THE

 CONTINENTAL MONTHLY. 

 DEVOTED TO

 Literature and National Policy. 

 VOL. III. 

 JANUARY-JUNE, 1863. 

 New York: JOHN F. TROW, 50 GREENE STREET, (FOR THE PROPRIETORS. ) 1863. 

 ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by JOHN F. TROW, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. 

 JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER, STEREOTYPER, AND ELECTROTYPER, 48 & 50 Greene Street, New York. 

 * * * * *

 THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY. DEVOTED TO Literature and National Policy. 

 JANUARY, 1863. 

 NEW YORK: JOHN F. TROW 50 GREENE STREET (FOR THE PROPRIETORS). 

 HENRY DEXTER AND SINCLAIR TOUSEY. WASHINGTON, D. C. : FRANCK TAYLOR. 

 * * * * *

 CONTENTS. --No. XIII. 

 Huguenots of New Rochelle. Hon. G. P. Disosway, 1

 Maccaroni and Canvas. No. 10. Henry P. Leland, 7

 Thought, 23

 Consequences of the Rebellion. Hon. F. P. Stanton, 26

 "I;" or, Summer in the City, 40

 The Ivy. Charles Godfrey Leland, 47

 The Mishaps of Miss Hobbs. William L. Williams, 54

 The Union. No. 4. New York and Virginia Compared, &c. Hon. Robert J. Walker, 68

 Promise. Edward S. Rand, Jr. , 78

 American Destiny. John Stahl Patterson, 79

 Was He Successful? Richard B. Kimball, 98

 The Physical Survey of New York Harbor and its Approaches. Henry Mitchell, Assistant U. S. Coast Survey, 105

 An Englishman in South Carolina. (Concluded), 110

 Pen, Pallet, and Piano, 117

 Literary Notices, 122

 Editor's Table, 126

 * * * * *

The article in the present number entitled "American Destiny, " will befound worthy of very attentive perusal. It is the production of aPrivate attached to the 20th Battery of Ohio Volunteer Artillery. Whatcountry but ours supplies _such_ material to the ranks of its commonsoldiery?

 * * * * *

The continuation of "A Merchant's Story, " by the author of "Among thePines, " is unavoidably delayed till the succeeding number. 

Our February Number will contain a Review of our Finances and Mr. Chase's Report. By Hon. R. J. Walker. 

 * * * * *

ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by JAMES R. GILMORE, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the UnitedStates for the Southern District of New York. 

John F. Trow, Printer

 * * * * *

THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY: DEVOTED TO LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY. 

VOL. III. -JANUARY, 1863. --No. I. 

THE HUGUENOTS OF NEW ROCHELLE. 

It is worthy of record that Westchester County, New York, was settled byemigrants from New England and France, and both seeking homes fromreligious persecutions. As early as 1642, John Throcmorton, withthirty-five associates, made the first settlement in this section, withthe approbation of the Dutch authorities. With Roger Williams, drivenaway from New England by the violence of Hugh Peters, they came here, and called the region _Viedeland or Land of Peace_--a beautiful name forthe region of those seeking rest of conscience from wicked and violentmen. But even here the Puritan did not find the desired quiet andsafety; for several of his band perished in the Indian massacre thatsorely visited New Netherland on the 6th of October, 1643. 

The next settlement of Westchester was commenced in the year 1654, alsoby some Puritans from Connecticut, who adopted its present name, and theRev. Ezekiel Fogge was their first 'independent minister;' and in 1684 aMr. Warham Mather was called 'for one whole year, and that he shall havesixty pounds, in country produce, at money price, for his salary, andthat he shall be paid every quarter. ' Governor Fletcher, however, declined inducting the Presbyterian into that living, 'as it wasaltogether impossible, ' he said, 'it being wholly repugnant to the lawsof England to compel the subject to pay for the maintenance of anyminister who was not of the national Church. ' The Episcopal Governor, however, proposes 'a medium in that matter. ' Some French emigrants hadalready found their way to this region, and M. Boudet, a FrenchProtestant minister of Boston, who was in orders from the Bishop ofLondon, could preach in French and English, and the people called him tothe living, the parish being large enough for two clergymen. M. Boudetwas accordingly sent for, hoping, as the English Governor writes, 'tobring the congregation over to the Church;' but, 'when he came, theyrefused to call him. ' The Yankee Puritans were evidently not to beoutmanaged by the English churchman. Westchester then numbered 'two orthree hundred English and Dissenters; a few Dutch. '

On the 20th September, 1689, Jacob Leisler, of New York, purchased ofMr. Pell 6, 000 acres of land in Westchester, a portion of the manor ofPelham, obtained from the Indians in 1640-'49. The grantor, heirs, andassigns, as an acknowledgment, were to pay Mr. Pell 'one fatted calf onevery fourth and twentieth day of June, yearly, and every year, forever, if demanded. ' It is a well known fact that every Huguenot, on thefestival of St. John, pays his proportion toward the purchase of the fatcalf whenever claimed. 

During the year 1690, Leisler leased to the banished Huguenots theselands, purchased for them, as they came directly here from England, andwere a portion of the 50, 000 who found safety in that gloriousProtestant kingdom four years before the revocation of the Edict ofNantes. At the revocation itself, not less than half a million escapedfrom bigoted France to Holland, Germany, and England; and to those inthe latter country, Charles II. , then on the British throne, grantedletters of denization under the great seal, and Parliament relieved themfrom 'importation duties and passport fees. ' During this same year, many, flying from France, were aided in their escape by English vesselsoff the island of Rhé, opposite brave _La Rochelle_. According totradition, some of these were transported to this region, naming theirnew settlement in honor of their

 'Own Rochelle, the fair Rochelle, Proud city of the waters. '

In the Documentary History of New York, vol. Iii. , p. 926, we find apetition to Colonel Fletcher, Governor of the colony, signed by Thanet, and Elei Cothouneau, in behalf of above twenty of these French refugees. 'Your petitioners, ' they state, 'having been forced, by the latepersecutions in France, to forsake their country and estates, and flyeto ye Protestant princes * * *, wherefore they were invited to come andbuy lands in this province, and they might by their labour help thenecessityes of their families, and did spend all their small store withthe aid of their friends, whereof they did borrow great sums of money[MS. Torn]. They had lost their country and their estates, but savedtheir good principles and a pure faith; and, in a strange land, petitioned his Excellency 'to take their case in serious consideration, and out of charity and pity to grant them for some years what help andprivileges your Excellency shall think convenient. ' This is one of theearliest authentic records (1681) we have met with concerning the NewRochelle French refugees. 

Pell, the lord of the manor, besides the 6, 000 acres already obtained, also granted 100 additional, 'for the sake of the French church, erectedor about to be erected, by the inhabitants of the said tract of land. 'This Huguenot church in New Rochelle was built about 1692-'93, of wood, and stood in the rear of the present mansion house. It was destroyedsoon after the Revolutionary war. Louis Bougeaud, about the same time, donated a piece of land forty paces square, for a churchyard to burytheir dead; and, subsequently, a house with three acres of land wasgiven by the town to the Huguenot church forever. 

The Rev. DAVID BOUREPOS was the first minister of the New RochelleHuguenots; he had likewise served his French brethren on Staten Island. The Governor requesting him to nominate 'some persons for the vacantoffices of justices of the peace, ' he replies that 'he could not comply, as none of his colonists at New Rochelle had a knowledge of the Englishtongue. ' Nothing now is known of Bourepos' ministry or history. From histitle of D. D. , he must have been a man of learning; and we can learnsomething about the time when he died from the date of his will. 'Letters of administration were granted to Martha Bourepos, wife ofDavid Bourepos, 25th of October, 1711' (New York Surrogates' Office). Heprobably resigned his pastoral charge in 1694. 

Rev. DANIEL BOUDET, A. M. , was the next minister of the FrenchProtestant church at New Rochelle, a native of France; and heaccompanied the French refugees, who reached Boston in the summer of1686. About the year 1695, M. Boudet came to New Rochelle, and at firstused the French prayers, according to the Protestant churches of France, and subsequently, every third Sunday, the Liturgy of the English Church. In 1709 the French church at New Rochelle determined to follow theexample of some of their Reformed brethren in England, and conform tothe English Church. All the members except _two_ agreed to adopt theLiturgy and Rites of the Church of England, as established by law. Somethirty names appear on the document, requesting this importantecclesiastical change; and for the information especially of thegenealogical reader, we note some of them: Michael Houdin, JacobBleecker, David Lispenard, Isaac Guion, Peter Bertain, John Soulice, Paul Lecord, Jean Abby, Jos. Antuny, Peter Bonnet, Peter Parquot, Benj. Seacord, Judith Leconet, Allida Guion, Josiah Le Conte, ElizabethLispenard, Moses de St. Croix, Deborah Foulon, Marie Neufville, MaryStouppe, Jean Nicolle, John Bryan, Oliver Besley, Frederick King, Susanna Landrin, Anne Danielson, Rutger Bleecker, Mary Rodman, AgnesDonaldson, Esther Angeoine, Thomas Steel, Jane Contine, Jane Maraux, James Pine. 'The petitioners are members of the French Church at NewRochelle' (1793), and 'principally descendants from French Protestants, who fled from the religious persecutions in France, in the year onethousand six hundred and eighty-one. ' Their fathers settled at NewRochelle, 1689, nearly a century before the date of this document. Fewlists of family names are more imposing than this; and to this day, their descendants in Westchester County, increased to thousands, rankwith our most useful and respectable citizens in wealth, good works, andpiety. We are no great sticklers for genealogical _trees_ or _DoomsdayBooks_, yet we believe in pride of family to a proper extent. There wasa time once, in this republican land of ours, when many gloried inignoring the fact that they came from distinguished stocks, as thespirit of our democratic institutions opposed the notion of familyhistories. We were all born of an honest, industrious race, for severalgenerations back, and that is enough; and so it may be. Still, a man, when asked if he had a grandfather, would logically infer he had one, but he could not historically, unless there was some record of the fact. This indifference is happily passing way, and an interest of late ismanifesting itself in such researches. No American, in whose veins runsHuguenot blood, need be ashamed of his origin. His ancestral history ismost honorable, brave, and proud. 

In 1705, Colonel Heathcote thus speaks of M. Boudet, the Huguenotpreacher at New Rochelle: 'A good man, and preaches very intelligibly inEnglish, which he does every third Sunday in his French congregation, when he uses the Liturgy of the Church. He has done a great deal ofservice since his first coming into this country. * * * He has thirtypounds a year settled on him out of the public revenue here, as theFrench minister in York hath; but that is paid with so much uncertaintythat he starves, for the use of it. ' During the year 1710, GovernorHunter permitted his congregation to build a new church of England, asby law established, and the 'Venerable Propagation Society' presentedthe new church with 'one hundred French prayer books of the small sort, and twenty of a larger impression; and in consideration of the greatlearning and piety of Monsieur Boudet, and his long and faithfuldischarge of his office, they augmented his salary from £30 to £50 perannum. ' At this period we find the following excellent record of thisexcellent French minister: 'M. Boudet is a good old man, near sixtyyears of age, sober, just, and religious. ' One hundred more Frenchprayer books were sent to his church, 'for the edification of the Frenchyouth who have learned so much of that language as to join with himtherein. ' During the year 1714, M. Boudet took the spiritual charge ofthe Mohegan or River Indians, at which period he is called 'minister ofthe French colonistic congregation at New Rochelle. ' In 1714 he reportsfifty communicants in his church, and asks for an English Bible, with asmall quantity of English Common Prayers, because 'our young people, orsome of them, have sufficiently learned to read English for to join inthe public service, when read in English. '

M. Boudet died in September, 1722, aged sixty-nine years, nearlytwenty-seven of which he had been the minister of the New Rochellechurch. He was eminently useful in keeping his congregation togetheramidst its adverse circumstances, and was greatly beloved. He wasinterred beneath the chancel floor of the old church; and for whose usehe bequeathed his library. 

The Rev. PIERRE STOUPPE, A. M. , succeeded M. Boudet. He was also anative of France, and said to be a son or nearly related to the Rev. M. Stouppe, pastor of the French Protestant church in London, who was sentto Geneva, in 1654, by Oliver Cromwell, to negotiate there in theaffairs of the French Protestants. He was born 1690, studied divinity atGeneva, and accepted a call to the Huguenot church at Charleston, S. C. Here he continued to preach until 1723, when, resigning the charge, heconformed to the Church of England, crossing the Atlantic forordination. He was admitted to holy orders in 1723, and licensed toofficiate as a missionary in the colony of New York, and to the FrenchProtestants of New Rochelle, with a salary of £50 per annum. To thislatter flock he proved very acceptable, from his ability to preach inFrench, the only language which most of them understood. His elders, or_anciens_, as sometimes called, were then Isaac Quantein and IsaacGuion. The new Huguenot pastor soon found trouble, as his predecessorhad, with the dissatisfied M. Moulinais and his followers. Still he wasuseful: in 1726 he writes that he 'baptized six grown negroes and sevennegro children, fitted eight young people for the sacrament of theLord's Supper, to which they have been accordingly admitted, ' and 'thenumber of communicants at Easter was thirty-three. '

In a letter of December 11, 1727, he presents some important informationconcerning the early settlement of New Rochelle: 'The present number ofinhabitants amounts to very near four hundred persons. There is a dozenof houses near the church, standing pretty close to one another, whichmakes the place a sort of a town; the remainder of the houses andsettlements are dispersed up and down, as far as the above 6, 000 acresof land could bear. Nay, besides these, there were several other Frenchfamilies, members of New Rochelle, settled without its bounds. ' Such wasthe commencement of the present picturesque and beautiful village of NewRochelle. More than a century and a half has passed away since itsfounders, the French refugees, emigrated to the spot; but their nobleand holy principles have left good, undying influences, now seen in therefinement, morals, and religion of their descendants, in this entireregion. 

M. Stouppe further states that there were in the settlement two Quakerfamilies, three Dutch ones, four Lutherans. 'The first never assist onassemblies; the Dutch and Lutheran, on the contrary, constantly assistwhen divine service is performed in English, so that they may understandit; and their children, likewise, have all been baptized by ministers ofthe church. Only the French Dissenters have deserted it, upon M. Moulinais, formerly one of the French ministers of New York, coming andsettling, now a year ago, among us; and it is also by his means andinducement that they have built a wooden meeting-house within the timethey were unprovided for, that is, from my predecessor's death to myarrival here. * * *

'There is no schoolmaster as yet in New Rochelle: the parents take careto instruct their own children, and that they do generally pretty well, besides what instructions are given them in the church during summer bythe minister. * * * The number of slaves within New Rochelle isseventy-eight: part of them constantly attend divine service, and havehad some instruction in the Christian faith by the care and assistanceof their respective masters and mistresses, so that my predecessor didnot scruple to baptize some, and even admit them to the communion of theLord's Supper; and I myself have, for the same consideration, baptizedfifteen of them within these three years, some children and some grownpersons, without the least prejudice to the rest of my flock. ' It wouldbe well, in our boasted day of zeal and philanthropy, if all ministersof the blessed gospel manifested the same commendable interest for thespiritual welfare of the negroes, as this Huguenot pastor. 

About the period of the French war, he writes, June 5, 1758, 'that sincethe war broke out, there have been great alterations in hiscongregations, which have lost many of their members by removals, and byenlisting in the king's service, and by death; nevertheless, the numberof his communicants is seventy-four, and he has baptized, within thepresent half year, fifteen white and five black children. '

The ministry of this faithful Huguenot terminated on the earth, by hisdeath in July, 1760. His biographer esteemed him a 'simple-minded, conscientious man, who for thirty-seven years continued faithfully todischarge the duties of his mission. ' His communicants had increasedfrom thirty-eight to eighty, and he was greatly beloved by hiscongregation. His remains were interred under the chancel of the oldFrench church at New Rochelle, where so long he had watched over thelittle flock of his Master. M. Stouppe was succeeded by the

Rev. MICHAEL HOUDIN, A. M. He was born in France, 1705, educated aFranciscan friar, and, on Easter day, 1730, ordained a priest by theArchbishop of Trêves, and subsequently preferred to the post of superiorin the convent of the Recollects at Montreal. But, disgusted withmonastic life, M. Houdin, at the commencement of the French war, leftCanada and retired to the city of New York. Here, on Easter day, 1747, he made a public renunciation of Popery, and joined the Church ofEngland. Attaining great proficiency in the English language, in June, 1750, he was invited by the people of Trenton, N. J. , to officiate as amissionary in that State. 

When he first reached New York with his wife, in June, 1744, GovernorClinton, suspicious of all Frenchmen at that moment, confined them totheir lodgings, guarded by two sentinels. The following day he wasexamined by his Excellency, and learned that 'the French intended toattack Oswego with eight hundred men, the French having a great desireof being masters of that place. ' Then M. Houdin was ordered to reside atJamaica, Long Island, where he complained that his circumstances were'very low, ' and 'can do nothing to get a living;' that 'his wife andhimself must soon come to want, unless his Excellency will be pleased totake him into consideration. ' After this appeal, the authorities advisedhis return to the city, on his taking the oath of allegiance. 

For some years, M. Houdin officiated at Trenton and the neighboringplaces as an 'itinerant missionary;' and in 1759 his services wererequired, as a guide, for General Wolfe, in his well-known expeditionagainst Quebec. Before marching, he preached to the Provincial troopsdestined for Canada, in St. Peter's church, Westchester, from St. Matthew, ch. X. 28: 'Fear not them which kill the body. ' And the Frenchchaplain escaped the dangers of the war; but his brave General, at thevery moment of victory, fell mortally wounded, on the Heights ofAbraham, September 13, 1759. After the reduction of Quebec, he askedleave to join his mission again; but General Murray would not consent, as there was no other person who could be depended on for intelligenceof the French movements. While M. Houdin was stationed at Quebec, anattempt was made by the Vicar-General of all Canada to seduce him fromEnglish allegiance, with an offer of great preferment in the RomishChurch. This pressing invitation found its way into the hands ofGenerals Murray and Gage, when they sent a guard to arrest theVicar-General. 

M. Houdin, returning to New York, in 1761, was appointed 'itinerantmissionary' to New Rochelle, by the 'Venerable Society' of England, 'hebeing a Frenchman by birth, and capable of doing his duty to them, bothin the French and English languages. ' During his incumbency, Trinitychurch, New Rochelle, received its first charter from George III. , whichthe present corporation still enjoys with all its trusts and powers. Itis dated in 1762, and was exemplified by his Excellency George Clintonin 1793. In 1763 he writes, complaining that the Calvinists usedunlawful methods to obtain possession of the church glebe. These werethe few old French Protestant families who had not conformed to theChurch of England; and Houdin says of them: 'Seeing the Calvinists willnot agree upon any terms of peace proposed to them by our church, * * *we are in hopes the strong bleeding of their purse will bring them to anagreement after New York court. '

The French Protestant preacher continued his pious labors at NewRochelle until October, 1766, when he departed this life. He was a manof considerable learning, irreproachable character, and esteemed aworthy Christian missionary. His remains, which were the last of theHuguenot pastors, were interred beneath the chancel of the old Frenchchurch at New Rochelle, and by the side of his predecessors, Boudet andStouppe. Since the removal of this sacred edifice, the ashes of theseearliest Protestant French missionaries to our land repose beneath thepublic highway, and not a stone tells where they lie, or commemoratestheir usefulness, excellences, or piety. Their silent graves ought notthus to remain neglected and unhonored: some monumental record shouldmark the spot where these early Huguenot preachers in America wereentombed. 

Boudet, Stouppe, and Houdin were the last of the Huguenot preachers inour land of whose histories we can find anything, and as they never canbe fully written, we have made a more full record of these fragmentsconcerning their memories, than otherwise would have been written. Especially let the children of the French Protestants in Westchestervenerate these men, who were consecrated to sacred offices in the daysof their pious ancestors, and, like Moses, led them from oppression andbondage to the land of Canaan in this Western World. 

We might mention many who deserve the honor, among the descendants ofthe New Rochelle Huguenots; but the name of one will suit ourpurpose--JOHN JAY. He was born in New York, from a family originally ofLa Guienne, France; and he was sent, by his fellow citizens to theGeneral Congress which assembled at the commencement of the conflictbetween the colonies and England. In 1774 he signed the act ofassociation to suspend the importation of British merchandise; in 1779he was honored with the presidency of Congress. At the expiration ofthis important post, Mr. Jay was commissioned to represent his countryat the court of Louis XVI. , and he was one of the four commissionerswho signed, on the 30th November, 1782, the treaty of Versailles, bywhich Great Britain recognized our NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE. A Huguenot, ELIAS BOUDINOT, was the first president of the great nationalinstitution, the American Bible Society; and at his death, bequeathed toit a noble benefaction. The French Protestants were always ardent loversof the BIBLE, and John Jay succeeded Mr. Boudinot in his importantoffice of president to that noble institution. 'No one in America, ' saysthe eminent Dr. Baird, 'need blush at having one of these respectableHuguenots among his ancestors;' and Bancroft, the historian of our land, recognizes in them that moral elevation of which they gave so manyproofs in every country where they settled; and he adds: 'The childrenof the French Calvinists have certainly good reason to hold the memoryof their fathers in great honor. ' (Vol. Ii, p. 183. ) So think we. 

MACCARONI AND CANVAS. 

X. 

A WALK AROUND SEGNI. 

There are three quiet old places on the Continent that Caper alwaysremembers with solemn pleasure--Breda in Holland, Segni in Italy, Neufchâtel in Switzerland. He reposed in Breda, rested in Segni, wasseverely tranquil in Neufchâtel: the real charm of travelling is bestappreciated when one is able to pause in one's headlong career in somesuch place and meditate over it. Caper paused for many months at Segni. 

SEGNI, or Signia, a Latium city of the Volscians, was, after itscolonization by the Romans, always faithful to the Republic. Strabo, Pliny, Plautus, Martial, Juvenal, Silius, Italicus, DionysiusHalicarnassus, and Livy, all make mention, in one way or another, ofthis city. Little is known of its history, from the fact that it wasburned to the ground by the order of the Duke of Alva, viceroy ofNaples, on the 14th of August, 1557; and in the fire all records of thecity were destroyed. Its polygonal or Cyclopean walls, of Pelasgicorigin, still remain in many parts as perfect as they ever were:consisting of gigantic blocks of hewn limestone, they are fitted oneinto another with admirable precision; no mortar was used in layingthem, and there they stand, these well-named Cyclopean walls, for someof the stones are 12 feet long by 5 feet wide, firmly as if centuries oncenturies had not sent a myriad of storms to try their strength. Thereare several gates in these walls, noted among which is one called theSaracen's Gate; it is known in architecture from its indicating by itsform one of the first attempts toward the pointed arch. 

In walking through the town, you find here and there bits of middle-agearchitecture, which have escaped ruin; here a door, there a window, ofgraceful design, built around with the rough masonwork for which Segniis noted in later days; but the greater number of the houses areconstructed in the rudest manner, indicating the poverty and ignoranceof the majority of the inhabitants. It is, however, a decent poverty, for, to the credit of the town be it spoken, there was not, when Caperwas there, a professional beggar, excepting the friars, in or around it. 

Taking the first street--if a rough road winding around the top of themountain, and but four or five feet wide, may be called so--Caper saw atthe doors of the houses, standing chatting to each other, many oldwomen, their white hair flying in every direction, who, as they talked, knitted stockings; or, with distaff in hand, twirled the spindle, makingflax into thread for spinning, or wool into woof and web for weaving. Hearing a shuttle, he looked in at an open door, and found a young girlbusily weaving a heavy blue cloth at a queer old loom; not far from her, an elderly woman was weaving flax thread into coarse, heavy linen goods. Passing along, he heard the whir of millstones, and, entering a house, saw a girl working one of the handmills of the country; on a stand, where there was a stone basin, the girl turned in the wheat; anotherstone, fitting exactly in the basin, was attached to the ceiling by along pole; catching hold of this, she gave the stone a rotary motion, grinding the wheat very fairly. 

Suddenly Caper saw in the back part of the room a woman, holding whatseemed a large, red-headed caterpillar, without any fuzz on it; she wasevidently nourishing it in the way represented in that famous painting'The Roman Daughter, ' thus proving that it was a baby. Its resemblanceto the caterpillar arose from the way it was swathed: around all theSegnian infants they wind a strip of knit or woven cloth, about eightfeet long and four inches wide, fairly mummifying them; then, to crownthe work, they put on their little bullet heads, a scarlet cap withbrilliant flowers and ribbons, making the poor babies resemble anythingbut Christian productions. In a neighboring town they hang their babiesup in a wicker basket, resembling the birch-bark contrivances for ourIndian papooses. 

Continuing his walk, our artist next came to where they were building ahouse; and its future occupant, who was a man of some enterprise andaction, told Caper, with a long face, that he almost despaired of seeingit completed: the harvest came, and almost every workman went off to thewheat fields, leaving the house unfinished until they were ready torecommence work on it, well knowing that there were no other ones in thetown able to do their labor; however, those who mixed mortar, carriedtiles, and stone, and plaster, were hard at work. These laborers weregirls of from twelve to sixteen years old, and one or two of them, spiteof dirt and hard labor, were really handsome, with bright, intelligentcountenances. They earned one paul (ten cents) each a day, and seemedcontented and happy, joking with each other and laughing heartily nearlyall the time. Probably our Chippewa Indians would think twice beforethey set the young women of their tribe to hod-carrying as a livelihood;but then the Chippewas are savages. The hods carried by these girls ontheir heads were flat, wooden trays, square at each end: once poised onthe head, they balanced themselves, and were carried around without afall. This carrying on the head, by the women, from an eight-gallonbarrel of wine down to a sickle or pocket handkerchief, helps to givethem their straight forms and fine carriage of head, neck, andshoulders. 

Napoleon the First, in breaking down most of the feudal customs of thePapal States, should be regarded by the poor inhabitants as one of theirgreatest benefactors; still, many a remnant of the middle ages remainsfirmly marked in the habits of the country people. Even now theinhabitants of the Campagna live, not in isolated houses, but in smalltowns built around the once protecting castle or powerful monastery, where, in times past, they fled, when attacked in the fields by thefollowers of some house inimical to the one under whose protection theylived. Follow the entire Campagna, from Rome to Naples, by way ofFrosinone, and you will see the ruins of watch towers, built to warn theworkmen in the fields of the approaching enemy. Thus, in Segni, althoughthe fields cultured by the inhabitants, lay miles away at the foot ofthe mountain, yet every day seven eighths of the 5, 000 inhabitantswalked from four to six miles or more down the mountains to the scene oftheir daily labors, returning the same distance at sunset. Often andoften Caper saw the mother, unable to leave the infant at home, carry itin a basket on her head to the far-away fields, bringing it back atnight with the additional burden of corn shelled or wheat garnered inthe field. Trotting along gayly at her side, you may be sure, was theever-present black pig, with a long string wound around his body, bywhich he is attached to some tree or stone as soon as he reaches thefields, and thus prevented from rooting where he should not root. Theday's labor of his mistress finished, she unties him, wraps the stringaround his body, and he follows her up to the town with the docility ofa well-trained dog. 

It is the women, too, who daily walk four or five miles up the mountainfor their supply of firewood. Arriving at the forest of the commune, they collect split wood and fagots, tying them into round bundles, ayard long, and two or three feet in diameter, and return to Segni, carrying this small woodpile all the way on their heads. It is thewomen, too, who bring water from the fountains for their household use, in A copper vessels (_conche_) holding from two to three gallons: theseare placed on the head, and carried self-balancing sometimes for longdistances. At a fair held at Frosinone, Caper once saw several women, each one carrying on her head two of these conche filled with water, onebalanced on the other; and this for half a mile up a steep road, fromthe fountain at the foot of the mountain, to the town above. 

The women, too, do their fair share of harvesting; they cut the wheatwith sickles; then, after it is cut, separate the grains from the stalkby rubbing a handful of stalks with a small piece of wood in which aseries of iron rings are placed, making a rude rasp; collecting thegrains, they then carry them from the fields, sifting them at theirleisure in a large round sieve, suspended from a triangle of long poles;then, on a breezy day, you may see them standing over a large cloth, holding a double handful of wheat high above their heads, and letting itfall: the wind blows away the chaff, and the clean grain falls on theoutspread cloth. 

In the autumn, when the men are employed in the vintage, comes thechestnut season; and then the women, who are not busy in the vineyard, and who regard it as a frolic, go for miles up in the mountains, collecting the nuts, large as our horse chestnuts. They form no smallpart of the winter stock of food for the mountaineers, while the refusenuts are used to fatten the pet pig. We can have but small conception ofthe primeval look these chestnut woods wear, the trees growing to anenormous size, many a one being ten to twelve feet in diameter. Theweather is glorious during this season: clear, bright, and buoyantlyrefreshing, blow the autumn winds; and as Caper, day after day, wanderedamong the old trees, now helping an old woman to fill a sack with thebrown nuts, now clubbing the chestnuts from the trees for a young girl, he, too, voted chestnut gathering a rare good time. Far off, and nownear, the girls were singing their quaint wild songs. Thus heard, the_rondinella_ sounds well: it is of the woods and deserts; strange, barbaric, oriental, bacchantic, what you please, save dawdlingdrawing-room and piano-ic. 

To resume the walk around the town: Caper, after leaving the man who wasemploying the sylphide hod-carriers, called in at the shop were cigarswere sold, and outside of which was a tin sign, on which was painted thepapal coat-of-arms, and the usual words, indicating that the governmentmonopolies, salt and tobacco, were for sale. Having bought some cigars, he entered into conversation with the man who kept the store. Helearned, what he already knew, that everything in the town was done byhand, weaving, spinning, thrashing, grinding wheat and corn, &c. 

'Do you know, ' said Caper, 'that in some countries all these labors aredone by steam?'

It is dangerous to tell great truths; and after our artist had spoken, he saw, by the expression of the man's face, that he had placed himselfin danger; but suddenly the cigar-seller's face was illuminated withintelligence, as he exclaimed:

'Oh, you mean that infernal thing that goes _boo-hoo-hoo_? I saw it whenI was in Rome, last week: it's going to drag cars to Civita Vecchia onthe iron road. '

'That's it, ' answered Caper, greatly relieved. 

'_Benissimo!_ we never had anything of the kind; and what is more, WEDON'T WANT ONE!'

Caper walked out, determined to write to New York, and beg some of thegood people there to save a few missionaries from death among theFejees, and send them to Segni, where there was a wide field open forthe dissemination of knowledge. 

Passing along, he next came to the small square in front of the church, where once every week a market was held: here he found a man, who hadjust arrived with fresh fish from Terracina--the Terracina of the operaof 'Fra Diavolo. ' Among the small fish, sardines, &c. , which werebrought to town that day, in time for Friday's dinner, when every onekept _vigilia_, was one large fish, which our artist determined to buyand present to his landlord at the inn. He asked its price. 

'That fish, ' said the fishman, 'is for the dinner of the Illustrissimoand Reverendissimo Monsignore the Bishop; and if you were to turn everyscale in its body into baioccho, _and give them all to me_, you couldn'thave it. '

Caper was sorely tempted to turn the scales in his own favor, for heknew, if he were to pay well, he could bear off the fish triumphantly, spite of the seller's declaration; but a thought of the sore afflictionhe would bring into the mind of the fat old gentleman in purple, with agold chain around his neck, who rejoiced in the name of bishop, deterredhim from his heretical proceeding, and he walked away in deepmeditation. 

The patron saint of Segni is San Bruno; and, to do him honor, everyother male baby born in the town is called Bruno; so our artist, in hiswalks around town, heard this name howled, cried, screamed, shrieked, called, and appealed to, on an average once in five minutes, through thehours when the male inhabitants were about and awake. This similarity innames was, by no means, accompanied by similarity in appearance, forthere were more light-haired and blue-eyed men by this name in the placethan any one, having the popular idea of what an Italian looks like, would believe could be found in a town of the same size in America. Trying to account for the Norse look of many of the Segnians, and theOriental look of many others, Caper climbed up to the top of themountain above the town, and seating himself in the shadow of the oldCyclopean wall, looked down the mountain side to the broad valley belowhim. 

'As all roads lead to Rome, 'soliloquized he, 'it's no wonder that thosetwo famous old ways down there in the valley, the Via Trajana and theVia Latina, should have once been passed over by white-haired, blue-eyedGoths, and, seeing the old town perched up here, they should haveclimbed up, having strong legs. Once here, they put all the men to thesword, made love to the girls, plundered all that was plunderable; drankup all the liquor, Sambuca, Rosoglio, 'Rhum di Giamaica, ' and Acquaviva, they could put their paws on; then, having a call further on, leftthe girls, small babes, and other _impedimenta_ (baggage!), rushing ontoRome to settle accounts with their bankers there, like hon-o-rable men. _So_ you find many flaxen-haired, sky-eyed people up here, and they arerough and bold and independent. 

Years and years after them, clambering over the mountains from theseacoast, came the Saracens--oh, you were the boys!--and they, being arefined and elegantly educated circle, compared with the Goths, ofcourse did the same amount of slaughtering and love-making, only morerefinedly and elegantly; cutting off heads instead of knocking them in;and with the gold spoons and other instruments that they found in thechurch, instead of making sword hilts and helmets, they at once workedthem into graceful, crescent-shaped earrings, and curious rings, chains, and brooches, giving them to the girls and winning their hearts in theold-fashioned style. The girls, for their part, declared to each otherthat when these odious Moors went away, they would give all the earringsand brooches back to the church. But they forgot to; which accounts fortheir wearing them, or those of similar pattern, to this day. 

The gentle Saracens, moreover, wishing to introduce their own school ofmusic, taught the girls to sing; proof of which is the horrible songsthe contadini still have, resembling in no wise pious Christian hymns, but rather a cross between a growl to Odin and a yell to Allah! A growlto Odin, for the girls could not forget the Goths, albeit they only knewthem through reports of their foremothers. 

Then the Saracens turned their attention to crockery ware, pots, pans, and water jars; forming like fruits and flowers the yielding clay, andestablishing models that are every hour to be seen around one in thisold nest. Clothes, too, they thought, should be made as they saw 'fit;'and, accordingly, head-dresses and dresses, under garments, &c. , _à laSaracenesca_, were all the rage; and as the colors were in no wisesombre or melancholy to behold, the girls took kindly to them, and, slightly modified, wear them still. When you see the _pane_, the whitecloth worn on the women's heads, remember it was once an Oriental_yashmak_, falling around and concealing the face of the Italian ladylove of a Saracen; but when the Saracens departed, they rolled up theveil and disclosed to delighted Christians the features of Rita orMaria, who figured for a time as Zoe or Fatima. 

With their religion, the Saracens were not so successful--they could notmake it popular; so they waived this point, contented with having setthe fashions, and introduced their own style of music, crockery, andjewelry. 

Thus reflecting, Caper stopped short, regarded his watch, found it wasnear dinner time--the pastoral hour of noon-day--and then turned to walkdown to the inn. On his way he passed a store having French calicoes inthe window, and mourned in his heart to think how short a time it wouldbe before these became popular, and the homemade picturesque dresses ofthe female Segnians would be discarded. The time, too, was fastcoming--with the railroad from Rome to Naples--when travellers willoverrun these mountain towns, and the price of board shoot up from fortycents to a dollar or two: then the inhabitants will learn geography andbecome mercenary, and will learn arithmetic and blaspheme (in their way)at _forestieri Inglese_, _Americani_, _Francese_, or _Tedeschi_, andcheat them. Then the peace of the Volscians will have departed, never, oh, never more to return. 

Then the women will wear--bonnets! and cheap French goods; will nolonger look like moving woodyards, bringing fagots on their heads downmountain sides; no longer bear aloft the graceful _conche_ filled withsweet water from the fountain, for hydraulic rams will do theirbusiness; no longer lead the sportive pig to pastures new, but pen himup, and feed him when the neighbors are not looking on! These days willsorely try the men: now they labor in the fields in shirts and drawers, never thinking of putting on their pantaloons until they return to thevery gates of the town, where, at sunset, you may see them, ten ortwelve deep, thus employed before entering the city; but in the futurethey will have to observe _les convenances_ and make their toilette inthe fields. This they will do with great grumbling, returning homeward, and they will sing _rondinelle_ bearing severely on the _forestieri_ whohave ruined the good old pod-augur days when they made _vendetta_without trouble: thus reflecting, the donkeys they ride, while theirwives walk and carry a load, will receive many virulent punches intendedfor other objects. 

'Signor Giacomo, dinner is served, ' said the landlord, as Caper enteredthe old inn. 

