shy afterwards, when I knew him, --veryseldom spoke, unless he was spoken to, except to a very few friends. Helighted up occasionally, --I remember late in his life hearing him fairlyeloquent on something which had been suggested to him by one ofFléchier's sermons, --but generally he had the nervous, tired look of aheart-wounded man. 

When Captain Shaw was coming home, --if, as I say, it was Shaw, --ratherto the surprise of everybody they made one of the Windward Islands, andlay off and on for nearly a week. The boys said the officers were sickof salt-junk, and meant to have turtle-soup before they came home. Butafter several days the Warren came to the same rendezvous; theyexchanged signals; she sent to Phillips and these homeward-bound menletters and papers, and told them she was outward-bound, perhaps to theMediterranean, and took poor Nolan and his traps on the boat back to tryhis second cruise. He looked very blank when he was told to get ready tojoin her. He had known enough of the signs of the sky to know that tillthat moment he was going "home. " But this was a distinct evidence ofsomething he had not thought of, perhaps, --that there was no going homefor him, even to a prison. And this was the first of some twenty suchtransfers, which brought him sooner or later into half our best vessels, but which kept him all his life at least some hundred miles from thecountry he had hoped he might never hear of again. 

It may have been on that second cruise, --it was once when he was up theMediterranean, --that Mrs. Graff, the celebrated Southern beauty of thosedays, danced with him. They had been lying a long time in the Bay ofNaples, and the officers were very intimate in the English fleet, andthere had been great festivities, and our men thought they must give agreat ball on board the ship. How they ever did it on board the "Warren"I am sure I do not know. Perhaps it was not the "Warren, " or perhapsladies did not take up so much room as they do now. They wanted to useNolan's state-room for something, and they hated to do it without askinghim to the ball; so the captain said they might ask him, if they wouldbe responsible that he did not talk with the wrong people, "who wouldgive him intelligence. " So the dance went on, the finest party that hadever been known, I dare say; for I never heard of a man-of-war ball thatwas not. For ladies they had the family of the American consul, one ortwo travellers who had adventured so far, and a nice bevy of Englishgirls and matrons, perhaps Lady Hamilton herself. 

Well, different officers relieved each other in standing and talkingwith Nolan in a friendly way, so as to be sure that nobody else spoke tohim. The dancing went on with spirit, and after a while even the fellowswho took this honorary guard of Nolan ceased to fear any _contretemps_. Only when some English lady--Lady Hamilton, as I said, perhaps--calledfor a set of "American dances, " an odd thing happened. Everybody thendanced contra-dances. The black band, nothing loath, conferred as towhat "American dances" were, and started off with "Virginia Reel, " whichthey followed with "Money-Musk, " which, in its turn in those days, should have been followed by "The Old Thirteen. " But just as Dick, theleader, tapped for his fiddles to begin, and bent forward, about to say, in true negro state, "'The Old Thirteen, ' gentlemen and ladies!" as hehad said "'Virginny Reel, ' if you please!" and "'Money-Musk, ' if youplease!" the captain's boy tapped him on the shoulder, whispered to him, and he did not announce the name of the dance; he merely bowed, began onthe air, and they all fell to, --the officers teaching the English girlsthe figure, but not telling them why it had no name. 

But that is not the story I started to tell. --As the dancing went on, Nolan and our fellows all got at ease, as I said, --so much so, that itseemed quite natural for him to bow to that splendid Mrs. Graff, andsay, --

"I hope you have not forgotten me, Miss Rutledge. Shall I have the honorof dancing?"

He did it so quickly, that Fellows, who was by him, could not hinderhim. She laughed and said, --

"I am not Miss Rutledge any longer, Mr. Nolan; but I will dance all thesame, " just nodded to Fellows, as if to say he must leave Mr. Nolan toher, and led him off to the place where the dance was forming. 

Nolan thought he had got his chance. He had known her at Philadelphia, and at other places had met her, and this was a Godsend. You could nottalk in contra-dances, as you do in cotillons, or even in the pauses ofwaltzing; but there were chances for tongues and sounds, as well as foreyes and blushes. He began with her travels, and Europe, and Vesuvius, and the French; and then, when they had worked down, and had that longtalking-time at the bottom of the set, he said, boldly, --a little pale, she said, as she told me the story, years after, --

"And what do you hear from home, Mrs. Graff?"

And that splendid creature looked through him. Jove! how she must havelooked through him!

"Home!! Mr. Nolan!!! I thought you were the man who never wanted to hearof home again!"--and she walked directly up the deck to her husband, andleft poor Nolan alone, as he always was. --He did not dance again. 

I cannot give any history of him in order; nobody can now; and, indeed, I am not trying to. These are the traditions, which I sort out, as Ibelieve them, from the myths which have been told about this man forforty years. The lies that have been told about him are legion. Thefellows used to say he was the "Iron Mask"; and poor George Pons went tohis grave in the belief that this was the author of "Junius, " who wasbeing punished for his celebrated libel on Thomas Jefferson. Pons wasnot very strong in the historical line. A happier story than either ofthese I have told is of the War. That came along soon after. I haveheard this affair told in three or four ways, --and, indeed, it may havehappened more than once. But which ship it was on I cannot tell. However, in one, at least, of the great frigate-duels with the English, in which the navy was really baptized, it happened that a round-shotfrom the enemy entered one of our ports square, and took right down theofficer of the gun himself, and almost every man of the gun's crew. Nowyou may say what you choose about courage, but that is not a nice thingto see. But, as the men who were not killed picked themselves up, and asthey and the surgeon's people were carrying off the bodies, thereappeared Nolan, in his shirt-sleeves, with the rammer in his hand, and, just as if he had been the officer, told them off with authority, --whoshould go to the cockpit with the wounded men, who should stay withhim, --perfectly cheery, and with that way which makes men feel sure allis right and is going to be right. And he finished loading the gun withhis own hands, aimed it, and bade the men fire. And there he stayed, captain of that gun, keeping those fellows in spirits, till the enemystruck, --sitting on the carriage while the gun was cooling, though hewas exposed all the time, --showing them easier ways to handle heavyshot, --making the raw hands laugh at their own blunders, --and when thegun cooled again, getting it loaded and fired twice as often as anyother gun on the ship. The captain walked forward by way of encouragingthe men, and Nolan touched his hat and said, --

"I am showing them how we do this in the artillery, sir. "

And this is the part of the story where all the legends agree; and theCommodore said, --

"I see you do, and I thank you, sir; and I shall never forget this day, sir, and you never shall, sir. "

And after the whole thing was over, and he had the Englishman's sword, in the midst of the state and ceremony of the quarter-deck, he said, --

"Where is Mr. Nolan? Ask Mr. Nolan to come here. "

And when Nolan came, the captain said, --

"Mr. Nolan, we are all very grateful to you to-day; you are one of usto-day; you will be named in the despatches. "

And then the old man took off his own sword of ceremony, and gave it toNolan, and made him put it on. The man told me this who saw it. Nolancried like a baby, and well he might. He had not worn a sword since thatinfernal day at Fort Adams. But always afterwards on occasions ofceremony, he wore that quaint old French sword of the Commodore's. 

The captain did mention him in the despatches. It was always said heasked that he might be pardoned. He wrote a special letter to theSecretary of War. But nothing ever came of it. As I said, that was aboutthe time when they began to ignore the whole transaction at Washington, and when Nolan's imprisonment began to carry itself on because there wasnobody to stop it without any new orders from home. 

I have heard it said that he was with Porter when he took possession ofthe Nukahiwa Islands. Not this Porter, you know, but old Porter, hisfather, Essex Porter, --that is, the old Essex Porter, not this Essex. Asan artillery officer, who had seen service in the West, Nolan knew moreabout fortifications, embrasures, ravelins, stockades, and all that, than any of them did; and he worked with a right good-will in fixingthat battery all right. I have always thought it was a pity Porter didnot leave him in command there with Gamble. That would have settled allthe question about his punishment. We should have kept the islands, andat this moment we should have one station in the Pacific Ocean. OurFrench friends, too, when they wanted this little watering-place, wouldhave found it was preoccupied. But Madison and the Virginians, ofcourse, flung all that away. 

All that was near fifty years ago. If Nolan was thirty then, he musthave been near eighty when he died. He looked sixty when he was forty. But he never seemed to me to change a hair afterwards. As I imagine hislife, from what I have seen and heard of it, he must have been in everysea, and yet almost never on land. He must have known, in a formal way, more officers in our service than any man living knows. He told me once, with a grave smile, that no man in the world lived so methodical a lifeas he. "You know the boys say I am the Iron Mask, and you know how busyhe was. " He said it did not do for any one to try to read all the time, more than to do anything else all the time; but that he read just fivehours a day. "Then, " he said, "I keep up my note-books, writing in themat such and such hours from what I have been reading; and I include inthese my scrap-books. " These were very curious indeed. He had six oreight, of different subjects. There was one of History, one of NaturalScience, one which he called "Odds and Ends. " But they were not merelybooks of extracts from newspapers. They had bits of plants and ribbons, shells tied on, and carved scraps of bone and wood, which he had taughtthe men to cut for him, and they were beautifully illustrated. He drewadmirably. He had some of the funniest drawings there, and some of themost pathetic, that I have ever seen in my life. I wonder who will haveNolan's scrap-books. 

Well, he said his reading and his notes were his profession, and thatthey took five hours and two hours respectively of each day. "Then, "said he, "every man should have a diversion as well as a profession. MyNatural History is my diversion. " That took two hours a day more. Themen used to bring him birds and fish, but on a long cruise he had tosatisfy himself with centipedes and cockroaches and such small game. Hewas the only naturalist I ever met who knew anything about the habits ofthe house-fly and the mosquito. All those people can tell you whetherthey are _Lepidoptera_ or _Steptopotera_; but as for telling how you canget rid of them, or how they get away from you when you strikethem, --why Linnæus knew as little of that as John Foy the idiot did. These nine hours made Nolan's regular daily "occupation. " The rest ofthe time he talked or walked. Till he grew very old, he went aloft agreat deal. He always kept up his exercise; and I never heard that hewas ill. If any other man was ill, he was the kindest nurse in theworld; and he knew more than half the surgeons do. Then if anybody wassick or died, or if the captain wanted him to, on any other occasion, hewas always ready to read prayers. I have said that he read beautifully. 

My own acquaintance with Philip Nolan began six or eight years after theWar, on my first voyage after I was appointed a midshipman. It was inthe first days after our Slave-Trade treaty, while the Reigning House, which was still the House of Virginia, had still a sort ofsentimentalism about the suppression of the horrors of the MiddlePassage, and something was sometimes done that way. We were in the SouthAtlantic on that business. From the time I joined, I believe I thoughtNolan was a sort of lay chaplain, --a chaplain with a blue coat. I neverasked about him. Everything in the ship was strange to me. I knew it wasgreen to ask questions, and I suppose I thought there was a"Plain-Buttons" on every ship. We had him to dine in our mess once aweek, and the caution was given that on that day nothing was to be saidabout home. But if they had told us not to say anything about the planetMars or the Book of Deuteronomy, I should not have asked why; there werea great many things which seemed to me to have as little reason. I firstcame to understand anything about "the man without a country" one daywhen we overhauled a dirty little schooner which had slaves on board. An officer was sent to take charge of her, and, after a few minutes, hesent back his boat to ask that some one might be sent him who couldspeak Portuguese. We were all looking over the rail when the messagecame, and we all wished we could interpret, when the captain asked Whospoke Portuguese. But none of the officers did; and just as the captainwas sending forward to ask if any of the people could, Nolan stepped outand said he should be glad to interpret, if the captain wished, as heunderstood the language. The captain thanked him, fitted out anotherboat with him, and in this boat it was my luck to go. 

When we got there, it was such a scene as you seldom see, and never wantto. Nastiness beyond account, and chaos run loose in the midst of thenastiness. There were not a great many of the negroes; but by way ofmaking what there were understand that they were free, Vaughan had hadtheir hand-cuffs and ankle-cuffs knocked off, and, for convenience'sake, was putting them upon the rascals of the schooner's crew. Thenegroes were, most of them, out of the hold, and swarming all round thedirty deck, with a central throng surrounding Vaughan and addressing himin every dialect, and _patois_ of a dialect, from the Zulu click up tothe Parisian of Beledeljereed. 

As we came on deck, Vaughan looked down from a hogshead, on which he hadmounted in desperation, and said:--

"For God's love, is there anybody who can make these wretchesunderstand something? The men gave them rum, and that did not quietthem. I knocked that big fellow down twice, and that did not soothe him. And then I talked Choctaw to all of them together; and I'll be hanged ifthey understood that as well as they understood the English. "

Nolan said he could speak Portuguese, and one or two fine-lookingKroomen were dragged out, who, as it had been found already, had workedfor the Portuguese on the coast at Fernando Po. 

"Tell them they are free, " said Vaughan; "and tell them that theserascals are to be hanged as soon as we can get rope enough. "

Nolan "put that into Spanish, "--that is, he explained it in suchPortuguese as the Kroomen could understand, and they in turn to such ofthe negroes as could understand them. Then there was such a yell ofdelight, clinching of fists, leaping and dancing, kissing of Nolan'sfeet, and a general rush made to the hogshead by way of spontaneousworship of Vaughan, as the _deus ex machina_ of the occasion. 

"Tell them, " said Vaughan, well pleased, "that I will take them all toCape Palmas. "

This did not answer so well. Cape Palmas was practically as far from thehomes of most of them as New Orleans or Rio Janeiro was; that is, theywould be eternally separated from home there. And their interpreters, aswe could understand, instantly said, "_Ah, non Palmas_, " and began topropose infinite other expedients in most voluble language. Vaughan wasrather disappointed at this result of his liberality, and asked Nolaneagerly what they said. The drops stood on poor Nolan's white forehead, as he hushed the men down, and said:--

"He says, 'Not Palmas. ' He says, 'Take us home, take us to our owncountry, take us to our own house, take us to our own pickaninnies andour own women. ' He says he has an old father and mother who will die ifthey do not see him. And this one says he left his people all sick, andpaddled down to Fernando to beg the white doctor to come and help them, and that these devils caught him in the bay just in sight of home, andthat he has never seen anybody from home since then. And this one says, "choked out Nolan, "that he has not heard a word from his home in sixmonths, while he has been locked up in an infernal barracoon. "

Vaughan always said he grew gray himself while Nolan struggled throughthis interpretation. I, who did not understand anything of the passioninvolved in it, saw that the very elements were melting with ferventheat, and that something was to pay somewhere. Even the negroesthemselves stopped howling, as they saw Nolan's agony, and Vaughan'salmost equal agony of sympathy. As quick as he could get words, hesaid:--

"Tell them yes, yes, yes; tell them they shall go to the Mountains ofthe Moon, if they will. If I sail the schooner through the Great WhiteDesert, they shall go home!"

And after some fashion Nolan said so. And then they all fell to kissinghim again, and wanted to rub his nose with theirs. 

But he could not stand it long; and getting Vaughan to say he might goback, he beckoned me down into our boat. As we lay back in thestern-sheets and the men gave way, he said to me: "Youngster, let thatshow you what it is to be without a family, without a home, and withouta country. And if you are ever tempted to say a word or to do a thingthat shall put a bar between you and your family, your home, and yourcountry, pray God in his mercy to take you that instant home to his ownheaven. Stick by your family, boy; forget you have a self, while you doeverything for them. Think of your home, boy; write and send, and talkabout it. Let it be nearer and nearer to your thought, the farther youhave to travel from it; and rush back to it, when you are free, as thatpoor black slave is doing now. And for your country, boy, " and the wordsrattled in his throat, "and for that flag, " and he pointed to the ship, "never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, though theservice carry you through a thousand hells. No matter what happens toyou, no matter who flatters you or who abuses you, never look at anotherflag, never let a night pass but you pray God to bless that flag. Remember, boy, that behind all these men you have to do with, behindofficers, and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself, your Country, and that you belong to Her as you belong to your ownmother. Stand by Her, boy, as you would stand by your mother, if thosedevils there had got hold of her to-day!"

I was frightened to death by his calm, hard passion; but I blunderedout, that I would, by all that was holy, and that I had never thought ofdoing anything else. He hardly seemed to hear me; but he did, almost ina whisper, say: "O, if anybody had said so to me when I was of yourage!"

I think it was this half-confidence of his, which I never abused, for Inever told this story till now, which afterward made us great friends. He was very kind to me. Often he sat up, or even got up, at night, towalk the deck with me, when it was my watch. He explained to me a greatdeal of my mathematics, and I owe to him my taste for mathematics. Helent me books, and helped me about my reading. He never alluded sodirectly to his story again; but from one and another officer I havelearned, in thirty years, what I am telling. When we parted from him inSt. Thomas harbor, at the end of our cruise, I was more sorry than I cantell. I was very glad to meet him again in 1830; and later in life, whenI thought I had some influence in Washington, I moved heaven and earthto have him discharged. But it was like getting a ghost out of prison. They pretended there was no such man, and never was such a man. Theywill say so at the Department now! Perhaps they do not know. It will notbe the first thing in the service of which the Department appears toknow nothing!

There is a story that Nolan met Burr once on one of our vessels, when aparty of Americans came on board in the Mediterranean. But this Ibelieve to be a lie; or, rather, it is a myth, _ben trovato_, involvinga tremendous blowing-up with which he sunk Burr, --asking him how heliked to be "without a country. " But it is clear from Burr's life, thatnothing of the sort could have happened; and I mention this only as anillustration of the stories which get a-going where there is the leastmystery at bottom. 

So poor Philip Nolan had his wish fulfilled. I know but one fate moredreadful; it is the fate reserved for those men who shall have one dayto exile themselves from their country because they have attempted herruin, and shall have at the same time to see the prosperity and honor towhich she rises when she has rid herself of them and their iniquities. The wish of poor Nolan, as we all learned to call him, not because hispunishment was too great, but because his repentance was so clear, wasprecisely the wish of every Bragg and Beauregard who broke a soldier'soath two years ago, and of every Maury and Barron who broke a sailor's. I do not know how often they have repented. I do know that they havedone all that in them lay that they might have no country, --that all thehonors, associations, memories, and hopes which belong to "country"might be broken up into little shreds and distributed to the winds. Iknow, too, that their punishment, as they vegetate through what is leftof life to them in wretched Boulognes and Leicester Squares, where theyare destined to upbraid each other till they die, will have all theagony of Nolan's, with the added pang that every one who sees them willsee them to despise and to execrate them. They will have their wish, like him. 

For him, poor fellow, he repented of his folly, and then, like a man, submitted to the fate he had asked for. He never intentionally added tothe difficulty or delicacy of the charge of those who had him in hold. Accidents would happen; but they never happened from his fault. Lieutenant Truxton told me, that, when Texas was annexed, there was acareful discussion among the officers, whether they should get hold ofNolan's handsome set of maps, and cut Texas out of it, --from the map ofthe world and the map of Mexico. The United States had been cut out whenthe atlas was bought for him. But it was voted, rightly enough, that todo this would be virtually to reveal to him what had happened, or, asHarry Cole said, to make him think Old Burr had succeeded. So it wasfrom no fault of Nolan's that a great botch happened at my own table, when, for a short time, I was in command of the George Washingtoncorvette, on the South American station. We were lying in the La Plata, and some of the officers, who had been on shore, and had just joinedagain, were entertaining us with accounts of their misadventures inriding the half-wild horses of Buenos Ayres. Nolan was at table, and wasin an unusually bright and talkative mood. Some story of a tumblereminded him of an adventure of his own, when he was catching wildhorses in Texas with his brother Stephen, at a time when he must havebeen quite a boy. He told the story with a good deal of spirit, --so muchso, that the silence which often follows a good story hung over thetable for an instant, to be broken by Nolan himself. For he askedperfectly unconsciously:--

"Pray, what has become of Texas? After the Mexicans got theirindependence, I thought that province of Texas would come forward veryfast. It is really one of the finest regions on earth; it is the Italyof this continent. But I have not seen or heard a word of Texas for neartwenty years. "

There were two Texan officers at the table. The reason he had neverheard of Texas was that Texas and her affairs had been painfully cut outof his newspapers since Austin began his settlements; so that, while heread of Honduras and Tamaulipas, and, till quite lately, ofCalifornia, --this virgin province, in which his brother had travelled sofar, and, I believe, had died, had ceased to be to him. Waters andWilliams, the two Texas men, looked grimly at each other, and tried notto laugh. Edward Morris had his attention attracted by the third link inthe chain of the captain's chandelier. Watrous was seized with aconvulsion of sneezing. Nolan himself saw that something was to pay, hedid not know what. And I, as master of the feast, had to say, --

"Texas is out of the map, Mr. Nolan. Have you seen Captain Back'scurious account of Sir Thomas Roe's Welcome?"

After that cruise I never saw Nolan again. I wrote to him at least twicea year, for in that voyage we became even confidentially intimate; buthe never wrote to me. The other men tell me that in those fifteen yearshe _aged_ very fast, as well he might indeed, but that he was still thesame gentle, uncomplaining, silent sufferer that he ever was, bearing asbest he could his self-appointed punishment, --rather less social, perhaps, with new men whom he did not know, but more anxious, apparently, than ever to serve and befriend and teach the boys, some ofwhom fairly seemed to worship him. And now it seems the dear old fellowis dead. He has found a home at last, and a country. 

Since writing this, and while considering whether or no I would printit, as a warning to the young Nolans and Vallandighams and Tatnalls ofto-day of what it is to throw away a country, I have received fromDanforth, who is on board the Levant, a letter which gives an accountof Nolan's last hours. It removes all my doubts about telling thisstory. 

To understand the first words of the letter, the non-professional readershould remember that after 1817, the position of every officer who hadNolan in charge was one of the greatest delicacy. The government hadfailed to renew the order of 1807 regarding him. What was a man to do?Should he let him go? What, then, if he were called to account by theDepartment for violating the order of 1807? Should he keep him? What, then, if Nolan should be liberated some day, and should bring an actionfor false imprisonment or kidnapping against every man who had had himin charge? I urged and pressed this upon Southard, and I have reason tothink that other officers did the same thing. But the Secretary alwayssaid, as they so often do at Washington, that there were no specialorders to give, and that we must act on our own judgment. That means, "If you succeed, you will be sustained; if you fail, you will bedisavowed. " Well, as Danforth says, all that is over now, though I donot know but I expose myself to a criminal prosecution on the evidenceof the very revelation I am making. 

Here is the letter:--

 "LEVANT, 2° 2' S. @ 131° W. 

 "DEAR FRED:--I try to find heart and life to tell you that it is all over with dear old Nolan. I have been with him on this voyage more than I ever was, and I can understand wholly now the way in which you used to speak of the dear old fellow. I could see that he was not strong, but I had no idea the end was so near. The doctor has been watching him very carefully, and yesterday morning came to me and told me that Nolan was not so well, and had not left his state-room, --a thing I never remember before. He had let the doctor come and see him as he lay there, --the first time the doctor had been in the state-room, --and he said he should like to see me. O dear! do you remember the mysteries we boys used to invent about his room, in the old Intrepid days? Well, I went in, and there, to be sure, the poor fellow lay in his berth, smiling pleasantly as he gave me his hand, but looking very frail. I could not help a glance round, which showed me what a little shrine he had made of the box he was lying in. The stars and stripes were triced up above and around a picture of Washington, and he had painted a majestic eagle, with lightnings blazing from his beak and his foot just clasping the whole globe, which his wings overshadowed. The dear old boy saw my glance, and said, with a sad smile, 'Here, you see, I have a country!' And then he pointed to the foot of his bed, where I had not seen before a great map of the United States, as he had drawn it from memory, and which he had there to look upon as he lay. Quaint, queer old names were on it, in large letters: 'Indiana Territory, ' 'Mississippi Territory, ' and 'Louisiana Territory, ' as I suppose our fathers learned such things: but the old fellow had patched in Texas, too; he had carried his western boundary all the way to the Pacific, but on that shore he had defined nothing. 