Cool wine, roast lamb, wild pigeons, crisp salad, with a broiledpartridge; great bunches of luscious grapes, figs freshly picked, _and_maccaroni à la Milanese. Such was our artist's dinner that day. Patriarchally simple of a necessity; but, then, what can you expect in atown where the British Lion has never yet growled for a bushel of rawbeef when he is fed, or swore at the landlord for not having a pint ofhay boiled in hot water (tea?) for breakfast, when he is nervous?

FIVE FAIRS AND FESTIVALS. 

Do not believe, in spite of all you hear about the benighted PapalStates, that the people spend their holidays groaning and begging todepart from this vale of tears: on the contrary, the ignorant wretchesbelieve in enjoying every moment of life; and, to judge by the Segnians, who are by no means dyspeptical, they do so with all their might. Theyknow, if they fall sick, good Doctor Matteucci attends them carefullyand well, without any charge, for he receives a salary from the commune. They know, if they have good health and do their work, they will berewarded every now and then with a holiday, in which religion is sotempered with lottery tickets, wine drinking, fireworks, horse races, and trading, that, shorn lambs as they are, paying to the church threecents for every twenty-five pounds of corn they may grind, and as largea portion of their crops for the rent of the lands they till, they stillhave jolly good times at the fairs and festivals in their own andneighboring towns. 

Every town has its patron saint, and it is in honor of his day that theyhold one grand festival each year. To accommodate temporal affairs, afair is also held on the same day, so that the country people of theneighborhood may purchase not only the necessaries, but the simpleluxuries they need or long for. 

Besides the only principal festival and fair in Segni to San Bruno, already described, they had three minor celebrations of minor saints, substitutes, as Rocjean declared, for Pomona, Bacchus, and Ceres:certainly, the saints' days fell very curiously about the same timetheir predecessors were worshipped. 

It is, however, of five festivals and fairs held in five neighboringtowns, that the present chapter treats; so let the drums beat while ourthree artists proceed to enjoy on paper the days they celebrated. 

One evening, the vetturino, Francesco, came to the trio and told themthat on the next day but one, Sunday, there would be a fair and _festa_at Frosinone, a town about twenty-three miles from Segni, and that ifthey wished to go, he had three seats to hire in his _vettura_. Havingheard that the costumes to be seen there were highly picturesque, andanxious to study the habits of the people in holiday guise, our artistsdetermined to go. At daybreak on the appointed morning, havingbreakfasted and filled their flasks with wine, they started with a guideto walk down to Casa Bianca, a small _osteria_, distant, as the guideassured them, about two miles; three miles, as Francesco swore to; fourmiles, as Gaetano, the landlord declared; and six miles as Caper andRocjean were ready to affirm to. Down the mountain road they scrambled, only losing their patience when they found they had to wade a smallmarsh, where their tempers and polished boots were sorely tried. Onceover, they reached Casa Bianca, and found the vettura there, havingarrived an hour before from Rome, thirty odd (and peculiar) milesdistant; and now with the same horses they had to make twenty-threemiles more before ten A. M. , according to agreement. Rocjean and Capersat outside the carriage, while Dexter sat inside, and conversed withtwo other passengers, cheerful and good-natured people, who did all intheir power to make everybody around them contented and jolly. 

The road went through the fertile Sacco valley; right and left richpasture grounds, or wheat and corn fields; the mountains on either siderising in grandeur in the early sunlight, their tops wreathed with veilsof rising mist. They soon passed Castelaccio (the termination _accio_ isone, according to Don Boschi, of vilification; consequently, the namemay be translated Bigbad Castle): this castle belongs to PrinceTorlonia, apropos of which prince it is rather singular that all hismoney cannot buy good Latin; for any one may read at Frascati, staringyou in the face as it does, as you wind up the villa, engraved on alarge marble tablet, an inscription touching

 TORLONIA ET UXSOR EJUS, ETC. 

UXSOR may be Latin, but it is the kind that is paid for, and not thespontaneous gift of classic Italy. 

The carriage next passed through Ferentino, _Ferentinum_ of theVolscians, where it stopped for a time to let Rocjean see the stonecalled _La Fata_, whereon is inscribed the noble generosity ofQuintilius Priscus, who gave _crustula_ and _mulsum_ (cakes and mead) tothe old people; _sportulæ_ (cold victuals?) to the decurions, and _nucumsparsiones_ (a sprinkling of nuts) for the small children. 

After which antiquarian research, and a drink of wine at the _Hotel desÉtrangères_, the trio called loudly on Francesco to drive on; for thename of the inn suggested similar signboards, Hotel d'Angleterre, HotelVitoria, Hotel des Isles Brittaniques, at all of which one or other ofour travellers had been savagely fleeced. 

The carriage at last arrived at the tavern, at the foot of the mountainon which Frosinone stands, and our artists found that the ascent must bemade on foot: this, in the face of the broiling sun, was equal to twohot baths at least. However, they determined to take it easily, andaccordingly tarried for a while by an old bridge crossing a smallstream, running bright and clear, where cattle were drinking; then theystopped at the neighboring fountain, where the girls were filling copperwater jars, and dusty contadini were washing themselves in order topresent a clean face at the fair; and listened with pleasure to thehearty laughter and holiday jests bandied about with profusion. Thus inrefreshed spirits they commenced the ascent. 

On the brow of the mountain, in front rank of the houses of the city, arose the walls of what they thought at first glance was a very largefactory; they subsequently learned it was a male-factory or prison;this, with the governor's palace and other lofty buildings, givesFrosinone a stately air, only lost on entering the place and findingthe streets narrow, steep, and not particularly clean. On entering thestreet leading to the main gate of entrance, their ears were saluted bythe squealing and grunting of many hogs collected together in smalldroves, on both sides the way, for sale or barter. Here stood a bronzedpeasant, dressed only in shirt and drawers, with boots up to his knees;a steeple crowned straw hat, with a large carnation pink in it, shadinghis closely shaved face, on which no hair was seen save two long curlspendent in front of his ears, while the back part of his head was shavednearly as smooth as his face. This man held in his arms a small pig in aviolent state of squeals. Mixed up among the pigs were many womendressed in lively colored costumes, looking graceful and pretty, andgaining added effect from the dark tones of the old gray houses aroundthem. Advancing upward, at times at angles of forty-five degrees andmore, through narrow streets crowded with picturesque houses (if theydid threaten to tumble down), they at last reached the Piazza: here thesqueeze commenced, crockery, garlic, hardware, clothing, rosaries andpictures of the saints, flowers; while donkeys, gensdarmes, jackasses, and shovel hats, strangers, and pretty girls were all pressing withmight and main--they did not seem to know where--probably to the nearestwine shops, which were driving a brisk trade. 

Reaching an inn, our artists ordered dinner, and amused themselves, while it was being prepared, looking out of the window at the crowds inthe street beneath. On the opposite side of the way were two openwindows, evidently 'behind the scenes' of the main church, since many ofthe principal actors in the ceremonies were here attiring themselves incurious robes prior to their appearing in public. A tallow-faced lookingyouth, with no hair on the extreme crown of his head, while swinging along wax candle around, struck a fat old gentleman, with a black silkgown and white lace bertha over it, in the back; whereupon, I regret towrite it, the fat old gentleman struck the tallow-faced youth theseverest kind of a blow below the belt, entirely contrary to the rulesof the P. R. Dexter, having watched the performance, at its conclusionshouted for very joy; whereupon the stout man, raising his eyes, saw inthe opposite windows the three _forestieri_, and I do assure you thatsuch a look of malevolence as crossed his face for a moment containedall the Borgias ever knew of poisons and assassinations. Luckily, theartists did not have to go to confession to that man. 

Dinner finished, Rocjean proposed a walk. They first went to the oldchurch, but found its interior ruined with whitewash and tawdrydecorations. The music, however, was excellent, but the crowd ofworshippers intense; so they repaired to the cattle market, in thepiazza in front of the prison. They had been there but a short time, before the procession in honor of the patron saint of Frosinone, whosefull-length seated effigy was carried by bearers, passed them. Alongwith other emblems borne by priests or laymen was a cross, apparently ofsolid wood, the upright piece fully twelve feet long, and as large roundat the base as your thigh; the transverse piece of the cross wasproportionately large; this was borne with ease by a moderate-sized man. Caper was at a loss to account for the facility with which the bearerhandled pieces of timber as large as small joists of a house; so heasked a good-natured looking citizen standing near him, if that woodencross was not very heavy?

'Eh! that heavy? Why, it's not wood; it's made of stove-pipes!'

The citizen also told Caper that the seated effigy of the patron sainthad had a hard time of it some years ago, for the country aroundFrosinone suffering from a long drought, the inhabitants had in vainprayed, begged, and supplicated the aforementioned saint to send themrain; but he remained obdurate, until at last, seeing him so stubborn, they seized him, in spite of the priests, carried him down to thebridge, neck and heels, and threatened him, by all his brother andsister saints, to put him to bed--bed of the stream (it was nearlydry)--unless he speedily gave them a good supply of rain. In a couple ofdays, sure enough, the rain came down, and in such torrents, that therewas a grand rush of the country people from the vicinity, begging thesaint to hold up. Since that time he has behaved very decently, and justnow is in high favor. 

There were some fine cattle at the fair; and Dexter, noticing a peculiarand becoming headdress to several of the long-horned oxen, made of theskin of some animal, ornamented with bright-colored strips of woollenwith tassels at the end, tried to purchase a pair, but found the ownersgenerally unwilling to sell them: however, one man at last agreed tosell a pair made of wolf-skin, with bright red, yellow, and green stripsand tassels, for a fair price, and Dexter at once bought them--as astudy, and also as an ornament for his studio. 

The tombola in the Piazza Tosti drew together a large crowd; and then itwas that Rocjean was in his element, Caper delighted, and Dexterrejoiced in the study of costumes and motives for paintings. The strawhats worn here looked more picturesque than the black felt conical hatsof the other end of the valley, but the 'soaplocks' of the men werevillanous. The women were brilliant in holiday attire, among theirdresses showing that half-modern Greek, half Neapolitan style, unitingthe classic with the middle age. The _ciociare_, as those who wear_ciocie_ or sandals are called, were there in full force: one of thesemen, with whom Rocjean had a long conversation, told our artist that theprice paid for enough leather for a pair was forty cents. Each sandal ismade of a square piece of sole leather, about twelve inches long by fiveinches wide, and is attached to the foot by strings crossing from oneside to the other, and bending the leather into the rough resemblance ofa shoe. The leather is sold by weight, and the _ciociara_ declared thatsandals were far better than shoes. 

'But, when it rains, your feet are wet, ' suggested Rocjean. 

'_Seguro_' (certainly), answered _ciociara_. 

'And when it snows, they are wet; and when it is muddy, they won't keepthe mud out; and when it's dusty, where is the dust?'

'Down there in the Campagna!' answered the man. 'But you seem to forgetthat we wrap cloths over our feet and legs, as high as the knee, and tiethem all on with strings; or else our women knit brown woollen leggings, which cover our feet and legs. Well, good or bad, they are better for_us_ (_noi oltri_) than shoes. '

Fireworks and a ball at the Governor's palace closed that saint's day;and the next afternoon our artists left the town to return to Segni; butas toward midnight they began to ascend the long, steep road leading tothe town, they were overtaken by a thunderstorm, which for grandeurequalled anything that Caper at least had ever seen. The lightning wasnearly incessant, at one flash revealing the valley below them, anddistant mountain peaks after peaks trembling in white light, then allblack as black could be; patches of road in front of the old carriage, silver one second, sable another; while the thunder cracked and roared, echoing and reechoing from rock to rock, ringing away up the wild gorgearound which the road wound. The rain fell in torrents, and pebbles andstones loosened from the mountain sides came falling around them. Francesco, the driver, on foot, urged the tired horses onward withblows and the most powerful language he could bring to bear; he accusedthe off-horse of being a pickpocket and an _arciprete_, and a robber ofa small family, of which Francesco assured him he knew he was thefather. Then the mare Filomena came in for her share of vilifications, being called a '_giovinastra_ (naughty girl), a _vecchierellaccia_ (vileold hag), a--' Here the rain, pebbles, lightning, and thunderinterrupted the driver, and Rocjean told him to take breath and a pullat his flask, which was filled with _Sambuca_. Thus refreshed, althoughsoaked to the skin, Francesco livened up, and from despondency passed tohope, then to joy, finally landing the old carriage near the gate ofSegni, in time for the artists to see far below them the clouds rollingrapidly away, and hear the thunder grumbling far off, over some othertown, some other benighted travellers. 

VALMONTONE was the next town visited, and the festival in honor of itspatron saint, Luigi Gonzago, was a decided success; the singing in thechurch operatically excellent; a good-sized tombola; a funny dinner inthe back room of a grocery store, one half of the floor of which wascovered with shelled corn, while the other half was occupied by theunited legs of two tables, a dozen chairs, four dogs, one cat, six maleand three female country people. There was a lamb roasted whole, a smallbarrel of wine, plenty of bread, find-your-own-knives-and-be-happydinner. Coming out of this small den, and passing a fine large house, opposite the grand palace of the Prince of Valmontone, behold an Italianacquaintance of Caper's standing in a balcony with a very handsomewoman; another moment, and Caper was invited in, and passed from povertyto wealth in the twinkling of an eye. Rooms full of guests, tablescovered with damask linen, silver, flowers, crystal glasses, delicatefood (too late!), good wine (just in time!), charming ladies. 

'_Condessa_, permit me to present Signor' Cahpeer, Americano. '

A rich, full, musical voice, lovely eyes, a brilliant toilette--is itany wonder the heart of our artist beat _con animo_, when the beautifulwoman welcomed him to Valmontone, and hoped it would not be his lastvisit. Other introductions, other glasses of sparkling wine--then offfor the street, excitement, music, coffee, and a cigar; pretty girlswith tender eyes; the prince's stables, with hawks nailed to the doors, and blood horses in their stalls; contadini, cowbells, jackasses; ridehome on horseback by moonlight; head swimming, love coming in, funcoming out. Exit festival the second. 

GAVIGNANO was the scene of the third festival; it is a small town, lyingat the foot of Segni. Caper went there on horseback, and, after aregular break-neck ride down the mountain, the path winding round like astring on an apple, arrived there in time to escape a pouring rain, andfind himself in a large hall with three beautiful sisters, the Roses ofMontelanico, numerous contadini friends, and the wine bottles goinground in a very lively and exhilarating manner. The rain ceasing, Caperwalked out to see the town, when his arm was suddenly seized, and, turning round, who should it be but Pepe the rash, Pepe thepersonification of Figaro: a character impossible for northern people toplace outside of a madhouse, yet daily to be found in southern Europe. Rash, headstrong, full of deviltry, splendid appetite, and not muchconscience--volatile, mocking, irrepressible. 

Pepe seized Caper by the arm with a loud laugh, and, only saying, '_Evviva_, Signor' Giacomo, come along!' without giving him breathingtime, rushed him up narrow streets, down dirty alleys, through a crowdof mules, mud, and mankind, until they both caught a glimpse of a smallchurch with green garlands over the door. Hauling Caper inside, hedragged him through a long aisle crowded with kneeling worshippers, smashed him down on a bench in front of the main altar, tearing half ayard of crimson damask and nearly upsetting the priest officiating; andthen, while Caper (red in the face, and totally unfit to hear the finechorus of voices, among which Mustafa's, the soprano, came ringing out)was composing himself to listen, Pepe grabbed him with a 'Music's over;_andiamo_ (let's go). Did you hear Mustafa? _Bella voce_, tra-la-leeeee!Mustafa's a contadino; I know his pa and ma; they changed him when onlyfive years old. Thought he was a Turk, didn't you? He sings in theSistine chapel. Pretty man, fat; positively not a sign of a beard. '

Struggling to escape, Caper was rushed out of church, and into a _caffe_to have a tumblerful of boiling coffee poured down his throat, and againbe expressed up hill at a break-neck rate, catching sights oftumble-down old houses, mud, water, flowers, peasants, costumes, donkeys, until he was landed in the Gran' Piazza. Whew!

'Must see the hall where the concert is to-night. Beautiful girl, _bellisima, pfisp!_ (imitating kiss) girl from Rome; sings three pieces, Ernani, Norma, _pfisp!_ Come along!

Smack, bang! into the hall, where the silence and presence of a selectfew, including Monsignore and the Governatore in council assembled, commanded silence: Pepe wouldn't hear of it anywheres, so again theywere in the open air; the band was playing good music in the square, thetombola was about to commence, and contadini were busy with pencils andtickets, ready to win the eighty scudi put up. 

Tombola commenced, and Pepe at once supervised all the tickets withinreach. 'Bravo, twenty-seven! you've got it, Tonio; scratch it, mylamb. --You haven't, Santi, _poverino mio_. --It's _non c'é_, Angeluccio. --Ah, Bruno, always lucky. --Fifty-four, _Santa Maria_, whowould have thought it?--_Caro_ Bernardo, _only_ one more number to winthe terno!'

Somebody won the tombola at last, and Pepe told Caper he should wait forthe fireworks and the concert. 'Beautiful girl, ah, _bella_, sings threepieces;' here he burst out with that song

 _'Ninella mia di zucchero, Prende 'sto core, ed abbraccialo;_'

not waiting for the end of which, Caper interrupted him by saying thathe should not wait for the evening, as he intended returning to Segni atonce. 

'Will you?' asked Pepe. 'Oh, _bravo!_ good idea. Concert room will becrowded to suffocation; get hot, perspire, catch cold. Fireworksnothing. I'll go with you; great fools to wait. Here is a wine-shop; letus refresh!'

In they went, and finished a quart, after which Pepe proposed visitinganother wine-shop, where they had some frascati, good and sweet. So hehurried Caper along so fast through mud and narrow streets, all the waydown hill, that his feet could not begin to hold on the slippery stones, and both went ahead on the plan of not being able to stop; at last theyreached a landing place, where the wine was sold; hastening in, theynearly fell over a tall, splendid-looking girl, who was standing in thehall. 

'_Iddio!_ it's my _cara_ Giulia, lovely as ever. Come with us and finisha bottle; this is our friend Giacomo, Americano, brave youth, _allegro_!'

'It pleases me well to make the acquaintance of the Signor; I have oftenseen him in Segni--'

'And _now_ you'll fall in love with him, _E tu non pienz' a mi_, ''

sang Pepe. 'This comes of my headlong hurry introducing pretty girls tointeresting strangers. Ah, _bella_, Giulia!

'_Zitto!_ Pepe, and pour me out a glass of wine. '

Pepe poured out the wine, one glass after another. Suddenly springingfrom his seat, he said, 'Wait here a minute. I see Gaetano: will be backagain _prestissimo!_'

He went, and Caper and Giulia were left seated, talking merrily over thewine. There were stars shining when Giulia bid good night to Caper, yetPepe did not return; he had seized some new idea, may-be the prettyRoman who sang at the concert. Then Caper saddled his horse and rode outinto the night--glad that he had met black-eyed Giulia. 

The night rides up the mountain! Here's romance, real and beautiful. Areyou not treading an old Roman road, over which the legions have marchedto victory, war chariots rattled? Up the mountains, on the old road onceleading over the mountains to Terracina, the _Tarracina_ of the Romans, who made it one of their naval stations; up that road you go, trustingsolely to your horse, one slip of whose foot would send you intoeternity _via_ a ravine some hundred feet sheer down. Here, bright lightfrom a _casina_ where the contadini are loading mules with grapes to bepressed in the city up there near the stars! High above you, nothing buta wall of black rock, up, up, so high! Stars gleaming down, the comettailing from side to side of the ravine, while the path in the ragged, jagged, storm-gullied rock is so dark you see nothing: your horse stops, his hind feet slip--no! he clings, his hoofs are planted firm; up hegoes, and there, in the hands of Providence, you are tossed and pitched, as he winds up and plunges down. The merry ringing, jingling bells ofmules ahead, and the voices of their drivers: turn a corner, and thebright light of torches flashes in your eyes. Look again and earnestlyat the beautiful scene: mules, drivers, black rocks, olive trees above, all flamboyant in the ruddy light, appearing and disappearing; a weird, wild scene. Up, up, long is the way; past the fountain where the starsare flashing in the splashing waters; past gardens; past the mountainpath at last. _Ecco_, the inn of Gaetano. 

ANAGNI held its festival in honor of San Magno (_Prottetore dellaCittà_) on the 19th day of August. Gaetano, the landlord, invited Caperto attend it, putting his famous white horse at the disposal of theartist, accompanying him on a small bay beast that was extremely fond ofshowing his heels to the surrounding objects. Leaving Segni about teno'clock in the morning, they had hardly reached a bridle path down themountain, nothing more in fact than a gully, when they were joined by acavalcade of four other Segnians. One of them, the 'funny fellow' of theparty, was mounted on a very meek-looking donkey, and enlivened the hotride across the valley of the Sacco by spasmodic attempts to lead thecavalcade and come in ahead of the others. He had a lively time as theyapproached the city, and a joke with every foot passenger on the way;but Gaetano, whose reserve was one of his strong points, and who wasanxious to enter Anagni under favorable auspices, gave the word toCaper, and in a few minutes they left cavalcade and donkey-rider farbehind. 

Anagni, the ancient _Anagnia_, was the capital of the Hernici. Thefavorite residence, in the middle ages, of several of the popes, itstill shows in its building marks of the wealth it once enjoyed. Havingstabled their horses with a friend of Gaetano's, who insisted on theirfinishing the best part of a _bottiglia_ of red wine with him, theartist, under the landlord's guidance, set out to see the town. Theyclimbed up street to the cathedral, a fine old pile trembling with musicand filled with worshippers, paintings of saints in extremis, flowers, wax candles, votary offerings, and heat; then coming out, and feelingwolfish, looked round for a place where they could find dinner! Here itwas! a scene that would have cheered Teniers: a very large room, itswalls brown with smoke; long wooden tables, destitute of cloth, butcrowded with country people eating, drinking, talking, enjoyingthemselves to the utmost extent. Forks were invisible, but every man hadhis own knife, and Caper, similarly provided, whipped out his longpocket weapon and commenced an attack on roast lamb and bread, as iftime were indeed precious. Wine was provided at Fair price; and, withfruit, he managed to cry at last, 'Hold, enough!'

Gaetano, having a message for a young priest in the seminary there, asked Caper how he would like to see the interior of the building, andthe way the _prete_ lived? Caper assenting, they entered a fine largeestablishment with broad walls and high ceilings, and mounting to thesecond story and knocking at the door of a chamber, they were admittedby a tall, thin, sallow young man, about eighteen years old, evidentlythe worse for want of exercise, and none the stronger minded for hisnarrow course of education and instruction. 

Gaetano introduced Caper to the young priest, and the artist, who, amoment before entering the room, was as lively as the Infant Bacchus, atonce became melancholy as the Infant Samuel, and a feeling of such pityseized him, that, endeavoring not to show it, he turned it into asentiment of interest in the young priest and his surroundings, admiringthe beautiful view from the window, and, turning inward to a poor wreathof paper flowers hanging over a holy-water fount attached to the wall, praised for their resemblance to natural flowers. (Was that untruthunforgiven?)

'I made them, ' said the young priest; 'but they are nothing to the onesI have made for our church in Montelanico. I will show those to you. 'Opening a large paper box, he showed Caper wreaths and festoons of paperflowers. 'I have spent weeks on weeks over them, ' he continued, 'andthey will decorate the church at the next _festa_. I spend all myleisure hours making artificial flowers. '

In answer to a question from Caper of the dress he then wore was theusual one worn by the seminarists on important occasions, the youngpriest answered him that it was not, and at once produced the fulldress, putting on the upper garment, a species of cassock, in order toshow him how it looked. He next called his attention to a curious oldwork, full of engravings illustrating the different costumes of thedifferent orders of priests, and was in full discourse to describe themall, when Gaetano told him that he was sorry, but that he had to go, ashe had some matters to attend to at the fair. So Caper bid the youngpriest good-by, saying he regretted that he had not time to furtherstudy the ecclesiastical costumes. A feeling of relief seized him whenhe was once more in the open air--thoughts of gunning, fishing, fighting, anything, so long as it was not the making paper flowers bythat poor, pale-faced boy: it was terrible!

There are several resident families in Anagni having titles; these areknown as the _stelle d'Anagni_ (stars of Anagni), and number among theladies many beautiful faces, if those pointed out to him were the truestars. But it was, while smoking a cigar over a cup of coffee, that hesaw enter the café without exception one of the loveliest and mostattractive women he met in Italy. The word _simpatica_, so often used byItalians, expressing, as it does, so much in so short a space, exactlyapplied to the charming woman who passed him, as she entered the roomwhere he was seated. She was accompanied by several gentlemen, one ofwhom, on whose arm she leaned, having the most character of all theothers in his face, and the finest-looking man in figure and carriage, Caper selected as her husband--and he was right. 

Gaetano, having finished his business, soon entered the café in companywith a dashing, handsome-looking man, in half ecclesiastical costume;for though he wore a shovel hat and long-tailed black frock coat, yethis other clothes, though black, had the air of being made by an _à lamode_ tailor. His manner was cordial, frank, hearty. He proposed a walkaround the town, to see what was going on among the _villani_. Capercalling his attention to the lady mentioned above, the ecclesiastic, making his excuses for his sudden leave, at once hurried over to saluteher, and was evidently very cordially received. He returned in a fewminutes to Caper. 

'It is the _Principessa ----_, and she insists on having an introductionto the American. She is making the _villegiatura_ among these mountaintowns for a frolic. She will be in Segni, with her husband, the Signor----, and it will be pleasant for you to know them while there. '

'Introduce me by all means. She is the most beautiful woman I have seenin Italy. '

The introduction was made, and our artist surpassed himself inconversing intelligibly, much to the delight of the fair Italian and herfriends, who declared they were prepared to converse with him solely bysigns. Promising that when they came to Segni he should not fail to callupon them, and give them a long account of the savage life he livedamong his Indian brethren in America, he laughingly bid them good day. 

The dashing priest now went with Caper and Gaetano through the crowdedstreets, pointing out objects of interest, architectural and human; pastbooths where all kinds of merchandise was exposed for sale, out to seethe ancient massive walls of travertine, where divers stunning objectswere carved, inscriptions, &c. Then they found a wine shop, where it wascool and tolerably quiet, and smoked and drank until sunset, having muchsport conversing with the amiable _villane_, who were as comfortablytipsy as their circumstances would permit. At sunset, the Piazza Grandewas brilliant with hangings, crimson and gold, and colored tapestry hungfrom the windows of the surrounding houses. Here the tombola was held, and here the crowd was excited as usual; the lucky ones bearing off theprizes were in such rapturous state of bliss--'one might have stuck pinsinto them without their feeling it. '

About sunset, Gaetano and Caper saddled their horses, and left the city, striking over the valley to Segni, passing on the road country peoplemounted on donkeys, or travelling along on foot, nine tenths of whomwere vigorously canvassing--the life of Saint Magno?--no, indeed, butthe chances of the lottery!

There was to have been the next day, at Anagni, a curious chase ofbuffaloes, in accordance with some passage in the life of San Magno, asthe people said; but, according to Rocjean, more probably some neglectedceremony of the ancient heathens, which the party in power, finding theycould not abolish, gracefully tacked on to the back of the protector ofthe city. These kind of things are done to an alarming extent aroundRome; and the Sieur de Rocjean, when he lost his calendar containing thedates of all the festivals, said it was of no importance--he had andexcellent Lempriere!

The fifth festival--if you have patience to read about it--was held atGENAZZANO, and was decidedly the most celebrated one of the season. Itcame off on the 8th of September, and for costumes, picturesqueness, andgeneral effect, might have been called, to copy from piano literature, _Le Songe d'un Artiste_. 

The town itself looks as if it had just been kicked out of a theatre. Round towers at entrance gates, streets narrow and all up hill, thetiles on the houses running down to see what is going on in the gutter, quaint old houses, gray with time, with latticed windows, queer olddoors, a grand old castle in ruins. It is one of the scenes you long somuch to see before you come abroad, and which you so seldom find alongthe Grande Route. Spend a summer in the mountain towns of Italy! amongthe Volscian mountains or hills--and have your eyes opened. 

As Caper entered the gate, the first objects meeting his sight were: aprocession of genuine pilgrims, dressed precisely as you see them inRobert le Diable, or Linda di Chamouni, or on the stage generally--longgray robes down to their feet, cocked hats with cockle shells, longwands; some barefoot, some with sandals: on they passed, singingreligious songs. Then came the peasantry, all in perfect theatricalharmony, costumes rigidly correct _à la Sonnambula_. German artistsdressed in Sunday clothes _à la Der Freyschutz_. A café with festoons oflemon-peel hung from window to window--they are not up to this idea in_Fra Diavolo_. Pretty girls in latticed windows, with red boddices, white sleeves, flowers in their hair--_legitimate Italian drama_. Crockery-ware in piles--_low comedy_. A man with a table, Sambuca andAcqua-vita bottles on it, and wee glasses, one cent a drink:_melodrama_. Fresh oranges and figs, pumpkin-seed and pine cones; ahouse with mushrooms strung on thread, hanging from window towindow--this was not for festival display, but is the common way of thecountry. Notices of the _festa_, containing programme of the day, including amusements, ecclesiastical and secular, hung up alongside thestands where they were selling lottery tickets--_tragedy_. Fountains, with groups of peasantry drinking, or watering horses anddonkeys--_pantomime_. Priests, in crow-black raiment, and canal-boat orshovel hats--_mystery_. Strangers from Rome, in the negro-minstrel styleof costume, if young men; or in the rotund-paunch and black-raimentdress, if elderly men; or in the _chiffonée_ style, if Roman womenattempting the last Parisian fashion--_farce_. 

Here are the booths with rosaries, crucifixes, Virgin Mary's holy-waterholders, medals of Pio Nono, or jewelry; gold crescent earrings, _spadine_ (long silver hair pins); silver hearts, legs, arms, for votiveofferings, and crosses without number. 

Caper entered the church; it was filled, and stifling with heat andfrankincense, and contadini, and wax lights burning before the shrine, on which the sun shone. There were beautiful faces among the _pajine_(people in fine raiment), showing what can be made from the _contadine_(people in coarse clothes) by not overworking them. 

Once more our artist was in the pure air, and, walking up the mainstreet, came to a house with a beautifully carved stone window, halfByzantine, half Gothic, while a house on the opposite side of the streetboasted of two other windows finely carved. While looking at them, Caperwas hailed by name, and a stout, fresh-colored English artist, namedWardor, whom he had known in Rome, came over and welcomed him toGenazzano. Wardor, it turned out, was spending the summer there, as hehad done the year before; consequently, there was not a nook or cornerin the old town he did not know; and if he had not been so lazy, hecould have filled his sketch book with a hundred picturesque studies. But no; with the keenest appreciation of every bit of color, everygraceful pose of a human figure, every beautiful face, every fine effectof light or shadow--he made no sign. _His_ legitimate function wasfriendly guide to the stranger, and in this office he carried Caper allover the old castle, out to the long shady walk on the esplanade behindit, pointed out beautiful views over the valley; finally, showing Caperhis studio, which, as it was a large room, and his _padrona_ couldimpose on his good nature, was fairly glittering with copper pans, hungon the walls when not in use in the kitchen. On an easel was a painting, to be called The King of the Campagna; all that was apparent was thehead and horns of the king. Wardor had thus actually spent three mouthspainting on a space not so large as your fist, while the canvas was atleast three feet by two feet and a half. But the king, a buffalo, wouldbe a regal figure, for the head was life itself. 

Caper proposed finishing a bottle of wine with Wardor, in honor of theday; so the latter piloted him up street and then down a flight of stepsto a quiet wine-shop, where, sitting on a shady terrace, they couldcalmly enjoy the lovely landscape spread below them, and look over thetown, over the valley, to far-away Segni high up in the Volscians. Thelandlord's wife, a buxom, comely woman, in full holiday costume, broughtthem a flask of cool wine and glasses, presenting them at the same timewith a couple of very large sweet apples, the largest of which wasthirteen inches in circumference by actual measurement. So you see theyhave apples as well as oranges in Italy; only, apples are practical, sothey are generally omitted in the poetical descriptions of theblue-skyed land. 

Caper and Wardor dined together in a very crowded inn, where themaccaroni must have been cooked by the ton, to judge of the sized dishthe two artists were presented with--and which they finished! Chickens, lamb chops, salad, and two flasks of wine at last satisfied them. Whenthey left the table, Wardor proposed their calling on a Roman family, who were spending the summer in the town. They found the house theyoccupied crowded with guests, who, having finished dinner, were busilyemployed dancing to the music of two guitars and a flute; that is, theyounger part of them, while the elders applauded vociferously, enteringinto the amusement with a reckless spirit of fun and good nature, whichpeople who have to keep shady nine tenths of the year for fear of theirrulers, are very apt to indulge in the remaining tenth. 

Elisa, the daughter of the Roman family, received Caper with heartywelcome, chiding him for having been all summer at Segni, and yet notcoming near them, and entreating him to come to Genazzano and make thema long visit. She introduced him at once to her affianced husband, ahandsome young doctor of the town, a man of sterling ability and soundcommon sense, who very soon made Caper at home, insisted on his dancingthe _Tarantella_ and _Saltarella Napolitana_ with a lively, lithe younglady, who cut our artist's heart to fiddlestrings before they had dancedfive minutes together a polka--for let the truth be told, Caper nevercould dance the Tarantella. 

Wardor, in the meantime, had been led off in triumph to a side-table, and was making a very hearty second dinner; he not having force of mindenough to do like Caper and refuse a good offer! Caper had to drink afew tumblers (not wine-glasses) of wine, and found it beneficial indancing. It may be as well to repeat here, in order to calm allapprehensions of our artist being a hard drinker, that all these winesaround Rome, with few exceptions, are little stronger than mild sweetcider, and that satiety will generally arrive before inebriety. Ask anysober and rigorously correct traveller, who has ever been there, if thisis not so. If he speaks from experience, he will say: 'Certainly!' 'Ofcourse!' 'To be sure!' And again: 'Why not?'

It is not asserted here that the Romans of the city or surroundingcountry never get tipsy; but that it is only occasionally they havechange enough to do so; consequently, a beautiful state of sobriety isobserved by those travellers who--never observe anything. 

The moon was shining over the old gate-towers of Genazzano when Capermounted his horse, and, in company with two Segnians, rode forth fromthe fifth _festa_, and over the hills through Cavi, and over the valleypast Valmontone, and then up the steep road to his summer home;wondering if in far-away America they were dreaming of a man who wasgoing through a course of weekly Fourth-of-July's, and how long it wouldbe before the world came to an end if such a state of things existed inany country where people had liberty to study geography, and were ruledby politicians instead of priests?

 * * * * *

'May I ask your candid opinion of the great moral effect of so manyholidays on an uneducated population?' inquired Caper one day ofRocjean, while speaking of the festivals of the Papal States. 

'Certainly you may! My opinion is that the head of the state, carryingout the gigantic policy of his predecessors, believes: 'That thatgovernment governs best that gives the greatest amount of fiddling tothe greatest amount of its children. ''

'But, ' objected Caper, 'I don't see where the fiddling comes in. '

'In the churches!' sententiously remarked the Sieur de Rocjean. 

'Oh, ' quoth Caper, 'I was thinking of festivals. '

Reader, do you think likewise, when you are with the Romans. 

THOUGHT. 

 Life is but an outer wall Round the realm of thought unseen; Ah! to let the drawbridge fall Leading to that magic hall! Ah! to let creation in. 

 Kings that with the world contended, What remains of all the splendid Misery their hands have wrought? Hushed and silent now the thunder They have made the world rock under; But the ages bow in wonder To a thought. 

 Ah! the many tragic parts That are played by human hearts In that golden drama, fame. These are minor actors truly, That should not be seen unduly, Letting idle recollection Trifle with the play's perfection, Letting an unwritten anguish Make the brilliant pageant languish. Alas for every hero's story, That the woes which chiefly make it Must surge from the heart, or break it, And show the stuff that fashions glory. 

 Pyramids and templed wonders At the best are wise men's blunders; The subtle spell of thought and fancy, It is Nature's necromancy. In that land where all things real Blossom into the ideal, In that realm of hidden powers Moving this gross world of ours, He that would inherit fame, Let him on the magic wall Of some bright, ideal hall Write his name; He and glory then shall be Comrades through eternity. 

 While the deeds of mighty kings Sleep the sleep of meaner things, Thoughts enclosed in words of granite Revolutionize our planet. And, itself a new creation, Many an enchanted tune, As of nightingale's in June, Comes floating down in long vibration, To the chorus of the hours Lending its harmonial powers, Or through Time's resounding arches Playing Nature's solemn marches, To whose beat the marshalled nations Pass in steady generations. 

 But deem not the thoughts unspoken, Silent despots of the brain, Build their airy halls in vain, Die and leave behind no token. As the stars upon the ether Play their golden monody, Flashing on dusk-featured night The soft miracle of light; So upon a finer ether, A spiritual emanation From the whole mind of creation, Plays the brain incessantly; And each thought is a vibration, Running like a poet's rhyme Down the endless chords of time, And on each responsive brain Dropping in a silver rain Of divinest inspiration. 

 When the whirlwind rush of war Passes, and is heard no more, Voices crushed beneath its din Rise and their long reign begin; Thoughts like burning arrows hurled At the tyrants of the world, Thoughts that rend like battle axes Till wrong's giant hand relaxes, Thoughts that open prison gates And strike the chains of prostrate limb, That turn the current of the fates, Like God's commissioned cherubim With divine authority To proclaim creation free, And plant in human hearts the seeds That shall grow to noble deeds. Ha! when genius climbs the throne Sacred to oppression grown, And from his seat plucks tyranny; When, with thoughts that pierce like flame, Songs, and every word a fame, She crowns imperial Liberty, Then shall the usurper, glory, End his foul and brutal story, And manhood evermore shall be A synonym of liberty. 

'IT STILL MOVES. '

 It still goes on. The driving rain May chill, but light will gleam again, It still goes on. Truth's enemy Wins a defeat with victory. It still goes on. Cold winter's snow Comes that the grass may greener grow; And Freedom's sun, whate'er befall, Shines warm and bright behind it all. 

THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE REBELLION. 

Among all the subjects of human cognizance, the least understood, andtherefore the most difficult of anticipation, are those which concernthe acts of men, as individuals or in society. Presumptuous, indeed, would be that man who should undertake to foretell the exact results ofpending political or military operations, complicated as they must be byinnumerable unknown and undiscoverable contingencies, which lie hiddenin the circumstances of the actual situation. The difficulty of thisinvestigation does not arise, however, from the absence of fixed lawscontrolling such events, but solely from our ignorance of those laws, and the extreme complexity of the conditions in which they act. Theissue of existing causes is as certain as this moment, as it will beafter it shall have become unalterable in history. No accident candisturb or thwart it; for, in truth, there can be no such thing asaccident, except in our imaginations, and by reason of our incapacity totrace the continuous thread of inevitable sequence, or causation, whichconnects together all events whatever, in their inception, through theircontinuance, and to their end. All enlightened thinkers of the presentage have recognized this great truth; and yet none have been able toapply to social and political affairs the sole admitted test of genuinephilosophy, the prediction of future results from known antecedents. Indeed, the wisest and most competent of political observers have alwaysbeen the most cautious in their indulgence of the prophetic spirit, andthe most ready to acknowledge their ignorance of what the future willbring forth in the great field of political and social affairs. Gasparin, in his late admirable book, 'America before Europe' (accordingto his American translator), has this very modest passage on thissubject:

 'Not feeling any vocation for the character of prophet, I shall take care not to recount here, in advance, events that are about to happen. I marvel at people who are so sure of their facts. The future has not the least obscurity for them; it has much for me. I confine myself to protesting against the positive assertions which have contributed but too greatly to mislead the opinion of Europe. My humbles theory is this: the defeat of the South is _probable_; the return of the conquered South to the Union is _possible_. '

But while 'political or military vaticination' is proverbially unsafe, and therefore to be carefully avoided by all judicious inquirers, andespecially by practical statesmen, it must at the same time be admittedthat some of the general laws controlling such events are wellunderstood; and whenever all the facts of a case are known andappreciated, and the laws applicable fully comprehended, then it ispossible to anticipate the results of that particular combination withabsolute certainty. Other causes may interfere, and modify theseresults--may accelerate of postpone them, or entirely absorb and concealthem in the general issue of complicated affairs. Yet the particularresults themselves are not, and cannot be defeated or annulled. They aremerely transformed by a sort of 'composition and resolution' of socialand political causes, exactly similar to that which takes place inmechanics, when two or more forces not concurrent in direction, impel abody in a line altogether different from that in which either of theforces may have acted. Every physical impulse, it is said, which isinitiated anywhere on the earth, is felt to the extremities of our solarsystem--every motion of the smallest particle of matter communicatingits effect, however inappreciable, to the most distant planet, and asfar beyond as the power of gravitation may extend. It is precisely sowith all social events, even those of the most insignificant character. Every one of them has its appropriate influence, which isindestructible; and they all combine to make up the great whole of humanaction, the results of which at any specific period are only thenecessary and inevitable consequences of all antecedent facts. 

It was the opinion of that most accomplished political philosopher, Burke, that 'politics ought to be adjusted not to human reasonings, butto human nature, of which reason is but a part, and by no means thegreatest part, '--the meaning of which is, simply, that the reasonings donot comprehend, as premises, all the complicated facts which enter intoany important political problem, and hence the conclusion in such casescannot be absolutely certain, and ought not to be implicitly received. It would be extremely difficult to explain how politics could beadjusted to human nature without the exercise of reason, which alone canregulate the process of adjustment. But we may certainly claim that, inthe lapse of nearly a century since Burke wrote, the reason has beenconsiderably enlightened, and something more has been learned of humannature itself, its apparently capricious and irregular phenomena havingbeen ascertained to be the subjects of systematic order, as complete asthat which prevails in all other departments of nature. The laws ofsocial existence and development have been to some extent discovered, and recognized as being uniform in their operation, so that the naturaland necessary course of human events may be anticipated, though as yetin a dim and imperfect way. The present age is fruitful of many wonders;but the greatest of them all is this important truth, which has justbegun fairly to dawn upon mankind. It is already so firmly established, that no intelligent man who is fully up with the knowledge of his epoch, can admit the least doubt that all events, however complicated, whethersocial, political, military, or of any other kind, are controlled bygeneral laws, as uniform and certain in their operation as the laws ofastronomy, of physics, or of chemistry. The complexity of conditionsunder which they operate, makes these laws extremely difficult ofdiscovery and of application. But the infinite combinations ofinfluences which press on minds of individual members of society, andmake the acts of each one of them apparently uncertain and arbitrary, exhibit a truly wonderful degree of uniformity, when considered in theiroperation on the whole mass of a nation. It is by the investigation ofthese wide and general effects, that the great laws of human action anddevelopment are ascertained. Their actual existence is absolutelycertain. But after all, in the present state of our knowledge, with allthe light afforded by such history as we have of the past, and with allthe experience of the present generation, the sum and substance of whatwe can claim is no more than this: that some influences of a social andpolitical nature may be traced to their certain results, though, fromthe intricacy of all social facts, their vast extent in a great nation, and especially when international interests are concerned, and from ournecessarily imperfect acquaintance with all these varied, multiplex, andpowerful conditions, we cannot always foresee what conflicting causeswill intervene to counteract, modify, and control the actual issue. Itis therefore only in the most general way that anything can be said withreference to the future in social or political affairs. 

In two former articles contributed to THE CONTINENTAL, we haveendeavored to point out 'the causes of the rebellion, ' finding them inevents and conditions contemporaneous with the birth of ourinstitutions, and in the necessary antagonism of social and politicalprinciples naturally developed in the progress of our country, andembodied in appropriate but conflicting forms. If we have beensuccessful in designating the real causes, and tracing their operationthrough successive stages, down to the tremendous and calamitous eventsof the present day, we may hope to follow these causes, to some extent, in their further development, and in their necessary action on thedestiny of the nation. We can at least mark the direction of the streamof affairs as it rolls grandly before us; and while we may not knowprecisely through what regions it will take its course, or by whatrapids and over what cataracts it will be hurried and precipitated withfurious and destructive force, we can nevertheless pronounce withconfidence that it will finally make its way, in spite of allobstructions, to the broad and peaceful ocean of amelioration, intowhich all the currents of human action, however turbid, and filled withwrecks of human work and genius, eventually pour their inevitabletribute. We can even look through the mists of time which limit mortalvision, and catch some glimpses of the bloody current, observing whereit disappears in gloom and shadow, only to come forth again in thedistance as a shining river, glistening in the sunlight of peace andprosperity, and bearing on its bosom the full-freighted ark of a mightynation, resting from war, reunited, and reawakened to the animatingsense of a glorious destiny. Though the present generation should becompelled to struggle and labor, through its whole term of existence, with immense sacrifice and suffering, such are the elements involved inthe contest, that nothing but good to the nation, which is surelydestined to survive, can come out of it in the end. 

The whole history of our country, its origin, the peculiar organizationof our institutions, and their gradual growth and development down tothe present day, seem to have been arranged and ordered for the verypurpose of engendering this contest between slavery and freedom. If thisstatement be too strong, we may at least assert that no betterconditions for that purpose could have been devised, by human wisdom atall events, than those which existed at every stage of our progress, from the beginning of our existence as a people, to the culmination ofthis long-smouldering strife. The germs of freedom and slavery, which weknow were planted in the infancy of our republic, found in thecircumstances surrounding them the most favorable conditions for theirrespective growth and expansion. Each found ample opportunity toflourish according to its nature and necessities, modified, it may be, but not destroyed, by the unfavorable institutions which coexisted withit. The organization of separate colonies, and afterward of separateStates, measurably independent, afforded these two irreconcilablesystems full opportunity for complete development, and rendered itpossible for them to maintain, each, a distinct existence in differentlocalities, and to unfold their respective natures and tendencies, withcomparatively little interference of the one with the other. Thusslavery soon became extinct in Massachusetts, and died out rather moreslowly in the other Free States of the original thirteen. It flourishedin Maryland and Virginia, and later, from peculiar circumstances, itgrew rank, with unexampled fecundity, in the Carolinas and Georgia. Hadthe Government of the United States been consolidated, the conditions ofslavery and free labor would have been wholly different; and it isreasonable to infer that the course of development of the respectivesystems would have been materially modified, if not altogether changed. We may pronounce with certainty that the institution would not havebecome extinct in the whole country as soon as it did in Massachusetts, or, indeed, in any one of the present Free States; but we cannot assertthat the converse of this proposition would have been true, and that theGovernment, as a centralized power, would have abolished slavery morecertainly, and sooner, than the most backward of the separate States maynow be expected to do, under the complex forms of our presentConstitution. In a consolidated government, the power of the majoritywould have been competent to effect fundamental and universal changes, even to the extent of abolishing slavery; but without the existence ofseparate States, with their independent local legislation andadministrations, the gradual undermining and destruction of the oldsystem would have been a process of extreme procrastination anddifficulty. It would have been a gigantic undertaking, convulsing thewhole nation whenever attempted, and yet demanding the exercise of itsunited authority for its accomplishment. We should not have had theeffective antagonism of the Free against the Slave States, nor thedemonstration which results from the striking contrasts between the twosystems in their effects on civilization, in all its forms ofintelligence, enterprise, wealth, and improvement. Contiguous States, with separate jurisdictions, admitted a divergence of customs, laws, andinstitutions, remarkable in its character, and fraught with momentousconsequences to the whole sisterhood. Nothing like this could haveoccurred under the consolidated form. It is true, according to theprinciples we have heretofore enounced as having been established byuniversal history and experience, slavery must have disappearedeventually, alike in a consolidated or a federal form of government; forit is now well understood by all enlightened thinkers, that differentforms of polity may either facilitate or embarrass the naturaldevelopment of society, but cannot actually create or altogether destroythe tendency to improvement. This tendency is innate in man, andindependent of all forms of government, though not wholly unaffected bythem. But in our vast country, under a centralized system, howeverdemocratic, it would have been far more difficult to initiate the workof emancipation, on account of the magnitude and unity of the power tobe moved, and for want of those _points d'appui_ afforded by the localorganization and independent authority of the states in a confederacy. Our own experience, and the recent example of Russia, may serve toconvince us that a consolidated representative republic would probablyhave been less favorable to the abolition of slavery than an imperialand despotic government. The serf-owners of Russia, had the questionbeen submitted to them, would have been as little disposed to vote forthe destruction of their system, as the slave-holders of America haveshown themselves inclined to submit to the voice of the majority underour republican institutions. 

Thus, it was characteristic of our peculiar political forms, that theygave opportunity for the complete trial of each of the two plans ofsocial organization which grew out of the early introduction of Africanslaves into the colonies. For while it seems to be clear that thefederal system was most favorable to the disappearance of slavery fromthose localities where circumstances made emancipation easy andadvantageous, it is equally plain that it afforded full scope to thegrowth and influence of the system of servile labor, wherever, fromclimatic conditions, it was peculiarly profitable, and otherwise adaptedto the productions of the region, and to the prevailing sentiments ofthe people. The confederated form of government, therefore, almost ofnecessity originated the antagonism of Free States against Slave States;while, at the same time, and from the same cause, it enabled theopposite sections to give infinitely greater force and effect to thisantagonism, than would have been possible under any otherconstitutional conditions. Rebellion might possibly have been initiatedwithin the bosom of a consolidated republic, and such a government mightwell have been broken into two or more fragments; but this would havebeen far less likely to happen in that case than in existingcircumstances. At all events, there would have been no room for thedangerous doctrine of secession, and that plausible pretext would havebeen wanting to the incipient rebellion; nor would there have beenanything equivalent to the State organizations which unfortunatelyafforded the ready means of immediate and most effective combination. The inestimable advantages of our complex political system in avoidingthe necessary despotism of consolidated government, by establishinglocal legislation and administration in a number of partiallyindependent States, were in some measure counterbalanced by a naturaltendency to discord among the parts, and a capacity for independentaction in support and perpetuation of dangerous divergencies of opinionand policy. If some States could repudiate slave labor, and graduallybuild the fabric of their prosperity on the safer basis of universaleducation, others could, with equal disregard of everything but theirown will and fancied interests, cherish and encourage the originalsystem of servile subordination and compulsory ignorance of the laboringclass, with which all the States started into their career ofindependence at the commencement of the Revolution. And, unhappily, bothparties to this discordant social action were unrestrained by anyconstitutional obligation, or by any common authority whatever, in theindulgence, within their respective limits, of mutual hatred andvituperation, with all those numberless and exasperating injuries whichno law can either notice or redress. These conflicting capabilities, with their attendant dangers, lurked in the body of our politicalorganization from the very beginning. They were born with it; they grewwith its growth, and strengthened with its strength, until the fatalhour when rebellion undertook the wicked work of its destruction. Whatever may be the actual issue of the struggle--whether the attempteddismemberment shall prove a success or a disastrous failure--the effectof the civil war on the character of our institutions must becommensurate with the organic character of the causes out of which itarose. So profound a disturbance of the existing social order, so vastan upheaval of the very foundations of the whole political fabric, musteither rend it into fragments, and make necessary a completereconstruction, or must cause it to settle down upon a basis firmer andmore lasting than that on which it has hitherto rested. We think italmost absolutely certain that the latter result will be brought out inthe end. It cannot be possible that our system will be utterlydestroyed; and if, against all human probabilities, it should bemomentarily overthrown, it will rise again hereafter in greater splendorand power, by reason of the very calamity through which it will havepassed. 

The federative system, on this continent, will never be abandoned; itwill be far more likely to be extended much beyond its present limits, even including that immense territory which has been the theatre of itsorigin and glorious progress down to the present day. Its superiorityover any system of consolidated power on a large scale, is beyond alldoubt, inasmuch as it provides effectually for the perfect freedom oflocal legislation and administration, and for the full participation ofall the parts in the government of the whole, as to those questionswhich concern the general interests. But in this very distribution ofpowers always consisted the greatest difficulty and the most threateningperil; for nothing but actual experience, long continued, could adjustto each other with perfect accuracy the nicely balanced parts of thiscomplicated political machinery. The principle of local independence isnaturally liable to exaggeration and abuse. The State authorities haveever shown a tendency to claim absolute sovereignty, and to array theirwill against the authority of the Federal Government. This troublesomequestion, forever recurring in the important exigencies of our nationallife, has never been definitely settled, and perhaps it could not be, except under the pressure of a great and critical emergency like thepresent. One of the most important consequences of the rebellion willtherefore be to dispose of this question forever--to settle theboundaries of the local and general authorities, and to fix thempermanently and unalterably. This might possibly have been accomplishedin the appointed way, by conventions and explanatory amendments to theConstitution. But such proceedings would have been subject to all theuncertain contingencies and delays involved in partisan struggles andpopular elections, and to all the imperfections of halfway measures andexpedients of compromise, born amid angry contentions, and bartered forby ambitious aspirants to place and power. By no other means could acomplete and adequate arrangement of the difficulty be brought about soeffectually as by the terrible lessons of this lamentable civil war. Nothing else would have been so well calculated to clear the eyes of thepeople of all illusions, and to give them an accurate insight into thecharacter and demands of the crisis. Great disasters, which destroy thefortunes of men, and disturb the prosperity of nations, never fail toawaken the human soul, and impart to it some new and important truths. The sufferings and calamities of the war are indeed great andoverwhelming; yet there will be some compensation for them all, in thesad experience we shall gain, and in the stability which will result toour sorely tried institutions in the future. Even if, against allapparent possibilities, the rebellious States should finally conquertheir independence, not only the old Government, but even the new oneitself, or the batch of new ones that will spring up, will have learnedthe most salutary lessons from the whole course of this sanguinarystruggle. No sundering of such ties as have always heretofore existedamong these States can ever take place peaceably. Both we and ourenemies will have been taught the never-to-be-forgotten truth thatsecession is civil war. And we should probably have reason thereafter toadd to this sad lesson the still more solemn and portentous one, thatpermanent separation of these States is nothing more or less thanperpetual war, with the accompaniments of large standing armies, vastpublic debts, oppressive taxes, loss of liberty, and progressive declineof civilization. This state of things would, however, eventually cureitself. What is called the balance of power in Europe has been broughtto its present condition of imperfect stability only through centuriesof war. What bloody commotions should we experience before theconditions of stable equilibrium could be attained by the warring Statesof our broken Union? Each petty fragment of the discordant mass wouldcontain within itself the germs of precisely such a struggle as we arenow passing through. For though the Confederate Government may haveostensibly recognized the actual sovereignty of the separate Statescomposing it, and thereby pretended to establish the principle ofsecession as a right, the war will not have reached its terminationbefore that doctrine will be practically and effectually destroyed inthe very contest for its assertion. At the moment of its apparenttriumph, secession itself would expire; for so strong a government willbe indispensable to this achievement, and to the maintenance of the newpower, that the very principle which presided at its birth will besuspended and destroyed by the paramount necessities of its existenceand condition. Any one of the deluded States which might in that caseattempt to assert this right, would soon find, in renewed calamities, the folly and danger of the theory on which it is founded. 

Nothing but the hope of foreign intervention has sustained the cause ofthe rebellion until the present time; and the realization of that hopecan alone keep up its vitality, and give it success in the future. Thedisparity of strength and numbers in the two sections is decisive of thewhole case, if they be left to conclude the fight themselves. Thequestion is one of means and men, of resources and endurance; and whenwe consider the effects of the blockade, and of the probably action ofthe slaves under the policy of the President, or even under the ordinaryprogress of the war, no great length of time can be required to bringthe contest to an issue, even if the armies of the Union should not atonce succeed in overwhelming the enemy and taking possession of hiscountry. In spite of discouraging delays and military blunders, and ofall the waste of life and means which have hitherto marked the conductof the war, the great struggle is still progressing rapidly, thoughsilently, in other fields than those of battle, and with other weaponsthan bayonets and artillery. The sinews of war are gradually becomingshrivelled in the arm of the rebellion. Every bale of cotton locked upin the ports of the South, or hidden in its thickets and ravines, orgiven to the flames by ruthless hands of the guerillas, is so muchstrength withheld from the enemy, and, in the vast aggregate, willeventually be equivalent to the overthrow of his armies and the captureof his cities. The large number of slaves rushing to our lines, and thestill greater number rendered restless under restraint, and preparing toescape, may be expected, in any other year, to make even his supply ofbread precarious, and still further to paralyze his strength and destroyhis means of resistance. But in addition to these accumulatingdifficulties and misfortunes, our armies are everywhere moving down uponhim apparently with irresistible force, and threaten to anticipate theslower, but not less certain work of physical exhaustion. He is hardpressed in Virginia, where his pretended capital is again menaced; he isdriven out of Kentucky and Missouri, and is fast receding before ourvictorious forces in Tennessee. We have penetrated into Mississippi, andawait only the swelling of the waters to capture its last stronghold, Vicksburg, when the great valley from Cairo to New Orleans will be inour possession, and the rebel confederacy will be sundered through itsvery spine. We hold important points on the Atlantic coast and in theGulf, including the great metropolis of the South, New Orleans, and thewhole coast of Texas. 

By her own energies alone, these losses can never be recovered by theSouth. Without aid from abroad, there is not the remotest possibility ofprolonging the contest for another year, much less of establishing theConfederate Government on any permanent basis. And even with suchinterference, supposing it to be successful, the career of the new powerwould be brief, and full of trouble. It would merely exchange itsposition of equality in the old Union, for one of degrading dependenceand subserviency to some one of the great European Governments. Thesystem of slavery could not be preserved. The demoralization has alreadygone too far; and no French sovereign or English administration couldsafely venture to interfere in our quarrel for the purpose of upholdingthat institution. In the midst of a dissolving social organization, thisexhausted and fragmentary American power, galvanized into temporaryvitality by the sinister aid of foreign arms, would be compelled toundertake the task of determining its boundaries, defending itsfrontiers, and reorganizing its chaotic society. All this would have tobe accomplished in the presence of a still powerful adversary, jealousof her own rights, and ever ready to assert them, as opportunity wouldpermit, in the face of all opposition. European affairs are not yet sothoroughly adjusted, and the peace of that continent established on sofirm a basis, that complications may not be anticipated at almost anymoment, which would at once free America from the disgraceful trammelsof foreign intervention. It is doubtful whether such a movement fromEurope could be successful, even under all the deplorable difficultieswhich now beset our country. Let any one of those Governments lay itshand on the United States, and revolution would probably hasten to rearits awful head, and so arouse the people of the continent as to shakeand endanger the very thrones which now seem to be most firmlyestablished. The unfriendly blow aimed at us might possibly react uponits authors, and transfer to them the misfortunes and disorders whichnow afflict this country. So just a retribution is not beyond theprobabilities of the present situation in Europe, whether interventionshould come from the English aristocracy or from the French emperor. Theinstincts of the people, everywhere, are on our side; their strong armsmay not be slow to vindicate the judgment they pronounce, and to followthe sentiments and sympathies which animate their generous hearts. 

But in spite of all difficulties and discouragements, at home or abroad, we firmly believe our righteous cause will eventually prevail, and theUnion be restored to even more than its former glory. The overthrow ofthe power of the rebellion, the utter exhaustion of all its resources, and the frightful derangement of its entire social economy, will leavethe people of the South in a condition of helplessness which will renderfurther resistance impracticable. An immediate resumption of hostilitieswill be effectually prevented by the military force which willnecessarily be maintained for some time after the close of the finalcampaign of the war; and before the strength of the rebellious Statescan be recruited for another similar contest, new ideas will beengendered, and new sentiments of attachment to the Union may beexpected to grow up and take the place of that unnatural bitternesswhich has exasperated the war and prolonged its horrors. An inevitablechange of institutions in the South, with moderate and conciliatorymeasures on the part of the North, will serve gradually to heal thedangerous wound, self-inflicted, which has so nearly destroyed the veryexistence of the fairest and most favored part of our country. In theend, a homogeneous society will extend over the whole Union, and newvigor will be infused into our political organization, by reason of itsrecovery from the terrible disease by which it has been attacked and fora time utterly prostrated. The alterative effects of this criticaldanger overcome, and of the treatment rendered necessary, will doubtlessbe one of the most important consequences of the rebellion. 

The dogma of secession, as applied to our complex government, isinconsistent with reason, and has often been effectually refuted byargument. But sophistry, stimulated by ambition, was ever ready to renewthe controversy, and to perpetuate it in all the forms of vicious logicand plausible ratiocination. The appeal to force, however, has donesomething more than refute an argument; it has already discomfited thewhole theory, and it will not end short of the utter annihilation of thevery idea of secession as a right, and as a remedy for any evils, fancied or real, which may be suffered or imagined under our Government. After the close of the war, when men look back to its bloody fields andits awful sacrifices, they will be amazed at the insane folly whichpermitted them to consider the great American Union, with its honorablehistory, its wonderful progress, its immense power, and its proudstanding among the nations, as a mere league among petty states, to bedissolved at pleasure--as a thing to be broken into fragments, and to bedivided among ambitious aspirants, to be made the sport of domesticfaction, or of foreign rapacity and domination, changing its form andproportions with every change of popular feeling and every restlessmovement of popular discontent. These fatal delusions will be made todisappear forever, and in their place there will remain in the minds ofmen the image of a majestic Government, tried in the furnace of civilwar, made solid and immovable by its grand and successful efforts toresist the threatened overthrow of its power, and becoming paternal bythe recovery of its wonted strength, which will permit and require theexercise of magnanimous forbearance even toward those misguided citizenswho have raised their traitorous hands against it. Thus, with the aweand fear which will be inspired by the tremendous energy put forth toconquer the rebellion--an energy which will appear only so much thegreater and more imposing in proportion to the difficulties and dangersmet and overcome--there will be mingled the better sentiments of loveand veneration for a Government which re-establishes order, securesprotection to all civil rights, and restores, unimpaired, the libertieswhich have been disregarded for a time, in order that they might bepermanently saved. To the people of the United States, the Union will bewhat it never was before, and what it never could have been without thesad experience it is undergoing now. Not that any change of form need beeffected, or any violence done to the principles on which our system isfounded. The change will be solely in the spirit in which ourinstitutions will be administered, arising from the altered sentimentsand feelings of the whole people. They will see their Government in anew light--a light thrown on it by the grand events of the rebellion, revealing capabilities and powers not hitherto known to exist, andexhibiting it as the sole refuge in times of commotion and danger, standing unmoved amidst the storm, impregnable to all its violence. Inthe public recognition, by universal acquiescence, it will be consideredstronger than before; and this transformation will be as much a changein the minds of the people as in the character and functions of theGovernment itself. 

There is, however, no good reason why the central power should acquireinordinate strength, and absorb any part of the legitimate functions ofthe local governments. A more liberal interpretation of the Constitutionwill somewhat extend the federal powers, and there will necessarily begreater intensity in the exercise of acknowledged authority;nevertheless, consolidation need not be the subject of seriousapprehension. At the beginning of the war, when the Union was sorelybeset with the most imminent dangers, the executive power was extendedfar beyond its ordinary limits; and perhaps this excess of action hasbeen in some cases too long continued, and has been made to embraceobjects not legitimately within the emergency which originally justifiedthe departure. But even under present circumstances, there can be nojust cause for alarm. There can be no real danger, until the peopleshall have become either overawed and silenced by terror, or carelessand indifferent to the encroachments on liberty. Such is evidently veryfar from being the case now. The recent elections have shown howentirely free is the expression of opinion, and how completelyuntrammelled the political action of the people, who, in this instance, have been charged with following their leaders even beyond the boundsof just opposition, into the dangerous position of giving encouragementto the enemy. Both parties, however, place their own peculiarconstruction on these popular decisions, and it is difficult todetermine, with any accuracy, what is their actual import. We only knowthat so extensive a change, affecting the position of many of thelargest States, indicates a serious dissatisfaction of some kind; thoughit is by no means probable that the people have intended to sanction theextreme and mischievous views of some of the candidates, who, here andthere, have secured their election. Factious divisions in the loyalStates, at this critical period, would be ruinous to the cause of theUnion. They would distract the public mind and weaken the arm of theGovernment, so as to endanger its success in the war. There is noindication of any such intention on the part of the people, whatever maybe the designs of some of those who have been successful leaders of thisthreatening opposition. And the only effect which ought to follow therecent popular demonstration is to admonish the Government, and check itin those errors which are only too natural in the mighty contest inwhich it is now engaged. The necessity for decision, vigor, and courage, is indeed apparent; and the temptation to go beyond the limits even ofproper martial energy, is perhaps a sufficient excuse for those inpower, whose deep sense of responsibility and honest zeal in a holycause may sometimes lead them astray. It is not always given to men inhigh position to remain cool and calm in great emergencies, and to takecomprehensive views of the requirements of so tremendous a contest, asits aspects vary from time to time. The necessary exercise of militaryauthority for the preservation of the Government, however harsh andsevere it may be, will be everywhere justified, and even applauded. Butthere are limits which even military license ought to respect; and whenthe executive authorities go beyond the bounds of reason and necessity, they ought themselves to be grateful to those who may have the courageto throw themselves into the breach and sternly resist the violation ofright. The men in power ought to reflect that they are always liable tobe surrounded by subservient partisans, whose fears or selfish purposesmay induce them to applaud, when they ought to condemn and reprove. Unfortunately, when such parasites are listened to and rewarded, thereis little hope of just and patriotic action; and this state of thingsleaves no channel of escape, through which the public discontent can bemanifested, except that of partisan opposition, which, in the existingcrisis, is perhaps more dangerous even than the evil it pretends tocondemn and cure. While party divisions, in the midst of dangers such asnow threaten us, are greatly to be deplored, we can, nevertheless, derive some satisfaction from results which otherwise we cannotaltogether approve. All the essential principles of freedom stillremain, through this great trial, undestroyed and unsuppressed byterrorism; and the popular patriotism and sound common sense, thoughliable to be misled at first, will eventually pronounce a just andenlightened judgment. Parasites and flatterers may shrink from the taskof dissent; but the great heart of the people will find some means ofexpression; and happy will be our country if their honest warnings, given upon 'the sober second thought, ' shall be noticed and duly heeded. There will then be no danger of any serious invasions of liberty, or ofany permanent absorption of the proper constitutional functions of theStates by the Federal Government. Doubtless the central power will be, and ought to be strengthened. Its standing army will necessarily belarger than before the rebellion; the public debt will be greatlyincreased; the taxes will be heavier; and the revenue and disbursementslarger. Though its functions will remain essentially the same in nature, they will have a broader sweep and a greater power. This enlargement ofits ordinary action will naturally invest it with all the means andcapacities necessary for its own protection, and without any change ofthe Constitution, it will be recognized as the true embodiment of ourpermanent nationality, forever paramount in its appointed sphere andappropriate functions to those of the individual States composing it. The sum and substance of the change will be merely that the centripetaland centrifugal forces of the system will have become so completelyadjusted to each other, that from this time forward the eternalequilibrium of the whole will be secured. The States will not be shornof any power rightfully theirs, and necessary for their safety andprogress; but they will be fixed in definite orbits, with the limits oftheir authority distinctly circumscribed and established. 

All social changes, sooner or later, produce their appropriate effectson political institutions; and no results of the rebellion will be moreprominent and important than those which will follow the inevitabledisappearance of slavery. A new system of labor will be inaugurated inthe border States, as well as in those now in rebellion. The great actof emancipation may not be immediate; nor is it by any means desirableit should be. So radical a change in the condition of millions ofuneducated men would be quite as inconvenient, and, indeed, disastrousto themselves, for the time being, as to their present owners. Societyitself would be thrown into the utmost confusion, and all the resourcesof both parties would be temporarily much diminished, if not nearlydestroyed. But, whether suddenly or gradually, this fundamental changemust take place; for it is self-evident that slavery cannot survive thepresent struggle. The proclamation of the President, which is to takeeffect on the 1st of January next, will make emancipation more completeand speedy; but the same result would have followed the stubbornresistance of the rebels, even without that momentous act. It would be amischievous error to believe that emancipation was originally the aimand object of the war on the part of the Union, and that the liberationof slaves, which was sure to follow its progress, is the direct act ofour authorities, and not the proper consequence of the rebellion itself. A war waged for and on account of slavery--for its increase andperpetuation--necessarily, by its own nature, puts that institution atstake, and risks it on the contingency of failure. Compelled, in defenceof the national unity, to carry the war into the heart of the SouthernStates, the world acquiesces in that sound and necessary policy, whichreleases the slaves, and sets them free forever, as fast as they comewithin the protection of our armies. The proclamation is a measure ofthe same nature, intended to destroy the resources of the enemy, and towound him in his most vulnerable point. But it can accomplish littlemore than the previous policy; for the slumbering hopes of the slaveswere aroused by the first gun fired at Charleston in the beginning ofthe struggle. Every movement of armies, and every bloody battle, whichhas since taken place, has only served to inflame their desire forfreedom, and to fix their determination to obtain it. They have receivedand gladly welcomed the obscure idea, that, in some way, this sanguinaryconflict was initiated for their benefit, and will not end without theircomplete emancipation. In this they are not mistaken. The finalsuppression of the rebellion by military force will be the perfectconsummation of that end, accomplished through the treason and wickedfolly of the South herself. If she persevere in her stubborn resistanceto the authority of the Union, the great measure of liberation will bethe result of her own blind and wilful acts of madness, and this as wellthrough their natural and necessary consequences as by the terms andimport of the President's proclamation. Let slavery destroy itself. Itis a just and righteous judgment that, in its atrocious effort todestroy the nation, it should accomplish chiefly, if not solely, its ownviolent and bloody death. Such retribution often attends the commissionof great crimes; but it seldom happens that effects so momentous forgood flow from the infliction which seems intended only for punishment. 

Under all circumstances, with or without the proclamation, slavery mustdisappear soon after the suppression of the rebellion. From that time, the States will become more and more homogeneous in their socialorganization. This will tend to promote unanimity among them all, andtherefore, by an obvious process, to strengthen the rightful power ofthe Federal Government. The vast extent of our country, comprising somany varieties of condition and climate, and such diversities ofproduction, rising through every grade of elevation, from the Atlanticseacoast to the central mountains, and thence again descending to theshores of the Pacific, with mighty rivers running through nearly twentyparallels of latitude--this magnificent seat of republican power affordsthe most unbounded resources for industry in all its employments, andfor commercial interchange of productions on the most gigantic scale. With free labor prevailing everywhere throughout this vast and splendidregion of the temperate zone, no limits can be assigned to the nationalprogress. The population, wealth, activity, and intelligence of the mostfavored among the Free States at the present day, can alone offer themeasure and example of what the whole will be in the full maturity ofthe new system. No European complexities of inter-state relations, nooppressive restrictions on domestic commerce, no fatal divergencies ofopinion and feeling, no important differences of language andliterature--none of these obstructions to harmony and progress willinterfere with the continental development and glorious destiny of ourFederal Union. All that the earth yields from her teeming surface, orfrom her deep-embowelled mines; all that enterprise can accomplish withexhaustless means, the best facilities, and the most stupendous objects;and all that genius can create, when stimulated by the richest rewardsand the freest opportunities for untrammelled exertion, will supply uswith the means and materials for an almost infinite variety of pursuitsand occupations; but, at the same time, the essential unity of ourcomplex institutions will be maintained, and their power extended andexalted by the homogeneity and uniformity of social conditions whichwill prevail more and more with the lapse of years and the succession ofgenerations. The blood of all kindred races will be mingled withadvantage in the veins of the cosmopolitan American; religions will beharmonized and unified by the most fraternal liberality and unboundedtoleration; and the common enlightenment of the whole people by means ofuniversal education will exalt them to a condition of unexampled powerand prosperity. Just as dissensions among the States tend to weaken thecentral power, their uniform and cordial coöperation will give immensestrength to the whole. Nor will this increase of power be at alldangerous, because it will be only the legitimate consequence of thegreater progress and prosperity of the States themselves. To whateverheight the greatness of the Union may attain, it will be determinedexactly by that of the States which compose it--the pyramid of its powerbeing made up of theirs, which are but the enduring blocks of which themighty structure is built. 

If social unity and political strength will be promoted by thesuppression of the rebellion and the disappearance of slavery, the tiesof our Union will be made stronger also by other causes. Emerging fromthe war victorious, not only without being seriously injured, but witheventual and speedy increase of power, the Union will command therespect of foreign nations in a higher degree than ever before. ThoseEuropean nations, or rather their rulers and nobles, who now in theirmalignant envy hope for the permanent dismemberment of America, willthen hail her resuscitation with a zeal which will be none the lessadvantageous to us for being forced from them in spite of their presenthate and detraction. If the division of our country would destroy itsinfluence abroad, and subject the parts to constant intrigues andinterference from foreign powers, the restoration of the Union with evenmore than its former glory will give us unexampled weight in thecounsels of mankind. Our unexpected and astounding exhibition ofmilitary power, our thorough command of the American continent, and itsimmense resources, hardly yet begun to be developed, and the unlimitedprosperity which the future will assuredly bring us, cannot fail tostrike the minds of European thinkers, and to awaken deep interest amongthe European people. The stream of immigration, interrupted by the war, will be renewed with at least its former fulness, and will keep pacewith the demands of our country for labor and population. The South maythen be expected to receive her full share of this increase by peoplefrom abroad, and will then commence that process of condensing andpermanently fixing her population, without which she can never attainany high position in the scale of civilization. 