 "'O Danforth, ' he said, 'I know I am dying. I cannot get home. Surely you will tell me something now?--Stop! stop! Do not speak till I say what I am sure you know, that there is not in this ship, that there is not in America, --God bless her!--a more loyal man than I. There cannot be a man who loves the old flag as I do, or prays for it as I do, or hopes for it as I do. There are thirty-four stars in it now, Danforth. I thank God for that, though I do not know what their names are. There has never been one taken away: I thank God for that. I know by that that there has never been any successful Burr. O Danforth, Danforth, ' he sighed out, 'how like a wretched night's dream a boy's idea of personal fame or of separate sovereignty seems, when one looks back on it after such a life as mine! But tell me, --tell me something, --tell me everything, Danforth, before I die!'

 "Ingham, I swear to you that I felt like a monster that I had not told him everything before. Danger or no danger, delicacy or no delicacy, who was I, that I should have been acting the tyrant all this time over this dear, sainted old man, who had years ago expiated, in his whole manhood's life, the madness of a boy's treason? 'Mr. Nolan, ' said I, 'I will tell you everything you ask about. Only, where shall I begin?'

 "O the blessed smile that crept over his white face! and he pressed my hand and said, 'God bless you!' 'Tell me their names, ' he said, and he pointed to the stars on the flag. 'The last I know is Ohio. My father lived in Kentucky. But I have guessed Michigan and Indiana and Mississippi, --that was where Fort Adams is, --they make twenty. But where are your other fourteen? You have not cut up any of the old ones, I hope?'

 "Well, that was not a bad text, and I told him the names in as good order as I could, and he bade me take down his beautiful map and draw them in as I best could with my pencil. He was wild with delight about Texas, told me how his brother died there; he had marked a gold cross where he supposed his brother's grave was; and he had guessed at Texas. Then he was delighted as he saw California and Oregon;--that, he said, he had suspected partly, because he had never been permitted to land on that shore, though the ships were there so much. 'And the men, ' said he, laughing, 'brought off a good deal besides furs. ' Then he went back--heavens, how far!--to ask about the Chesapeake, and what was done to Barron for surrendering her to the Leopard, and whether Burr ever tried again, --and he ground his teeth with the only passion he showed. But in a moment that was over, and he said, 'God forgive me, for I am sure I forgive him. ' Then he asked about the old war, --told me the true story of his serving the gun the day we took the Java, --asked about dear old David Porter, as he called him. Then he settled down more quietly, and very happily, to hear me tell in an hour the history of fifty years. 

 "How I wished it had been somebody who knew something! But I did as well as I could. I told him of the English war. I told him about Fulton and the steamboat beginning. I told him about old Scott, and Jackson; told him all I could think of about the Mississippi, and New Orleans, and Texas, and his own old Kentucky. And do you think, he asked who was in command of the 'Legion of the West. ' I told him it was a very gallant officer named Grant, and that, by our last news, he was about to establish his head-quarters at Vicksburg. Then, 'Where was Vicksburg?' I worked that out on the map; it was about a hundred miles, more or less, above his old Fort Adams; and I thought Fort Adams must be a ruin now. 'It must be at old Vick's plantation, ' said he: 'well, that is a change!'

 "I tell you, Ingham, it was a hard thing to condense the history of half a century into that talk with a sick man. And I do not now know what I told him, --of emigration, and the means of it, --of steamboats, and railroads, and telegraphs, --of inventions, and books, and literature, --of the colleges, and West Point, and the Naval School, --but with the queerest interruptions that ever you heard. You see it was Robinson Crusoe asking all the accumulated questions of fifty-six years!

 "I remember he asked, all of a sudden, who was President now; and when I told him, he asked if Old Abe was General Benjamin Lincoln's son. He said he met old General Lincoln, when he was quite a boy himself, at some Indian treaty. I said no, that Old Abe was a Kentuckian like himself, but I could not tell him of what family; he had worked up from the ranks. 'Good for him!' cried Nolan; 'I am glad of that. As I have brooded and wondered, I have thought our danger was in keeping up those regular successions in the first families. ' Then I got talking about my visit to Washington. I told him of meeting the Oregon Congressman, Harding; I told him about the Smithsonian, and the Exploring Expedition; I told him about the Capitol, and the statues for the pediment, and Crawford's Liberty, and Greenough's Washington: Ingham, I told him everything I could think of that would show the grandeur of his country and its prosperity; but I could not make up my mouth to tell him a word about this infernal Rebellion!

 "And he drank it in, and enjoyed it as I cannot tell you. He grew more and more silent, yet I never thought he was tired or faint. I gave him a glass of water, but he just wet his lips, and told me not to go away. Then he asked me to bring the Presbyterian 'Book of Public Prayer, ' which lay there, and said, with a smile, that it would open at the right place, --and so it did. There was his double red mark down the page; and I knelt down and read, and he repeated with me, 'For ourselves and our country, O gracious God, we thank Thee, that, notwithstanding our manifold transgressions of Thy holy laws, Thou hast continued to us Thy marvellous kindness, '--and so to the end of that thanksgiving. Then he turned to the end of the same book, and I read the words more familiar to me: 'Most heartily we beseech Thee with Thy favor to behold and bless Thy servant, the President of the United States, and all others in authority, '--and the rest of the Episcopal collect. 'Danforth, ' said he, 'I have repeated those prayers night and morning, it is now fifty-five years. ' And then he said he would go to sleep. He bent me down over him and kissed me; and he said, 'Look in my Bible, Danforth, when I am gone. ' And I went away. 

 "But I had no thought it was the end. I thought he was tired and would sleep. I knew he was happy and I wanted him to be alone. 

 "But in an hour, when the doctor went in gently, he found Nolan had breathed his life away with a smile. He had something pressed close to his lips. It was his father's badge of the Order of the Cincinnati. 

 "We looked in his Bible, and there was a slip of paper at the place where he had marked the text:--

 "'They desire a country, even a heavenly: wherefore God is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a city. '

 "On this slip of paper he had written:--

 "'Bury me in the sea; it has been my home, and I love it. But will not some one set up a stone for my memory at Fort Adams or at Orleans, that my disgrace may not be more than I ought to bear? Say on it:--

 "'_In Memory of_

 "'PHILIP NOLAN, "'_Lieutenant in the Army of the United States. _

 "'He loved his country as no other man has loved her; but no man deserved less at her hands. '"

THE LAST OF THE FLORIDA. 

FROM THE INGHAM PAPERS. 

 [The Florida, Anglo-Rebel pirate, after inflicting horrible injuries on the commerce of America and the good name of England, was cut out by Captain Collins, from the bay of Bahia, by one of those fortunate mistakes in international law which endear brave men to the nations in whose interest they are committed. When she arrived here the government was obliged to disavow the act. The question then was, as we had her by mistake, what we should do with her. At that moment the National Sailors' Fair was in full blast at Boston, and I offered my suggestion in answer in the following article, which was published November 19, 1864, in the "Boatswain's Whistle, " a little paper issued at the fair. 

 The government did not take the suggestion. Very unfortunately, before the Florida was got ready for sea, she was accidentally sunk in a collision with a tug off Fort Monroe, and the heirs of the Confederate government or the English bond-holders must look there for her, if the Brazilian government will give them permission. 

 For the benefit of the New York Observer I will state that a despatch sent round the world in a spiral direction westward 1, 200 times, would not really arrive at its destination four years before it started. It is only a joke which suggests it. ]

SPECIAL DESPATCH. 

LETTER FROM CAPTAIN INGHAM, IN COMMAND OF THE FLORIDA. 

 [Received four years in advance of the mail by a lightning express, which has gained that time by running round the world 1, 200 times in a spiral direction westward on its way from Brazil to our publication-office. Mrs. Ingham's address not being known, the letter is printed for her information. ]

 No. 29. 

 BAHAI, BRAZIL, April 1, 1868. 

MY DEAR WIFE:--We are here at last, thank fortune; and I shall surrenderthe old pirate to-day to the officers of government. We have beensaluted, are to be fêted, and perhaps I shall be made a Knight Commanderof the Golden Goose. I never was so glad as when I saw the lights on theSan Esperitu head-land, which makes the south point of this Bahia orbay. 

You will not have received my No. 28 from Loando, and may have missed 26and 24, which I gave to _outward_ bound whalemen. I always doubtedwhether you got 1, 7, 9, and 11. And for me I have no word of you sinceyou waved your handkerchief from the window in Springfield Street on themorning of the 1st of June, 1865, nearly four years. My dear child, youwill not know me. 

Let me then repeat, very briefly, the outline of this strange cruise;and when the letters come, you can fill in the blanks. 

The government had determined that the Florida must be returned to theneutral harbor whence she came. They had put her in complete repair, andsix months of diplomacy had made the proper apologies to the Braziliangovernment. Meanwhile Collins, who had captured her by mistake, had, byanother mistake, been made an admiral, and was commanding a squadron;and to insure her safe and respectful delivery, I, who had been waitingservice, was unshelved, and, as you know, bidden to take command. 

She was in apple-pie order. The engines had been cleaned up; and Ithought we could make a quick thing of it. I was a little dashed when Ifound the crew was small; but I have been glad enough since that we hadno more mouths. No one but myself knew our destination. The men thoughtwe were to take despatches to the Gulf squadron. 

You remember I had had only verbal orders to take command, and after wegot outside the bay I opened my sealed despatches. The gist of them wasin these words:--

"You will understand that the honor of this government is pledged forthe _safe_ delivery of the Florida to the government of Brazil. You willtherefore hazard nothing to gain speed. The quantity of your coal hasbeen adjusted with the view to give your vessel her best trim, and thesupply is not large. You will husband it with care, --taking everyprecaution to arrive in Bahia _safely_ with your charge, in such time as_your best discretion_ may suggest to you. "

"_Your best discretion_" was underscored. 

I called Prendergast, and showed him the letter. Then we called theengineer and asked about the coal. He had not been into the bunkers, butwent and returned with his face white, through the black grime, toreport "not four days' consumption. " By some cursed accident, he said, the bunkers had been filled with barrels of salt-pork and flour!

On this, I ordered a light and went below. There had been some fatalmisunderstanding somewhere. The vessel was fitted out as for an arcticvoyage. Everywhere hard-bread, flour, pork, beef, vinegar, sour-krout;but, clearly enough, not, at the very best, five days of coal!

And I was to get to Brazil with this old pirate transformed into aprovision ship, "at my best discretion. "

"Prendergast, " said I, "we will take it easy. Were you ever in Bahia?"

"Took flour there in '55, and lay waiting for India-rubber from July toOctober. Lost six men by yellow-jack. "

Prendergast was from the merchant marine. I had known him since we werechildren. "Ethan, " said I, "in my best discretion it would be bad toarrive there before the end of October. Where would you go?"

I cannot say he took the responsibility. He would not take it. You know, my dear, of course, that it was I who suggested Upernavik. From the daysof the old marbled paper Northern Regions, --through the quarto Ross andParry and Back and the nephew Ross and Kane and McClure and McClintock, you know, my dear, what my one passion has been, --to see those floesand icebergs for myself. Surely you forgive me, or at least excuse me. Do not you? Here was this fast steamer under me. I ought not to be inBahia before October 25. It was June 1. Of course we went to Upernavik. 