The large public debt destined to be incurred, may be expected to havesome influence in preventing immigration and improvement; but unless thewar shall unfortunately linger far beyond the period at which its end isnow anticipated, the liabilities of the Government will not be so greatas to prevent the speedy return of our usual prosperity. A different andfar better system of taxation will be required--one more favorable tocommerce and at the same time equally productive, or at leastsufficiently so to meet all our liabilities and provide for theextinguishment of the debt within a reasonable time. One of theadvantages attending this great debt and modifying its certain evils andburdens, will be the necessity of devising a stable revenue system, intended solely to provide means for sustaining the Government andmeeting the public obligations. Periodical changes, often depending onparty ascendency and popular elections, have hitherto marked thefinancial policy of our Government. So long as the sources of revenuewere superabundant and the demands of the Treasury very moderate, wecould well afford to make experiments, and even to depart from the trueprinciples of taxation, or at least to do so without any very serious orruinous consequences. Now, however, when the public expenditure is aboutto be vastly increased, and when it will be for the first time reallyfelt by the people, it will become the first duty of our rulers to studythe extent and true character of our resources, and to adjust theburdens of taxation, with all practicable fairness, to the respectivecapacities of all classes and interests. We may expect to have a systemstable and permanent in its principles, if not in its details; and thebasis of this system will be a wise arrangement of duties on imports, which must, from various reasons, ever form the great bulk of our taxes. 

It is not an American maxim that a great public debt is a publicblessing; nor is it likely that an educated and eminently practicalpeople like ours will ever accept that mischievous paradox. Yet if itbe desirable that our large public debt should be widely scattered amongthe people, so that every man may be directly interested in maintainingthe public credit and the stability of the Government, the presentsystem, now but imperfectly adapted to that object, might easily be madeto accomplish it fully. If the Treasury notes recently issued were theonly paper circulation in the country--that is to say, if the banks wereprohibited, by taxation or otherwise, from making any issues of theirown--the Government might increase their amount to at least five hundredmillions, with even less than the present depreciation, and would thusenjoy the benefit of a loan to that amount without the payment of anyinterest. As it is now, the banks get the advantage of a great part ofthis extensive loan, and at the same time perform a function whichproperly belongs to the Government--that of furnishing a currency forthe people. By the proposed system, the entire community would beinterested in this part of the public debt, and would doubtless find thecirculating medium much safer and better than that now manufactured bythe numberless banks chartered by the States. The issue of these notesby State institutions was always an evasion of that clause of theConstitution which prohibits the States from issuing bills of credit, and is plainly against the spirit and intention of the instrument. Ifour public debt should, in this way, eventually drive all bank notes outof circulation and banish them forever, it will have accomplished avaluable work in restoring the true construction of the Constitution, and, in this particular at least, will have proved a public blessing. Itwill be very easy, in the course of time, to redeem the Treasury notes, and gradually to substitute for them a species of national paper basedon actual deposits, which will afford all the conveniences with none ofthe dangers of the present system, by which the local banks virtuallyestablish the currency of the country, flooding it with all varieties ofpaper, without uniformity of value, with no adequate control orregulation of its quantity, thus producing periodical convulsions androbbing the people of their hard-earned savings. 

If the rebellion, by the burdens which it leaves behind, shall bringabout these two results--the adoption of a wise and permanent system ofrevenue, and the establishment of a sound currency by the prohibition ofall bank circulation--it will have accomplished ends only inferior inimportance to the two primary consequences, the overthrow of theprinciple of secession and the destruction of slavery. Thus, thistremendous convulsion would bring out of the chaos a new order in thepolitical world, by annihilating secession, and by perpetuating theUnion and banishing all fear of its dissolution; in the social, bysubstituting free men for slaves; in the financial, by a permanentadjustment of tariffs and taxation; and in the commercial, by theprohibition of bank paper and the substitution of a safe and uniformcurrency. 

'I;' OR, SUMMER IN THE CITY. '

 'I love the sweet security of streets. '--CHARLES LAMB. 

'I, ' my charming friend, do not fully sympathize with the late Mr. Lamb's statement, as quoted above; which statement I always havebelieved partially owed its origin to its very tempting alliterativerobe. 

For myself, I do _not_ particularly like the 'sweet security ofstreets, ' but vastly prefer 'a boundless contiguity of shade, 'especially during the present month--August--or

 'A life on the ocean wave. '

I do not mean a permanent residence there--that would be liable to bedamp and unhealthy, and altogether too insecure to be 'sweet;'--but whenI say a 'life on the ocean wave, ' it is merely my poetical license for acottage at Newport. (I wish, indeed, that I had any _but_ a poetical onefor such a possession!)

But what folly for me to talk of a cottage there! when my limited incomedoes not even admit of a cot in the cheapest of seaside inns. 

Gentle reader! shrink not from me when, in addition to this melancholyconfidence, I also announce to you that I live in town--in 'Bostontown, ' to be accurate--during August! I belong to the 'lower orders ofsociety;' and my only Newport is the Public Garden, or a walk toLongwood, and, when I am _very_ affluent, a horse-car drive to Savinhill, where a teaspoonful of sea view is administered to the humblewayfarer. 

Yes! I positively did exist in the city, not only through the month ofAugust, but all the summer days of all the summer months. I mention_August_ in the city, because I know that has a peculiarly God-forgottenand forsaken sound. 

I should soon cease to exist anywhere, I fancy, if I did _not_ stay intown, for (horror No. 2!) I work at a trade in order to earn my dailybread and coffee! What my particular trade is, I am not going todivulge--that shall remain a delicious mystery (the only delicious thingabout it); only this much I will confide: I do not, _à la_ Mr. FrederickAltamont, 'sweep the crossing. ' Unhappy Altamont! he did not appreciatethe sweet security of streets. 

'Poor thing!' you exclaim, 'work at a trade?'

Rest tranquil, fair one; the phrase doubtless sounds harshly to yourdelicate, aristocratic ears. (Oh, what lovely earrings!) Be tranquil! Ido not work _very_ hard; my hands are perhaps so audacious as to be assmall, as white, and as soft as your own. 

But I have to 'work reg'lar, ' every week day of all the months of everyyear; and when the time arrives for me to go into the country, I shallnot return again to Boston; for I shall go to a land from whence notraveller returns. _Apropos_ of this rather dismal topic: A queer cousinof mine, 'Sans Souci, ' who has a taste for 'morbid anatomy, ' was theother day enjoying himself with Mr. Smith, the cheerful sexton of theKing's Chapel. These two were 'down among the dead men, ' under thechurch, when Mr. Smith apologized for leaving my cousin, on the pleathat he had a previous engagement to take a young gentleman into thecountry--a delicate way of stating that he was about to convey a bodyout to Mount Auburn!

Some fine day, I too shall take a drive with some Mr. Smith--not, ofcourse, _the_ S. C. Smith, for, as I have mentioned, 'I' belong to the'lower orders. '

Now let me tell you of _my_ Newport, and of what mitigations there arefor the poor wretches who pass their summer in the city, to whom thejoys of Sharon, Saratoga, the Hudson, and of Lake George are asimpossible as though these delightful resorts were in other planets. Perhaps, like Mr. T. A. 's 'good Americans, ' they have a vague hope thatwhen they die they can visit these famous places! For myself, I long agomade out my 'visiting list. ' Oh, bless you! as soon as I shall be 'outof the body, ' I shall start on the most delightful tour (no bother aboutthe luggage, checks, or couriers!); it will be years and years before Ifairly 'settle down' in that

 'bright particular star'

I have selected for my permanent residence. Yes! you horrible madame!oh, you horrible madame, who express your fears that I shall 'never besettled, ' speaking of me as if I were the coffee in yourcoffee-pot--(only, of course, such a well-regulated dame's coffee isnever anything but _quite_ clear and settled)--yes, to relieve yourpoor, narrow mind, I can bid you hope that in another and pleasanterworld I fully expect to be--'settled. ' I tell you this beforehand, for Iam very sure that you won't go to the same planet, and therefore willnever have the satisfaction of knowing the fact from personalobservation. 

But what am I about? Building castles in the skies! Mr. Editor Leland, as usual, protests against my sad lack of con-cen-tra-tion! Let usconcentrate, therefore, my beloved hearers! With or without sugar? Oh, Iwas beginning to tell you about Newport--_my_ Newport, the Public Gardenof Boston, _alias_ Hub-opolis--which you, poor things! belonging to the'higher orders' and living on Arlington, Berkely, Clarendon, and theDuke of Devonshire streets, never have a chance to see in its Augustanpomp and glory. In fact, till this summer, its 'pomp and glory' werequite concealed by dust and ashes; but now, thanks to the 'CityFathers, ' it is

 'Ye land of flowers. '

Let me describe it to you; for though your dwellings are directlyopposite, yet, custom compelling you to leave them before the flowerseason begins, you in reality know less of it than I do, living in astreet whose name must not be mentioned to ears polite. 'Tis far fromthe Beacon 'haunts of men, ' far from the Garden, and uncommonly far fromthe Common. I rise betimes on these summer mornings, and, before I go tomy work, shaking off the dust of my obscure street, I enter your sacredprecincts, oh, F. F. B. 's! Bless you, it can do you no harm, for evenyour boudoirs do not look out at me; their eyes are shuttered to allsuch vulgar sights. It was impertinent, but this morning I pitied you(_you!_) that you could not see the wondrous beauty of the--_city inAugust!_

The morning was gloriously beautiful: it might have been the sister tothat one born so long ago, on which its Creator looked, and said that itwas 'good. ' I actually forgot that I had no position; I imagined I had, for the very brightest beauty filled my soul--I saw angels ascending anddescending (not Beacon street, as in the winter season) the charmed airaround me. 'Ye land of flowers, ' indeed! All of them mine--mine, thoughI must not pluck the humblest one. In truth, I had no desire to do so. Why should I take the lovely creatures from their beautiful home, to theclose, dull room where I must sit all the bright day? Let me ratherthink of them fresh, free, and happy there, as I often think of agolden-haired child in heaven; one so dear to my heart of hearts, Ibless God that I _can_ think of her there with the angels who standnearest the Throne--and far, far away the weary paths that I must treadto the end. But if heaven had not wanted another cherub, and she hadbeen left to be the flower of my life, think you I could have seen herbeauty wither in the dull room to which I must hasten in an hour? No! athousand times no! I should leave her with her sisters in the gardenhere, with her cousins, the birds and butterflies, while I worked forboth. Lilies must neither 'toil nor spin. ' How idly I am dreaming! Sheis far away from this worky-day world; I shall never see her again, butin dreams, as now! Little sister! with starry eyes, and soft curlsclustering around the sweet infant face; so many nights the same brightvision--with the same wreath which I myself placed on her head, of May'spale flowers, and she the palest. Only lilies of the valley, I remember, seemed fitting for my darling's brow, or to grow on

ANNIE'S GRAVE. 

 Bright Roses, wither on the spray! Your sweetness mocks the doom Of her whose cheeks, so pale to-day, Were rivals of your bloom. 

 Sweet Violets, I charge ye, fade! Wear not those robes of blue, For eyes are closed which Nature made Of a more lovely hue. 

 Pale Lilies, sad and drooping low, With perfume like her breath, On Annie's grave alone shall grow, _Fair flower, plucked by Death_. 

 * * * * *

 Call it an affectation, if you will, but I never take a flower from its home without a slight twinge of pain. I _know_ it suffers! However, I have no scruples in accepting flowers after they are plucked by others. So pray do not hesitate about sending me that superb bouquet, which you intended to send me _to-morrow_! Have you never observed the brutal habit which 'some persons' have, of recklessly attacking shrubs and flowers, as though they were rank weeds (or secessionists), and, without in the least enjoying their spoils, tossing their quivering, trembling victims aside, before they are dead or even withered? Such are not worthy of flowers, excepting French flowers, which are not supposed to suffer. Oh, my countrywomen! would that they _did_ suffer a little from our neglect. 

 Do you know who Lacoontolâ is? I have made her acquaintance this summer, and find it one of the compensations for passing the summer in town. 

 She is to be found at the City Library--'Lacoontolâ, or, The Fatal Ring, ' translated from the Sanscrit. Go there for her, I pray you, and you will admire with me the exquisite description of her tenderness to these 'flower people, ' as Mrs. Mann calls them. 

 But, pardon! You who belong to the 'highest orders' must be already intimate with Mlle. Lacoontolâ, for she is highly connected: her papa was a king (quite equal in position to Mr. Abe Lincoln); her mamma, I regret to state, though a very charming person, was an actress or goddess, or something in that line. Lacoontolâ, however, in spite of her papa's indiscretion, married a prince, and was, in fact, perfectly genteel and quite religious. Before her marriage, she appears to have 'lived in the woods' the year round; her wardrobe being 'turu-lural. ' She used to wear the 'dearest' little zouave of the 'tender bark' of the 'Aurora tree. '

 'Rich and rare were the gems she wore, '

for her bracelets were the 'long perfumed stems of the waterlilies!' andin her hair the lotus flower, in place of a lace _barbe_!

There is a very beautiful description of Lacoontolâ's love and tendertreatment of all the flowers and shrubs--her companions--and of all_dumb_ animals. (_On dit_ that the prince was henpecked by _Mrs. _ L. !)

This wild girl had a human love for the forest flowers; she says tothee, Madhari Creeper: 'Oh, most radiant of twining plants, receive myembraces, and return them with thy flexible arms: from this day, thoughat a distance, I shall forever be thine. ' How unconventional! I fancyMlle. L. Must have inherited this style of conversation from her mamma;all very well, when confined to flowers and 'creeping' things; but oneday, as she was out walking, she met 'by chance--the usual way, ' PrinceDashuranti, and our young lady said pretty much the same sort of thingto him as to the 'Creeper, ' falling violently in love with him at firstsight. It struck H. R. H. As a little peculiar--rather extraordinary ina well-bred miss; but as it was leap year, and learning that she was theonly child, and would inherit all of papa's immense fortune, he marriedher 'off-hand;'--well, that very afternoon at four o'clock--by thesundial. You see it didn't take so long 'in those days, ' to get thetrousseau, and all 'the things' in readiness. Papa raised hissceptre-wand, and mumbled some infernal gibberish--and, lo! all thetrees and shrubs blossomed instanter, with the 'sweetest loves' ofthings trimmed with 'real point;'--well, with something just asdelicious to the soul of a young (or middle-aged) maiden on the eve ofmatrimony. There was no necessity, either, for an order to BigelowBros. , Boston--since, if Dushuranti wished to present her with a pair ofbracelets on her wedding day, he had but to 'push out' on the pond, andget some waterlilies!

The 'gibberish' in which the old gentleman is said to have invoked thebackwoods 'Chandlers' and 'Hoveys, ' I will obligingly translate for you, as possibly you may not be able to read it in the original Sanscrit! Oh!don't tell _me_ that you 'won't trouble me, ' and all that. I _will_ boreyou, and nobody can save you!

'Hear, O ye trees of this hallowed forest, hear and proclaim thatLacoontolâ is going to the palace of her wedded lord. She who drank not, though thirsty, before you were watered; she who cropped not, throughaffection for you, one of your fresh leaves, though she would have beenpleased with such an ornament for her locks; she whose chief delight wasin the season when your branches are sprayed with flowers, ' &c. , &c. Should you like a photograph of this charming person, Lacoontolâ, takenby Black & Batchelder, at the time of her marriage, 'Williams & Everett'can oblige you. You will perceive, from her picture, that she is not toofond of dress, or a 'slave to fashion. '

'Rappacini's daughter' (one of Hawthorne's Mosses) was a morbid'Lacoontolâ. ' She loved her flowers, --'not wisely, but too well!' Shebecame a sort of exterminatrix--a strychninus young person! From thepoisonous _arsenic_ embraces of her garden loves, she acquired, youremember, her fatal, glowing beauty--beauty altogether 'too rich foruse, for earth too dear, ' since it consigned the 'party' ensnared by itto the silent tomb!

'Rappacini's daughter, ' indeed! Lovely girl-woman, seated at yonder baywindow (to be accurate, the 'Back Bay window'!), playing with your tencherub children; your tropical 'midsummer-night's-dream' beauty recallsBeatrice (Hawthorne's Beatrice I mean). How many have _you_ slain, mylove? And Madame Grundy echoes: 'Their name is legion!' 'A quickbrunette, well moulded, falcon-eyed'! As in the description of Beatrice, one is reminded 'of all rich and intense colors'--the purple-black hair, the crimson cheek, the scarlet lips. And the eyes? ah! gazing into thosewonderful eyes, one forgets the color they wear, in trying to interprettheir language! 'Cleopatra!' who would not be an Antony for thee? _Iwould not!_

I have unconsciously interrupted a lady in her morning bath!--the 'stonelady' of the fountain. She seems to be looking for her Turkish towel, judging from her anxious expression! Rather a good-looking person--quitepretty, if only she would go to Summer street and purchase a black silk. Dress, I fancy, would improve 'her style of beauty. ' Poor thing! it'srather a long walk to take, _à la_ 'Lacoontolâ'! I must lend her mywaterproof, only she appears already to be water-proved! How she _must_envy the coloring and the clothes of my beautiful dame of the window!

But my hour is passing away! '_Resurgam_'--as the sun incorrectlyremarked this morning--and go on my way, rejoicing to say 'bon jour' toall my dear flower friends. And first, the 'Asters'--they always wererich, you know, from 'John Jacob' down; but this summer, _malgrè_ taxesand curtailment of incomes and go-comes, the family appear inunprecedented splendor. What gorgeous Organdies! all quilled in thefashion--but not by Madame Peinot: her cunning right hand, with all itscunning, ne'er quilled so exquisitely. Those graceful, fragile Petunias(what a family of sisters!), in their delicate _glaze_ silks (ratherish_décolleté!_), and the Superbia, Empress 'Gladiolus, ' in brocade of suchdaring hues, may call the Asters 'stiff and prudish' in their quilledmuslins; but, what say the Asters in return? Ah! what do they _not_ say?

The Verbenas seem fairly delirious this morning, as though theconsciousness of their own beauty made them run wildly from their bedsinto the paths, to say to the passers-by, with their bright littlefaces:

'See! am I not charming?'

Well, you _are_ pretty--_very_ pretty; but I care not for you as foryour plainer stepsister, the 'sweet-scented Verbena. ' She has a pale, sad face; but she has a _soul_, which you have not, poor things! forperfume is the soul of 'flower people. '

But, who wants gold? Lives there a man with purse so full who does _not_want it? Well, then, snatch that heap of sunshine, that dazzlingCoreopsis, and be off before the policeman turns into this path. Ah, yeDaylilies! You break my heart with your moonlight faces. Standing apartfrom the world-flowers, like novices in their white veils, who offer theincense of their beauty to Heaven--oh! give a little of your perfume toa poor un-otto-of-rosed mortal--breathe on me, and I can laugh at thecostly 'Wood Violet, ' 'Eglantine, ' and 'Rose, ' with which Harris &Chapman scent their patronesses--to be dollared in return!

Daylilies, your perfume is too subtle, too vague, to be coined or'cabined, cribbed, confined' in scent bottles. 

Ah! the flowering Mosses; they seem to be having one eternal picnic withthe Myrtles and Verbenas, playing forever that dear-to-children game of'Tag'! Some are arrayed in Solferino velvets, rather heavy for this warmday! Prettier these, in soft rose-colored robes, and this, in a

 'Oh! call me fair, not pale'--

well, _almost_ pale robe, the very climax of delicacy: the faintestthought of rose color alone prevents one from calling it lily-white. Iam reminded of you, O flower-named friend! Vision of loveliness! whichhas in a few never-to-be-forgotten days oasised my Sahara life. Now Ihave reached the pond--_my_ Lake George! It is fresh and breezy thismorning, after last night's thunder-shower, and the mimic waves areimpatiently breaking over the thus-far-shalt-thou-go stone. I cannotblame them for rushing over that green sward to give a morning kiss tothe blushing 'Forget-me-nots, ' and just say to them, 'Remember _me_!'

Yes; I have a few crumbs of time left to sit in the rustic arbor andgive one lingering look behind, that I may carry a picture with me whenI go to my work. 

How fortunate it is for one that these flowers are Londoners in theirhabits, and pass August in the city! I can go to their receptions daily, if I choose; they are always at home to the poorest, the mostunfashionable; they keep no 'visiting book' in their hall. 

Hark! the bell rings seven o'clock. There is a 'knocking at the gate'of my fairy land; it warns me that I must be on my Washington-streetway, to earn my bread. 

_Bien!_ my first meal of to-day has been satisfactory. Heaven hath sentme all manner of manna for breakfast--and for lunch? a banana. Yes; onmy way 'down town' I shall pass the Studio Building, where the B. 'slive; I will buy one of them, but shall also steal--many glances at theHamburg grapes, those peachiest of peaches, bombastic blackberries, and, O Pomona! _such_ pears. 

I escape! purse uninjured, only bananared. I reach Winter street, whereI must turn my back on the Common pleasures of Boston life--but yet, oneglance at that seductive window of the corner store, which, indeed, isnearly all window. Flowers are there, of course, --flowers from Januaryto January; any poor devil can have a temporary conservatory at thatwindow, 'all for nothing;' I ought to pay a yearly tax for the pleasureI steal in that way. The woman who carries my portmonnaie, only permitsme to open it for the 'necessaries' of life: the luxuries of hot-housegrapes and flowers ever wear for me that fatal label: 'Touch not, tastenot. ' Bread and cologne are, of course, the first necessities of life;in rolls and religion I am a Parkerite; in cologne, I swear by 'Mrs. Taylor'! Beacon street, I beg that you won't faint at this horribledisclosure!

Who _is_ 'Mrs. Taylor'? and echo answers, 'We haven't the faintest odorof an idea!' None know her but to praise, wherever she may be. WithSancho Panza we say, 'Blessings on the man who invented Mrs. Taylor atseventy-five cents _per_--the hock bottle. I catch a glimpse of her longneck, stretching up among the roses and Geraniums: my cologne naturecan't resist that sight! I obey the syren's call, though it will leaveme a beggar, but with Mrs. T. In my chaste-embrace. 

'The man I work for' treats me, for some reason, with 'distinguishedconsideration. ' Though I may sometimes be a little after the requiredhour, it's all right; and though he's a Yankee, no questions are asked!I still have a precious quarter remaining--not of a dollar, but of time. I have in my purse one postage stamp; but that will warrant a visit toLoring's! One must have books as well as bread and cologne. O LORING!what an institution art thou! Name dear to all classes, from Madame----, who steps from her carriage, to the pretty shop-girl, who alwayswants Mrs. Southworth's last--and worst--novel. 

Who, indeed, 'so poor' as not 'to do _him_ reverence, ' and find twocents _per_ day, when for that sublimely small sum one can get acompanion for any and every mood, 'Grave to gay, from lively to severe?'

But will 'LORING'S' be open at this early dawn? 'Open, ' indeed! one doesnot catch _him_ napping; yes, open and so inviting! A literary publicgarden so fresh and clean, as

 'Just washed in a shower. '

In the rear, behind the desk, one is always sure of finding at least_two roses_, and _on_ the desk a vase of flowers is certainly to beseen--the offering of some one of the hundreds of admirers who go toLoring's, nominally for some entertaining book--and they always findone!

'What book did you say, miss?' asks Fleur de Marie. ('Where _does_ sheget those lilies and roses? I saw none like them in the garden thismorning. Ah! many of the dames who enter here from their carriages wouldalso like to ask my question--since they do not seem to find them evenat Newport!) 'If you please, _what_ book?' again inquire the Roses. 

'Oh!' I answer, 'I was looking, and forgot what I came for; is 'Out ofhis Head' _in_ yet?'

The fair librarian evidently thinks I am out of mine. Ah! would that Iwere, and out of my whole body; but no! ingrate that I am, to-day Ishould be content--simply _to be_; even a cabbage ought to be happy insuch perfect summer weather. T. B. Aldrich _is_ in--as much as he everis supposed to be; but I recall now that I read his sketchy book theother night, while I was brushing my hair, giving it a sort of 'goodtime generally, ' letting it run wild a little before going to sleep. Iread 'Pierre Antoine's Date Tree' quite through, and liked--the _lastpart_ very much indeed. There are some people whom I am always very gladto have visit me, because I feel so 'dreadful glad' when they go away. So, also, it compensates one to read certain books for the sake of thedelicious sensation one experiences on finishing them! What a pile of'_Les Misérables_, ' Fantine? _C'est assez misérable. _ The 'Hunchback' isthe least deformed of Hugo's offspring; but I read _that_ last Sundaymorn--no; I mean last Saturday evening; for I went to church on Tremontstreet, last Sunday. What's this? it looks as tempting as a banana, andis not unlike one in color. 'Melibæus in London, ' in the summer, too:good! I'll take that, it shall 'assist' the banana at my lunch. I hurryout of this 'little heaven, ' murmuring, as I depart: 'LORING, liveforever!'

Lady Macbeth undoubtedly alluded to you when she says:

 'We _fail_? there's no such word as fail!'

I believe the Macbeths, and, in fact, everybody but Loring, has failedduring the war times. McClellan certainly has--not succeeded. 

The police (those gentlemen of elegant leisure) do not even suspect howmuch I have stolen, and what treasures I am carrying off before nineo'clock A. M. ! All the splendors of the early morning are mine; theywill gild the dull grey of my working hours. What a stock of perfumesstolen from the garden! they will sweeten the 'business air' ofWashington street. The fountain's glistening spray will sprinkle thedusty walk to 'the shop. '

I have not yet told you of the kisses taken--not from Féra's, but fromthe cherry-ripe lips of two lovely children, with whom I formed anintimacy in the garden by the pond; they were 'sailing' their mimicboats there. I almost wished

 'I were a boy again, '

and had a boat to sail! These children had such a brave and haughtybeauty, and their dress being of purple and fine linen, I supposed theirname must be Berkeley or Clarendon, but was grieved to learn from theartless darlings that it was Muggins! However, their kisses wereunexceptionable, whatever their origin may have been. 

But what a 'heap' of Beauty I stole in my return walk throughBeaconstreet mall! No wonder those magnificent elms are in love witheach other, and embrace over the people's heads! When I come into myfortune, I intend, early the next morning, before breakfast, to make thefirst use of my 'funds' in purchasing Mr. George Ticknor's house. (Ofcourse, he will not object. ) I shall then laugh at the mill-damprincipalities and powers when I look from my library windows down thatlong vista of noble trees. Come and see me when I am settled there! Youshall have a warm welcome in winter, and a cool one in summer. And now, fare thee well, whoever thou art, who hast kindly walked with me to thedoor of--my 'place of business. ' I will not ask you to enter there. Ican worry through the day: unseen companions go with me to soothe andcheer; so do not pity me that I am what I am--'nobody, ' living'nowhere. ' You have seen that the Angel of Beauty disdains not to appearin my humble path--and sometimes hovers so near, I can almost touch herwings!

And so God be w'ye! Little joys to you are great joys to me. There bethose above you, 'kinges and princes and greate emperours, ' to whom yourluxuries and badges would seem as little as mine are to you. When youare beautiful, you adorn my street; when you are unlovely, I--pass youby. _Bon jour la compagnie!_

THE IVY. 

 'Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, begone, and be all ways away. So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist, --the female Ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. Oh, how I love thee; how I dote on thee!'

 _Midsummer Night's Dream_, act iv. , scene 1. 

 'The bearers of the thyrsus (bound with Ivy) are many, but the Bacchantæ are few. '--_Orphic saying. _

If, among plants, the Rose is unmistakably feminine, from the delicatecomplexion of its flower, the Ivy is not less so from the tendersentiment of attachment expressed by its whole form and life. In herinfinite array of poetic symbols, Nature has given us nothing soexquisitely typical of all that is best in woman, as that which may befound in the graceful curves and in the firm strength of this vine. Inyouth and beauty, she clings to the husband tree or parental wall forsupport, and, like a wife or daughter, conceals defects, and imparts asofter shadowing and contour to the support, without which she herselfhad never risen to light and life. Time passes on. The oak grows old, the wall is shattered by lightning; but the Ivy, now strong and firm, shelters the limbs or binds together the tottering walls with greatercare than before, and covers decay and rifts with fresh care--aided bythe younger daughter-vines. 

This simile has occurred to poets in all lands, in all ages. In an oldChinese poem (JOLOWICZ, _der Poetische Orient_, s. 7) we are told that'in the south there lives a tree, the Ivy _Ko_ clings and winds aroundit, bringing the most excellent of joys and happiness in excess. ' Owingto this natural and most palpable resemblance, the ancient Greeks causedthe officiating priest in the temple to present to a bridal pair, onentering, a twig of Ivy, 'as a symbolical wish that their love, like it, might ever continue fresh. ' It was a beautiful thought, and one whichwas not lost sight of in the ecclesiastical and architectural symbolismof the middle ages. 'It is, ' says FRIEDREICH (_Symbolik und Mythologieder Natur_, § 103), 'as an ever-greening plant, a type of life, of love, and of marriage. ' It is, therefore, with both truth and propriety thatthe modern floral lexicons give the _vitis hedera_, or Ivy, asexpressing 'Female affection--I have found one true heart. '

As with all plants, or, indeed, with all natural objects known to theancients, the Ivy was the subject of a myth or religious allegory, andin investigating this myth, we find ourselves in a labyrinth of strangemystery. The ordinary works on mythology, indeed, inform the reader thatit was the plant sacred to Bacchus, the god of wine, because, as Loudonstates, 'this wine is found at Nyssa, the reputed birthplace of Bacchus, and in no other part of India. ' 'It is related, ' he continues, 'thatwhen Alexander's army, after their conquest of Babylon, arrived at thismountain, and found it covered with laurel and Ivy, they were sotransported with joy (especially when they recognized the latter plant, which is a native of Thebes), that they tore up the Ivy by the roots, and, twining it around their heads, burst forth into hymns to Bacchus, and prayers for their native country. '

But there is a deeper significance to the Ivy, even as there is a deeperand more solemn mystery and might around the primeval Bacchus. To us heis merely the wine-god, but to the ancient Initiated in the orgies andmysteries he was--as were each of the gods in their turn--the centraldivinity, the lord of light, and the giver of life. For, as it wasconcisely said in the spirit of pantheistic abstraction: 'Nothing can beimagined which is not an image of God;' so it was not possible toconceive a divinity who was not in himself all the other divinities. Thus we find that Bacchus was male, female, and at the same time anabsolute ONE without regard to sex; or, in other words, he was theancient trinity. 

 'Tibi enim inconsumpta juventus. Tu puer æternus, tu formosissimus alto Conspiceris coelo, tibi, cum sine cornibus adstas Virgineum caput est. '

 OVID, _Met. _ l. 4. 

For, as the great mystery of all religion, or of all being, is _life_, and as life, like blood, is most aptly typified by reviving andinspiring wine, it was not wonderful that renewed strength, generation, and birth should gather around the incarnation of the vine, and that the_cup_ should become the holiest of symbols. Like the ark, the chest orcoffer, the egg, and a thousand other receptive or _containing_ objects, the cup appeared to the ancient Initiated as a womb, or as the earth, taking in and giving forth life. It was in this spirit that NONNUS, inthe fifth century, wrote The Dyonisiacs, a vast poem on Bacchus, inforty-eight books; 'a magnificent assemblage of the emblematical legendsof Egypt, ' and in which modern criticism has discovered a creativegrandeur, a beautiful wildness of fancy, and a romantic spirit, such aswere combined in no other one poem of antiquity. 

Bacchus was thus the lord of life, and that in a vividly _real_sense--the sense of intoxication, of keenly thrilling pleasure, of wilddelight, and headlong rushing joy. He was fabled to have given men thegrape and wine--but to the Initiated of the mystery and orgie there washigher and more intoxicating wine than that of the grape--the wine ofwild inspiration, drawn from the keenest relish of beauty, of nature, ofknowledge, and of love. Drunk with this wine of the soul, the Moenadand Bacchante rushed forth into lonely forests, amid rocks, by silentlake, and streamlet lone, and cried in frantic joy, bewildered withpassion, to the Great Parent, or shouted in praise: 'Bacche, Evoe, Bacche!'

 'Then chaunted rose The song of Bacchic women: all the band Of shaggy Satyrs howled with mystic voice, Preluding to the Phrygian minstrelsy Of nightly orgies. Earth around them laughed; The rocks reëchoed; shouts of revelling joy Shrilled from the Naiads, and the river nymphs Sent echoes from their whirlpool-circled tides, Flowing in silence; and beneath the rocks Chanted Sicilian songs, like preludes sweet, That through the warbling throats of Syren nymphs, Most musical drop of honey from their tongues. '

 NONNUS. 

For all this wild joy, all this exquisite union of all the pleasuresknown to man, whether in the mad embraces of passionate nymphs, indraining wine, in tasting the fresh honeycomb, in wild dances undergreen leaves, in feasting, or in song, Bacchus was the centre, and theCup the symbol. And this cup--the absolutely _feminine_ type--the _Iona_which forms the nucleus of so great and so curious a family of words inthe Indo-Germanic and Shemitic languages--was fabled to have been formedfrom the wood of Ivy. Let the reader hear this double sex of Bacchus inmind; he will find it recurring again in the myth of Ivy. 'We must, 'says CREUZER (_Symbolik und Mythologie der Alten Völker_), 'think of ALLthings, if we would not see the Bacchic genii in their mysterious rites, from a one-sided point of view. Not only Bacchus himself, but his maleand female companions must each, like their lord on earth, appear in_different_ forms. For the mysteries loved the antique, thepregnant-with-meaning, _i. E. _ that which has a really symbolicalfulness, and supplies full food for thought. ' And again: 'It would havebeen very strange if the Man-Woman had not also appeared in thismysterious array of forms. In his origin, Bacchus is an Indian god, andto the Hindus the world was bi-sexed. ' Thus we find in the Ivy, as hissacred plant, a curious and beautiful symbol, in whose trailing embracesthe ancient East and West are bound together. 

If the Ivy cup was held to typify female nature, so too were the leavesof that plant emblematical of the receptive sex. The thyrsus, thedistinctive object borne by the worshippers of Bacchus, was a phallic ormale symbol, the characteristic portion of which was wreathed and buriedin Ivy leaves; signifying the union of the sexes. It is curious toobserve that this regarding the Ivy as characteristic of the feminineprinciple, found its way among the Druids, and was transmitted from themto the Christian and Christmas ceremonies of the middle ages. In thesewe always find that the thorned holly is spoken of as male, and the Ivyas female. In the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for 1779, a correspondentrelates a ceremony, which is still preserved in some parts of England. 'The girls, from five or six to eighteen years old, were assembled in acrowd, burning an uncouth effigy, which they called a _holly-boy_, andwhich they had stolen from the boys; while in another part of thevillage, the boys were burning what they called an _Ivy-girl_, whichthey had stolen from the girls. The ceremony of each burning wasattended with huzzas and other acclamations, according to the receipt ofcustom in all such cases. '[1]

There is but one legend in all the legends of the gods; but onesolution, though the enigmas be thousandfold; and the myth of the Ivy isonly a repetition of that of Bacchus and of all the immortals--theendless allegory of birth and death, male and female, winter and spring. _Kissos_--the Greek word for Ivy--was a young faun beloved by Bacchus, who accompanied the god of the Cup and of life, in all his strangeadventures. Mad with wine, Kissos once at an orgie danced until he felldead. Then his lord, grieving bitterly, raised the beloved form in hisarms, and, changing it to Ivy, wreathed it around his brow. It is theold story of death and revival. 