I will not say I regret it now. Yet I will say that on that decision, cautiously made, though it was "on my discretion, " all our subsequentmisfortunes hang. The Danes were kind to us, --the Governor especially, though I had to carry the poor fellow bad news about the Duchies and theDanish war, which was all fresh then. He got up a dance for us, Iremember, and there I wrote No. 1 to you. I could not of coursehelp--when we left him--running her up a few degrees to the north, justto see whether there is or is not that passage between Igloolik andPrince Rupert's Headland (and by the way there _is_). After we passedIgloolik, there was such splendid weather, that I just used up a littlecoal to drive her along the coast of King William's Land; and there, aswe waited for a little duck-shooting on the edge of a floe one day, asour luck ordered, a party of natives came on board, and we treated themwith hard-tack crumbs and whale-oil. They fell to dancing, and we tolaughing, --they danced more and we laughed more, till the oldest womantumbled in her bear-skin bloomers, and came with a smash right on thelittle cast-iron frame by the wheel, which screened binnacle andcompass. My dear child, there was such a hullalu and such a messtogether as I remember now. We had to apologize; the doctor set her headas well as he could. We gave them gingerbread from the cabin, to consolethem, and got them off without a fight. But the next morning when I castoff from the floe, it proved the beggars had stolen the compass card, needle and all. 

My dear Mary, there was not another bit of magnetized iron in the ship. The government had been very shy of providing instruments of any kindfor Confederate cruisers. Poor Ethan had traded off two compasses onlythe day before for whalebone spears and skin breeches, neither of whichknew the north star from the ace of spades. And this thing proved ofmore importance than you will think; it really made me feel that thestuff in the books and the sermons about the mariners' needle was notquite poetry. 

As you shall see, if I ever get through. (Since I began, I have seen theConsul, --and heard the glorious news from home, --and am to be presentedto the port authorities to-morrow. ) It was the most open summer, Mary, ever known there. If I had not had to be here in October, I would havedriven right through Lancaster Sound, by Baring's Island, and come outinto the Pacific. But here was the honor of the country, and we merelystole back through the Straits. It was well enough there, --all daylight, you know. But after we passed Cape Farewell, we worked her into suchfogs, child, as you never saw out of Hyde Park. Did not I long for thatcompass-card! We sailed, and we sailed, and we sailed. For thirty-sevendays I did not get an observation, nor speak a ship! October! It wasOctober before we were warm. At noon we used to sail where we thought itwas lightest. At night I used to keep two men up for a lookout, lash thewheel, and let her drift like a Dutchman. One way as good as another. Mary, when I saw the sun at last, enough to get any kind of observation, we were wellnigh three hundred miles northeast of Iceland! Talk of fogsto me!

Well, I set her south again, but how long can you know if you aresailing south, in those places where the northeast winds and Scotchmists come from! Thank Heaven, we got south, or we should have frozen todeath. We got into November, and we got into December. We were as farsouth as 37° 29'; and were in 31° 17' west on New Year's Day, 1866, whenthe second officer wished me a happy new year, congratulated me on thefine weather, said we should get a good observation, and asked me forthe new nautical almanac! You know they are only calculated for fiveyears. We had two Greenwich ones on board, and they ran out December 31, 1865. But the government had been as stingy in almanacs as in coal andcompasses. They did not mean to keep the Confederacy in almanacs. 

That was the beginning of our troubles. I had to take the old almanac, with Prendergast, and we figured like Cocker, and always kept ahead witha month's tables. But somehow, --I feel sure we were right, --butsomething was wrong; and after a few weeks the lunars used to come outin the most beastly way, and we always proved to be on the top of theAndes or in the Marquesas Islands, or anywhere but in the AtlanticOcean. Well then, by good luck, we spoke the Winged Batavian; could notspeak a word of Dutch, nor he a word of English; but he let Ethan copyhis tables, and so we ran for St. Sacrament. I posted 8, 9, and 10there; I gave the Dutchman 7, which I hope you got, but fear. 

Well, this story is running long; but at St. Sacrament we started again, but, as ill-luck would have it, without a clean bill of health. At thattime I could have run into Bahia with coal--of which I had boughtsome--in a week. But there was fever on shore, --and bad, --and I knew wemust make pratique when we came into the outer harbor here; so, ratherthan do that, we stretched down the coast, and met that cyclone I wroteyou about, and had to put into Loando. Understand, this was the firsttime we went into Loando. I have learned that wretched hole well enoughsince. And it was as we were running out of Loando, that, in reversingthe engine too suddenly, lest we should smash up an old Portuguesewoman's bum-boat, that the slides or supports of the piston-rod justshot out of the grooves they run in on the top, came cleverly down onthe outside of the carriage, gave that odious _g-r-r-r_, which I canhear now, and then, _dump_, --down came the whole weight of thewalking-beam, bent rod and carriages all into three figure 8's, andthere we were! I had as lief run the boat with a clothes-wringer as withthat engine, any day, from then to now. 

Well, we tinkered, and the Portuguese dock-yard people tinkered. We tookout this, and they took out that. It was growing sickly, and I gotfrightened, and finally I shipped the propeller and took it on board, and started under such canvas as we had left, --not much after thecyclone, --for the North and the South together had rather rotted theoriginal duck. 

Then, --as I wrote you in No. 11, --it was too late to get to Bahia beforethat summer's sickly season, and I stretched off to cooler regionsagain, "in my best discretion. " That was the time when we had the feverso horribly on board; and but for Wilder the surgeon, and the FalklandIslands, we should be dead, every man of us, now. But we touched inQueen's Bay just in time. The Governor (who is his own only subject) wasvery cordial and jolly and kind. We all went ashore, and pitched tents, and ate ducks and penguins till the men grew strong. I scraped her, nearly down to the bends, for the grass floated by our side like amermaid's hair as we sailed, and the once swift Florida would not makefour knots an hour on the wind;--and this was the ship I was to get intoBahia in good order, at my best discretion!

Meanwhile none of these people had any news from America. The lastpaper at the Falkland Islands was a London Times of 1864, abusing theYankees. As for the Portuguese, they were like the people Logan saw atVicksburg. "They don't know anything good!" said he; "they don't knowanything at all!" It was really more for news than for water I put intoSta. Lucia, --and a pretty mess I made of it there. We looked so likepirates (as at bottom the old tub is), that they took all of us wholanded to the guard-house. None of us could speak Sta. Lucia, whateverthat tongue may be, nor understand it. And it was not till Ethan fired ashell from the 100-pound Parrott over the town that they let us go. Ihope the dogs sent you my letters. I suppose there was anotherinfringement of neutrality. But if the Brazilian government sends thisship to Sta. Lucia, I shall not command her, that's all!

Well! what happened at Loando the second time, Valencia, and PuntosPimos, and Nueva Salamanca, and Loando this last time, you know and willknow, and why we loitered so. At last, thank fortune, here we are. Actually, Mary, this ship logged on the average only thirty-two knots aday for the last week before we got her into port. 

Now think of the ingratitude of men! I have brought her in here, "according to my best discretion, " and do you believe, these hidalgos, or dons, or señores, or whatever they are, had forgotten she existed. And when I showed them to her, they said in good Portugal that I was aliar. Fortunately the Consul is our old friend Kingsley. He wasdelighted to see me; thought I was at the bottom of the sea. From him welearned that the Confederacy was blown sky-high long ago. And from all Ican learn, I may have the Florida back again for my own private yacht orpeculium, unless she goes to Sta. Lucia. 

Not I, my friends! Scrape her, and mend her, and give her to themarines, --and tell them her story; but do not intrust her again to myown Polly's own

FREDERIC INGHAM. 

THE SKELETON IN THE CLOSET. 

BY J. THOMAS DARRAGH (LATE C. C. S. ). 

 [This paper was first published in the "Galaxy, " in 1866. ]

I see that an old chum of mine is publishing bits of confidentialConfederate History in Harper's Magazine. It would seem to be time, then, for the pivots to be disclosed on which some of the wheelwork ofthe last six years has been moving. The science of history, as Iunderstand it, depends on the timely disclosure of such pivots, whichare apt to be kept out of view while things are moving. 

I was in the Civil Service at Richmond. Why I was there, or what I did, is nobody's affair. And I do not in this paper propose to tell how ithappened that I was in New York in October, 1864, on confidentialbusiness. Enough that I was there, and that it was honest business. Thatbusiness done, as far as it could be with the resources intrusted to me, I prepared to return home. And thereby hangs this tale, and, as itproved, the fate of the Confederacy. 

For, of course, I wanted to take presents home to my family. Very littlequestion was there what these presents should be, --for I had no boys norbrothers. The women of the Confederacy had one want, which overtoppedall others. They could make coffee out of beans; pins they had fromColumbus; straw hats they braided quite well with their own fair hands;snuff we could get better than you could in "the old concern. " But wehad no hoop-skirts, --skeletons, we used to call them. No ingenuity hadmade them. No bounties had forced them. The Bat, the Greyhound, theDeer, the Flora, the J. C. Cobb, the Varuna, and the Fore-and-Aft alltook in cargoes of them for us in England. But the Bat and the Deer andthe Flora were seized by the blockaders, the J. C. Cobb sunk at sea, theFore-and-Aft and the Greyhound were set fire to by their own crews, andthe Varuna (our Varuna) was never heard of. Then the State of Arkansasoffered sixteen townships of swamp land to the first manufacturer whowould exhibit five gross of a home-manufactured article. But no one evercompeted. The first attempts, indeed, were put to an end, when Schofieldcrossed the Blue Lick, and destroyed the dams on Yellow Branch. Theconsequence was, that people's crinoline collapsed faster than theConfederacy did, of which that brute of a Grierson said there was neveranything of it but the outside. 

Of course, then, I put in the bottom of my new large trunk in New York, not a "duplex elliptic, " for none were then made, but a "Belmonte, " ofthirty springs, for my wife. I bought, for her more common wear, a good"Belle-Fontaine. " For Sarah and Susy each, I got two "Dumb-Belles. " ForAunt Eunice and Aunt Clara, maiden sisters of my wife, who lived with usafter Winchester fell the fourth time, I got the "Scotch Harebell, " twoof each. For my own mother I got one "Belle of the Prairies" and one"Invisible Combination Gossamer. " I did not forget good old Mamma Chloeand Mamma Jane. For them I got substantial cages, without names. Withthese, tied in the shapes of figure eights in the bottom of my trunk, asI said, I put in an assorted cargo of dry-goods above, and, favored by apass, and Major Mulford's courtesy on the flag-of-truce boat, I arrivedsafely at Richmond before the autumn closed. 

I was received at home with rapture. But when, the next morning, Iopened my stores, this became rapture doubly enraptured. Words cannottell the silent delight with which old and young, black and white, surveyed these fairy-like structures, yet unbroken and unmended. 

Perennial summer reigned that autumn day in that reunited family. Itreigned the next day, and the next. It would have reigned till now ifthe Belmontes and the other things would last as long as theadvertisements declare; and, what is more, the Confederacy would havereigned till now, President Davis and General Lee! but for that greatmisery, which all families understand, which culminated in our greatmisfortune. 

I was up in the cedar closet one day, looking for an old parade cap ofmine, which I thought, though it was my third best, might look betterthan my second best, which I had worn ever since my best was lost at theSeven Pines. I say I was standing on the lower shelf of the cedarcloset, when, as I stepped along in the darkness, my right foot caughtin a bit of wire, my left did not give way in time, and I fell, with asmall wooden hat-box in my hand, full on the floor. The corner of thehat-box struck me just below the second frontal sinus, and I faintedaway. 

When I came to myself I was in the blue chamber; I had vinegar on abrown paper on my forehead; the room was dark, and I found mothersitting by me, glad enough indeed to hear my voice, and to know that Iknew her. It was some time before I fully understood what had happened. Then she brought me a cup of tea, and I, quite refreshed, said I must goto the office. 

"Office, my child!" said she. "Your leg is broken above the ankle; youwill not move these six weeks. Where do you suppose you are?"

Till then I had no notion that it was five minutes since I went into thecloset. When she told me the time, five in the afternoon, I groaned inthe lowest depths. For, in my breast pocket in that innocent coat, whichI could now see lying on the window-seat, were the duplicate despatchesto Mr. Mason, for which, late the night before, I had got theSecretary's signature. They were to go at ten that morning toWilmington, by the Navy Department's special messenger. I had taken themto insure care and certainty. I had worked on them till midnight, andthey had not been signed till near one o'clock. Heavens and earth, andhere it was five o'clock! The man must be half-way to Wilmington by thistime. I sent the doctor for Lafarge, my clerk. Lafarge did his prettiestin rushing to the telegraph. But no! A freshet on the Chowan River, or araid by Foster, or something, or nothing, had smashed the telegraph wirefor that night. And before that despatch ever reached Wilmington thenavy agent was in the offing in the Sea Maid. 

"But perhaps the duplicate got through?" No, breathless reader, theduplicate did not get through. The duplicate was taken by Faucon, in theIno. I saw it last week in Dr. Lieber's hands, in Washington. Well, allI know is, that if the duplicate had got through, the Confederategovernment would have had in March a chance at eighty-three thousand twohundred and eleven muskets, which, as it was, never left Belgium. Somuch for my treading into that blessed piece of wire on the shelf of thecedar closet, up stairs. 

"What was the bit of wire?"

Well, it was not telegraph wire. If it had been, it would have brokenwhen it was not wanted to. Don't you know what it was? Go up in your owncedar closet, and step about in the dark, and see what brings up roundyour ankles. Julia, poor child, cried her eyes out about it. When I gotwell enough to sit up, and as soon as I could talk and plan with her, she brought down seven of these old things, antiquated Belmontes andSimplex Elliptics, and horrors without a name, and she made a pile ofthem in the bedroom, and asked me in the most penitent way what sheshould do with them. 

"You can't burn them, " said she; "fire won't touch them. If you burythem in the garden, they come up at the second raking. If you give themto the servants, they say, 'Thank-e, missus, ' and throw them in the backpassage. If you give them to the poor, they throw them into the streetin front, and do not say, 'Thank-e. ' Sarah sent seventeen over to thesword factory, and the foreman swore at the boy, and told him he wouldflog him within an inch of his life if he brought any more of his saucethere; and so--and so, " sobbed the poor child, "I just rolled up thesewretched things, and laid them in the cedar closet, hoping, you know, that some day the government would want something, and would advertisefor them. You know what a good thing I made out of the bottle corks. "

In fact, she had sold our bottle corks for four thousand two hundred andsixteen dollars of the first issue. We afterward bought two umbrellasand a corkscrew with the money. 

Well, I did not scold Julia. It was certainly no fault of hers that Iwas walking on the lower shelf of her cedar closet. I told her to makea parcel of the things, and the first time we went to drive I hove thewhole shapeless heap into the river, without saying mass for them. 

But let no man think, or no woman, that this was the end of troubles. AsI look back on that winter, and on the spring of 1865 (I do not mean thesteel spring), it seems to me only the beginning. I got out on crutchesat last; I had the office transferred to my house, so that Lafarge andHepburn could work there nights, and communicate with me when I couldnot go out; but mornings I hobbled up to the Department, and sat withthe Chief, and took his orders. Ah me! shall I soon forget that dampwinter morning, when we all had such hope at the office. One or two ofthe army fellows looked in at the window as they ran by, and we knewthat they felt well; and though I would not ask Old Wick, as we hadnicknamed the Chief, what was in the wind, I knew the time had come, andthat the lion meant to break the net this time. I made an excuse to gohome earlier than usual; rode down to the house in the Major'sambulance, I remember; and hopped in, to surprise Julia with the goodnews, only to find that the whole house was in that quiet uproar whichshows that something bad has happened of a sudden. 

"What is it, Chloe?" said I, as the old wench rushed by me with a bucketof water. 

"Poor Mr. George, I 'fraid he's dead, sah!"

And there he really was, --dear handsome, bright George Schaff, --thedelight of all the nicest girls of Richmond; he lay there on AuntEunice's bed on the ground floor, where they had brought him in. He wasnot dead, --and he did not die. He is making cotton in Texas now. But helooked mighty near it then. "The deep cut in his head" was the worst Ithen had ever seen, and the blow confused everything. When McGregor gotround, he said it was not hopeless; but we were all turned out of theroom, and with one thing and another he got the boy out of the swoon, and somehow it proved his head was not broken. 

No, but poor George swears to this day it were better it had been, if itcould only have been broken the right way and on the right field. Forthat evening we heard that everything had gone wrong in the surprise. There we had been waiting for one of those early fogs, and at last thefog had come. And Jubal Early had, that morning, pushed out every man hehad, that could stand; and they lay hid for three mortal hours, within Idon't know how near the picket line at Fort Powhatan, only waiting forthe shot which John Streight's party were to fire at Wilson's Wharf, assoon as somebody on our left centre advanced in force on the enemy'sline above Turkey Island stretching across to Nansemond. I am not in theWar Department, and I forget whether he was to advance _en barbette_ orby _échelon_ of infantry. But he was to advance somehow, and he knewhow; and when he advanced, you see, that other man lower down was torush in, and as soon as Early heard him he was to surprise Powhatan, yousee; and then, if you have understood me, Grant and Butler and the wholerig of them would have been cut off from their supplies, would have hadto fight a battle for which they were not prepared, with their rightmade into a new left, and their old left unexpectedly advanced at anoblique angle from their centre, and would not that have been the end ofthem?

Well, that never happened. And the reason it never happened was, thatpoor George Schaff, with the last fatal order for this man whose name Iforget (the same who was afterward killed the day before High Bridge), undertook to save time by cutting across behind my house, from Franklinto Green Streets. You know how much time he saved, --they waited all dayfor that order. George told me afterwards that the last thing heremembered was kissing his hand to Julia, who sat at her bedroom window. He said he thought she might be the last woman he ever saw this side ofheaven. Just after that, it must have been, --his horse--that whiteMessenger colt old Williams bred--went over like a log, and poor Georgewas pitched fifteen feet head-foremost against a stake there was in thatlot. Julia saw the whole. She rushed out with all the women, and hadjust brought him in when I got home. And that was the reason that thegreat promised combination of December, 1864, never came off at all. 

I walked out in the lot, after McGregor turned me out of the chamber, to see what they had done with the horse. There he lay, as dead as oldMessenger himself. His neck was broken. And do you think, I looked tosee what had tripped him. I supposed it was one of the boys' bandyholes. It was no such thing. The poor wretch had tangled his hind legsin one of those infernal hoop-wires that Chloe had thrown out in thepiece when I gave her her new ones. Though I did not know it then, thosefatal scraps of rusty steel had broken the neck that day of Robert Lee'sarmy. 

That time I made a row about it. I felt too badly to go into a passion. But before the women went to bed, --they were all in the sitting-roomtogether, --I talked to them like a father. I did not swear. I had gotover that for a while, in that six weeks on my back. But I did say theold wires were infernal things, and that the house and premises must bemade rid of them. The aunts laughed, --though I was so serious, --andtipped a wink to the girls. The girls wanted to laugh, but were afraidto. And then it came out that the aunts had sold their old hoops, tiedas tight as they could tie them, in a great mass of rags. They had madea fortune by the sale, --I am sorry to say it was in other rags, but therags they got were new instead of old, --it was a real Aladdin bargain. The new rags had blue backs, and were numbered, some as high as fiftydollars. The rag-man had been in a hurry, and had not known what madethe things so heavy. I frowned at the swindle, but they said all wasfair with a pedler, --and I own I was glad the things were well out ofRichmond. But when I said I thought it was a mean trick, Lizzie andSarah looked demure, and asked what in the world I would have them dowith the old things. Did I expect them to walk down to the bridgethemselves with great parcels to throw into the river, as I had done byJulia's? Of course it ended, as such things always do, by my taking thework on my own shoulders. I told them to tie up all they had in as smalla parcel as they could, and bring them to me. 

Accordingly, the next day, I found a handsome brown paper parcel, not sovery large, considering, and strangely square, considering, which theminxes had put together and left on my office table. They had a greatfrolic over it. They had not spared red tape nor red wax. Very officialit looked, indeed, and on the left-hand corner, in Sarah's boldest andmost contorted hand, was written, "Secret service. " We had a great laughover their success. And, indeed, I should have taken it with me the nexttime I went down to the Tredegar, but that I happened to dine oneevening with young Norton of our gallant little navy, and a very curiousthing he told us. 

We were talking about the disappointment of the combined land attack. Idid not tell what upset poor Schaff's horse; indeed, I do not thinkthose navy men knew the details of the disappointment. O'Brien had toldme, in confidence, what I have written down probably for the first timenow. But we were speaking, in a general way, of the disappointment. Norton finished his cigar rather thoughtfully, and then said: "Well, fellows, it is not worth while to put in the newspapers, but what do yousuppose upset our grand naval attack, the day the Yankee gunboatsskittled down the river so handsomely?"

"Why, " said Allen, who is Norton's best-beloved friend, "they say thatyou ran away from them as fast as they did from you. "

"Do they?" said Norton, grimly. "If you say that, I'll break your headfor you. Seriously, men, " continued he, "that was a most extraordinarything. You know I was on the ram. But why she stopped when she stopped Iknew as little as this wineglass does; and Callender himself knew nomore than I. We had not been hit. We were all right as a trivet for allwe knew, when, skree! she began blowing off steam, and we stopped dead, and began to drift down under those batteries. Callender had totelegraph to the little Mosquito, or whatever Walter called his boat, and the spunky little thing ran down and got us out of the scrape. Walter did it right well; if he had had a monitor under him he could nothave done better. Of course we all rushed to the engine-room. What inthunder were they at there? All they knew was they could get no waterinto her boiler. 

"Now, fellows, this is the end of the story. As soon as the boilerscooled off they worked all right on those supply pumps. May I be hangedif they had not sucked in, somehow, a long string of yarn, and cloth, and, if you will believe me, a wire of some woman's crinoline. And thatFrench folly of a sham Empress cut short that day the victory of theConfederate navy, and old Davis himself can't tell when we shall havesuch a chance again!"

Some of the men thought Norton lied. But I never was with him when hedid not tell the truth. I did not mention, however, what I had throwninto the water the last time I had gone over to Manchester. And Ichanged my mind about Sarah's "secret-service" parcel. It remained on mytable. 

That was the last dinner our old club had at the Spotswood, I believe. The spring came on, and the plot thickened. We did our work in theoffice as well as we could; I can speak for mine, and if otherpeople--but no matter for that! The 3d of April came, and the fire, andthe right wing of Grant's army. I remember I was glad then that I hadmoved the office down to the house, for we were out of the way there. Everybody had run away from the Department; and so, when the powers thatbe took possession, my little sub-bureau was unmolested for some days. Iimproved those days as well as I could, --burning carefully what was tobe burned, and hiding carefully what was to be hidden. One thing thathappened then belongs to this story. As I was at work on the privatebureau, --it was really a bureau, as it happened, one I had made AuntEunice give up when I broke my leg, --I came, to my horror, on a neatparcel of coast-survey maps of Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. They werenot the same Maury stole when he left the National Observatory, but theywere like them. Now I was perfectly sure that on that fatal Sunday ofthe flight I had sent Lafarge for these, that the President might usethem, if necessary, in his escape. When I found them, I hopped out andcalled for Julia, and asked her if she did not remember his coming forthem. "Certainly, " she said, "it was the first I knew of the danger. Lafarge came, asked for the key of the office, told me all was up, walked in, and in a moment was gone. "

And here, on the file of April 3d, was Lafarge's line to me:--

"I got the secret-service parcel myself, and have put it in thePresident's own hands. I marked it, 'Gulf coast, ' as you bade me. "

What could Lafarge have given to the President? Not the soundings ofHatteras Bar. Not the working-drawings of the first monitor. I had allthese under my hand. Could it be, --"Julia, what did we do with thatstuff of Sarah's that she marked _secret service_?"