But we may expect to find of course a feminine goddess, or demi-goddess, whose name includes the same root as Kissos--and she appears in_Kiseis_, one of the nymphs to whom Bacchus gave the infant Bacchus tobe brought up. For her reward, she was placed by Bacchus among thestars--in the constellation of the weeping Hyades--that she might have aplace in heaven. Apropos of which we may quote the words of the quaintold Jesuit GALTRUCHIUS, saying that 'Bacchus was brought up with theNymphs, which teacheth us that we must mix Water with our Wine. '[2]

We also find that _Kisæa_, was, at Epidaurus, one of the names ofMinerva. Notwithstanding the apparent dissimilarity between the wild godof wine and the goddess of calm wisdom, it was still taught in themysteries that they had an affinity in more than one lower form, and, ofcourse, an _identity_ in their highest. 'The temple of Bacchus, ' saysGaltruchius, 'was next to _Minerva's_, to express how useful Wine is torevive the Spirits, and enable our Fancy to Invent. '[3] In the olderworship, Minerva was one with Venus, Diana, Proserpine--the generatingfemale principle of love and of beauty being of course predominant. 'Inthis _unity_ or identity of barbarian divinities, ' says Creuzer(_Symbolik_, IV. _Theil_), ('to speak like the Greeks') 'we must, however, seek for the source of that _variety_ which made the Greeks sorich in gods; and what had in Hellas been separated into so many, remained by the 'barbarians' single and undivided. Therefore the older aGreek local worship might be, so much the more did it in this resemblethe barbarian. * * So we have truly learned in Argos, Laconia, Dodona, and Sicily, * * that Proserpine was one and the same with Venus andDiana, and the identity with Minerva may also be proved. ' For the proofI refer the reader to his work. With Venus, however, Bacchus had amours, begetting Priapus. Certain it is that the Ivy _Kissos_ appears in bothmale and female names. 

But as the Ivy formed the cup--_kissubion_--into which life entered, andfrom which it was drained as wine; so, too, from its wood was made thesacred _chest_ (_kisté_) in which, in the Dyonisiac mysteries, the samesecret was preserved under the form of a serpent, while in theEleusinian it hid the dread pomegranate which Persephone had tasted. Forthey were all one and the same, this wine and serpent andpomegranate--the type of life and of knowledge--of human birth, andhuman intellect--of the world's generation and of eternal wisdom. Thefruit of which Adam ate, the bread and wine of the holy supper of themysteries of all lands in all ages, the pomegranate, whose seeds, onceeaten, kept the soul in another life beyond death, all have _one_meaning--and this meaning was that of infinite revival, endlessbegetting, the renewal of nature--and with this the _knowledge_ of thegreat mystery which sets the soul free. '_Eritis sicut Deus. _'

It was no small honor for a single plant to have furnished the wreath ofBacchus, the wood of his cup, emblematic of the human body containinghis life-blood, and the material for the chest of the greatmysteries--meaning also the body and the world. I think, however, thatits philological root may also be possibly found in the Greek noun_kissa_, and the verb _kissáo_, implying strange and excessivepassionate longing. Such yearning would well become the Bacchantæ, thewild children of desire and of Nature. It is longing or _desire_ whichleads to renewing life, which constitutes love, which flashes like fireand light through the beautiful, and pours forth the wine, and breaksthe bread, and causes the rose-blush to bloom, and the nymphs to cryamid the mountains, _Evoé Bacche!_

Coming down from the pagan mysteries into lower and more literal forms, the Ivy preserved two meanings. It was already the vine of life, and theearly Christians laid it in the coffins of their departed, as the emblemof a new life in Christ. [4] It had hung upon the limbs of naked nymphs, convulsed in passionate orgies, as a type of vitality renewed bypleasure--it was now wreathed at Christmas-tide over quaint columns andtracery-laden Gothic windows and arches, as a sign--they knew notexactly of what--but guessed, naturally enough, and rightly, that ittypified as an undying winter-plant the resurrection. And they sang itspraises in many a brave carol:

 IVY, chief of trees it is, _Veni coronaberis_. 

 The most worthy she is in town, -- He who says other says amiss; Worthy is she to bear the crown; _Veni coronaberis_. 

 IVY is soft and meek of speech, Against all woe she bringeth bliss; Happy is he that may her reach: _Veni coronaberis_. 

 IVY is green, of color bright, Of all trees the chief she is; And that I prove will now be right: _Veni coronaberis_. 

 IVY, she beareth berries black; God grant to all of us his bliss, For then we shall nothing lack: _Veni coronaberis_. 

Very quaint is the following fragment:

 Holly and Ivy made a great party, Who should have the mastery In lands where they go. 

 Then spake Holly, 'I am fierce and jolly, I will have the mastery In lands where we go. '

 Then spake Ivy, 'I am loud and proud, And I will have the mastery In lands where we go. '

 Then spake Holly, and bent him down on his knee, 'I pray thee, gentle Ivy, Essay me no villany In lands where we go. '

_Old Christmas Carol. _

'Good wine needs no bush, ' says an old proverb; but is it generallyknown that the 'bush' in question, used as a sign for wine, was a bunchof Ivy? The custom went from Greece to Italy, from Italy to Germany, andso on westward. Very different is this use of the evergreen vine intaverns, from that of adorning churches--the one meaning a mereinvitation to drink, while the other reminds the believer that, as theIvy lives through the bitter winter, so shall our souls endure throughcold death and live again in Christ, even as He passed through the graveto live in 'eternal bloom. ' Yet to those who have mastered the legend ofBacchus, there is no absolute difference between the two, when studiedwith regard to their origin. It is worth remarking that among theancients the impression prevailed that the Ivy was the plant ofjoyousness, of triumphant strength, and of _life_, even as Bacchus wasthe lord of joy. And at a later day, long after the association withgenial Bacchus was forgotten, the Ivy in popular lay and legend, andquaint custom and holiday rite, still by some inexplicable associationalways seemed to the multitude to be sweet and gentle, noble and dear. It is such a feeling of love, derived from old traditions and oldworships, long forgotten, which makes the stork and the house-cricketand the robin and dragon-fly and swallow so dear to children and grownpeople in many parts of Europe. The rose is gone, but the perfume stilllingers in the old leaves of the manuscript. And the reader whocomprehends this may also comprehend the tender affection for the Ivyexpressed in the old Christmas carols which I have quoted, and which, without such comprehension, seem absurd enough; while _with_ it, theyappear truly beautiful and touching. 

As the symbol of a joyous faith, the Ivy seems to have been especiallyrepugnant to the Hebrews, whose stern monotheism admitted few attributesto the Deity save those of tremendous power, vengeance, and gloom. So wefind (_Maccabees_, book ii. , c. 6. , v. 7) that it was regarded by themas most horrible that, 'in the day of the king's birth, every month, they were brought, by bitter constraint, to eat of the sacrifices; and, when the feast of Bacchus was kept, the Jews were compelled to go inprocession to Bacchus, carrying Ivy. ' A dislike to this emblem ofheathen joy seems, however, to have clung to them through all changes offaith--a fact apparently well known to Ptolemy Philopater, king ofEgypt, who ordered that all the Jewish renegades who had abjured theirreligion should be branded with an Ivy-leaf. 

When the reader who may be interested in the architecture of the middleages meets in its tracery, as he often must, the Ivy-leaf, let himrecall that here is a symbol which was not used unthinkingly by the FreeMasons, who seldom lost an opportunity to bring forward their orientallyderived Nature-lore. In fact, the whole mass and body of mediævalarchitectural emblems presents nothing less than a protest of Nature andlife, independence and intelligence, knowledge and joyousness, againstthe gloomy prison of form and tyranny which held Truth in chains. Thestone Ivy-leaf carved on the capitals of old cathedrals was as revivinga symbol to the heart of the Initiated as was the living Ivy on thewalls without, green and beautiful among mid-winter's snow. It has beenwell conjectured by a German writer (STIEGLITZ, _Archæologie derBaukunst der Griechen und Römer_, Weimar, 1801, I _Theil_, § 268), thatthe relation of the Ivy to Bacchus was probably the cause why it was sofrequently introduced by the Greeks among the architectural ornaments oftheir temples; a very natural conjecture, when we remember that it was afirm conviction in the early faith, even of India, that where the Ivywas found, the god had literally been. The same bold spirit of traditionwhich brought into the very bosom of the church so much genial, latentheresy and heathen daring, kept the Ivy alive--for Nature and Truth_will_ live, and man will have his guardian angels, who will hope forhim and for the dawn, though buried in the deepest night and lost amonghorrible dreams and ghastly incubi. A French writer on mediæval art[5]has declared that an excellent work might be written on the foliage ofChristian architecture, but regrets that the relations of the leaves asemployed--or, in fact, the law guiding their employment--should beunintelligible. Let them be studied according to their symbolical andantique meaning, and they will seem clear as legible letters; and tothose who can read them, the gloomy Gothic piles will ray forth astrange and beautiful light--the sympathetic light of congenial mindslong passed away, yet who did not vanish ere they had breathed out tothose who were to come after them, in leaf or other character, theirhatred of _the tyrant_, and their unfailing conviction of the GreatTruth. GOD bless them all! I have studied for hours their solemnsymbols--each a cry for freedom and a prayer for light; and when Ithought of the gloom and cruelty and devilishness of the foul age whichpressed around them, I wondered that they, knowing what they did, couldhave lived--ay, lived and sung and given a soul to art. And, understanding them in spirit and in truth, every Ivy-leaf carved by themseemed the whole Prometheus bound and unbound--yes, all poems of truth, all myths, all religion. 

And as it is the leaf of life, so is it by that very fact the leaf of_death_; for death is only the water of life. And in this sense we finda rare beauty in the poem by Mrs. Hemans, though she saw its truth, notthrough the dim glass of tradition, but by direct communion with Nature. 

 TO THE IVY. 

 OCCASIONED BY RECEIVING A LEAF GATHERED IN THE CASTLE OF RHEINFELS. 

 Oh! how could fancy crown with thee, In ancient days, the god of wine, And bid thee at the banquet be, Companion of the vine? Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound Of revelry hath long been o'er; Where song's full notes once peal'd around, But now are heard no more. 

 The Roman, on his battle plains, Where kings before his eagles bent, Entwined thee, with exulting strains, Around the victor's tent; Yet there, though fresh in glossy green, Triumphantly thy boughs might wave-- Better thou lov'st the silent scene Around the victor's grave. 

 Where sleep the sons of ages flown, The bards and heroes of the past, Where through the halls of glory gone, Murmurs the wintry blast; Where years are hastening to efface Each record of the grand and fair-- Thou, in thy solitary grace, Wreath of the tomb! art there. 

 Oh! many a temple, once sublime Beneath a blue Italian sky, Hath nought of beauty left by time, Save thy wild tapestry. And, reared 'midst crags and clouds, 'tis thine To wave where banners waved of yore, O'er towers that crest the noble Rhine, Along his rocky shore. 

 High from the fields of air look down Those eyries of a vanished race, Homes of the mighty, whose renown Hath passed and left no trace. But thou art there--thy foliage bright, Unchanged, the mountain storm can brave-- Thou that wilt climb the loftiest height, And deck the humblest grave. 

 The breathing forms of Parian stone, That rise round grandeur's marble halls; The vivid hues by painting thrown Rich o'er the glowing walls; Th' acanthus on Corinthian fanes, In sculptured beauty waving fair-- These perished all--and what remains? --Thou, thou alone art there. 

 'Tis still the same--where'er we tread, The wrecks of human power we see, The marvel of all ages fled, Left to decay and thee. And still let man his fabrics rear, August in beauty, grace, and strength, -- Days pass, thou 'Ivy never sere, '[6] And all is thine at length. 

There was a strange old belief that Ivy leaves worn as a garlandprevented intoxication, that wine was less exciting when drunk from acup of its wood, and that these cups had finally the singular propertyof separating water from wine by filtration, when the two weremingled--or, as it is expressed by MIZALDUS MONLUCIANUS in hisdelightfully absurd 'Centuries, '[7] 'a cup of Ivy, called _cissybius_, is especially fitted for two reasons, for feasts: firstly, because Ivyis said to banish drunkenness; and secondly, because by it the frauds oftavern keepers, who mix wine with water, are detected. ' It is worthremarking, in connection with this, that, according to LOUDON(_Arboretumet Fruticetum Brittanicum_, c. 59), the wood of the Ivy is, when newlycut, really useful as a filter, though it is highly improbable thatanything like a complete analysis of mingled water and wine can beeffected by it. 

It may interest the literary critic, should he be ignorant of the fact, to know that the golden-berried Ivy--worn by Apollo ere he adopted theDaphnean laurel--is the plant consecrated to his calling. Witness Pope:

 'Immortal Vida, on whose honored brow The poet's bays and critic's Ivy grow. '

Perhaps it is given to the critics to remind them that they should bekindly sheltering and warmly protecting to poor poets and others, whomay be greatly cheered by a little kindness. For there is an old legendthat the Druids decorated dwelling places with Ivy and holly during thewinter, 'that the sylvan spirits might repair to them, and remainunnipped with frost and cold winds, until a milder season had renewedthe foliage of their darling abodes. (DR. CHANDLER, _Travels inGreece_. ) Think of this when ye ink your pens for the onslaught!

It is worth noting that in two or three 'Dream Books' the Ivy is setdown as indicating 'long-continued health, and new friendships'--anexplanation quite in keeping with its ancient symbolism, and still morewith its most literal and apparent meaning of _attachment_. This lattersense has given poet and artist many a fine figure and image. 'Nothing, 'says ST. PIERRE in his _Studies of Nature_, 'can separate the Ivy fromthe tree which it has once embraced: it clothes it with its own leavesin that inclement season when its dark boughs are covered with hoarfrost. The faithful companion of its destiny, it falls when the tree iscut down: death itself does not relax its grasp; and it continues toadorn with its verdure the dry trunk that once supported it. '

And of the golden-berried Ivy, Spenser sings:

 'Emongst the rest, the clamb'ring Ivy grew, Knitting his wanton arms with grasping hold, Lest that the poplar happely should rew Her brother's strokes, whose boughs she doth enfold With her lythe twigs, till they the top survew And paint with pallid green her buds of gold. '

Madame DE GENLIS tells us of a true-hearted friend, who clung to afallen minister of state, through good and ill fortune, and followed himinto exile, that he adopted for a 'device' a fallen oak tree thicklywound with Ivy, and with the motto: 'His fall cannot free me from him. 'An 'emblem' of the later middle age expresses undying conjugal love in alike manner, by a fallen tree wound around with Ivy, beneath which, isthe inscription in Spanish: '_Se no la vida porque la muerte. _'(RADOWITZ, _Gesammelte Schriften_. ) A not uncommon seal gives us the Ivywith the motto; 'I die where I attach myself;' while yet another of theivied fallen trees declares that 'Even ruin cannot separate us. '

Ivy is the badge of the clan Gordon, and of all who bear that name. Inconclusion, lest my readers should object that the subject, thougheminently suggestive, has been treated entirely without a jest, I willcite a quaint repartee, shockingly destructive of the sentiment justcited:

'Woman, ' said a lovelorn youth, 'is like Ivy--the more you are ruined, the closer she clings to you. '

'And the closer she clings to you, the sooner you are ruined, ' repliedan old cynic of a bachelor. 

Poor man! He had never realized the truth of the French saying, that toenjoy life, there is nothing like being ruined a little. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _New Curiosities of Literature, and Book of the Months. _ BY GEORGESOANE, B. A. London, 1849, Vol. I. , p. 57. 

[2] _The Poetical History. _ By P. GALTRUCHIUS. London 1678. 

[3] Galtruchuis, c. 7. 

[4] 'Hedera quo que vel laurus et hujusmodi, quæ semper servant virorem, in sarcophago corpori substernantur, ad significandum, quod quimoriuntur in Christo, vivere non desinant; nam licet mundo moriantursecundum corpus, tamen secundum animam vivunt et reviviscunt inDeo. '--DURANDUS, _Ration. Div. Offic. _, lib. Vii. , cap 35. 

[5] BERTY, _Dictionnaire de l'Architecture du Moyen Age_. Paris, 1845. 

[6] 'Ye myrtles brown, and ivy never sere. ' MILTON'S _Lycidas_. 

[7] 'Poculum ex hedera, cissybium dictum, ratione duplici conviviissummè est accomodum: imprimis, quod hedera vini temulantiam, arcerefertur: deinde quod cauponum fraudes, qui vinum aqua miscent, eo poculodeprehenduntur. '--_Memorabilium, Utilium ac Jucundorum Centuriæ Novem, &c. _ Paris, 1566. 

THE MISHAPS OF MISS HOBBS. 

 'New beauties push her from the stage; She trembles at the approach of age; And starts, to view the altered face That wrinkles at her in her glass. '

 TRUMBULL'S _Progress of Dulness_. 

CHAPTER I. 

Ann Harriet Hobbs was getting cured of her youth. 'She was goingbackward, ' as the French say of people when Time is running forward, andthey themselves are being forwarded a little too rapidly by his Express. All the ladies said so of her; all the gentlemen said so; and, worsethan all, even the mirror made similar reflections a little--the onlydifference being that the ladies and gentlemen said so behind her back, but the mirror expressed it before her face. One by one her sisters andcompanions ripened and were plucked by the admiring crowd, but AnnHarriet remained untouched. No one even pinched her to see if she weregood. And finally, as the throng were rapidly passing on, it became hersettled conviction that she must shake herself into some one's hands, orshe would be left to wither forsaken on the ancestral tree. 

Ann Harriet, like some patent medicines, was not bad to take. True, children did not cry for her as they did for the famous cough lozengesof old; but the fact was, that in Peonytown most of the people werehomoeopathists, and preferred small doses; therefore Ann Harriet, whowas popularly reported to weigh three hundred and one pounds--_viresacquirit eundo_--was altogether too large a dose for any gentleman ofthe homoeopathic persuasion. Possibly, if Ann Harriet could have beendivided into twin sisters of about one hundred and fifty pounds each, her matrimonial chances would have greatly increased; for however it mayhave been in years past, this putting two volumes into one is not at allpopular at the present _duo_-decimal time. 

Business, too, was dull in Peonytown, and the men could not afford tomarry a wife who would require twenty-five yards for a dress, when theycould get one that ten yards would cover up. 

Miss Hobbs's twenty-sixth birthday was approaching. She could see it inthe dim distance, and she knew too well that the twenty-seventh wasready to follow it up; and that Time stepped heavier than he usedto--the clumsy fellow; for, 'handsome' as she was, she could see themarks of his feet on her face. 

Ann Harriet had an uncle residing in Boston, whom she had never seen, but had often heard him favorably spoken of by her mother, whose onlybrother he was. Ann therefore determined that she would write to herUncle Farnsworth, and ask him if it would be agreeable should she visithim for a few weeks. 

Her letter met with a cordial response from the old gentleman, whoexpressed himself 'highly gratified at the prospect' of seeing hissister's daughter; named the day for her to come, and said that Gregory, his son, would meet her at the railroad station in Boston, when thetrain arrived. 

Ann Harriet had never been in Boston, and the thoughts of a journeythither animated her 'to a degree. ' Her wardrobe was renovated; abran-new bonnet was purchased; and as all Peonytown was informed that itwas to be deprived of her presence for several weeks, the'meeting-house' was of course filled on the following Sunday to hearParson Bulger preach about it; for he was one of the new-fashionedministers, who considered the Bible as a wornout book, and generallypreached from a newspaper text, or the last exciting piece of news. Alas! they were disappointed; for the sermon was on Barnum's Baby Show. 

The appointed day came, and Ann Harriet paid Seth Bullard, the butcher'sboy, a quarter of a dollar to 'carry' her and her luggage over to theYellowfield depot, where she was to take the cars for Boston. She borein her hand a rhubarb pie, nicely tied up in a copy of the _PeonytownClarion_, which was intended as a gift for her Aunt Farnsworth. It was apie she made with her own hands, and would have taken a prize for sizeat any cattle show. 

After asking engineer, brakeman, and conductor which they thought thesafest car, and getting a different answer from each, she finallyensconced herself in the third car from the engine. Opening the window, her attention was attracted by a neat tin sign, on which was painted, '_Look out for Pickpockets!_'

'Now, that is kind, ' said she, 'to give people notice. I forgot allabout pickpockets. I would really like to see some, and will certainlylook out for them. ''

She accordingly thrust her head and neck out of the car window, andlooked sharply at the bystanders. While engaged in this detectiveservice, the signal was given, and the cars started, when Miss Hobbs, thinking it was needless to keep up a longer lookout, reëntered, and wassurprised to find a nice-looking young man by her side. He wore a heavyyellow watchguard, yellow kid gloves, and a moustache to match, patent-leather boots, a poll-parrot scarf, and a brilliant breast-pin. Ann Harriet was delighted to have such a companion; and her wish that hewould enter into conversation was soon gratified. 

'Travelling far?' asked the 'city-looking chap. '

'Yes, sir; I am going to my uncle's, in Boston, ' replied Ann Harriet. 

'Taking a vacation, I suppose?' continued he of the yellow kids. 

['How delightful!' thought Miss Hobbs; 'he takes me for aboarding-school girl. ']

'For a few weeks, ' replied she, with a bland smile; and dropping herblack lace veil to improve her really fine complexion, knowing, as wellas Shakspeare, that

 'Beauty, blemished once, is ever lost, In spite of physic, painting, pains, and cost. '

'Is not this Miss Hobbs, of Peonytown?' suddenly asked the proprietor ofthe patent leathers, after a few minutes' conversation. 

'Why! yes; how _did_ you know?' was Ann Harriet's reply. 

'Oh, I had a friend as went to the academy in Peonytown, and he alwayskept me posted up on the pretty girls; and he talked about you so often, I knew it _must_ be Miss Hobbs, ' was the flattering answer. 

'How strange!' thought Ann Harriet. 'Well, it proves that I am notwholly overlooked by the young men of my native village. ' She did notremember that she carried a little satchel, on which the stranger hadread, 'ANN HARRIET HOBBS, _Peonytown_. '

At this time a boy entered the car with a supply of ice water forthirsty passengers. In handing a glassful to Miss Hobbs, he spilled apart on the floor. 

'What a waste!' remarked he. 

Ann Harriet blushed deep crimson--fat folks are always sensitive--and, with a grave, fat, solemn air, she said:

'I think you are quite rude, sir. '

'I'd like to know how?' inquired he, with a look of surprise. 

'By making remarks on my waist, sir. No gentleman would be guilty ofsuch an offence, ' replied the indignant lady. 

Fortunately, the train at this juncture stopped at a way station, andthe yellow moustache, poll-parrot scarf, and kid gloves got out, firstbowing very politely to their late companion. Ann Harriet was a littlesorry to have their inmate go, but consoled herself with the thoughtthat he was altogether too familiar. 

About fifteen miles farther on, an orange boy made his appearance; andAnn, thinking an orange would moisten her throat, felt for herportemonnaie, and found it not; for, while she was so intently looking_out_ for pickpockets at Yellowfield, her agreeable companion hadappropriated her cash, by looking _in_ her pocket. 

'_There!_ that dandy villain has robbed me of my wallet, with fifteendollars in it, and the receipt for Sally Lunn cake I was going to giveAunt Farnsworth!' exclaimed she, placidly. Stout folks bear disasterscalmly. Luckily, she had two or three dollars in her satchel, which shehad received from the ticket master when she purchased her ticket, soshe was not entirely bankrupt. Some of the passengers attempted tosympathize with her, but they found it a thankless task, and soondesisted. 

Ann Harriet, her griefs digested, drew herself into as compact a compassas possible, and in a few minutes was fast asleep. 

The cars rolled, in due time, into the noisy station at Boston, and ourtraveller, after much exertion and trepidation, safely reached theplatform, with her rhubarb pie unharmed. She looked anxiously around forher cousin Gregory, whom she had never seen, save in his _carte devisite_, and by that she found him in a few minutes. Gregory was ahandsome man, quite young, and dressed in a neat suit of light clothes, donned that afternoon for the first time. He had never seen his cousin, and was therefore not a little surprised when the corpulent beautyintroduced herself as Miss Ann Harriet Hobbs, of Peonytown. Gregory hadcome down to the station with a light buggy, in which he intended toconvey his fair relative home, but at the first glance saw that it wouldbe disastrous both to the buggy and Ann Harriet to attempt any suchfeat. He therefore escorted her to a hack, and left her a moment. Whilehe was gone, Ann Harriet, who had forgotten all her troubles in thecontemplation of riding home with her handsome cousin, laid the rhubarbpie on the opposite seat of the carriage, reserving the place by herside for Gregory. But this gentleman, not feeling sure that he wouldfind room by the side of his massive cousin, when he entered thecarriage, sat hastily down opposite her. _Crash_ went the _PeonytownClarion_, and 'sqush' went the juicy rhubarb, completely saturatingGregory's new garments. Ann Harriet gave a loud shriek, exclaiming: 'Oh!you have spoilt that nice pie that I made for Aunt Priscilla, from Mrs. Wilkins's receipt. '

'Hang Mrs. Wilkins's receipt!' exclaimed Gregory, who was imperturbable. 'I think I shall have to get some one to reseat my pantaloons. '

There was nothing to be done but to drive home as quickly as possible. The hackman was paid for the damage to his vehicle, and Gregory hastenedup stairs to resume the old suit which only a few hours before he hadthrown aside disdainfully. 

Ann Harriet found her uncle's family all that she expected. They foundher a little more than they expected. Everything was done to make hercomfortable. Aunt Farnsworth condoled with her niece on the loss of hermoney, and the receipt for Sally Lunn cake. They brought a fan to coolher, and placed a footstool for her feet. Her cousin Miranda exhibited aphotograph album containing all the family likenesses, besides a numberthey had purchased to fill up the book, such as the Prince of Wales, McClellan, Stonewall Jackson, Beauregard, and Butler. All this comfortedher greatly, and Ann Harriet was much interested, but was obliged toinquire which were fighting for the North, and which for the South--'shehad heard something about it, but was not thoroughly informed, '--for, totell the truth, the only medium for news in Peonytown was the _Clarion_, and the only portion of even that which Ann Harriet attended to was thedeaths, marriages, and dry goods. 

The remainder of the day passed quietly, and the hour for retiringapproached. Before Ann Harriet's arrival, it had been arranged that sheshould share Miranda's bed; but it was now very evident that Ann wouldget very much more than her share, and it was therefore decided to giveher a bed to herself. A lamp was brought, and Aunt Farnsworth escortedher to her room, and bade her good night. Ann Harriet had the usualshare of curiosity which all females--even plump ones--possess; andwishing to know how a Boston street appeared in the evening, she hoistedthe curtain with a vigorous jerk, and looked forth: it was not a verybeautiful scene; long rows of brick houses stretched away on eitherside, relieved at intervals by the street lamps and loafers, which, asthey appeared at a distance, reminded her of a torchlight procession shehad witnessed once in Peonytown, when the Hickory Club turned out withtwenty torches and a colored lantern. Having satisfied her eyes with theview, she attempted to draw down the curtain, and found that it wouldnot move. She had pulled it up so vigorously that the cord had slippedfrom the wheel, and rendered the curtain immovable. By stepping on achair she could, indeed, reach and adjust it; but the only chairs in theroom were cane-seated, and seemed altogether too fragile for such aweighty lady as Ann Harriet. To add to her perplexity, the dwellingdirectly opposite was a boarding house, full of young men; and shenoticed that one or two of them had already discovered her, and that thenews was probably being communicated to all their fellow boarders, forin a very few minutes every window had two or more spectators at it, armed with opera or eye glasses, while one saucy fellow had a telescopethree feet long. What to do she did not know: there was but one windowin the room, and no recess into which her portly beauty could retreat. Once more she tried the curtain, giving it a forcible twitch, and thistime it came down--but the whole fixture came with it, and, afterstriking her on the head, slid out of the window into the street, muchto the amusement of the spectators opposite. 

Here was a dilemma--and what would her aunt say? She had to give up allhope of excluding the gaze of her impudent neighbors. Poor damsel! Shewould have asked assistance of some of the family, but they had all beenasleep some time, and she disliked to disturb them. Finally, she decidedto extinguish her light and undress in bed--a difficult undertaking, which was, however, accomplished, with the loss of sundry strings andbuttons; and Ann Harriet laid her wearied head on the pillow, andthought her troubles for that day were over. But Sleep forsakes thewretched, and her eyes would not 'stay shut. ' While coaxing them to'stay down, ' she was startled by a flash of light on the wall and anexplosion, then another, and then a third, accompanied by a shower ofgravelly substance in her face and eyes. Miss Hobbs, as we have seen, was

 'A woman naturally born to fears, '

and this sudden and inexplicable exhibition of fireworks in her chamberalmost burst the strings of her night cap, by causing her curly blackhair to stand on end. 

The mischievous young men opposite had procured a _sarbacane_--vulgarlyknown as a 'bean-blower, '--and were shooting torpedoes into AnnHarriet's chamber. Not daring to rise to shut the window, she was whollyat their mercy; but fortunately their stock of ammunition was limited tohalf a dozen pellets, and in a few minutes the bombardment ceased. 

About midnight Ann Harriet fell into a deep slumber, and when she awokethe broad sunshine was illuminating her chamber, while the rattling ofteams along the paved streets reminded her that she was in the greatmetropolis of New England. She missed the green foliage and healthyperfume and bird songs of her pleasant country home: all she could seewas a combination of bricks, slate, and stone; and not a green thing wasvisible in the street, save a few Irish servants, who were washing offthe doorsteps and sidewalks. In the middle of the cobble stones lay thecurtain which had fallen during the scene of the previous evening, muddyand torn, its sticks broken by the heavy wagons which had passed overit. A glance at the hostile boarding-house assured her that all wasquiet there; so, after arranging her dress with studied nicety, anddisposing her hair in the most enchanting style--and Ann Harriet wasreally neat and winsome--she descended to the breakfast room. Her cousinGregory was the only person present--he sat by the window, reading. After the customary greeting, Ann Harriet inquired what interested him. 

'I have been glancing over an article called 'Ludicrous Exaggerations, 'in Leigh Hunt's _Indicator_, ' replied Gregory, with a mischievoustwinkle in his eyes. 

Ann Harriet did not notice any point to this remark, but said: 'I do notremember having seen that book. '

'What have _you_ been reading lately?' pursued Gregory. 

'Oh! I have begun a splendid book that Mrs. Orrin Pendergast lent me; Ihave forgotten who wrote it, but its name is 'The Bloody Butcher'sBride; or, The Demon of Dandelion Dell. '

Here Gregory was so impolite as to burst into a loud laugh, much to thediscomfiture of Ann Harriet, who was on the point of describing athrilling scene in the story. 

'I see nothing to laugh at, ' remarked she, solemnly; 'it is a _very_nice book, Cousin Gregory. Why, some parts of it were so powerful thatit made me tremble all over. '

'It _must_ have been powerful, ' said Gregory, drily. 

'You're a saucy fellow, ' said his cousin. 'But, by the way, where isthat new suit that was damaged yesterday? You do not look so stylishthis morning. '

'Stylish? I hope not. I hate that word; it is only fit to be applied topigs; they always look sty-lish, ' replied Gregory. 

The door opened, and the rest of the family appeared, much to AnnHarriet's discomfort, for she liked her cousin, and was just thinkinghow she could make an impression upon him. The surest way would havebeen to sit in his lap. 

They seated themselves at the table, when the customary question camefrom Aunt Farnsworth:

'How did you rest last night, Ann Harriet?'

This, of course, called forth the history of the mishaps she hadexperienced, and the indignation of her uncle and aunt was great whenthey heard how the occupants of the boarding house had behaved. 

'Those young men over there are Boarder Ruffians, ' remarked Gregory. 

'Mercy!' exclaimed his fat cousin; 'if I had known that, I shouldn'thave slept a wink all night. I have heard Miss Pendergast tell aboutthose awful men: she had a sister out in Kansas, and a parcel of BorderRuffians came to her house one Sabbath day and ate up everything shehad, and then carried off her cow and five pullets. '

'What cow-ardly and chicken-hearted fellows, to rob a poor woman in thatmanner!' remarked Gregory, grimly. 

'Oh yes, ' said Ann Harriet; 'and they spit tobacco juice all over herclean floor, and whittled all over the hearth, and told her it was luckyfor her that she was a widow, for if she hadn't been, they would havemade her one. I should think you would feel dreadfully to have a wholehouseful right opposite. '

'We do feel pretty dreadfully, ' replied Gregory; 'often. '

'Miranda, you must have a little company while your cousin is here, andmake her acquainted with some of the ladies and gentlemen of the city, 'said Aunt Farnsworth. 

'I should like to, very much, mother; and if you are willing, I will setabout it immediately after breakfast; and perhaps I can arrange thingsso as to have it to-morrow night, ' was Miranda's reply. 

This suggestion was eagerly seconded by Gregory, who always enjoyed thesocial parties that his sister had a peculiar knack in getting up atshort notice. 

Their pleasant anticipations of the _soirée_ were suddenly checked byquite a melancholy mishap to the solid Ann Harriet. In reaching forwardto receive a cup of coffee from her aunt, she was obliged to rise alittle from her seat. Now, the chair in which she was sitting had beenbroken the day before and was glued together, strong enough for anyordinary usage, but wholly inadequate to sustain such a weight as nowtaxed it; so when Ann 'set back' into the furniture, the alreadystrained joints came apart, and she felt herself descending to thefloor; to save herself, she clung to the edge of the table, but, ofcourse, that was no support; on the contrary, it tilted up and launchedits whole contents over the prostrate form of the unfortunate AnnHarriet. There she lay, pinned to the floor by the heavy table, whileher face and neck and dress were covered with butter, gooseberry pie, hot coffee, broken eggs, and slices of fried ham. The carpet was in asimilar condition, and the Old Dominion coffee-pot was found expiringunder the sofa. 

Mr. Farnsworth, in an attempt to save the table from going over, losthis own balance, and fell flounder-flat on the floor, where he layshuddering, with his hair in a dish of Shaker apple-sauce: the rest ofthe family escaped unscathed, but were sadly astonished at the suddenturn things had taken. 

Mr. Farnsworth and Gregory raised the fallen table to its formerposition, and Miranda set about collecting the scattered dishes. 

'I knew that we were going to breakfast, but I did not think we shouldbreak so fast as that, ' remarked Gregory, ruefully. 

Ann Harriet, up to this time, had retained her consciousness, when itsuddenly occurred to her that, in the stories she had read, the heroinesalways fainted when anything unusual happened; so she shut up her eyesand began to gasp, just as her uncle and cousin were about to assist herto her feet. 

'She is faint; get some water, quick!' exclaimed Miranda. 

Gregory seized the 'Old Dominion, ' and dashed what coffee there was leftin it on Ann's face, then threw on all the cream in the pitcher, andwound up his frightful orgie by emptying over her locks a lot of brownsugar from a bowl which stood near. The effect was that the faint damsel'came to' very fast, and requested to be helped up. Her aspect wasremarkably ludicrous; the moistened sugar, clinging to her hair andplastering up her eyes, caused so much mirth on Gregory's part that hecould hardly restrain it within the bounds of politeness. 

'Oh, _do_ help me up!' implored Ann Harriet. 

Easier said than done. Mr. Farnsworth took hold of one arm, and Gregorythe other, but their united effort was not sufficient. Mr. Farnsworthhad but recently recovered from an attack of the rheumatism--and applesauce--and was by no means strong enough for such work; while Gregorywas so full of laughter that it deprived him of half his strength. Afterone or two futile attempts, Miranda had a happy thought: she ran intothe parlor and brought out half a dozen thick volumes of music; thenGregory and his father lifted Ann Harriet as far as they could at oneeffort, while Miranda pushed a book under; at the next lift, a secondbook was inserted, and this movement was repeated until Ann wasseated--_alto_ and _allegro_--on a pile of six large music books. AuntFarnsworth then brought a basin of water, and carefully bathed herniece's face, removing all traces of the catastrophe, in which she wasassisted by a copious flood of tears from Ann's eyes--so copious, indeed, that Gregory guessed there would be a rainbow when she ceased. 

In about twenty minutes 'things were put as near to rights as possible, 'but their appetites, like the breakfast, were thoroughly spoilt; soMiranda and her cousin went up stairs to make their plans for theentertainment, which was to be given in honor of the fair Peonytowner. This kept them busy all day; for there was shopping to be done, pastryand cake to be made, dresses to be 'fixed, ' and other arrangements, 'toonumerous to mention. '

Ann Harriet's thoughts dwelt incessantly on the appointed evening; theiron would then be hot, and she knew that she must strike, or lose agolden opportunity for exchanging the desolate monotony of a heavysingle life for the sparkling, honorable, enviable title of wedded wife. 

Surely, Ann Harriet, he who leads thee to the altar will possess a braveand stout heart--one on whom you, although fat, can lean, and of whosehome you, though heavy, will be the light. You will so fill his heartthat there will be no room for discontent, melancholy, or any evil ormischievous visitor. Whoever the fortunate man may be, you can restassured that you will exceed his greatest expectations, and he will notattempt to exaggerate your charms and attractions. 

CHAPTER II. 

 'There was music and mirth in the lighted saloon; The measure was merry--our hearts were in tune; While hand linked with hand in the graceful quadrille, Bright joy crowned the dance, like the sun on the rill, And beamed in the dark eyes of coquettes and snobs; But the belle of the hall was Ann Harriet Hobbs. '

 MRS. OSGOOD (with slight variation). 