As I live, we had sent the girls' old hoops to the President in hisflight. 

And when the next day we read how he used them, and how Pritchardarrested him, we thought if he had only had the right parcel he wouldhave found the way to Florida. 

That is really the end of this memoir. But I should not have written it, but for something that happened just now on the piazza. You must know, some of us wrecks are up here at the Berkeley baths. My uncle has aplace near here. Here came to-day John Sisson, whom I have not seensince Memminger ran and took the clerks with him. Here we had before, both the Richards brothers, the great paper men, you know, who startedthe Edgerly Works in Prince George's County, just after the war began. After dinner, Sisson and they met on the piazza. Queerly enough, theyhad never seen each other before, though they had used reams ofRichards's paper in correspondence with each other, and the treasury hadused tons of it in the printing of bonds and bank-bills. Of course weall fell to talking of old times, --old they seem now, though it is not ayear ago. "Richards, " said Sisson at last, "what became of that lastorder of ours for water-lined, pure linen government-callendered paperof _sureté_? We never got it, and I never knew why. "

"Did you think Kilpatrick got it?" said Richards, rather gruffly. 

"None of your chaff, Richards. Just tell where the paper went, for inthe loss of that lot of paper, as it proved, the bottom dropped out ofthe Treasury tub. On that paper was to have been printed our new issueof ten per cent, convertible, you know, and secured on that up-countrycotton, which Kirby Smith had above the Big Raft. I had the printersready for near a month waiting for that paper. The plates were reallyvery handsome. I'll show you a proof when we go up stairs. Wholly newthey were, made by some Frenchmen we got, who had worked for the Bank ofFrance. I was so anxious to have the thing well done, that I waitedthree weeks for that paper, and, by Jove, I waited just too long. Wenever got one of the bonds off, and that was why we had no money inMarch. "

Richards threw his cigar away. I will not say he swore between histeeth, but he twirled his chair round, brought it down on all fours, both his elbows on his knees and his chin in both hands. 

"Mr. Sisson, " said he, "if the Confederacy had lived, I would have diedbefore I ever told what became of that order of yours. But now I have nosecrets, I believe, and I care for nothing. I do not know now how ithappened. We knew it was an extra nice job. And we had it on an elegantlittle new French Fourdrinier, which cost us more than we shall everpay. The pretty thing ran like oil the day before. That day, I thoughtall the devils were in it. The more power we put on the more the rollersscreamed; and the less we put on, the more sulkily the jade stopped. Itried it myself every way; back current, I tried; forward current; highfeed; low freed, I tried it on old stock, I tried it on new; and, Mr. Sisson, I would have made better paper in a coffee-mill! We drained offevery drop of water. We washed the tubs free from size. Then my brother, there, worked all night with the machinists, taking down the frame andthe rollers. You would not believe it, sir, but that little bit ofwire, "--and he took out of his pocket a piece of this hateful steel, which poor I knew so well by this time, --"that little bit of wire hadpassed in from some hoop-skirt, passed the pickers, passed the screens, through all the troughs, up and down through what we call thelacerators, and had got itself wrought in, where, if you know aFourdrinier machine, you may have noticed a brass ring riveted to thecross-bar, and there this cursed little knife--for you see it was aknife, by that time--had been cutting to pieces the endless wire webevery time the machine was started. You lost your bonds, Mr. Sisson, because some Yankee woman cheated one of my rag-men. "

On that story I came up stairs. Poor Aunt Eunice! She was the reason Igot no salary on the 1st of April. I thought I would warn other women bywriting down the story. 

That fatal present of mine, in those harmless hourglass parcels, was theruin of the Confederate navy, army, ordnance, and treasury; and it ledto the capture of the poor President too. 

But, Heaven be praised, no one shall say that my office did not do itsduty!

CHRISTMAS WAITS IN BOSTON. 

FROM THE INGHAM PAPERS. 

 [When my friends of the Boston Daily Advertiser asked me last year to contribute to their Christmas number, I was very glad to recall this scrap of Mr. Ingham's memoirs. 

 For in most modern Christmas stories I have observed that the rich wake up of a sudden to befriend the poor, and that the moral is educed from such compassion. The incidents in this story show, what all life shows, that the poor befriend the rich as truly as the rich the poor: that, in the Christian life, each needs all. 

 I have been asked a dozen times how far the story is true. Of course no such series of incidents has ever taken place in this order in four or five hours. But there is nothing told here which has not parallels perfectly fair in my experience or in that of any working minister. ]

I always give myself a Christmas present. 

And on this particular year the present was a carol party, which isabout as good fun, all things consenting kindly, as a man can have. 

Many things must consent, as will appear. First of all, there must begood sleighing; and second, a fine night for Christmas eve. Ours are notthe carollings of your poor shivering little East Angles or SouthMercians, where they have to plod round afoot in countries which do notknow what a sleigh-ride is. 

I had asked Harry to have sixteen of the best voices in the chapelschool to be trained to five or six good carols, without knowing why. Wedid not care to disappoint them if a February thaw setting in on the24th of December should break up the spree before it began. Then I hadtold Howland that he must reserve for me a span of good horses, and asleigh that I could pack sixteen small children into, tight-stowed. Howland is always good about such things, knew what the sleigh was for, having done the same in other years, and made the span four horses ofhis own accord, because the children would like it better, and "it wouldbe no difference to him. " Sunday night, as the weather nymphs ordered, the wind hauled round to the northwest and everything froze hard. Mondaynight, things moderated and the snow began to fall steadily, --sosteadily; and so Tuesday night the Metropolitan people gave up theirunequal contest, all good men and angels rejoicing at theirdiscomfiture, and only a few of the people in the very lowest _Bolgie_being ill-natured enough to grieve. And thus it was, that by Thursdayevening was one hard compact roadway from Copp's Hill to theBone-burner's Gehenna, fit for good men and angels to ride over, withoutjar, without noise, and without fatigue to horse or man. So it was thatwhen I came down with Lycidas to the chapel at seven o'clock, I foundHarry had gathered there his eight pretty girls and his eight jollyboys, and had them practising for the last time, "Carol, carol, Christians, Carol joyfully; Carol for the coming Of Christ's nativity. "

I think the children had got inkling of what was coming, or perhapsHarry had hinted it to their mothers. Certainly they were warmlydressed, and when, fifteen minutes afterwards, Howland came roundhimself with the sleigh, he had put in as many rugs and bear-skins as ifhe thought the children were to be taken new-born from their respectivecradles. Great was the rejoicing as the bells of the horses rang beneaththe chapel windows, and Harry did not get his last _da capo_ for hislast carol. Not much matter indeed, for they were perfect enough in itbefore midnight. 

Lycidas and I tumbled in on the back seat, each with a child in his lapto keep us warm; I flanked by Sam Perry, and he by John Rich, both ofthe mercurial age, and therefore good to do errands. Harry was in frontsomewhere flanked in like wise, and the other children lay inmiscellaneously between, like sardines when you have first opened thebox. I had invited Lycidas, because, besides being my best friend, he isthe best fellow in the world, and so deserves the best Christmas eve cangive him. Under the full moon, on the still white snow, with sixteenchildren at the happiest, and with the blessed memories of the best theworld has ever had, there can be nothing better than two or three suchhours. 

"First, driver, out on Commonwealth Avenue. That will tone down thehorses. Stop on the left after you have passed Fairfield Street. " So wedashed up to the front of Haliburton's palace, where he was keeping hisfirst Christmas tide. And the children, whom Harry had hushed down for asquare or two, broke forth with good full voice under his strong lead in

 "Shepherd of tender sheep, "

singing with all that unconscious pathos with which children do sing, and starting the tears in your eyes in the midst of your gladness. Theinstant the horses' bells stopped their voices began. In an instant morewe saw Haliburton and Anna run to the window and pull up the shades, andin a minute more faces at all the windows. And so the children sungthrough Clement's old hymn. Little did Clement think of bells and snow, as he taught it in his Sunday school there in Alexandria. But perhapsto-day, as they pin up the laurels and the palm in the chapel atAlexandria, they are humming the words, not thinking of Clement morethan he thought of us. As the children closed with

 "Swell the triumphant song To Christ, our King, "

Haliburton came running out, and begged me to bring them in. But I toldhim, "No, " as soon as I could hush their shouts of "Merry Christmas";that we had a long journey before us, and must not alight by the way. And the children broke out with

 "Hail to the night, Hail to the day, "

rather a favorite, --quicker and more to the childish taste perhaps thanthe other, --and with another "Merry Christmas" we were off again. 

Off, the length of Commonwealth Avenue, to where it crosses theBrookline branch of the Mill-Dam, dashing along with the gayest of thesleighing-parties as we came back into town, up Chestnut Street, throughLouisburg Square; ran the sleigh into a bank on the slope of PinckneyStreet in front of Walter's house; and, before they suspected there thatany one had come, the children were singing

 "Carol, carol, Christians, Carol joyfully. "

Kisses flung from the window; kisses flung back from the street. "MerryChristmas" again with a good-will, and then one of the girls began, "When Anna took the baby, And pressed his lips to hers, "

and all of them fell in so cheerily. O dear me! it is a scrap of oldEphrem the Syrian, if they did but know it! And when, after this, Harrywould fain have driven on, because two carols at one house was therule, how the little witches begged that they might sing just one songmore there, because Mrs. Alexander had been so kind to them, when sheshowed them about the German stitches. And then up the hill and over tothe North End, and as far as we could get the horses up into Moon Court, that they might sing to the Italian image-man who gave Lucy the boy anddog in plaster, when she was sick in the spring. For the children had, you know, the choice of where they would go, and they select their bestfriends, and will be more apt to remember the Italian image-man thanChrysostom himself, though Chrysostom should have "made a few remarks"to them seventeen times in the chapel. Then the Italian image-man heardfor the first time in his life

 "Now is the time of Christmas come, "

and

 "Jesus in his babes abiding. "

And then we came up Hanover Street and stopped under Mr. Gerry's chapel, where they were dressing the walls with their evergreens, and gave them

 "Hail to the night, Hail to the day";

and so down State Street and stopped at the Advertiser office, because, when the boys gave their "Literary Entertainment, " Mr. Hale put in theiradvertisement for nothing, and up in the old attic there the compositorswere relieved to hear

 "Nor war nor battle sound, "

and

 "The waiting world was still";

so that even the leading editor relaxed from his gravity, and the"In-General" man from his more serious views, and the Daily the nextmorning wished everybody a merry Christmas with even more unction, andresolved that in coming years it would have a supplement, large enoughto contain all the good wishes. So away again to the houses ofconfectioners who had given the children candy, --to Miss Simonds'shouse, because she had been so good to them in school, --to the palacesof millionnaires who had prayed for these children with tears if thechildren only knew it, --to Dr. Frothingham's in Summer Street, Iremember, where we stopped because the Boston Association of Ministersmet here, --and out on Dover Street Bridge, that the poor chair-mendermight hear our carols sung once more before he heard them better sung inanother world where nothing needs mending. 

 "King of glory, king of peace!"

 "Here the song, and see the Star!"

 "Welcome be thou, heavenly King!"

 "Was not Christ our Saviour?"

and all the others, rung out with order or without order, breaking thehush directly as the horses' bells were stilled, thrown into the airwith all the gladness of childhood, selected sometimes as Harry happenedto think best for the hearers, but more often as the jubilant anduncontrolled enthusiasm of the children bade them break out in the mostjoyous, least studied, and purely lyrical of all. O, we went to twentyplaces that night, I suppose! We went to the grandest places in Boston, and we went to the meanest. Everywhere they wished us a merry Christmas, and we them. Everywhere a little crowd gathered round us, and then wedashed away far enough to gather quite another crowd; and then back, perhaps, not sorry to double on our steps if need were, and leavingevery crowd with a happy thought of

 "The star, the manger, and the Child!"