Bright shone the gas at Mr. Farnsworth's on the evening of the grand_soirée_ given for the gratification of Ann Harriet, who was anxious tosee some of the beaux of Boston. Both of the parlor chandeliers were infull blaze, much to the delight of Miss Hobbs, who, after gazing at themin admiration, expressed the wish that her friend surnamed Pendergastmight see such a sight. 

'That takes the shine all off of Miss Pendergasses' double back-action, self-adjusting, anti-corrosive, herring-bone, powerloom lamp, don't it, my dear cousin?' asked Gregory, who had been regaled several times withan account of a wonderful lamp that burnt one hour at a cost of only tencents, or ten hours at a cost of one cent--Gregory never could rememberwhich. 

'Now, Gregory, if you bother me so, I sha'n't tell you anything more;please hand me that fan on the table, and tell me who that man is by thecorner of the mantelpiece. '

'That is Captain Dobbs; he is very fond of poetry, and has written some, too; but it was never published, for the editors charged too much forputting it into their papers. Shall I introduce him to you?' saidGregory. 

'A captain and a poet, too? Oh, certainly, I should be delighted to knowhim, ' replied Ann Harriet, who began to cool down her countenance by avigorous application of the fan, while Gregory went after the poeticalcaptain. He was soon back again, and presented him, as follows:

'Captain Dobbs, Miss Hobbs; Miss Hobbs, Captain Dobbs. '

The Captain bowed so low that Ann Harriet could see the brass buttons onthe back of his coat, and then, taking her hand, he said, earnestly:

'I rejoice exceedingly that our acquaintance with each other should havecommenced under such charming auspices!'

Now, they were standing directly under one of the beautiful chandeliers, which glistened with brilliant pendants; and Ann, supposing that thegallant Captain alluded to them, accordingly replied:

'Yes, they are very charming auspices, and make a beautiful jingle. '

What the Captain really alluded to was the rhyming of their names whenGregory introduced them; the jingle of the rhyme pleased him much, andhe regarded it as propitious to their future acquaintance: Ann Harriet'sreply happened to suit the case precisely, and placed her in highestimation with the Captain. 

Drummond Dobbs was about thirty-two years of age, a gentleman, and aright good fellow, but so _very_ sentimental that few ladies couldendure his company. Yet was he anxious to please the fair sex and bepopular with them: unfortunately, he supposed that the way to be so wasto shower on them love-sick poetry and sentimental speeches; 'he worehis heart upon his sleeve, ' fell in love with every new face, and hadbeen rejected a score of times; he comforted himself, however, with thevery scaly proverb, 'there is as good fish in the sea as ever wascaught, ' and--cast in his line for another chance. He had tried poorwomen and rich women, young school-girls and elastic old maids, brunettes and blondes, but all in vain; and the moment he saw AnnHarriet he determined to make one more attempt to secure a heart thatshould beat for him alone, an ear that should be ever on the alert forhis footstep, and eyes that should sparkle only when he was near. 

Ann Harriet, on her part, saw all in Captain Dobbs that she could wishfor; and she thought that if she could return to Peonytown with a livecaptain as her affianced lover, she should be the happiest of fat girls. What a sensation she would create on Sunday, when she went to meetingarm in arm with him, and _how_ the folks would stare at his brightbuttons and shoulder straps! She wondered if he would wear a 'trainerhat, ' with feathers in it. 

To Captain Dobbs, Ann Harriet Hobbs was 'a devilish fine-looking woman;'there was something tangible in a woman like that, sir; _she_ was notone of your flimsy, languid girls, with waist like the stem of a goblet. Somebody had said, 'the nearer the bone the sweeter the meat, ' but he didnot believe in that; he wanted a _wife_, and if he could get one twicethe size of any one else's, so much the better, by Jove!

Gregory, with the tact of Young America, saw instantly what the resultof an evening's interview would be; so, telling Dobbs that he would findhis cousin from Peonytown very in-_fat_-uating, he left them to theirown enjoyment. 

'It is very singular, ' remarked the Captain, promptly, 'how much alikeour names are: Hobbs and Dobbs!'

'Yes; but I think that yours is much the prettiest; I always hated thename of Hobbs, ' remarked Ann Harriet. 

'Hate Hobbs? Well, I detest Dobbs; but you have the advantage of me, foryou can change yours without much trouble, ' replied the Captain. 

He did not know that Ann Harriet had been longer, and at more trouble, in trying to get her name changed, than if she had applied to sevenlegislatures. She blushed deeply, and raised her fan to hide the rosyhue--but it was a small, round fan, and only partially concealed herface, leaving a crimson disk of two inches around it. Captain Dobbs wasdelighted; a blush to him was a certain proof of maiden coyness, andbespoke a heart so full of love that every emotion sent it mantling tothe face. 

Gregory here returned, to say that they were getting up a dance, andCaptain Dobbs and his cousin must certainly join in it. 

'But I never danced in my life!' said Ann Harriet, innocently. 

'Oh, never mind _that_; it is a very simple dance--the Virginia Reel;every one can dance that; only do as others do, ' replied Gregory. 

Ann Harriet, accepting Captain Dobbs's proffered arm, proceeded to theroom where the arrangements for the dance were progressing. 

'I understand that Miss Hobbs is the star of this business, ' remarkedMr. Pickett to Gregory, as he crammed himself behind a bookcase, toallow the lady and her escort to go by. 

'Star? ' repeated Gregory. 'Yes; the full moon of the concern. '

'You mean of the firm, ' quoth Pickett. 

'Yes, ' replied Gregory, 'the full moon of the firm, I meant. '

The dancers took their places, and a merry tune soon set them in motion. Ann Harriet watched the others carefully, and soon understood thefigure. At length her turn came to advance. She performed her part verywell until she came to that step known as _dos à dos_, and here her goodluck forsook her; for, in stepping back, she struck with full force hercompanion, a slim young man with shell eyeglasses, and sent him forwardwith an impetus which was only checked by his coming in collision with aplaster-of-Paris pedestal, on which stood a bust of General ZacharyTaylor; his head penetrated the column, and the bust came down on hisback with a thump that nearly knocked the breath out of his body. Hiseyeglasses were shattered, his soul rent, and his shirt bosom tornasunder. The unfortunate youth gathered himself up and retreated to ananteroom, where he rearranged his disordered clothing; but was not seenagain, having disappeared through a side door and hastened home. 

Ann Harriet came out of the collision like a second 'Monitor, ' unscathedand undaunted; indeed, she was not aware that anything unusual hadhappened till she heard the crash, and then was surprised to learn thatshe was the cause of the catastrophe. 

When our heroine heard how serious the collision had been, she felt muchdisturbed, until Gregory observed that, although she had been backwardin causing the mishap, she should not be backward in making whatreparation she could. 

On this suggestion, Ann Harriet inquired the whereabouts of Mr. Google, and learning that he was in an anteroom, started in search of him. Shefound herself in the supper room, hurrying across which, she pulled opena door on the other side with such a vigorous effort of elephantinestrength, as to precipitate a waiter, who had just caught hold of thehandle, headlong into the room. The unfortunate servitor, who wasdressed in white cravat and black coat, landed under the supper table, where he lay motionless. Ann Harriet made her way back to the parlor asquickly as possible, where she startled the visitors by exclaiming:

'Oh dear, come here, quick! I have killed a minister!'

Miss Helen Bumpus, who was playing a quickstep on the pianoforte, uttered a sharp shriek, which was echoed from various parts of the room, and the whole company, headed by Captain Dobbs, followed Ann Harriet tothe scene of the disaster. 

When they reached the dining room they found her 'minister' sitting onthe floor, rubbing his head, and using language more appropriate to oneof Captain Kidd's profession than to an expounder of the gospel. Whenthe damaged waiter saw the immense crowd entering the room, he vanishedinto the kitchen amid shouts of laughter from the assembly, whocomprehended at once Miss Hobbs's error. Ann Harriet felt much relievedto find that the accident was no worse, and explained the mishap to herfriends, ending by inquiring what denomination he belonged to. Gregoryinformed her that the individual was not a clergyman, but a lay-man anda waiter. 

Soon after, the guests were requested to repair to the supper room, andeach gentleman chose his partner for the occasion. Unfortunately for AnnHarriet, Captain Dobbs chanced to be at the farther end of the room, andbefore he reached the object of his adoration she had already acceptedthe arm of an exquisite youth with patent eyeglass, pink necktie, andtomato-colored moustache. The disappointment nearly destroyed Dobbs'sappetite. He had intended to be irresistibly attentive to Miss Hobbs; tofurnish her with every little delicacy the table afforded; and _now_, she must depend upon the languid movements of a 'snob:' it was too bad, by Jove!

The table was elegantly decorated with flowers, and the neatly prepareddishes and ministerial waiters presented a scene which to Ann Harriet'svision was enchanting. 

'What shall I have the pleasure of obtaining for you?' asked Mr. Struttles of Ann Harriet. 

'Let me see, ' replied Ann. 'It's some time since I eat anything, and Ifeel pretty hungry: if you will get me a plateful of pandowdy[8] andsome ginger snaps, I shall feel thankful. '

Mr. Struttles was a very polite man, and would not laugh in a lady'sface for a farm; but his tomato-hued moustache quivered, and he had tofrown fiercely to conceal the laughter which threatened to burst himasunder. 

'What amuses you so much, Strut?' asked a friend, who found him a fewmoments later in the entry, giggling all by himself. 

'Oh dear! I shall die!' he replied, shaking with mirth; 'that fat girlasked me to get her something to eat that I never heard of: I believeshe called it _slam dowdy_, or rip snap, or something like that, and, ofcourse, there is nothing of the kind on the table. '

'Go and tell her it is all eaten up, ' suggested the friend; 'article allsold. '

Struttles had not thought of that; it was a good idea, so off he wentand told Ann Harriet that the object she wished had been so fashionablethat it was all devoured before he reached it. 

'Oh, well! I had just as lief have some gingerbread and a pickle-lime, 'was her calm response. 

Struttles rushed desperately to the table, filled a plate full ofanything that came handy, brought it to his dame, and informed her thatthere was not a pickled lime to be had. Ann Harriet did not care; shewas soon busy devouring the contents of the plate, while Struttles stoodby, chuckling and grinning. 

Captain Dobbs, in the mean time, was doing all he could to make hungryand handsome Miss Helen Bumpus happy, by giving her oyster salad, icecream, frozen pudding, and cake, with plenty of champagne to wash itdown; but his heart was with Ann Harriet, and many an anxious glance hebestowed on her, to see if she was well supplied with the niceties ofthe festive board. He thrilled with joy at seeing her behind a platepiled nearly as high as her chin with a variety of cakes, tarts, fruits, and jellies. 

After a while every one was surfeited, and gradually the supper room wasdeserted, leaving none but the waiters, who quickly cleared away whatthere was left of the supper. 

On entering the parlor, Captain Dobbs caught a view of himself in alarge mirror, and saw to his dismay that he had not escaped the usualfate of gallants who endeavor to make themselves agreeable to the ladiesin a crowded supper-room; lumps of blanc-mange adhered to his shirtbosom; particles of calf's-foot jelly coruscated like gems on hispatent-leather gaiters, and quivering oysters hung tenaciously to hiscoat sleeves. He looked around for some place of refuge where he couldretire and remove the remnants of the banquet, and espying a side roomapparently deserted, there being no light in it, stepped in, and, takingoff his coat, commenced the task of restoring it to its pristinesplendor. While doing this, he was startled by a sound so singular thathis coat nearly fell from his hand, so alarmed was he. Glancing at thedoor, his eyes met the known form of Ann Harriet, when he instantlyhurried on his coat in horror, and, apologizing to his fair friend forbeing caught without it, referred to the curious noise he had heard. 

'What did it sound like?' asked Ann Harriet. 

The Captain tried in vain to find a simile; he had never heard anythingthat resembled it; and Ann Harriet's suggestions as to what it mighthave been were equally fruitless. 

The truth was, that when Miss Hobbs appeared at the threshold of thedoor she heaved a deep sigh, and it was this that startled her lover;but as he had his head in a stooping position, and was busy brushing hiscoat, the sound seemed to him to come from the farther end of the room, which was obscured in darkness. He was not aware that fat ladies' sighswere proportionate to their size. However, now that his heart's idol waspresent, he cared nothing for aught else; so, taking her small hand, heled her to the window, and they stood gazing with mutual consent at thestarry heavens. Gregory spied them there, and mischievously closed thedoor. What conversation ensued is only known to the two who were engagedin it, but every one noticed that when Ann Harriet reappeared her stepwas light if not actually fantastic, and her mild countenance beamedwith a moonlike radiance, so serenely bright as to reveal a heartbuoyant with bliss. Soon after, the company dispersed, and the damsel, retiring to her dormitory, was soon dreaming sweetly of 'her betrothed, 'and imagined that all the bells in Peonytown were rung on her weddingday. 

Sleep on, Ann Harriet! Thou hast waited long for the happy hour; butthou wert thyself weighty, and it was fit that thou, too, shouldst dealdeliberately in matters of _'great' weight_. 

The next day she informed her uncle of her intention to marry theaccomplished Drummond Dobbs, and received his hearty approval; forDobbs's character was good, and without a scar. 

The nuptials were to take place without delay, and so Ann Harriethastened home to make the requisite arrangements. 

CHAPTER III. 

 'In wedlock a species of lottery lies, Where in blanks and in prizes we deal; But how comes it that you, such a capital prize, Should so long have remained in the wheel?'

 MOORE. 

Ann Harriet was determined that her wedding should be a romantic one;she said that it was by no means an every-day affair, and therefore itshould be carried out in a style proportionate to its rarity. Afterconsulting Mrs. Pendergast, and searching through a pile of 'New YorkDashers, ' she was much inclined to a midnight wedding, especially asMrs. Pendergast offered to loan her patent lamp for the occasion; butwhen they suddenly happened to hear of a marriage celebrated in the wildand picturesque woods of the White Hills, it was immediately decidedthat there was no better place; so sacred a ceremony should be performed'under the broad canopy of heaven, ' and the birds of the air and thecountless leaves of the trees should sing their epithalamium. 

After some search, it was decided that the happy spot should be on'Huckleberry Hill, ' a picturesque elevation about a mile from thepostoffice in Peonytown, covered with a luxurious growth of pines andhemlocks, interspersed with huckleberry bushes, sweet fern, andmullenstalks. A small, open place was selected, where the long moss madea beautiful carpet, and the tall trees on every side entwined their armsas lovingly together as if they, too, were about to take each other 'forbetter for worse, ' while the ripple of a brook hidden in the woods lenta pleasant melody to the scene. 

'This is the place of all others, ' remarked Ann Harriet. 'Houses mayburn down or decay, churches may be sold and turned into ice-creamsaloons and lager-beer depots--as Mr. Dunstable's was; but these loftypines and rugged hemlocks will stand for centuries, to mark the spotwhere, in my girlhood, I plighted my troth to that _dear_ Dobbs. '

Preparations for the bridal went gloriously on. The Peonytown dressmakerwas busy day and evening in making up the trousseau of the expectantbride. The wedding dress was to be of fine white muslin, and noornaments to detract from its spotless purity. 

The important day at length arrived. The sun rose warm, brilliant, calm, and cloudless--and so did Ann Harriet. Her heart beat quick andtumultuously as the coming event of the day suddenly occurred to her, and she rejoiced to think that she was now to have _one_ to shield herfrom the chilling blasts of a cold, relentless world--a husband on whosebreast her weary head could rest and feel secure. 

These thoughts made her footsteps light, and she hastened to arrayherself for the bridal, which, was appointed at ten o'clock. The barberof Peonytown was sent for, and, although dressing a bride's hair wassomething as yet unknown to him, yet, after much perseverance and moreox marrow, he succeeded in twisting and braiding her luxuriant blacklocks into a kind of triumphal-arched basketwork, that resembled aminiature summer-house. The white muslin dress was then put on, and apair of white kid gloves drawn over her small fingers (plump people havelittle hands), and Ann Harriet awaited her husband elect. 

All Peonytown had been apprized of the hour of the wedding, and, inconsequence, the grove was at an early period filled with spectators. Boys climbed into the trees; camp stools were provided; and oneenterprising Peonytowner brought a long wooden settee, and let the wearyrest on it for the slight consideration of half a dime each. The Rev. Derby Sifter was there too. He was to perform the ceremony, and, as itwas the first wedding in Peonytown for six months, he was in unusualhumor, rubbing his hands together, and laughing at every remark that wasmade. 

At the appointed time Ann Harriet appeared, hanging lovingly on the armof the gallant Captain. The bride attracted universal attention. Atfirst, indeed, many were impressed with the idea that a crowd of girlswere coming, dressed in unsullied white; but as she approached nearer, they saw that it was the fair Ann Harriet in her white muslin, leaningon the arm of Captain Dobbs, who was dressed in full uniform, and had acarnation pink in his mouth. The Rev. Derby Sifter now stepped forward, and the parties took their places. No bridesmaids were needed, the bride'answering' for several. After a few preliminary remarks, the reverendgentleman pronounced them--under green leaves--_husband and wife!_ AnnHarriet heaved a sigh of relief: the H had vanished forever from hername, and D now reigned in its stead. A short prayer then followed. 

Meanwhile, a boy in a tree directly over their heads spied acaterpillar's nest near him, and, breaking a twig from a branch, heprobed the nest, causing a tremendous stampede among the inmates. Downthey dropped, silently and softly, upon the elaborate head of the bride, who stood wholly unconscious of the additional ornaments so profuselydecorating her hair; the company noticed it, and very soon every one wasin a broad grin. Ann Harriet became conscious of some merriment in thatportion of the party immediately under her observation, and a successionof blushes suffused her face as she felt that something ridiculous toherself must have caused it. At that instant a caterpillar, that hadbeen swinging to and fro on his attenuated web, landed plump on Ann'snose as she raised her face (he had been waiting for something to turnup), causing her to give utterance to a scream that made the clericalgentleman open his eyes, and a couple of catbirds to fly frightened andsquealing from their nests. 

At the same time an angry cow, rendered furious by the sting of someinsect, plunged frantically into the wedding circle, bellowing, tossingher head, and flourishing her tail in a terrific and antinuptial manner. The Rev. Mr. Sifter was the first one to leave, and, being very spare, he passed swiftly through the trees and bushes, never looking behind himtill he had reached the meeting house, where he stopped and in hisunconscious delirium caught at the bell rope and rang the bell with avigor that started every one from his work, so that in a few minutes'Extinguisher No. 1' was hurried along the roads by an extempore companyof about fifty men and boys. 

Meanwhile, the witnesses of the rural wedding had all skedaddled--toborrow a Greek word--into the woods, in dire confusion, tearingdresses, pulling down 'back hair, ' hitching hoop skirts, and tumblingover blackberry vines--but each intent on increasing the distance fromthe mad cow. Ann Harriet was not so fortunate; her size prevented herrunning, and a fiery peony on her bosom attracted the animal'sattention, so that, with a loud roar, the beast rushed directly uponher. Had Ann Harriet been--as she was a few weeks before--an unprotectedfemale, the undertaker of Peonytown would have had a 'big job' that day;but luckily, he who had just sworn to love and protect her saw that nowwas his time and chance to begin; so, drawing his sword, he stepped infront of his trembling bride, and, as the cow approached with head downand eyeballs glaring wildly, he aimed a blow with his weapon, whichinflicted a severe cut on her nose. 

The cow paused. 

'Step backward gradually, my Ann Harriet, ' said the valiant Dobbs, 'andI will see that she does not touch you. '

Ann Harriet stepped backward, but not 'gradually, ' for she trod on aloose stone, which upset her, and she rolled over and over down asloping rock, ruining, on the way, any quantity of huckleberry bushesand pennyroyal. This started the cow, who made another furious charge atthe soldier, who this time, by a well-directed blow, cut one horn sheeroff. 

'That's good!' exclaimed he; 'next time I'll take t'other horn, and thencommence on her legs. '

The cow made another retreat, but appeared by no means vanquished. TheCaptain stood his ground manfully. Ann Harriet sat on the moss at thefoot of the rock, disentangling from her hair the bruised and mangledcaterpillars which still remained there. 

Just as the cow was about to make her third charge, shouts were heard inthe path which led to the village, and in a moment 'Extinguisher No. 1, 'with its brave volunteers, was on the ground. They had followed thedirections of the parson and arrived at an opportune moment. 

The boys at once decided that, as there was no fire to put out, theywould 'put out' the cow; so, unreeling the hose, they drew the waterfrom the brook, and in a very little while a stream of water from atwo-inch pipe struck the astonished cow full in the face, when sheturned and scampered off into the forest, jumping over Ann Harriet at asingle bound, and was seen no more. 

Captain Dobbs wiped his gory weapon on the greensward, and returned itto the sheath. He then sprang to the side of his wife, and, with thehelp of the foreman and two brakemen, raised her. She said her nerveswere all unstrung, and she 'never could walk home in the world;' so shewas placed on the box of the hose carriage and carried to the village. 

The Peonytowners turned out _en masse_ to meet them, and were anxiousthat the heroic Captain should make a speech from the town pump; but hedeclined. 

In a short time the happy couple were comfortably seated on the sofa inthe parlor of the old homestead, and his arm was as far round her waistas it would go. Here we will bid them adieu. Ann Harriet being married, she will have no more _miss_-haps--albeit at some future time somethingmay be heard of Captain and Mrs. Dobbs--and all the little Dobbses. 

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Broken-up apple pie. 

THE UNION. 

IV. 

The census tables of the North and the South, and especially ofMassachusetts, Maryland, and South Carolina, heretofore presented, haveproved that slavery greatly retarded the progress of population, wealth, science, education, and religion. The comparison now instituted betweenNew York and Virginia demonstrates the same law. 

By the census, the population of Virginia in 1790 was 748, 308, and in1860, 1, 596, 318, making the ratio of increase 113. 32 percent. In 1790, New York numbered 340, 120, and in 1860, 3, 880, 735, the ratio of increasebeing 1, 040. 99. (Table 1, Prelim. Census Rep. , p. 132. ) Thus, the rateof increase in New York exceeded that of Virginia more than nine to one. 

In 1790, the population of Virginia was largely more than double that ofNew York. In 1860, the population of New York was very largely more thandouble that of Virginia. In 1790, Virginia, in population, ranked firstof all the States, and New York the fifth. In 1860, they had reversedtheir positions, and New York was the first, and Virginia the fifth. (Rep. , p. 120. ) At the same rate of progress, from 1860 to 1900, as from1790 to 1860, Virginia, retaining slavery, would have sunk from thefirst to the twenty-first State, and would still continue, at eachsucceeding decade, descending the inclined plane toward the lowestposition of all the States. Such has been, and still continues to be, the effect of slavery, in dragging down that once great State from thefirst toward the last in rank in the Union. But if, as in the absence ofslavery must have been the case, Virginia had increased from 1790 to1860 in the same ratio as New York, her population in 1860 would havebeen 7, 789, 141, and she must always have remained the first in rank ofall the States. 

AREA. --The natural advantages of Virginia far exceed those of New York. The area of Virginia is 61, 352 square miles, and that of New York, 47, 000. The population of Virginia per square mile in 1790 was 12. 19, and in 1860, 26. 02. That of New York, in 1790, was 7. 83, and in 1860, 84. 36. Now, if New York, with her present numbers per square mile, hadthe area of Virginia, her population, in 1860, would have been5, 175, 654, and that of Virginia, reduced to the area of New York, on thebasis of her present numbers per square mile, would have been 1, 320, 000. This illustrates the immense effect of area, as one of the greatelements influencing the progress of population. But, wonderful as arethese results, the great fact is omitted in this calculation, thatVirginia, in 1790, had largely more than double the population of NewYork. Thus, if we reverse the numbers of New York and Virginia in 1790, and take the actual ratio of increase of each for the succeeding seventyyears, the population of Virginia, in 1860, would have been 728, 875, andthat of New York, as we have seen, would have been 7, 789, 141, making thedifference exceed seven millions, or very largely more than ten to one. Reverse the areas also, and the difference would exceed eight millions. 

SHORE LINE. --As furnishing cheap and easy access for imports andexports, creating marts for commerce with great cities, and affectingthe interior most beneficially, the shore line, with adequate harbors, constitutes a vast element in the progress of states and empires. Now, by the last tables of the United States coast survey, the shore line ofVirginia was 1, 571 miles, and of New York 725 miles. The five greatparallel tide-water rivers of Virginia, the Potomac, the Rappahannock, the York river, James river, and Roanoke (partly in North Carolina), with their tributaries, furnish easy access for hundreds of miles intothe interior, with both shores of the noble Chesapeake bay for manymiles, as well as its magnificent outlet and the main ocean for aconsiderable distance, all within the limits of Virginia. We have seenthat the coast line of Virginia is largely more than double that of NewYork, and the harbors of Virginia are more numerous, deeper, and muchnearer the great valley of the Ohio and Mississippi. By the coast-surveytables, the mean low water into the harbor of New York by Gedney'schannel is 20 feet, and at high-water spring tides is 24. 2; northchannel, 24, mean low water, and 29. 1 spring tides, high water; southchannel, 22 and 27. 1; main ship channel, after passing S. W. Spit buoy, on N. E. Course, one mile up the bay, for New York, 22. 5-27. 06. By thesame tables, from capes at entrance of Chesapeake bay to Hampton, atmean low water, 30 feet; spring tides, high water, 32. 8. Anchorage inHampton roads, 59-61. 8. From Hampton roads to Sewell's point, 25-27. 8. South of Sewell's point (one mile and a half), 21-23. 8; up to Norfolk, 23-25. 8. From Hampton roads to James river, entering to the northward ofNewport News, middle ground, 22-24. 8. From Hampton roads to James river, entering to the southward of Newport News, middle ground, 27-29. 8. Fromabreast the tail of York spit, up to Yorktown, 33-35. 8. Elizabeth river, between Norfolk and navy yard, 25. 5-28. 3. 

When we leave the tide-water rivers for the interior navigable streams, Virginia has a vast advantage. New York has no such rivers above tide, but Virginia has the Ohio for hundreds of miles, with its tributaries, the Kanawha, Guyandotte, and Big Sandy. It is true, New York has severalof the great lakes, and the vast advantage of connection with themthrough her great canal. But, in the absence of slavery, the canalprojected by Washington (preceding that of New York) would haveconnected, through Virginia, the Chesapeake bay with the Ohio river. TheJames river, flowing into the Chesapeake, cuts the Blue Mountains, andthe Kanawha, a confluent of the Ohio, cuts the Alleghany; thus openingan easy and practicable route for a great canal from the eastern to thewestern waters. The valley of the lakes, with which New York isconnected by her canal, has an area of 335, 515 square miles. The valleyof the Mississippi, with which the Chesapeake would long since, in theabsence of slavery, have been connected by the Virginia canal, has anarea of 1, 226, 600 square miles. The shore line of the Mississippi andits tributaries, above tide water, is 35, 644 miles. (Page 35 Compend. Census of 1850. ) Our shore line of the lakes is 3, 620 miles, includingbays, sounds, and islands; and that of the British, 2, 629. (Ib. 35. ) Theconnection of the lakes with the Ohio and Mississippi would be the samefor both States, the one being from the lakes to these rivers, and theother from the rivers to the lakes. The location of Virginia is morecentral than that of New York, and Virginia runs farther west by severalhundred miles. We are so accustomed to look at the connection of NewYork with the West by her canal, and Virginia with no such union, thatit is difficult to realize the great change if Virginia had beenconnected by her progressing work with the Ohio and Mississippi, andthence, by the present canals, with the lakes. 

It is apparent, then, that, as regards easy access to the West, thenatural advantages of Virginia surpass New York, and with greaterfacilities for artificial works. How many decades would be required, after emancipation, to bring the superior natural advantages of Virginiainto practical operation, is not the question; nor do I believe thatthe city of New York will ever cease to be the centre of our own trade, and ultimately of the commerce of the world. But although Virginia, inadhering to slavery, has lost her supremacy in the Union, it is quitecertain that, as a Free State, she would commence a new career ofwonderful prosperity, that capital and population from the North andfrom Europe would flow there with a mighty current, her lands be doubledin value, and her town and city property far more than quadrupled. 

MINES. --Virginia has vast mines of coal, the great element of modernprogress. New York has none. It is coal that has made Great Britain amighty empire, giving her power, by land and sea, equal to the manualforce of all mankind. It is stated by the Commissioner of the GeneralLand Office, in his report before referred to, of November, 1860, 'thatan acre of coal, three feet thick, is equal to the product of 1, 940acres of forest trees; and each acre of a coal seam four feet inthickness, and yielding one yard of pure coal, is equivalent to 5, 000tons, and possesses, therefore, a reserve of mechanical strength in itsfuel, equal to the life labor of more than 1, 600 men. '

This statement of the Commissioner is made on the highest authority, andproves the vast natural advantages of Virginia over New York. Virginia, also, has far more abundant mines of iron, more widely diffused over theState, reaching from tide water to the Ohio. She has also these ironmines in juxtaposition with coal and all the fluxes. Virginia, also, hasvaluable mines of gold, lead, and copper. New York has no gold or coppermines, and produced in 1860 but $800 worth of lead. (Table 14. )

HYDRAULIC POWER. --Omitting Niagara, which thus far scorns the control ofman, the hydraulic power of Virginia very far exceeds that of New York. It is to be found on the Potomac and its tributaries, and upon nearlyevery stream that flows into the Chesapeake or Ohio. The superiormildness of the climate of Virginia makes this power available there fora much greater portion of the year. The great falls of the Potomac, where Washington constructed the largest locks of the continent, has awater power unsurpassed, and is but twelve miles from tide water, atWashington. This point is a most healthy and beautiful location, surrounded by lands whose natural fertility was very great, and, in theabsence of slavery, must have been a vast manufacturing city. This waterpower could move more spindles than are now worked on all thiscontinent. 

AGRICULTURE AND MANUFACTURES. --The natural fertility of the soil ofVirginia far exceeded that of New York, with a more genial sun, and muchmore favorable seasons for agricultural products, as well as for stock. The number of acres of land in Virginia susceptible of profitableculture, is nearly double that of New York, but much of it has beenimpoverished by slave labor, scratching and exhausting the soil, withoutmanure or rotation of crops. The census shows that Virginia has all theproducts of New York, and cotton in addition. Virginia produced, in1860, 12, 727 bales of cotton (table 36), worth, at present prices, nearly $3, 000, 000. She also adjoins the States of North Carolina andTennessee, producing, in 1860, 372, 964 bales, worth, at present prices, nearly $90, 000, 000. Virginia is also much nearer than New York to allthe other cotton States. With these vast advantages, with her largerarea, more fertile soil, cheaper subsistence, her coal and iron andgreat hydraulic power, with so much cotton raised by herself and inadjacent States, Virginia should have manufactured much more cotton thanNew York. But, by the census (table 22), the value of the cottonmanufacture of Virginia in 1850 was $1, 446, 109, and in 1860, $1, 063, 611--a decrease of one third. In New York, the value of thecotton manufacture in 1850 was $5, 019, 323, and in 1860, $7, 471, 961, anincrease of over 48 per cent. So, if we look at the tables of mines, manufactures, and the fisheries, with the vastly superior advantages ofVirginia, the whole product in 1860 was of the value of $51, 300, 000, andof agriculture $68, 700, 000; whilst in New York these values wererespectively $379, 623, 560 and $226, 376, 440. (Tables of Census, 33 and36. )

CLIMATE AND MORTALITY. --By table 6, page 22, of the Census, there werefor the year ending June 1st, 1860, 46, 881 deaths in New York, being 1in every 82 of the population, and 1. 22 per cent. The number of deathsin Virginia, in the same year, was 22, 472, being 1 in every 70 of thepopulation, or 1. 43 per cent. There was, then, a slight difference infavor of New York. But Virginia is divided into four geographicalsections: the tide-water, the Piedmont (running from the tide-waterregion to the Blue Mountains), the valley between these mountains andthe Alleghanies, and the trans-Alleghany to the Ohio. These three lastsections, containing three fourths of the area and white population ofthe State, surpass New York in salubrity, with the most bracing anddelightful climate. The climate of Virginia is far more favorable forstock and agricultural products than New York, with longer and betterseasons, and is more salubrious than the climate of Europe. (Comp. 1850. )

PROGRESS OF WEALTH. --We have seen how great was the advance inpopulation of New York over Virginia, from 1790 to 1860, being in theratio of more than 9 to 1. Now let us compare the relative progress ofwealth. It is contended by the advocates of slavery, that it accumulateswealth more rapidly, and thus enriches the nation, although it maydepress its moral and intellectual development, its increase of numbersand of power, and tarnish its reputation throughout the world. Aspopulation and its labor create wealth, it must be retarded by a systemwhich, as we have seen in this case, diminishes the relative advance ofnumbers in the ratio of more than 9 to 1. But the census proves thatslavery greatly retards the increase of wealth. By tables 33 and 36 ofthe census of 1860, it appears, omitting commerce, that the products ofindustry, as given, viz. , of agriculture, manufactures, mines, andfisheries, were that year in New York $604, 000, 000, or $155 _percapita_; and in Virginia $120, 000, 000, or $75 _per capita_. This shows atotal value of product in New York more than five times greater than inVirginia, and _per capita_, more than 2 to 1. If we include the earningsof commerce, and all business not given in the census, I think it willbe shown hereafter, that the value of the products and earnings of NewYork, in 1860, exceeded those of Virginia at least 7 to 1. As to therate of increase, the value of the products of agriculture, manufactures, mines, and fisheries of Virginia, in 1850, was $84, 480, 428(table 9), and in New York $356, 736, 603, showing an increase in Virginiafrom 1850 to 1860 of $35, 519, 572, being 41 per cent. , and in New York$247, 263, 397, being 69 per cent. , exhibiting a difference of 28 percent. Now the increase of population in Virginia from 1850 to 1860 was12. 29 per cent. , and in New York 25. 29 per cent. , the difference beingonly 13 per cent. (Table 1, p. 131. ) Thus, it appears, the increase ofwealth in New York, exclusive of the gains of commerce, as compared withVirginia, was more than double the ratio of the augmentation ofpopulation. By the census table of 1860, No. 35, p. 195, 'The true valueof the real and personal property, according to the eighth census was, New York, $1, 843, 338, 517, and of Virginia $793, 249, 681. ' Now we haveseen the value of the products of New York in 1860 by the census was$604, 000, 000, and in Virginia $120, 000, 000. Thus, as a question of theannual yield of capital, that of New York was 32. 82 per cent. , andVirginia 15. 13 per cent. ; the annual product of capital being more thandouble in New York what it was in Virginia. The problem then is solvedin Virginia, as it was in Maryland and South Carolina, and all the Southcompared with all the North, that slavery retards the progress of wealthand accumulation of capital, in the ratio of 2 to 1. Our war taxes maybe very great, but the tax of slavery is far greater, and the relieffrom it, in a few years, will add much more to the national wealth thanthe whole deduction made by the war debt. Our total wealth, by thecensus of 1860, being, by table 35, $16, 159, 616, 068, one per cent. Takenannually to pay the interest and gradually extinguish the war debt, would be $161, 596, 160; whereas, judging by Virginia and New York, thediminished increase of the annual product of capital, as the result ofslavery, is 2. 8 per cent. , or $452, 469, 250 per annum, equal in a decade, without compounding the annual results, to $4, 524, 692, 500. 

That our population would have reached in 1860 nearly 40, 000, 000, andour wealth have been more than doubled, if slavery had been extinguishedin 1790, is one of the revelations made by the census; whilst inscience, in education, and national power, the advance would have beenstill more rapid, and the moral force of our example and success wouldhave controlled for the benefit of mankind the institutions of theworld. 

By table 36, p. 196, of the census of 1860, the _cash_ value of thefarms of Virginia was $371, 096, 211, being $11. 91 per acre, and of NewYork $803, 343, 593, being $38. 26 per acre. Now, by the table, the numberof acres embraced in these farms of New York was 20, 992, 950, and inVirginia 31, 014, 950, the difference of value per acre being $26. 36, ormuch more than 3 to 1 in favor of New York. Now, if we multiply thisnumber of acres of farm lands of Virginia by the New York value, itwould make the total value of the farm lands of New York $1, 186, 942, 136, and the _additional_ value caused by emancipation $815, 845, 925. Now thewhole number of slaves in Virginia in 1860, was 490, 865; multiplyingwhich by $300 as their average value, would be $147, 259, 500, leaving$668, 586, 425 as the sum by which Virginia would be richer in farmsalone, if slavery were abolished. But, stupendous as is this result inregard to lands, it is far below the reality. We have seen that the farmlands of Virginia, improved and unimproved, constituted 31, 014, 950acres. By the census and the land-office tables, the area of Virginia is39, 265, 280 acres. Deduct the farm lands, and there remain unoccupied8, 250, 330 acres. Now, Virginia's population to the square mile being26. 02, and that of New York 84. 36, with an equal density in Virginia, more than two thirds of these Virginia lands, as in New York, must havebeen occupied as farms. This would have been equivalent, at two thirds, to 5, 500, 000 acres, which, at their present average value of $2 peracre, would be worth $11, 000, 000; but, at the value per acre of the NewYork lands, these 5, 500, 000 acres would be worth $206, 430, 000. Deductfrom this their present value, $11, 000, 000, and the remainder, $195, 430, 000, is the sum by which the unoccupied lands of Virginia, converted into farms, would have been increased in value byemancipation. Add this to the enhanced value of their present farms, $815, 845, 925, and the result would be $1, 011, 275, 925, as the gain ofVirginia in the value of lands by emancipation. To these we should add, from the same cause, the enhancement of the town and city property inVirginia to the extent of several hundred millions of dollars. In orderto realize the truth, we must behold Virginia as she would have been, with New York railroads and canals, farms, manufactures, commerce, towns, and cities. Then we must consider the superior natural advantagesof Virginia, her far greater area, her richer soil, her more genial sun, her greater variety of products, her mines of coal, iron, gold, copper, and lead, her petroleum, her superior hydraulic power, her much largercoast line, with more numerous and deeper harbors--and reflect whatVirginia would have been in the absence of slavery. Her early statesmen, Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Mason, Tucker, and Marshall, allrealized this great truth, and all desired to promote emancipation inVirginia. But their advice was disregarded by her present leaders--thenew, false, and fatal dogmas of Calhoun were substituted; and, as aconsequence, Virginia, from the first rank (_longo intervallo_) of allthe States, has fallen to the fifth, and, with slavery continued, willdescend still more rapidly in the future than in the past. Let herabolish slavery, and she will commence a new career of progress. Freedomand its associates, education and energy, will occupy her waste lands, restore her exhausted fields, decaying cities, and prostrate industry, employ her vast hydraulic power, develop her mines, unite by her grandcanals the waters of the Chesapeake and Ohio, and, placing her feet uponslavery, hear her proclaim, in the proud language of her own Statemotto, '_Sic semper tyrannis. _'

By census table 36, p. 197, the value, in 1860, of the farm lands of allthe Slave States, was $2, 570, 466, 935, and the number of acres245, 721, 062, worth $10. 46 per acre. In the Free States, the value of thefarm lands was $4, 067, 947, 286, and the number of acres 161, 462, 008, worth $25. 19 per acre. Now if, as certainly in the absence of slaverywould have been the case, the farm lands of the South had been worth asmuch per acre as those of the North, their total value would have been$6, 189, 713, 551, and, deducting the present price, the _additional_ cashvalue would have been $3, 619, 346, 616. Now the whole number of slaves inall the States, in 1860, was 3, 950, 531, multiplying which by $300, astheir average value, would make all the slaves in the Union worth$1, 185, 159, 300. Deduct this from the enhanced value of the farm lands ofthe South as above, and the result would be $2, 434, 087, 316 as the gainin the price of farms by emancipation. This is independent of theincreased value of their unoccupied lands, and of their town and cityproperty. 

By census tables of 1860, 33 and 36, the total value of the products ofagriculture, mines, and fisheries in the Free States was $4, 100, 000, 000, and of the Slave States $1, 150, 000, 000, making the products of the FreeStates in 1860 nearly 4 to 1 of the Slave States, and $216 _per capita_for the Free States, and for the Slave States $94 _per capita_. This isexclusive of commerce, which would greatly increase the ratio in favorof the North, that of New York alone being nearly equal to that of allthe Slave States. Now, multiply the population of the Slave States bythe value of the products _per capita_ of the Free States, and theresult is $2, 641, 631, 032, making, by emancipation, the increased annualproduct of the Slave States $1, 491, 631, 032, and in ten years, exclusiveof the yearly accumulations, $14, 916, 310, 320. 

By the table 35, census of 1860, the total value of all the property, real and personal, of the Free States, was $10, 852, 081, 681, and of theSlave States, $5, 225, 307, 034. Now, the product, in 1860, of the FreeStates, being $4, 100, 000, 000, the annual yield on the capital was 38 percent. ; and, the product of the Slave States being $1, 150, 000, 000, theyield on the capital was 22 per cent. This was the gross product in bothcases. I have worked out these amazing results from the census tables, to illustrate the fact, that the same law, by which slavery retarded theprogress of wealth in Virginia, as compared with New York, and ofMaryland and South Carolina, as compared with Massachusetts, rules therelative advance in wealth of all the Slave States, as compared withthat of all the Free States. I have stated that the statistics ofcommerce, omitted in these tables, would vastly increase the differencein favor of the Free States, as compared with the Slave States, and ofNew York as contrasted with Virginia. I shall now resume the latterinquiry, so as to complete the comparison between New York and Virginia. By commerce is embraced, in this examination, all earning not includedunder the heads of agriculture, manufactures, the mines, or fisheries. 

RAILROADS. --The number of miles of railroads in operation in New York, in 1860, including city roads, was 2, 842 miles, costing $138, 395, 055;and in Virginia, 1, 771 miles, costing $64, 958, 807. (Census table of1860, No. 38, pp. 230 and 233. ) Now, by the same census report, p. 105, the value of the freights of the New York roads for 1860 was as follows:Product of the forest--tons carried, 373, 424; value per ton, $20; totalvalue, $7, 468, 480. Of animals--895, 519 tons; value per ton, $200; totalvalue, $179, 103, 800. Vegetable food--1, 103, 640 tons; value per ton, $50;total value, $55, 182, 000. Other agricultural products--143, 219 tons;value per ton, $15; total value, $2, 148, 055. Manufactures--511, 916 tons;value per ton, $500; total value, $391, 905, 500. Other articles--930, 244tons; value, $10 per ton; total value, $9, 302, 440. Grand total, 4, 741, 773 tons carried; value per ton, $163. Total values, $773, 089, 275. Deducting one quarter for duplication, makes 3, 556, 330 tons carried onthe New York roads in 1860; and the value, $579, 681, 790. The values ofthe freights on the Virginia roads, as estimated, is $60, 000, 000, givingan excess to those of New York of $519, 681, 790, on the value of railroadfreights in 1860. The passenger account, not given, would largelyincrease the disparity in favor of New York. 

CANALS. --The number of miles of canals in New York is 1, 038, and theircost $67, 567, 972. In Virginia, the number of miles is 178, and the cost$7, 817, 000. (Census table 39, p. 238. ) The estimated value of thefreight on the New York canals is 19 times that of the freight on theVirginia canals. (Census. )

TONNAGE. --The tonnage of vessels built in New York in 1860 was 31, 936tons, and in Virginia 4, 372. (Census, p. 107. )

BANKS. --The number of banks in New York in 1860 was 303; capital$111, 441, 320, loans $200, 351, 332, specie $20, 921, 545, circulation$29, 959, 506, deposits $101, 070, 273; and in Virginia the number was 65;capital $16, 005, 156, loans $24, 975, 792, specie $2, 943, 652, circulation$9, 812, 197, deposits $7, 729, 652. (Table 34, p. 193, Census. )

INSURANCE COMPANIES. --The risks taken in New York were $916, 474, 956, ornearly one third of those in the whole Union. Virginia, estimated at$100, 000, 000; difference in favor of New York $816, 474, 956. (Census, p. 79. )

EXPORTS AND IMPORTS, ETC. --Our exports abroad from New York for thefiscal year ending 30th June, 1860, were $145, 555, 449, and the foreignimports $248, 489, 877; total of both, $394, 045, 326. The clearances sameyear from New York were 4, 574, 285 tons, and the entries 4, 836, 448 tons;total of both, 9, 410, 733 tons. In Virginia, the exports the same yearwere $5, 858, 024, and the imports $1, 326, 249; total of both, $7, 184, 273;clearances, 80, 381 tons, entries, 97, 762 tons; total of both, 178, 143tons. (Table 14, Register of United States Treasury. ) Revenue collectedfrom customs same year in New York, $37, 788, 969, and in Virginia$189, 816, or 200 to 1 in favor of New York. (Tables, U. S. Com. OfCustoms. ) No returns are given for the coastwise and internal trade ofeither State, but the tables of the railway and canal transportation ofboth States show nearly the same proportion in favor of New York as inthe foreign trade. Thus the _domestic_ exports from New York for theabove year abroad were $126, 060, 967, and from Virginia $5, 833, 371. (Same table, 14. ) And yet Virginia, as we have seen, had much greaternatural advantages than New York for commerce, as well as for mines, manufactures, and agriculture. But slavery has almost expelled commercefrom Virginia, and nearly paralyzed all other pursuits. 

These tables, taken from the census and the Treasury records, proveincontestably, that slavery retards the progress of wealth andpopulation throughout the South, but especially in Virginia. Nor can theTariff account for the results; for Virginia, as we have seen, possessesfar greater advantages than New York for manufactures. Besides, thecommerce of New York far surpasses that of Virginia, and this is thebranch of industry supposed to be affected most injuriously by hightariffs, and New York has generally voted against them with as muchunanimity as Virginia. But there is a still more conclusive proof. Theyear 1824 was the commencement of the era of high tariffs, and yet, from1790 to 1820, as proved by the census, the percentage of increase of NewYork over Virginia was greater than from 1820 to 1860. Thus, by table Iof the census, p. 124, the increase of population in Virginia was asfollows:

 From 1790 to 1800 17. 63 per cent. " 1800 " 1810 10. 73 " " 1810 " 1820 9. 31 " " 1820 " 1830 13. 71 " " 1830 " 1840 2. 34 " " 1840 " 1850 14. 60 " " 1850 " 1860 12. 29 "

The increase of population in New York was:

 From 1790 to 1800 72. 51 per cent. " 1800 " 1810 63. 45 " " 1810 " 1820 43. 14 " " 1820 " 1830 39. 76 " " 1830 " 1840 26. 60 " " 1840 " 1850 27. 52 " " 1850 " 1860 25. 29 "

In 1790 the population of Virginia was 748, 318, in 1820, 1, 065, 129, andin 1860, 1, 596, 318. In 1790 the population of New York was 340, 120, in1820, 1, 372, 111, and in 1860, 3, 880, 735. Thus, from 1790 to 1820, beforethe inauguration of the protective policy, the relative increase of thepopulation of New York, as compared with Virginia, was very far greaterthan from 1820 to 1860. It is quite clear, then, that the Tariff had noinfluence whatever in depressing the progress of Virginia as comparedwith New York. 

We have heretofore proved by the census the same position as regards therelative progress of Maryland and Massachusetts, and the same principleapplies as between all the Free, as compared with all the Slave States. In New York, we have seen that her progress from 1790 to 1820, in theabsence of high tariffs, and, even before the completion of her greatcanal, her advance in population was much more rapid than from 1820 to1860. Indeed, it is quite clear that, so far as the Tariff had anyinfluence, it was far more unfavorable to New York than to Virginia, NewYork being a much greater agricultural as well as commercial State. 

Having shown how much the material progress of Virginia has beenretarded by slavery, let us now consider its effect upon her moral andintellectual development. 

NEWSPAPERS AND PERIODICALS. --The number of newspapers and periodicals inNew York in 1860 was 542, of which 365 were political, 56 religious, 63literary, 58 miscellaneous; and the number of copies circulated in 1860was 320, 930, 884. (Census tables, Nos. 15, 37. ) The number in Virginiawas 139; of which 117 were political, 13 religious, 3 literary, 6miscellaneous; and the number of copies circulated in 1860 was26, 772, 568. Thus, the annual circulation of the press in New York wastwelve times as great as that of Virginia. As to periodicals: New Yorkhad 69 monthlies, of which 2 were political, 25 religious, 24 literary, and 18 miscellaneous; 10 quarterlies, of which 5 were religious, and 5literary; 6 annuals, of which 2 were political, 2 religious, and 2miscellaneous. Virginia had 5 monthlies, of which 1 was political, 2religious, 1 literary, and 1 miscellaneous; and no quarterlies orannuals. The annual circulation of the New York monthlies was 2, 045, 000;that of Virginia was 43, 900; or more than 43 to 1 in favor of New York. 

As regards schools, colleges, academies, libraries, and churches, I musttake the census of 1850, those tables for 1860 not being yet arrangedand printed. The number of public schools in New York in 1850 was11, 580, teachers 13, 965, pupils 675, 221; colleges, academies, etc. , pupils 52, 001; attending school during the year, as returned byfamilies, 693, 329; native adults of the State who cannot read or write, 23, 341. Public libraries, 11, 013; volumes, 1, 760, 820. Value of churches, $21, 539, 561. (Comp. Census, 1850. )

The number of public schools in Virginia in 1850 was 2, 937, teachers3, 005, pupils 67, 438; colleges, academies, etc. , pupils 10, 326;attending school during the year, as returned by families, 109, 775;native white adults of the State who cannot read or write, 75, 868. Public libraries, 54; volumes, 88, 462. Value of churches, $2, 902, 220. (Compend. Of Census of 1850. ) By table 155, same compend, the percentageof native free population in Virginia over 20 years of age who cannotread or write is 19. 90, and in New York 1. 87, in North Carolina 30. 34, in Maryland 11. 10, in Massachusetts 0. 32, or less than one third of oneper cent. In New England, the percentage of native whites who cannotread or write is 0. 42, or less than one half of one per cent. ; and inthe Southern States 20. 30, or 50 to 1 in favor of New England. (Compend. , table 157. ) But, if we take the whole adult population ofVirginia, including whites, free blacks, and slaves, 42. 05 per cent. , ornearly one half, cannot read or write; and in North Carolina, more thanone half cannot read or write. We have seen, by the above officialtables of the census of 1850, that New York, compared with Virginia, hadnearly ten times as many pupils at schools, colleges, and academies, twenty times as many books in libraries, and largely more than seventimes the value of churches; while the ratio of native white adults whocannot read or write was more than 10 to 1 in Virginia, compared withNew York. We have seen, also, that in North Carolina nearly one third ofthe native white adults, and in Virginia nearly one fifth, cannot reador write, and in New England 1 in every 400, in New York 1 in every 131, in the South and Southwest 1 in every 12 of the native white adults. (Comp. P. 153. )

These official statistics enable me, then, again to say that slavery ishostile to the progress of wealth and education, to science andliterature, to schools, colleges, and universities, to books andlibraries, to churches and religion, to the press, and therefore to freegovernment; hostile to the poor, keeping them in want and ignorance;hostile to labor, reducing it to servitude, and decreasing two thirdsthe value of its products; hostile to morals, repudiating among slavesthe marital and parental condition, classifying them by law as chattels, darkening the immortal soul, and making it a crime to teach millions ofhuman beings to read or write. Surely such a system is hostile tocivilization, which consists in the education of the masses of thepeople of a country, and not of the few only. A State, one third ofwhose population are slaves, classified by law as chattels, andforbidden all instruction, and nearly one fifth of whose adult whitescannot read or write, is semi-civilized, however enlightened may be theruling classes. If a highly educated chief or parliament governed Chinaor Dahomey, they would still be semi-civilized or barbarous countries, however enlightened their rulers might be. The real discord between theNorth and the South, is not only the difference between freedom andslavery, but between civilization and barbarism caused by slavery. Whenwe speak of a civilized _nation_, we mean the masses of the people, andnot the government or rulers only. The enlightenment of the _people_ isthe true criterion of civilization, and any community that falls belowthis standard, is barbarous or semi-civilized. In countries where kingsor oligarchies rule, the government may be maintained, (howeverunjustly, ) without educating the masses; but, in a republic, or populargovernment, this is impossible; and the deluded masses of the Southnever could have been driven into this rebellion, but for the ignoranceinto which they had been plunged by slavery; nor is there any remedy forthe evil but emancipation. If, then, we would give stability and wisdomto the government, and perpetuity to the Union, we must abolish slavery, which withholds education and enlightenment from the masses of thepeople, who, with us, control the policy of the nation. 

With our only cause of ignorance and poverty among the people, and onlyelement of discord among the States, extirpated by the gradual removalof slavery and negroism, we would bound forward in a new and wonderfulcareer of power and prosperity. Our noble vessel of state, the greatRepublic, freighted with the hopes of humanity, and the liberties of ourcountry and of mankind, still bearing aloft the flag of our mightyUnion, indissoluble by domestic traitors or conspiring oligarchs, will, under Divine guidance, pass over the troubled waters, reassuring adesponding world, as she glides into the blessed haven of safety andrepose. All the miracles of our past career would be eclipsed by theglories of the future. We might then laugh to scorn the impotent maliceof foreign foes. Without force or fraud, without sceptre or bayonet, ourmoral influence and example, for their own good, and by their own freechoice, would control the institutions and destiny of nations. The wisemen of the East may then journey westward again, to see the rising starof a regenerated humanity, the fall of thrones and dynasties, thelifting up of the downtrodden masses, and the political redemption ofour race, not by a new dispensation, but by the fulfilment thus of theglorious prophecies and blessed promises of Holy Writ. And can we notlift ourselves into that serene atmosphere of love of country and of ourrace, above all selfish schemes or mere party devices, and contemplatethe grandeur of these results, if now, _now_, NOW we will only do ourduty? Now, indeed, is the 'accepted time, ' now is the day of the'salvation' of our country. And now, as in former days of trouble, letus remember the mighty dead, as, when living, silencing the voice oftreason, and calming the tempest of revolution, he uttered thoseelectric words: 'UNION AND LIBERTY, NOW AND FOREVER, ONE ANDINSEPARABLE!'

If we could rise to the height of prophetic vision, behold theprocession of coming events, and, unrolling the scroll of advancingyears and centuries, contemplate our Union securing by its example therights and liberties of man, would we not welcome any sacrifice, evendeath itself, if we could thus aid in accomplishing results so god-likeand sublime? But, whether in gloom or glory, chastened for national sinsor rewarded for good deeds, let us realize the _great truth_, that theAlmighty directs nations as well as planets in their course, governs themoral as well as the material world, never abdicating for a moment thecontrol of either; and that persevering opposition to his laws mustmeet, in the end, retributive justice. 

PROMISE. 

 O watcher for the dawn of day, As o'er the mountain peaks afar Hangs in the twilight cold and gray, Like a bright lamp, the morning star! Though slow the daybeams creep along The serried pines which top the hills, And gloomy shadows brood among The silent valleys, and the rills

 Seem almost hushed--patience awhile! Though slowly night to day gives birth, Soon the young babe with radiant smile Shall gladden all the waiting earth. By fair gradation changes come, No harsh transitions mar God's plan, But slowly works from sun to sun His perfect rule of love to man. 

 And patience, too, my countrymen, In this our nation's fierce ordeal! Bright burns the searching flame, and then, The dross consumed, shall shine the real. Wake, watcher! see the mountain peaks Already catch a golden ray, Light on the far horizon speaks The dawning of a glorious day. 

 Murky the shadows still that cling In the deep valleys, but the mist Is soaring up on silver wing To where the sun the clouds has kissed. Hard-fought and long the strife may be, The powers of wrong be slow to yield, But Right shall gain the victory, And Freedom hold the battle field. 

AMERICAN DESTINY. 

We would study the question of American Destiny in the light of commonsense, of history, and of science. 

It may be unusual to illustrate from science a principle which is tohave a political application; but we shall endeavor to do so, believingit to be unexceptionably legitimate. The different departments ofscience, science and history, science and politics, have been, heretofore, kept quite distinct as to the provinces of inquiry to whichit was presumed they severally belonged. Each has been cultivated as ifit had no relation external to itself, and was not one of a family ofcognate truths. This, however, is undergoing a gradual but certainchange, in which it is becoming constantly more manifest that betweenthe different departments of human inquiry there are mutual dependencesand complicated interrelations, which enable us, by the truths of onescience, to thread the mazes of another. 

There are certain general laws which pertain with equal validity to manydepartments of activity in the natural world; there are parallel linesof development as the result of the inherent correlation of forces. Thus, if we have found a great general law in physiology, that same lawmay apply with equal aptness to astronomy, geology, chemistry, and evento social and political evolution. 

One of these general laws, and perhaps the most comprehensive in itscharacter and universal in its application of any yet known, we willannounce in the language of Guyot, the comparative geographer: 'We haverecognized in the life of all that develops itself, three successivestates, three grand phases, three evolutions, identically repeated inevery order of existence; a _chaos_, where all is confounded together; a_development_, where all is separating; a _unity_, where all is bindingitself together and organizing. We have observed that here is the law of_phenomenal life_, the _formula_ of development, whether in inorganicnature or in organized nature. '

This answers for the department of physics and physiology. We will letGuizot, the historian, speak for the political and social realm: 'Allthings, at their origin, are nearly confounded in one and the samephysiognomy; it is only in their aftergrowth that their variety showsitself. Then begins a new development which urges forward societiestoward that free and lofty unity, the glorious object of the efforts andwishes of mankind. '

We find an illustration of this law in the simplest of the sciences, ifthe nebular hypothesis be true, as most astronomers believe. We havefirst the chaotic, nebulous matter, then the formation of worldstherefrom, by a continuous process of unfolding. Each world is a unitwithin itself, but part of a still greater unit composed of a system ofworlds revolving around the same sun; and this greater unit, part of onewhich is still greater--a star cluster, composed of many planetarysystems, and subject to the same great cosmical laws. If the theory becorrect, we find, in this example, the heterogeneous derived from thesimple, and far more completely an organized unit, with all itscomplexity, than was the chaotic mass from which development originallyproceeded. 

We find additional illustration in coming to our own world. Its primevalgeography was simple and uniform; there was little diversity of coastline, soil, or surface. But the cooling process of the earth went on, the surface contracted and ridged up, the exposed rocks weredisintegrated by the action of the atmosphere and the waters; thesediment deposited in the bottom of the seas was thrown to the surface;continents were enlarged, higher mountain ranges upheaved, the coastsworn into greater irregularity of outline; and everywhere the soilbecame more composite, the surface more uneven, the landscape morevariegated. 

Corresponding changes have taken place in the climate. At first thetemperature of the earth was much warmer than now, and uniform in allparallels of latitude, as is shown by the fossil remains. Now we have agreat diversity of climate, whether we contrast the polar with thetorrid regions, or the different seasons of the temperate zone with eachother. 

The same law of increasing diversity obtains in the fauna and flora ofthe various periods of geological history. The earliest fossil record ofanimal life is witness to the simplicity of organic structure. Amongvertebrated animals, fishes first appear, next reptiles, then birds;still higher, the lower type of animals which suckle their young; and asthe strata become more recent, still higher forms of mammalia, till wereach the upper tertiary, in which geologists have discovered theremains of many animals of complex structure nearly allied to thosewhich are now in existence. In the historic period appear many organicforms of still greater complexity, with man at the head of thezoological series. 

In this glance of zoological progress, we discover increasingcomplication of two kinds; for while the individual structure has beenconstantly becoming more complex, there are now in existence theanalogues of the lowest fossil types, which, with the highest, and withall the intermediate, present a maze and vastness of complication, which, in comparison with the homogeneity of the aggregate of earlystructure, is sufficiently obvious and impressive. 

There is in this view, still another outline of increasing complexity. At first the same types prevailed all over the earth's surface; but asthe soil, atmosphere, and climate changed, and the animal structurebecame more complex and varied, the limits of particular species becamemore and more localized, till the earth's surface presented zoologicaldistricts, with the fauna of each peculiar to itself. 

But, what of unitization? Here, there appears to be divergence only, andthat continually increasing. 

Guyot says that 'the unity reappears with the creation of man, whocombines in his physical nature all the perfections of the animal, andwho is the end of all this long progression of organized beings. 'Agassiz recognizes man alone as cosmopolite; and Comte regards him asthe supreme head of the economy of nature, and representative of thefundamental unity of the anatomical scale. 

But another and more obvious example of unitization in complexity, isderivable from the consideration of the animal organism, and will soonbe given. 

We will merely mention in passing, that the most complex animals, in thevarious stages of fetal development through which they pass, correspondto the types of structure which are permanent in the lower forms ofanimal life. Thus, in the zoological chain, there are beings of allgrades, from the most simple in structure to the most complex; and themost complex animal, in its development from the ovum or egg, passesthrough all these grades of structure, ending in that which is aboveall, and distinctively its own. 'Without going into tedious details, manpresents, as regards the most important of his constituent structures, his nervous system, the successive characteristics of an avertebratedanimal, a fish, a turtle, a bird, a quadruped, a quadrumanous animal, before he assumes the special human characteristics. ' (Draper. )

Our purpose being to show that while complexity of structure isconstantly increasing, unitization, or the organized dependence of onepart on another, is, at the same time, becoming more complete, we shallrefer briefly to the comparative anatomy and physiology of animals. There is in this connection such wealth of material--a long chain ofanimal beings with all grades of structure from very simple to verycomplex; each complex animal, in its development from the ovum, passingthrough all the lower types of structure in succession; so many neworgans and functions arising in the course of this development; eachorgan so arising, becoming, in its turn, more complex in structure, morespecialized in function, and more dependent on the office of otherorgans;--in the midst, I say, of all this wealth of material, indicatedhere in a great general and imperfect manner, the difficulty, in sobrief an exposition as this, is to know what facts to seize upon ascalculated to illustrate most aptly the principle under consideration. 

The development of the senses, with reference to their organs, nerves, and functions, presents a striking illustration of increasingcomplexity. 

In the lowest forms of animal life, we find general sensibility only, and it is claimed that this exists in the lowest forms, without even thepresence of nerves. But as we rise higher in the scale, the specialorgans of sense gradually become developed--one new sense after anotherappears; but this is not the only line of increasing complexity. When anorgan of sense first appears, its function is of the simplest character;and it is only when we reach the highest types of animal life that itperforms the greatest variety of offices peculiar thereto. That of touchis, at first, but crude and simple, becoming delicate and complicatedonly in the highest types. The sense of pain is a differentiatedfunction, possessed only in a slight degree by reptiles and fishes, andprobably not at all by animals still lower in the scale. 

The eye-spots of star fishes and jelly fishes simply distinguish lightfrom darkness, much as we do with our eyes closed. There are manydegrees of development from this condition of the inferior organism tothat of the human eye, which distinguishes the nicest shades of color, distance, form, and size of objects, and the play of passion on thehuman countenance. 

The same variety of function is acquired by the ear in its developmentfrom its simplest to its most complex form. In the higher animals, theorgan of hearing is formed of three parts, an external, middle, andinternal portion; but in birds the external ear is wanting; in fishesboth the external and middle parts are wanting; in mollusks it isreduced to a simple sack of microscopic dimensions, filled with a liquidin which there are otolithes, or pebbly substances. Such an organ candistinguish noises only; it can recognize nothing of the infinitevariety of articulations, notes, tones, melodies, harmonies of the humanvoice and of musical instruments. There is even a great differencebetween the disciplined, and therefore differentiated ear of a culturedperson, and the undisciplined, and therefore less differentiated ear ofa boor. Similar specializations of structure and function pertain to theother senses; but we may pass them. 

The digestive, circulatory, and respiratory systems, and all the othersystems of the animal structure, evince the same law. 

The lowest form of the circulating fluid, as in sponges, is simply watercontaining gases and organic particles; and this can scarcely be spokenof as circulating, for it is merely drawn in and then expelled. A littlehigher in the scale naturalists find a 'chylaqueous fluid, ' whichoscillates in the general cavity of the sack-like animal. The true bloodis another step in development; and even this organized fluid changesits character as the scale advances. Most animals have no heart; andwhen the organ does first appear, it is but a simple, rudimentarystructure, very unlike the complex machine which plays at the centre ofcirculation in the higher types. 

Though fishes breathe through their gills, receiving all the oxygen theyrequire from the small amount of air in the water, the swimming bladderis in them the rudimentary lung--a very simple structure, indeed, whencompared with the more complex arrangement for respiration in the higheranimals. 

Some animals of gelatinous, and therefore flexible structure, performdigestion by folding their bodies over the food, and pressing thenutritious matter out of it: they extemporize a stomach for theoccasion. And even in some of their higher types, in such as have apermanent mouth and stomach, the digestive process is simply a squeezingout of the elements of nutrition. The digestive apparatus, from being asimple sack in the polype and similar organisms, becomes, by acontinuous unfolding, the complicated structure which we find in thehigher animals, with various organs effecting various parts of thedigestive change, and even different parts of the same organ havingspecialized functions to perform. 

The most complex animal proceeds originally from a simple cell; and 'atthe two extremes we may contemplate the single germinal membrane of theovum, which is discharging contemporaneously every function--digesting, absorbing, respiring, etc. ; and the complete organic apparatus of man, the stomach, the lungs, the skin, the kidneys, and the liver--mechanismsset apart each for the discharge of a special duty, yet each havingarisen, as we know positively from watching the order of theirdevelopment, from that simple germinal membrane. ' (Draper. ) This is whatone physiologist says of the ovum which is being developed into acomplex being. Here is what another says of animals at the lower end ofthe zoological scale: 'The simplest organisms breathe, exhale, secrete, absorb, and reproduce, by their envelopes alone. ' (Lewes. ) Here weperceive the resemblance between the ovum of the higher animals and thepermanent structure of the lower animals. Indeed, some of the lowerforms of animal life are simply cells. How vast the difference betweenthe organism of man, with all its complexity of structure, and that ofthe Ameba or Actinophrys, which, being merely a homogeneous mass oforganic matter, performs all the functions of its simple life withoutany special organ whatever! Yet, is man any less a unit than the Ameba, or any other simple organism? Does his multiplicity of organs impair theintegrity of his anatomical and physiological oneness? Is thecirculation independent of respiration? Is digestion independent of thecirculation? Can any one organ act independently of the others? Is notthe entire series of parts, organs, and functions bound up in completeand inseparable unity? The vicarious action of one organ for another hasbeen a question among physiologists; and if admitted, as in the case ofthe salivary glands acting for the kidneys in profuse spitting, and theskin for the liver, the vicarious function can only obtain to a slightdegree and in a temporary manner. The destruction of any considerableorgan involves the destruction of all the rest. I repeat that theintegrity of the physiological unity at the top of the scale, is farmore complete, with all its complexity, than is the integrity of thephysiological unity at the bottom of the scale, with its markedsimplicity of structure. By no sort of legerdemain or surgical skill canwe make an individual mammal become two. If we divide it, the wholedies. Not so, however, with some of the lower grades of animalexistence. Cut a hydra into thirty or forty pieces, and each piece willbecome a distinct animal--a facsimile of the original one. In quite ananalogous way do a large number of animals at the lower end of the scalepropagate, by segmentation and division; one individual becoming two, two four, and so on. 

Many examples might be adduced to show the absence of organized unity inthe lower orders of the animal creation. Thus, in the annelid, which iscomposed of a great many similar rings, and is regarded as quite acomplex creature, there is so little dependence of one part on another, that a number of the rings may be destroyed without any injury to therest. The Synapta, when in want of food, will amputate its own body toprocure the necessary supply; and it has been observed to repeat theoperation, until it 'had by degrees eaten away the whole of its body tokeep life in the head. ' (Quatrefages. ) Such a phenomenon as this is veryunlike that presented by the higher animals, which, together with theirmultiplied individuality of part and function, and their infinitevariety of physiognomic expression, present, at the same time, a unityof organization so complete, that an injury to one part isinstantaneously telegraphed to all parts of the system, and sympathizedin by all to a greater or less extent. 

As in physiology, the development of the individual corresponds to thedevelopment of the entire zoological series; so, when we rise into thepsychological realm, do we ascertain that the development of theindividual mind corresponds to the development of the mental series fromthe savage to the civilized. In the physiognomy of the savage there islittle variety of expression; he has not differentiated thatmultiplicity of thought and feeling which moulds the face and plays uponits lineaments in the cultivated Teuton. The same is true of the latterwhile an infant. But who will say that the cultured man of this age isless a balanced, unitized creature than the child of the cradle, or ofthe forest? The latter is but a creature of impulse, moved by everyappetite, and swayed by every gust of passion. He has no fixedprinciples for the regulation of his life. There is no presiding powerto rule and subordinate the tumultuous and refractory elements of hischaracter, and thus unitize the mental organism and its manifestations. This is what culture gives. Here then we also perceive that with thedevelopment of variety and complexity, the element of unity becomes moreactive and manifest. This view of the progressive unitization of theindividual man in a psychological aspect, is very suggestive when takenin connection with the wane of despotism and the growth of liberty, associety and government advance, and it becomes ever less the province oflaw to govern, and also to regulate. 

We have adduced some of the illustrations which physical andphysiological science affords of the Law of Universal Development: letus close this part of our subject with the illustrations afforded by therise and progress of Science as a whole. The first germs of science werevery simple, existing in connection with Art, and subserving thepurposes of priestcraft. For a long time the range of scientific inquirywas so limited that the same individual was able to grasp it entire. Butone branch after another has sprung up, diverging more and more into therealms of the unknown, until no one mind can hope to obtain even ageneral knowledge of them all. 

But this has not been the only tendency of scientific growth. Divergenceand differentiation had not proceeded far till the combining andorganizing movement began. The more individuality and complexity havethreatened to outreach the mental powers and become unmanageable, themore have order and organization shown their ability to subordinate andunitize the seeming diversity of elements. While the sciences continuedto increase in number and complexity, they began to overlap andinterlace, the principles of one running into the domain of another, and even coördinating and binding together its seemingly incongruousparts. 

A simple scientific generalization is based on certain facts which, taken in their collective capacity, mean the truth which is expressed inthe formula. A higher generalization embraces those which are simpler, and unites by its expression the truths which they contain into theformula of one great truth. This process goes on, rising constantlyhigher and higher, the generalizations of the ascending series becomingmore comprehensive, and the convergence of all the diversified elementsinto great general laws more striking and complete. Thus advances theunitizing movement of science; and it is now progressing with asteadiness and certainty unknown in former periods of research. Greatminds are at this moment occupied in the discovery and verification ofthese great unitizing laws. Thus we perceive, that while science hasdeveloped a bewildering mass of individual facts and minor principles, it has also developed the germs of a unity which is destined to unfoldwith a richness and magnificence of result heretofore unknown in theannals of human inquiry. 

As the special departments of science have testified, so also does thegeneral view of all science testify to this Law of UniversalDevelopment. 

But, what has all this to do with American Destiny? Very much, as mayyet appear. It is by the Past only that we can read the Future; and ifin history and in all development, there is revealed by the inductiveprocess a great general law, that law becomes the Oracle of Destiny. 

A fitting transition from science to history would be ethnology, thescience of races, connected as it is with physics, chemistry, andphysiology, on the one hand, and with history on the other. 

There are different theories in vogue to account for the diversity ofhuman races now in existence. Some refer human origin to an originalpair, whose descendants have changed through the action of physicalcauses, as food, soil, climate, and scenery, and also through theoperation of moral ones as dependent on the physical, and thereforesecondary thereto, such as manners, customs, and government. Othersdeduce it from different lines of development, coming up through thezoological scale, and thence passing from the lower to the higher racesof men. Others still speak of mankind as originating 'in nations, ' eachrace being fixed in its physical and mental characteristics, and havingan origin independent and distinct from all others. 

It matters little to our purpose which of these theories may be true, the difference as to aptness of illustration being only one of degree. We prefer, however, to deal with facts in regard to which there islittle or no difference of opinion among the theorists themselves. 

There are simple and complex peoples or races, as there are simple andcomplex organisms. Take any primitive race, whether described in historyor by some contemporaneous traveller: in a physical point of view, themen are all very nearly alike, and the women likewise. Describe oneindividual, and you have the description for all other individuals ofthe same sex belonging to the race. And there is not usually as muchdifference in the physical appearance of the sexes in primitive races asamong those who stand higher in the scale. What is true of theirphysique, is also true of their minds. As one thinks and feels, so allthink and feel--and that, too, without concert; it is the simpleexpression of an undiversified mental organism. Their faculties are rudeand uncultivated; they act chiefly on the perceptive plane, reflectingbut little. They are predominantly sensual, not having developed thehigher mental activities which pertain to an advanced state of societyand result in those great diversities of attainment and expression amongindividuals of the same people. There are reasons for believing thatthere was a time when this planet had no human inhabitants but races ofthis simple type. Great changes have taken place since that day; changeswhich, by the law of their accomplishment, correspond precisely with thechanges which have taken place in the zoological scale. Owing to causeswhich we may not fully understand, races have been developed whichpresent, each within its own limits, great contrarieties of physicalappearance and mental characteristics. Among 'Anglo-Saxons' there isoften greater diversity in members of the same family, than you wouldfind in a million individuals of a primitive race. The complex appears, somehow or other, to have been developed from the simple. 