At nine we brought up at my house, D Street, three doors from thecorner, and the children picked their very best for Polly and my sixlittle girls to hear, and then for the first time we let them jump outand run in. Polly had some hot oysters for them, so that the frolic wascrowned with a treat. There was a Christmas cake cut into sixteenpieces, which they took home to dream upon; and then hoods and muffs onagain, and by ten o'clock, or a little after, we had all the girls andall the little ones at their homes. Four of the big boys, our twoflankers and Harry's right and left hand men, begged that they mightstay till the last moment. They could walk back from the stable, and"rather walk than not, indeed. " To which we assented, having gainedparental permission, as we left younger sisters in their respectivehomes. 

II. 

Lycidas and I both thought, as we went into these modest houses, toleave the children, to say they had been good and to wish a "MerryChristmas" ourselves to fathers, mothers, and to guardian aunts, thatthe welcome of those homes was perhaps the best part of it all. Here wasthe great stout sailor-boy whom we had not seen since he came back fromsea. He was a mere child when he left our school years on years ago, forthe East, on board Perry's vessel, and had been round the world. Herewas brave Mrs. Masury. I had not seen her since her mother died. "Indeed, Mr. Ingham, I got so used to watching then, that I cannot sleepwell yet o' nights; I wish you knew some poor creature that wanted meto-night, if it were only in memory of Bethlehem. " "You take a deal oftrouble for the children, " said Campbell, as he crushed my hand in his;"but you know they love you, and you know I would do as much for you andyours, "--which I knew was true. "What can I send to your children?" saidDalton, who was finishing sword-blades. (Ill wind was Fort Sumter, butit blew good to poor Dalton, whom it set up in the world with hissword-factory. ) "Here's an old-fashioned tape-measure for the girl, anda Sheffield wimble for the boy. What, there is no boy? Let one of thegirls have it then; it will count one more present for her. " And so hepressed his brown-paper parcel into my hand. From every house, thoughit were the humblest, a word of love, as sweet, in truth, as if we couldhave heard the voice of angels singing in the sky. 

I bade Harry good night; took Lycidas to his lodgings, and gave his wifemy Christmas wishes and good night; and, coming down to the sleighagain, gave way to the feeling which I think you will all understand, that this was not the time to stop, but just the time to begin. For thestreets were stiller now, and the moon brighter than ever, if possible, and the blessings of these simple people and of the grand people, and ofthe very angels in heaven, who are not bound to the misery of usingwords when they have anything worth saying, --all these wishes andblessings were round me, all the purity of the still winter night, and Ididn't want to lose it all by going to bed to sleep. So I put the boysall together, where they could chatter, took one more brisk turn on thetwo avenues, and then, passing through Charles Street, I believe I waseven thinking of Cambridge, I noticed the lights in Woodhull's house, and, seeing they were up, thought I would make Fanny a midnight call. She came to the door herself. I asked if she were waiting for SantaClaus, but saw in a moment that I must not joke with her. She said shehad hoped I was her husband. In a minute was one of those contrastswhich make life, life. God puts us into the world that we may try themand be tried by them. Poor Fanny's mother had been blocked up on theSpringfield train as she was coming on to Christmas. The old lady hadbeen chilled through, and was here in bed now with pneumonia. BothFanny's children had been ailing when she came, and this morning thedoctor had pronounced it scarlet fever. Fanny had not undressed herselfsince Monday, nor slept, I thought, in the same time. So while we hadbeen singing carols and wishing merry Christmas, the poor child had beenwaiting, and hoping that her husband or Edward, both of whom were on thetramp, would find for her and bring to her the model nurse, who had notyet appeared. But at midnight this unknown sister had not arrived, norhad either of the men returned. When I rang, Fanny had hoped I was oneof them. Professional paragons, dear reader, are shy of scarlet fever. Itold the poor child that it was better as it was. I wrote a line for SamPerry to take to his aunt, Mrs. Masury, in which I simply said: "Dearmamma, I have found the poor creature who wants you to-night. Come backin this carriage. " I bade him take a hack at Gates's, where they wereall up waiting for the assembly to be done at Papanti's. I sent him overto Albany Street; and really as I sat there trying to soothe Fanny, itseemed to me less time than it has taken to dictate this little storyabout her, before Mrs. Masury rang gently, and I left them, having madeFanny promise that she would consecrate the day, which at that momentwas born, by trusting God, by going to bed and going to sleep, knowingthat her children were in much better hands than hers. As I passed outof the hall, the gas-light fell on a print of Correggio's Adoration, where Woodhull had himself written years before, "Ut appareat iis qui in tenebris et umbra mortis positi sunt. "

"Darkness and the shadow of death" indeed, and what light like the lightand comfort such a woman as my Mary Masury brings!

And so, but for one of the accidents, as we call them, I should havedropped the boys at the corner of Dover Street, and gone home with myChristmas lesson. 

But it happened, as we irreverently say, --it happened as we crossed ParkSquare, so called from its being an irregular pentagon of which one ofthe sides has been taken away, that I recognized a tall man, ploddingacross in the snow, head down, round-shouldered, stooping forward inwalking, with his right shoulder higher than his left; and by thesetokens I knew Tom Coram, prince among Boston princes. Not Thomas Coramthat built the Foundling Hospital, though he was of Boston too; but hewas longer ago. You must look for him in Addison's contribution to asupplement to the Spectator, --the old Spectator, I mean, not theThursday Spectator, which is more recent. Not Thomas Coram, I say, butTom Coram, who would build a hospital to-morrow, if you showed him theneed, without waiting to die first, and always helps forward, as aprince should, whatever is princely, be it a statue at home, a school inRichmond, a newspaper in Florida, a church in Exeter, a steam-line toLiverpool, or a widow who wants a hundred dollars. I wished him a merryChristmas, and Mr. Howland, by a fine instinct, drew up the horses as Ispoke. Coram shook hands; and, as it seldom happens that I have an emptycarriage while he is on foot, I asked him if I might not see him home. He was glad to get in. We wrapped him up with spoils of the bear, thefox, and the bison, turned the horses' heads again, --five hours nowsince they started on this entangled errand of theirs, --and gave him hisride. "I was thinking of you at the moment, " said Coram, --"thinking ofold college times, of the mystery of language as unfolded by the AbbéFaria to Edmond Dantes in the depths of the Chateau d'If. I waswondering if you could teach me Japanese, if I asked you to a Christmasdinner. " I laughed. Japan was really a novelty then, and I asked himsince when he had been in correspondence with the sealed country. Itseemed that their house at Shanghae had just sent across there theiragents for establishing the first house in Edomo, in Japan, under thenew treaty. Everything looked promising, and the beginnings were madefor the branch which has since become Dot and Trevilyan there. Of thishe had the first tidings in his letters by the mail of that afternoon. John Coram, his brother, had written to him, and had said that heenclosed for his amusement the Japanese bill of particulars, as it hadbeen drawn out, on which they had founded their orders for the firstassorted cargo ever to be sent from America to Edomo. Bill ofparticulars there was, stretching down the long tissue-paper inexquisite chirography. But by some freak of the "total depravity ofthings, " the translated order for the assorted cargo was not there. JohnCoram, in his care to fold up the Japanese writing nicely, had left onhis own desk at Shanghae the more intelligible English. "And so I mustwait, " said Tom philosophically, "till the next East India mail for myorders, certain that seven English houses have had less enthusiastic andphilological correspondents than my brother. "

I said I did not see that. That I could not teach him to speak theTaghalian dialects so well, that he could read them with facility beforeSaturday. But I could do a good deal better. Did he remember writing anote to old Jack Percival for me five years ago? No, he remembered nosuch thing; he knew Jack Percival, but never wrote a note to him in hislife. Did he remember giving me fifty dollars, because I had taken adelicate boy, whom I was going to send to sea, and I was not quitesatisfied with the government outfit? No, he did not remember that, which was not strange, for that was a thing he was doing every day. "Well, I don't care how much you remember, but the boy about whom youwrote to Jack Percival, for whose mother's ease of mind you providedthe half-hundred, is back again, --strong, straight, and well; what ismore to the point, he had the whole charge of Perry's commissariat onshore at Yokohama, was honorably discharged out there, reads Japanesebetter than you read English; and if it will help you at all, he shallbe here at your house at breakfast. " For as I spoke we stopped atCoram's door. "Ingham, " said Coram, "if you were not a parson, I shouldsay you were romancing. " "My child, " said I, "I sometimes write aparable for the Atlantic; but the words of my lips are verity, as allthose of the Sandemanians. Go to bed; do not even dream of the Taghaliandialects; be sure that the Japanese interpreter will breakfast with you, and the next time you are in a scrape send for the nearest minister. George, tell your brother Ezra that Mr. Coram wishes him to breakfasthere to-morrow morning at eight o'clock; don't forget the number, Pemberton Square, you know. " "Yes, sir, " said George; and Thomas Coramlaughed, said "Merry Christmas, " and we parted. 

It was time we were all in bed, especially these boys. But glad enougham I as I write these words that the meeting of Coram set us back thatdropped-stitch in our night's journey. There was one more delay. We weresweeping by the Old State House, the boys singing again, "Carol, carol, Christians, " as we dashed along the still streets, when I caught sightof Adams Todd, and he recognized me. He had heard us singing when wewere at the Advertiser office. Todd is an old fellow-apprentice ofmine, --and he is now, or rather was that night, chief pressman in theArgus office. I like the Argus people, --it was there that I was SouthAmerican Editor, now many years ago, --and they befriend me to this hour. Todd hailed me, and once more I stopped. "What sent you out from yourwarm steam-boiler?" "Steam-boiler, indeed, " said Todd. "Two rivetsloose, --steam-room full of steam, --police frightened, --neighborhood in arow, --and we had to put out the fire. She would have run a week withouthurting a fly, --only a little puff in the street sometimes. But there weare, Ingham. We shall lose the early mail as it stands. Seventy-eighttokens to be worked now. " They always talked largely of their edition atthe Argus. Saw it with many eyes, perhaps; but this time, I am sure, Todd spoke true. I caught his idea at once. In younger and more musculartimes, Todd and I had worked the Adams press by that fly-wheel for fullfive minutes at a time, as a test of strength; and in my mind's eye, Isaw that he was printing his paper at this moment with relays ofgrinding stevedores. He said it was so. "But think of it to-night, " saidhe. "It is Christmas eve, and not an Irishman to be hired, though onepaid him ingots. Not a man can stand the grind ten minutes. " I knew thatvery well from old experience, and I thanked him inwardly for notsaying "the demnition grind, " with Mantilini. "We cannot run the presshalf the time, " said he; "and the men we have are giving out now. Weshall lose all our carrier delivery. " "Todd, " said I, "is this a nightto be talking of ingots, or hiring, or losing, or gaining? When will youlearn that Love rules the court, the camp, and the Argus office. " And Iwrote on the back of a letter to Campbell: "Come to the Argus office, No. 2 Dassett's Alley, with seven men not afraid to work"; and I gave itto John and Sam, bade Howland take the boys to Campbell's house, --walkeddown with Todd to his office, --challenged him to take five minutes atthe wheel, in memory of old times, --made the tired relays laugh as theysaw us take hold; and then, --when I had cooled off, and put on myCardigan, --met Campbell, with his seven sons of Anak, tumbling down thestairs, wondering what round of mercy the parson had found for them thistime. I started home, knowing I should now have my Argus with my coffee. 

III. 

And so I walked home. Better so, perhaps, after all, than in the livelysleigh, with the tinkling bells. 

 "It was a calm and silent night!-- Seven hundred years and fifty-three Had Rome been growing up to might, And now was queen of land and sea! No sound was heard of clashing wars, -- Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain; Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars Held undisturbed their ancient reign In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!"

What an eternity it seemed since I started with those children singingcarols. Bethlehem, Nazareth, Calvary, Rome, Roman senators, Tiberius, Paul, Nero, Clement, Ephrem, Ambrose, and all the singers, --Vincent dePaul, and all the loving wonder-workers, Milton and Herbert and all thecarol-writers, Luther and Knox and all the prophets, --what a world ofpeople had been keeping Christmas with Sam Perry and Lycidas and Harryand me; and here were Yokohama and the Japanese, the Daily Argus and itsten million tokens and their readers, --poor Fanny Woodhull and her sickmother there, keeping Christmas too! For a finite world, these are agood many "waits" to be singing in one poor fellow's ears on oneChristmas-tide. 

 "'T was in the calm and silent night!-- The senator of haughty Rome, Impatient urged his chariot's flight, From lordly revel, rolling home. Triumphal arches gleaming swell His breast, with thoughts of boundless sway. What recked the _Roman_ what befell A paltry province far away, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!

 "Within that province far away Went plodding home a weary boor; A streak of light before him lay, Fallen through a half-shut stable door Across his path. He passed, --for naught Told _what was going on within_; How keen the stars, his only thought, The air how calm and cold and thin, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!"

"Streak of light"--Is there a light in Lycidas's room? They not in bed!That is making a night of it! Well, there are few hours of the day ornight when I have not been in Lycidas's room, so I let myself in by thenight-key he gave me, ran up the stairs, --it is a horrid seven-storied, first-class lodging-house. For my part, I had as lief live in a steeple. Two flights I ran up, two steps at a time, --I was younger then than I amnow, --pushed open the door which was ajar, and saw such a scene ofconfusion as I never saw in Mary's over-nice parlor before. Queer! Iremember the first thing that I saw was wrong was a great ball of whiteGerman worsted on the floor. Her basket was upset. A greatChristmas-tree lay across the rug, quite too high for the room; a largesharp-pointed Spanish clasp-knife was by it, with which they had beenlopping it; there were two immense baskets of white papered presents, both upset; but what frightened me most was the centre-table. Three orfour handkerchiefs on it, --towels, napkins, I know not what, --all brownand red and almost black with blood! I turned, heart-sick, to look intothe bedroom, --and I really had a sense of relief when I saw somebody. Bad enough it was, however. Lycidas, but just now so strong and well, lay pale and exhausted on the bloody bed, with the clothing removed fromhis right thigh and leg, while over him bent Mary and Morton. I learnedafterwards that poor Lycidas, while trimming the Christmas-tree, andtalking merrily with Mary and Morton, --who, by good luck, had broughtround his presents late, and was staying to tie on glass balls andapples, --had given himself a deep and dangerous wound with the point ofthe unlucky knife, and had lost a great deal of blood before thehemorrhage could be controlled. Just before I entered, the sticktourniquet which Morton had improvised had slipped in poor Mary'sunpractised hand, at the moment he was about to secure the bleedingartery, and the blood followed in such a gush as compelled him to givehis whole attention to stopping its flow. He only knew my entrance bythe "Ah, Mr. Ingham, " of the frightened Irish girl, who stood uselessbehind the head of the bed. 

"O Fred, " said Morton, without looking up, "I am glad you are here. "

"And what can I do for you?"

"Some whiskey, --first of all. "

"There are two bottles, " said Mary, who was holding the candle, --"in thecupboard behind his dressing-glass. "

I took Bridget with me, struck a light in the dressing-room (how sheblundered about the match), and found the cupboard door locked! Keydoubtless in Mary's pocket, --probably in pocket of "another dress. " Idid not ask. Took my own bunch, willed tremendously that my account-bookdrawer key should govern the lock, and it did. If it had not, I shouldhave put my fist through the panels. Bottle of bedbug poison; bottlemarked "bay rum"; another bottle with no mark; two bottles of Saratogawater. "Set them all on the floor, Bridget. " A tall bottle of Cologne. Bottle marked in MS. What in the world is it? "Bring that candle, Bridget. " "Eau destillée. Marron, Montreal. " What in the world didLycidas bring distilled water from Montreal for? And then Morton's clearvoice in the other room, "As quick as you can, Fred. " "Yes! in onemoment. Put all these on the floor, Bridget. " Here they are at last. "Bourbon whiskey. " "Corkscrew, Bridget. "

"Indade, sir, and where is it?" "Where? I don't know. Run down as quickas you can, and bring it. His wife cannot leave him. " So Bridget ran, and the first I heard was the rattle as she pitched down the last sixstairs of the first flight headlong. Let us hope she has not broken herleg. I meanwhile am driving a silver pronged fork into the Bourboncorks, and the blade of my own penknife on the other side. 

"Now, Fred, " from George within. (We all call Morton "George. ") "Yes, in one moment, " I replied. Penknife blade breaks off, fork pulls rightout, two crumbs of cork come with it. Will that girl never come?

I turned round; I found a goblet on the washstand; I took Lycidas'sheavy clothes-brush, and knocked off the neck of the bottle. Did youever do it, reader, with one of those pressed glass bottles they makenow? It smashed like a Prince Rupert's drop in my hand, crumbled intoseventy pieces, --a nasty smell of whiskey on the floor, --and I, holdingjust the hard bottom of the thing with two large spikes runningworthless up into the air. But I seized the goblet, poured into it whatwas left in the bottom, and carried it in to Morton as quietly as Icould. He bade me give Lycidas as much as he could swallow; then showedme how to substitute my thumb for his, and compress the great artery. When he was satisfied that he could trust me, he began his work again, silently; just speaking what must be said to that brave Mary, who seemedto have three hands because he needed them. When all was secure, heglanced at the ghastly white face, with beads of perspiration on theforehead and upper lip, laid his finger on the pulse, and said: "We willhave a little more whiskey. No, Mary, you are overdone already; let Fredbring it. " The truth was that poor Mary was almost as white as Lycidas. She would not faint, --that was the only reason she did not, --and at themoment I wondered that she did not fall. I believe George and I wereboth expecting it, now the excitement was over. He called her Mary andme Fred, because we were all together every day of our lives. Bridget, you see, was still nowhere. 

So I retired for my whiskey again, --to attack that other bottle. Georgewhispered quickly as I went, "Bring enough, --bring the bottle. " Did hewant the bottle corked? Would that Kelt ever come up stairs? I passedthe bell-rope as I went into the dressing-room, and rang as hard as Icould ring. I took the other bottle, and bit steadily with my teeth atthe cork, only, of course, to wrench the end of it off. George calledme, and I stepped back. "No, " said he, "bring your whiskey. "

Mary had just rolled gently back on the floor. I went again in despair. But I heard Bridget's step this time. First flight, first passage;second flight, second passage. She ran in in triumph at length, with a_screw-driver_!

"No!" I whispered, --"no. The crooked thing you draw corks with, " and Ishowed her the bottle again. "Find one somewhere and don't come backwithout it. " So she vanished for the second time. 

"Frederic!" said Morton. I think he never called me so before. Should Irisk the clothes-brush again? I opened Lycidas's own drawers, --papers, boxes, everything in order, --not a sign of a tool. 

"Frederic!" "Yes, " I said. But why did I say "Yes"? "Father of Mercy, tell me what to do. "

And my mazed eyes, dim with tears, --did you ever shed tears fromexcitement?--fell on an old razor-strop of those days of shaving, madeby C. WHITTAKER, SHEFFIELD. The "Sheffield" stood in black letters outfrom the rest like a vision. They make corkscrews in Sheffield too. Ifthis Whittaker had only made a corkscrew! And what is a "Sheffieldwimble?"

Hand in my pocket, --brown paper parcel. 

"Where are you, Frederic?" "Yes, " said I, for the last time. Twine off!brown paper off. And I learned that the "Sheffield wimble" was one ofthose things whose name you never heard before, which people sell you inThames Tunnel, where a hoof-cleaner, a gimlet, a screw-driver, and a_corkscrew_ fold into one handle. 

"Yes, " said I, again. "Pop, " said the cork. "Bubble, bubble, bubble, "said the whiskey. Bottle in one hand, full tumbler in the other, Iwalked in. George poured half a tumblerful down Lycidas's throat thattime. Nor do I dare say how much he poured down afterwards. I found thatthere was need of it, from what he said of the pulse, when it was allover. I guess Mary had some, too. 

This was the turning-point. He was exceedingly weak, and we sat by himin turn through the night, giving, at short intervals, stimulants andsuch food as he could swallow easily; for I remember Morton was veryparticular not to raise his head more than we could help. But there wasno real danger after this. 

As we turned away from the house on Christmas morning, --I to preach andhe to visit his patients, --he said to me, "Did you make that whiskey?"

"No, " said I, "but poor Dod Dalton had to furnish the corkscrew. "

And I went down to the chapel to preach. The sermon had been lying readyat home on my desk, --and Polly had brought it round to me, --for therehad been no time for me to go from Lycidas's home to D Street and toreturn. There was the text, all as it was the day before:--

 "They helped every one his neighbor, and every one said to his brother, Be of good courage. So the carpenter encouraged the goldsmith, and he that smootheth with the hammer him that smote the anvil. "

And there were the pat illustrations, as I had finished them yesterday;of the comfort Mary Magdalen gave Joanna, the court lady; and thecomfort the court lady gave Mary Magdalen, after the mediator of a newcovenant had mediated between them; how Simon the Cyrenian, and Josephof Arimathea, and the beggar Bartimeus comforted each other, gave eachother strength, common force, _com-fort_, when the One Life flowed inall their veins; how on board the ship the Tent-Maker proved to beCaptain, and the Centurion learned his duty from his Prisoner, and howthey "_All_ came safe to shore, " because the New Life was there. But asI preached, I caught Frye's eye. Frye is always critical; and I said tomyself, "Frye would not take his illustrations from eighteen hundredyears ago. " And I saw dear old Dod Dalton trying to keep awake, andCampbell hard asleep after trying, and Jane Masury looking round to seeif her mother did not come in; and Ezra Sheppard, looking, not so muchat me, as at the window beside me, as if his thoughts were the otherside of the world. And I said to them all, "O, if I could tell you, myfriends, what every twelve hours of my life tells me, --of the way inwhich woman helps woman, and man helps man, when only the ice isbroken, --how we are all rich so soon as we find out that we are allbrothers, and how we are all in want, unless we can call at any momentfor a brother's hand, --then I could make you understand something, inthe lives you lead every day, of what the New Covenant, the NewCommonwealth, the New Kingdom is to be. "

But I did not dare tell Dod Dalton what Campbell had been doing forTodd, nor did I dare tell Campbell by what unconscious arts old Dod hadbeen helping Lycidas. Perhaps the sermon would have been better had Idone so. 

But, when we had our tree in the evening at home, I did tellall this story to Polly and the bairns, and I gave Alice hermeasuring-tape, --precious with a spot of Lycidas's blood, --and Berthaher Sheffield wimble. "Papa, " said old Clara, who is the next child, "all the people gave presents, did not they, as they did in the picturein your study?"

"Yes, " said I, "though they did not all know they were giving them. "

"Why do they not give such presents every day?" said Clara. 

"O child, " I said, "it is only for thirty-six hours of the three hundredand sixty-five days, that all people remember that they are all brothersand sisters, and those are the hours that we call, therefore, Christmaseve and Christmas day. "

"And when they always remember it, " said Bertha, "it will be Christmasall the time! What fun!"

"What fun, to be sure; but Clara, what is in the picture?"

"Why, an old woman has brought eggs to the baby in the manger, and anold man has brought a sheep. I suppose they all brought what they had. "

"I suppose those who came from Sharon brought roses, " said Bertha. AndAlice, who is eleven, and goes to the Lincoln School, and thereforeknows everything, said, "Yes, and the Damascus people brought Damascuswimbles. "

"This is certain, " said Polly, "that nobody tried to give a straw, butthe straw, if he really gave it, carried a blessing. "

Cambridge: Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.