The simple fact of a population becoming more numerous, necessitatescertain changes--from hunting to pasturage, for example, from pastorallife to agricultural and fixed habitation--and these would affect thehabits, modes of thought, and, to some extent, personal appearance. Themodification of climate by clearing, draining, and cultivation, and theremoval of a people from one climate to another, would effect stillother changes. But the intermixture of races by war and immigration has, perhaps, done more than any other cause to produce the great physicaldiversities which we now find in the higher races. Having traced thestream of warlike immigration from Eastern Asia westward, and thence toCentral Europe, and still westward and southward to the shores of theAtlantic, and even across the Mediterranean into Africa, overwhelmingthe Roman Empire of the West in its course, --observe this tide of humanmovement, as wave followed wave for centuries, rolling peoples againstand over one another, confounding them together, and leaving them uponthe same soil, or in close proximity to each other; and, even admittingthat they were simple and primitive to begin with, we shall not wonderat the diversified aspect of the people of Europe and their descendantsin America. But this is only one series of movements from which hasresulted the intermixture of races; there are others, and some, nodoubt, beyond the farthest reach of history. The process of intermixtureis still going on, especially in the Western World, though by methodsusually more peaceful than formerly. The result multiplies itself, andthe leading races of mankind are becoming constantly more composite. 

The contact and intermixture of races have had a moral result, which, inits turn, acts upon the physical. Mental development has been one of theresults of war and immigration; one people learning from another, andstriking out new modes of thought from the sheer necessity of newcircumstances; and this mental development changing the physiognomicexpression and general bearing of the man. This result has beenincreasing in geometrical progression since history, printing, and thefacilities of intercommunication have made the culture of one peoplecontagious to other peoples, and the attainments of one generationavailable to all the generations that follow. Thus does every movementamong the nations conspire to change the simple types into those whichare more complex. 

The ethnological unity may be less apparent; and before we clearlyperceive it, we may have to rise into the consideration of social andpolitical relations, not divorcing these from physiology, without whichno question relative to man can be rightly judged. And it may be thatafter greater development in this direction, the unity of races maybecome more distinctly pronounced and more readily recognized. 

We may observe, in passing, that the same causes which have contributedto this ethnological complexity, have, at the same time, aided in thedevelopment of the cosmical idea--the idea of the unity of the universe. At first, tribes had little communication with each other, and knewnothing of geography beyond the limits of their own hunting grounds. They knew as little of the vastness of the earth outside of their domainas of that of the universe. This could only be conjectured from thevantage ground of some degree of intellectual culture, and the idea mustremain vague and indefinite till after long ages of real experience andintellectual unfolding. It was not till after Alexander's conquests inthe East, the extension of the Roman Empire, the invention of themariner's compass, the discovery of America, and the circumnavigation ofthe globe, together with the perfection of optical instruments by theuse of which the true character of the celestial bodies wasdemonstrated, that the cosmical idea became truly a scientific one. (Humboldt. ) Thus were the partial and fragmentary notions of earlypeoples at length corrected, enlarged, unitized. 

Closely akin to this is the development of the god-idea. Fetich-worshipis that of the rudest people. They see a god in every individual object, in every stream, in every tree, in every stone. All they see is, however, shrouded in mystery, and they have a blind veneration for everyobject. A step farther, and the developing mind generalizes theseobjects. The individual trees, for example, are taken collectively, andtheir divine representative worshipped as the god of the groves. Thereare, at the same time, other unitizing conceptions of the god-idea. There is a god of the hills, a god of the streams, of the seas, and soon. New classes of divinities may be evolved in the mythological system;the strong and salient passions of our nature may come to have theirdeities--to be unitized, at length, with all other gods. Meantime, mankind are forming into states, with some degree of regular government;and apparently in accordance with this fact, the gods are subjected tothe partial control of one who is greater than all the rest, and who istheir father and king, but himself subject to the decrees of Fate. Another grand step, and seemingly in correspondence with the morecentralized government of a vast and powerful empire, we hear of one Godonly, who is all-powerful, and master of Fate itself, with a hierarchyof angels, powers, and principalities, reaching from God to man, andsubordinate to the Central Will, which rules all things, whether 'in thearmies of heaven or among the inhabitants of the earth. ' Thus did theidea of one God eventually swallow up all the others; and the god-ideawas completely unitized. 

We now come to consider the political and social evolution of mankind, as it appears to be revealed by the comparison of various stages ofnational growth. 

The primitive condition of all races, so far as history and travelreveal it, correspond with what is characterized as homogeneous orunorganized. Socially and politically, individuals of the same sex areall alike. There are no classes in society, no rulers, noaristocrats--no society even--nothing but individuals; and it is herethat we find individuality in its purest form. There is no laworiginating with a sovereign, or with the people, for the adjustment ofdifficulties; every individual avenges his own wrongs in his own way. Coöperation is scarcely known; there is nothing in their habits, nothingin their social and political relations to bind society together; thereare no specialized parts or functions--no dependence of one part onanother; it is marked by a homogeneity of structure, if structure it canbe called, which is unimpeachable. The only coöperation which obtainsbeyond the limits of the family, is that of hunting and war; and theseexercises develop the need of a chief or leader. The strongest and mostdaring are self-elected by virtue of individual prowess. But still thechief is very like all the rest of the tribe, lives in the same style, provides for his own wants in the same way, has no specialprivileges--is merely a chief or leader, and nothing more. Andafterward, when he may have acquired some degree of authority, thatauthority is purely of a military character--civil government is not yetborn. Usage comes at length to confirm the chief's right, and humanselfishness works out its legitimate results: smaller men are dwarfed, as occasion permits, in order that the one who is greatest may bemagnified. His office becomes hereditary, and his family is, at length, fabled to have descended from the gods. This is the tendency ofprimitive ignorance and superstition: there must be a sensual object forthe blind veneration of sensual minds; and the imagination readilyprovides this, by attributing to the progenitors of their chiefs vastcorporeal forms, great strength and skill, undaunted courage, andsuccess in amorous intrigue--the perfection of those qualities whichthey themselves most covet. Their chiefs or petty kings are now such bydivine origin; and when civil relations become developed, one mancombines within himself all the prerogatives of civil, military, andreligious government. 

The ambition and turbulence of the chief or petty king and of his peoplebring them into hostile conflict with other tribes or petty states; andwhen victorious, they appropriate the conquered territory, andannihilate, enslave, or extend their rule over the vanquished people. This warlike encroachment and increase of power alarm other states, andthey form confederacies or leagues more or less intimate and permanentfor resistance and mutual protection. Thus does the unitizing element ofgovernment gather strength with the progress of political movement. 

The ambitious chieftain, having acquired greater power than hisneighbors, conceives of further aggrandizement, undertakes newconquests, attacks the weak, and adds other states to his own, till intime he may have made himself a great sovereign and won a great kingdom. These new conquests impose additional cares on the ruler; but he usesthe tools of his power to execute his will; he governs his kingdoms withabsolute sway, as a general governs his army; it is a military despotismof the simplest structure, and all prerogatives and interests are mergedin and subservient to this one. The civil function is not yet developedas distinct from the military. Only one idea pervades the government, and that is the idea of absolute rule by brute force. Society has as yetdeveloped few elements, has but few interests and little functionaldiversity; there are only two classes, the ruler and the ruled, themasters and the slaves. There being but few political and socialinterests to play among each other, there cannot be development for wantof activity; there can be little progress of any kind. Such are thesimple, unprogressive, one-idea governments which prevailed in theearliest times of which we have any tolerably authentic record, andwhich still prevail among half-civilized peoples. 

Government is simply a growth, a development, and it must correspond tothe character of the people out of whose mental status it has sprung. Ifthe people are homogeneous in their mental structure, their social andpolitical interests must be correspondingly homogeneous and simple. Themore rude and primitive the minds of any people, the fewer are therelations external to the individual which obtain among them. But when apeople, or a mixture of peoples, have developed great versatility ofmind, a great variety of tastes, propensities, aspirations, andinterests, their social and political institutions becomecorrespondingly heterogeneous and complex. Such are the social andpolitical systems of Middle and Western Europe. There was nothing of thekind in the ancient world. Then the people were more simple and lessversatile in their mental habitudes; and a simple, though despoticgovernment was the inevitable outgrowth. Rome was but a militarydespotism, and it conquered and ruled with military stringency. It wasnot till the reign of Diocletian that the civil functions were divorcedfrom the military, and then only to a partial extent. It remained forConstantine to carry out more fully what Diocletian had begun, and todivide, or, if you please, to differentiate the governmental functionsto an extent which had been altogether unknown before. 

The people of the provinces subject to Roman dominion had no recognizedrights, no voice in their own government, but were dominated by thecentral power at Rome. The right of representation, so sacred in moderntimes as an element of confederate policy, they did not desire norappreciate; for, when seven provinces of the south of Gaul werecommanded by the emperor Honorius to send a representation of theirchief men to the city of Arles for the supervision of interests whichconcerned themselves, they disregarded the mandate. A central despotismmaintained Roman unity; and, whenever its iron arm should by any meansbecome weakened, the empire must fall into fragments. 

The dissolution of the Roman Empire in the West was the end of onecycle; thence began another--that in which we now are, and which shouldbe of absorbing interest to us. A state of affairs quite unlike anythingknown before was then inaugurated. Hundreds of years have been requiredto develop results so as to enable the human mind to divine at alldefinitely the law of its movement; and hundreds more may be required todevelop the full fruition of what was then so inauspiciously begun. 

As we are all aware, the Roman Empire of the West was overrun by hordesof barbarians from the North, who annihilated a great portion of the oldpopulation, and changed the character of society. But Rome did not diewithout bequeathing a legacy to be enjoyed by the descendants at leastof those by whose hands she had fallen. There was still some remembranceof what Rome was. Guizot says that 'the two elements which passed fromthe Roman civilization into ours were, first, the system of municipalcorporations--its habits, its regulations, its principle of liberty, ageneral civil legislation common to all; secondly, the idea of absolutepower--the principle of order and the principle of servitude. ' Theseelements, though almost latent for a time, were destined to make up andplay a conspicuous part in the war of diversified interests and theadjustment of political relations, hundreds of years afterward. 

Another element of society at the time of the Fall, was the Church. Thebarbarians conquered the empire, but the Church conquered them; withoutgaining much, however, to show for her victory; for, while thebarbarians embraced Christianity, they reduced it to barbarism, and weremuch the same rude, cruel people, after their conversion, that they werebefore. The Church, however, in its origin and growth, illustrates thelaw under consideration, in the gradual development of the distinctspecialities of organization; and we are now regarding it at a time whenit was one element among others, and destined with them, by theinteraction of their various forces, to evolve a still higher unity. 

Another element in society, at this time, was that which was brought bythe conquerors from their native wilds in the free North. They were arude, and even savage people, with no fixed ideas of property, butliving by hunting and pasturage, and driving their herds from one regionto another as necessity required. The most marked and distinctivefeature in their character, and that which played the most conspicuouspart in the social and political drama of the following centuries ofdevelopment, was their personal independence--their almost absoluteindividuality, as the result, we believe, of their superior nativephysical constitution. 

They had little or no coöperation in their own country; no combinationof civil interests; no settled government. They were apt for adventure, and readily formed into bands of roving warriors; and when pressedforward by the tide of warlike immigration from the East, they conqueredthe Roman Empire, and divided the lands among themselves. Germanmagnates courted followers in their own country by hospitality, bypresents of horses and arms; but in the conquered countries, by grantsof land for military service. These grants were at first made duringpleasure, then for life, and at length they became hereditary. (Robertson. ) In this manner it appears that the feudal systemoriginated--a system which grew into such magnificent proportions inMiddle and Western Europe. It was, however, a growth which was fivecenturies in maturing. (Hallam. )

A curious circumstance, connected with its development, deserves to benoticed, as showing that certain rights, however desirable, and evensacred they may seem to be, must succumb to the prevailing order, however undesirable that system or order might, under othercircumstances, appear to be. Allodial lands, or those held in the rightof the individual, and for which there was no obligation of service, except in the general defence, were at length swallowed up by the feudalsystem. In those days of universal anarchy, rapine, and oppression, therule of might and unrestrained selfishness prevailed to such an extent, that small proprietors, having no means of defence against the strong, were compelled to surrender their allodial title for a feudal one, anddo homage to the neighboring lord for the sake of protection. And tosuch an extent did the abasement of allodial privileges prevail, that itcame at length to be recognized as a principle that the feudalarrangement was the only legitimate one; whereupon allodial lands wereseized with impunity, and appropriated by the feudal barons. Even theChurch was subordinated by the prevailing system. Bishops became feudallords. The incomes of religious service were, in some cases, seized uponby the irresponsible barons, and disposed of according to the feudalpolicy. This, however, is but one example of the struggle of a system ormovement to subordinate what stands in its way, and become universal; itis a law of history. 

The feudal system was a very complete embodiment of despotism. It grewout of the political circumstances and mental status of the times, andcould only exist by the warrant of these conditions. It had itsredeeming qualities, however, and, no doubt, promoted the conditions andthe spirit which prepared the way for its own overthrow and theinauguration of a better system. The isolated and pent-up condition ofall classes, together with such culture as was afforded by their mode oflife to the inmates of the baronial castle, made the occasion for thatgeneral restlessness in society from which proceeded such ready responseto the fanatical appeals of Peter the Hermit. The Crusades lasted twohundred years, and contributed to the overthrow of feudalism by theincrease of general intelligence and the diminution of the baronialestates. 

After the fall of the empire, the cities began to decline, and theirgovernment fell, in a great measure, into the hands of the clergy; andthence supervened a kind of ecclesiastical municipal system. Commerce, which some centuries later began to develop, gave renewed importance tothe cities; and the activities developed within them were antagonisticto the feudal spirit, and destined to contribute their part, and animportant one, to the process of ultimate organization and itsaccompanying phenomena. The cities at length became free, not without astruggle; for it is not to be supposed that the great barons wouldpassively allow the enfranchisement of a rival power within their owndomains. In those rude times, the cities had little intercourse witheach other; yet they became independent nearly at the same time, showingthat this political phenomenon was also a growth arising out of thecondition of the times--the result of political and social causes actingin concert over more than half a continent. 

The cities accomplished their political mission by doing somethingtoward establishing law and order, and fostering the germs of freedom. Their example could not but tell upon their immediate neighbors. In somecases they even attacked the nearest feudal lords, and afterward thosemore remote, compelling them to become citizens. Thus was feudalismoverthrown in Italy in the thirteenth century. Elsewhere, commerce hadas yet done less for the cities, and their progress was less rapid. But, whenever they appeared, they had the great barons to contend with. Thefree cities or communities gradually extended intercourse with eachother; and for objects of commerce and mutual defence against theirenemies, they formed into leagues. Coalitions of the feudal barons alsosprung up, and wars between the two systems were frequent and bloody. Feudal France made war on municipal France. The Hanseatic league, embracing at one time eighty-five German cities, maintained successfulwars against the monarchs themselves. There was a confederacy of citiesin Italy of great power and influence. These movements show that theformer isolated condition of European society was no longer compatiblewith the change which was being gradually brought about in the socialelements. We perceive a manifest tendency toward more extensive union;larger combinations were becoming a demand of the times. 

But, along with the progress of this tendency to unity, we perceive thatsociety was constantly becoming more diversified in character, and itselements more distinctly defined. The institution of chivalry, thetroubadours, and minnesingers had played their part. Besides those greatpolitical and social powers, the Church, the barons, the kings, and thefree cities, new classes were rising in society, giving it greatercomplexity, and, by their diversified activities and needs, urging itforward to a more comprehensive and centralized organization. At first, in the twelfth century, the inhabitants of the cities or freecommunities were composed only of 'small traders and small landed orhouse proprietors. ' 'Three centuries afterward there were added tothese, lawyers, physicians, men of letters, and local magistrates. '(Guizot. )

In the rude and chaotic society which succeeded the fall of the empire, there was no occupation honorable but that of arms; but in the course oftime, the meed of honor assumed new branches, and fell upon variousclasses. 

The discovery of the Pandects of Justinian in the twelfth century, gavethe study of the law a new impulse, and, together with accompanyingdevelopments, complicated the administration of justice. Rude andignorant warriors were no longer adequate to this function; civilprocesses required a distinct organ; the profession of law arose, andcommanded its share of public attention and respect. With the rise ofcommerce, there was developed a commercial class, which acquired wealth, power, distinction, and a demand for rights. With the revival oflearning and philosophy, however unpromising at first, there arose aliterary class, which attracted notice and acquired influence. 

In the view given of the earlier stages of modern civilization, weperceive, first, a social chaos which obtained for some time after thefall of the empire in the West; secondly, the development out of thischaos, in the course of centuries, of various political and socialpowers, classes, and interests, which were differentiated from theunorganized mass; thirdly, all these diversified elements, classes, andinterests, gradually tending to the formation of more comprehensiverelations with each other. There was no general organization of theseseveral elements, in the early periods of the modern cycle. There werewhat were called kings and kingdoms, but it was not till a comparativelyrecent period that the government became an integer, a completeorganism, with a sensorium and will-power, and a mutual interrelationand dependence of parts and functions. During the prevalence of thefeudal system and the rise of the independent communities, Europeansociety was composed of innumerable fragments, isolated from each other, and each caring for itself only, looking to no centre as the source ofpolitical order and vitality, without organization or head. The king didnot rule the barons any more than the barons ruled the king--they wererival powers; the barons and the cities were rival powers; the kings andbarons played off the cities against each other. The Church, by thepeculiarity of its constitution and character, was related to them all. The clergy were the subjects of the king, the vassals of the baron, andyet the spiritual lords of both, as well as of their feudal peers. Andwhen the Church effected the separation of her own from the politicalpower, she sought, in turn, to subordinate the latter; and secularrulers were obliged to resist her encroachments to save themselves. Thekings had no fixed revenue adequate to government, and were the sport ofthe capricious elements within their own realms. But the Crusadesbrought all these fragments into closer relations, and broke the powerof the feudal lords. The king gained what the barons lost; and withthese powerful, turbulent, and refractory subjects out of the way, thecities were easily subordinated. The sovereign acquired at length anadequate revenue and a standing army; he was now enabled to command theresources of his kingdom, and play a king's part in the drama ofnations. Thus was consummated the movement of national centralization. 

Progress advances by action and reaction; extremes develop each other. It was so in governmental affairs. The movement of unitization ended inthe absolute power of the sovereign, who became not only the head of theexecutive function, but the source of legislation as well. In France, Louis XIV. Knew no will but his own; the States General and Parliamentwere little more than empty names; and in England, Parliament stood inawe of Queen Elizabeth, and the courts did her behests. The sovereignswere absolute. But with the culmination of royal prerogative andcentralized government, there were also an increase of intelligence, greater facilities for intercommunication, and, as we have seen, adiversity of social and political forces interrelated, and acting andreacting upon each other in a manner quite unprecedented. The inquiryand criticism of plebeian minds were becoming more daring, and there wasa stir and a restlessness in society, which made bad subjects for anabsolute monarch. The religious Reformation, which began in Germany andspread to the westward, was but the legitimate result of theintellectual agitation which preceded it; and the political absolutismof kings could no more expect exemption from searching criticism andfinal revolution than the religious absolutism of the Pope. The GermanReformation was blind to the magnitude and significance of its ownmission; for while its leaders denounced reason, it was in its essentialnature a protest against priestly domination over intellect, and a pleafor the right of free inquiry. Agitation, of whatever kind, iscontagious; and the energetic play of this diversity of plebeian forcesmust needs result in the recognition of a popular element in thegovernment, more or less formal in its character. The government of anintelligent people must emanate from the popular will, to a very greatextent, whatever the form of government may be. If Queen Elizabeth andLouis XIV. Were more absolute than the sovereigns of our day, it wasbecause the French and English people had not then developed thatversatility of genius, that intelligence and freedom of inquiry, thatself-appreciation and dignity of character for which they have sincebecome so conspicuous. With the increase of intelligence andself-respect among the people, there originated a popular branch ofgovernment to look after their interests, and it grew with their growth. Through this channel there came a pressure upon the throne, which mustneeds yield, or be overturned by the surges of revolution. The examplesof Charles I. And Louis XVI. Were extreme. The popular element has sincethen usually accomplished its ends with less turbulence and commotion. It has been less violent, but none the less effective. Since theRestoration in England, the popular will has been making itself felt innational affairs more and more. And in France, even a Napoleon, mightyand original as he was, had to consult popular tastes, and, in a greatmeasure, conform thereto. We have heard a great deal about the tyrannyand usurpation of Louis Napoleon; but he, too, must conform to thepredominance of public feeling in France, or that publicfeeling--'public opinion'--would burst out in a torrent of revolutionwhich would overwhelm him. This introduction of the popular element intogovernment is a result of the developing process, which has madegovernment an organism of almost infinite complexity. 

As we have seen, while primitive peoples remained in an isolated andexclusively individualistic condition, there were few civil interests;and these few the sovereign was not concerned with, so that he coulddischarge in person all the functions of his simple government. But, when the civil interests had grown into greater magnitude and diversity, and the pressure of their administration was upon the throne, theaffairs of government became too burdensome for one man. A division oflabor became necessary. The order of priests originated at an early day, and took charge of religion. The king, in time, ceased to march at thehead of his army, and sent his generals instead. Not being able to hearand decide all causes, he named judges to administer justice; and thusthe process of functional differentiation began, and kept on withoutabatement as the needs of the government required. There was a time whenan Englishman had no conception of a prime minister. (Hume. ) In this agewe cannot conceive of government without such a functionary, whetheradministered in the name of king or president. With the development ofnew interests arose new branches in the administration of government. The constant rise of new industrial elements; the increasing demand forthe facilities of intercommunication; the development of trade andcommerce; the interrelation of interests within, and the complication ofaffairs without, have given rise to new departments in the government, with a hierarchy of subordinate bureaus; while the interests of towns, counties, and states have necessitated an analogous scale offunctionaries, making, on the whole, an amazing complication ofgovernmental machinery. This increase of complexity is preciselyanalogous to the order of development in every department of nature; itis perfectly in accordance with the second feature of the law which wehave recognized as a Law of Universal Development. 

Some of our economists may object on principle to so much complexity, and attempt to simplify government by eliminating certain terms of theseries. Let them try it; GOD is mightier than they! There may begovernmental abuse in regard to the complexity of its functions; but thething itself is simply in the order of destiny. Man develops it, becausehe _must_; it is the historical result of the accumulation of all humanactivities. 

There is one kind of simplification, however, which should be closelyobserved; and that is to accomplish the object of any governmentalfunction in the most _direct_ and economical manner. There is great roomfor improvement in this respect. Nature, in the midst of all her growingcomplexities, exemplifies the principle of the greatest possible resultwith the greatest possible economy of means, considering in all casesthe obstacles to be overcome. Let government do the same, and see thatevery channel of official activity be thoroughly purged of corruptionand abuse. 

This development of organic complexity is just as necessary andinevitable in the political as in the animal economy; and theperformance of any function, in the one case as in the other, dependsfor the degree of its completeness on the extent to which 'the divisionof labor' is carried through the complexity of the organic structure. There are no grounds of apprehension from this source whatever. Inregard to government, this increase of complexity is most strikinglyobservable in the executive department; and it is worthy of notice thatwhile this department of government is in general becoming lesstyrannical and relatively weaker with reference to the legislativedepartment, it is also becoming more complex: as tyranny recedes, complexity advances. There is no point better sustained in history thanthe general fact that, as government increases the multiplicity of itsmachinery, it gradually relaxes its interference with the private rightsof individuals. 

After man has laid aside his primitive habits of selfish isolation, and, though still rude and untutored, has come, through the mere increase ofnumbers, into a more compact form of society, the government, howevercircumscribed as to territorial limits, assumes a despotic andintermeddling character. Such was the government of the feudal lordsduring the middle ages, and of the kings at a still later day. Laws weremade for the regulation of dress, as to quality and cut for particularclasses, and the number of garments which any person might have in ayear. Citizens were not allowed to keep certain kinds of furniture; andthe dishes they might have for dinner and supper respectively weredefinitely and rigidly prescribed. The wages of the laborer were fixedby law to the great advantage of the lordly employer: this, however, wasa very natural sequence to the abolition of villanage or vassalservitude. The law made service at particular trades compulsory; anddecided where certain kinds of manufacturing should be carried on; andhow an article should be made, and how sold when made. This interferenceaffected every department of the individual's private life. Religiousinterference need only be mentioned; it is well known. As Buckledeclares, in speaking of the interference of governments, 'It may beemphatically said that they have taxed the human mind. They have madethe very thoughts of men pay toll. ' Queen Elizabeth was a very greatsovereign, but she meddled with very small matters. She disliked thesmell of woad, a plant used for blue dye, and thereupon prohibited itscultivation. She was displeased with long swords and high ruffs, andcommissioned her officers to break the swords and abate the ruffs. Noneof the nobility dared marry without her consent; no one could travelwithout her permission. Foreign commerce was subject to her capriciouswill. The star chamber, the court of high commission, the court martial, the warrants of the secretary of state and privy council, wereinstruments of terror to the subject, who had no remedy by law. Therewas no safety but for harmless stupidity or slavish conformity. Individual independence was impossible. Every noble, manly head thatappeared above the servile mass, was unceremoniously hid away in adungeon, or struck off on a scaffold. 

Such annoying and insolent meddling on the part of governments no longerexists. There can be no such thing among an enlightened people. As themass of mankind, or we will say their leaders or representatives, becomemore cultured, they demand a larger field of individual freedom, andorganize a pressure upon government, which in time effects its object, and the oppression is removed, or gradually becomes relaxed andobsolete. 

Observing that the differentiation of function obtains chiefly in theadministrative department of government, and putting the two generalfacts of history together, --first, that while the subject is enlargingthe domain of individual liberty, and secondly, the government becomingmore complex in structure and activity, --we infer that, through theadvance of general intelligence and the multiplication of interests, government is changing its character from an instrument of compulsionand force to an instrument of management and direction, wielded by thegoverned themselves for the benefit of their own diversified andinterrelated interests. 

In following the course of individuality, we find it simple and almostabsolute in savage life; then it is overpowered and disappears under thedespotic and one-idea governments of ancient times, and of Asia still;at length it reappears, and gathers strength with every advancing age, with every discovery, with every improvement, with every flash ofintelligence, till it has accumulated, in its course, all thediversified means of expression and gratification afforded by art, literature, and all the social appliances of a complex and exalted formof society;--and the end is not yet: there will be more freedom, othermethods of expression, new facilities for enjoyment and happiness. Itsdestiny is a glorious one!

It may be well in this connection to recall to mind the principle that, with the rise of new functions and the increase of complexity, _unityobtains its completest form and fullest expression_. These two elementsare by no means antagonistic; they belong together, and one necessitatesthe other. 

It is a general fact of history that there is a relation between theculture of a people and the geographical extent of their voluntarycombinations. Whilst rude and uncultivated, with no facilities forintercommunication, they form no permanent associations of anyconsiderable magnitude; but with the advance of general intelligence, the rise of distinct classes and industrial and commercial interests, together with the improvement of facilities for travel and trade, andfor the intercommunication of thought and feeling, there is developed ageneral bond of sympathy between larger masses of mankind, and thenatural result is more extensive combination. The unity becomes morecomprehensive. We have observed this in our glance at Europeandevelopment. 

Let us trace the course of one of the lines of political movement. In aprimitive society, as among the ancient Germans, each individual hasthe right of avenging himself, of taking justice into his own hands, and determining what the measure of satisfaction shall be. The right ofprivate war, derived from rude society, remained for a long time inWestern Europe, and pertained to the clergy as well as to laymen--acustom which was withal not very Christian-like. A step beyond this, andthere was recognized a regular method of determining the amount ofsatisfaction due for an injury: composition for crime became fixed. Weobserve here a development from absolute individuality in the matter ofdetermining justice to the recognition of a conventionalism--a law whichwas the product of the sense of many individuals acting, it may havebeen, in some cases, without conscious concert, yet in a social andcoöperative way. As mankind grew out of their original rude conditions, they relinquished the individual prerogative of taking justice intotheir own hands, and appealed therefore to a tribunal which wasrecognized as adequate to this end, and the jurisdiction of which seemsto have had a constant tendency to enlarge its territorial limits. Thus, for a time, the feudal barons claimed the final adjudication of alldifficulties among their own vassals; but, gradually, dissatisfiedclients appealed to the king, who encouraged them to do so, and atlength the throne became the universally recognized centre and source ofall formal justice. 

This was a movement occupying centuries for its consummation, a movementwhich extended the jurisdiction of the tribunal of justice from theterritory of a private individual to the territory of an entire kingdom, collecting the isolated jurisdictions of every individual in barbariansociety, and uniting them all together in the recognized sovereign of aconsolidated nation. 

Now, while it is true that 'the history of progress is the history ofsuccessful struggles against coercion and authoritative direction, andin favor of human spontaneity and free motion' (Slack); it is also true, as we have seen in tracing the course of the administration of justice, that 'the progress of civilization consists in the substitution of thegeneral for the individual will, of legal for individual resistance. '(Guizot. )

The development of law, or of a general method, is the necessary resultof social interchange, through which thoughts and feelings becomecontagious and mould a general will. In primitive society, individualsare isolated, and it matters little to others what any individual does;hence he is allowed to settle his own difficulties in his own way. He islet alone in a way so terrible, that similar treatment would be socialdeath to a man of culture. We repeat, there is nothing like absoluteindividuality, except among isolated and unsocial savages. In anadvanced state of society, human interests become interrelated--acomplete network of complexity; and what any particular individual doesbecomes a matter of interest to many, since the many are, to a certainextent, affected thereby. The individual of civilization has developedrelations external to himself, and his rights can only be secured andhis tastes and wants gratified by mutual understanding, coöperation, andcombination. His individuality is of a far higher order than that of theuncultivated man; and precisely because it is higher, does it developlaw as the embodiment of the general will, and require organization forits expression. 'It is through association that the highest form ofindividuation becomes possible; and nationality wisely developed willterminate in a cosmopolitan identity of interests, and a general unityfounded upon a reciprocity of services among all the divisions ofmankind. ' (Slack. )

It is owing to this same fact of the interrelation and dependence ofinterests, that the movement of unitization has not stopped in Europewith the organization of a distinct government for each nation. We haveobserved that when primitive individuals develop relations with eachother, they form into small societies, and that when these developrelations with like societies, they unite and form larger associations;and further, that these states, cities, baronies, come at length todevelop relations with each other, and the result is their union intokingdoms. But this tendency of growth does not cease here. One nationcannot long remain isolated and distinct from other nations. Theinterests of one kingdom become, in many ways, interrelated with theinterests of other kingdoms; and there must be new governmentalappliances to meet the case. Diplomacy, a new function of government, arose from this necessity. This is a political activity of quite recentdevelopment: it originated in the fifteenth century. Like allprogressive developments, it was at first immature; 'it was not till theseventeenth century that it became really systematic; before then it hadnot brought about long alliances, great combinations, and especiallycombinations of a durable nature, directed by fixed principles, with asteady object, and with that spirit of consistency which forms the truecharacter of established government. ' (Guizot. )

Who can say that we have yet seen the end of this process of nationaldevelopment? Centuries have been required for all great changesaffecting the destiny of man: the centuries of the great Future may yetdevelop a unity among the nations themselves--a distinct politicalorganism for the regulation of national interests, which are constantlybecoming more interrelated and complex. As cities, states, and baronieswere developed from individuals and tribes, and as kingdoms weredeveloped from cities, states, and baronies, so may a mightier politicalfabric than has yet been known be developed from the family of nations!

The law, we repeat, is, that with the advance of social dependence andcomplexity, the principle of unitization becomes practically moreintimate and comprehensive. _It is to this law that nations owe thatvitality_ of which diplomatists and constitutional lawyers takecognizance. By virtue of this law, a nation is a living organism, resisting with all its vital force whatever may threaten it withdissolution. Hence the utter folly of cherishing the idea of a'peaceable separation' of confederated states. There can be no suchthing in the order of nature. The rupture and division of a nation is areaction against the spirit of social progress, a backward movementagainst the current of civilization, a terrible outrage to theorganizing forces of the political realm, and can only be effectedthrough violence and bloodshed. The more mature civilization becomes, the more difficult to effect disunion, the more terrible the penalty, and the more enduring, discordant, and wretched the consequences. 

The law of unitization is a universal one, being an accompaniment of allunfolding, and man worse than wastes his energy in fighting against it. It is a great law of Universal Progress; and in lifting our handsagainst it, we are presuming to measure arms with a Power which will besure to overwhelm us with confusion and defeat. We must consent to gowith the grand movements of the Universe, and to march to the step ofDestiny, or be crushed under the resistless tread of advancing peoples!

The course of industrial, mechanical, and commercial progress fromsavage to civilized life, goes to illustrate and confirm the view whichwe have taken of the course of political development. 

Among the least cultivated tribes of mankind, the family is whollyadequate to itself, there being no dissimilarity of industrial function, except between the husband and wife. The family builds its own hut, makes its own weapons, kills its own game--in short, provides for allits own needs. What is industrially true of one family is true of allothers; there is no division of labor, no exchange of products. Theyhave no accumulated property, no fixed habitation, but wander from placeto place, as the attractions of their simple life may lead them. Butwhen population becomes more numerous, and neither hunting nor pasturageis sufficient for their support, the cultivation of the soil is resortedto, and new wants are developed. The division of labor, thedifferentiation of the industrial function begins. One man cultivatesthe soil, another works in iron, another in wood, and so on; and thesespecialities, in their turn, assume new branches. Take agriculture forexample: At first every husbandman grows all that he needs for himselfand family; after a while he observes that his soil is better adapted toone kind of crop than another, and he devotes himself more exclusivelyto its cultivation. A similar result with a different crop obtains on adifferent soil and in a different locality; and thus do the specialitiesof soil and climate result in the specialization of agriculture. Thesediversities of occupation with reference to the soil, wood, metals, imply the exchange of products; but this must obtain to a very limitedextent while neighbors are remote, and the means of travel andtransportation defective. With few roads, and commerce undeveloped, there is little intercommunication, little culture, little civilization. This was the condition of Scotland as late as the middle of theeighteenth century. (Buckle. ) England had some external commerce asearly as the thirteenth century (Hallam), but did not send a ship of herown into the Mediterranean till the fifteenth. (Robertson. ) Think of thedifference between then and now!

The making of tools, implements, and fabrics is at first carried onsolely by individuals working alone, but at length, machinery comes intouse, the elements are used as driving power, and manufacturingestablishments arise having a complicated organization. The division oflabor has been all the time becoming more complete, till now a singleworkman manages but a part of the process of making an implement or afabric, which must pass through many hands in succession before it iscompleted. All are familiar with this fact. It is exactly analogous tothat which we observe in the animal economy. Low in the zoologicalscale, one membrane performs all the organic functions; higher in thescale, there are different organs to perform the distinct functions. When the stomach and liver first appear, they are very simple instructure, and as simple in function; it is just so with themanufactories in the industrial organism. But the stomach and liverbecome more complicated as the scale rises; it is just so with themanufactories as civilization advances. Animals lowest in the scale haveno heart--no circulation. It is just so with society--if society it maybe called--which is lowest in the scale; it has no exchange ofproducts--no commercial circulation. The parallelism is complete. 

Further, as already specified, we find in the animal organism, that thedependence of parts and functions upon each other becomes greater withthe increase of complexity; that unitization at the top of the scale, inthe midst of an almost infinite complication of organic structures andfunctions, has a completeness and significance which it cannot have inthe simple organism at the bottom of the scale. The same precisely istrue of the social organism. At the bottom of the scale, there is nodependence of one part on another--no coöperation--no properunity--nothing but simple individual life. Higher in the scale, there isdependence of one element of society on another; there must becoöperation, combination, organization, a tendency, at least, towardunity. 

This is well exemplified by industrial and commercial development. Withregard to manufacturing, there is specialization, not only in thehandiwork, but also in the locality of production. Thus, in GreatBritain, where this development has most fully matured itself, 'thecalico manufacture locates itself in this county, the woollen-clothmanufacture in that; silks are produced here, lace there, stockings inone place, shoes in another; pottery, hardware, cutlery, come to havetheir special towns; and ultimately, every locality becomes more or lessdistinguished from the rest by the leading occupation carried on in it. Nay, more, this subdivision of functions shows itself, not only amongthe different parts of the same nation, but among different nations. '(Westminster Review. ) Some of our economists object to this process, andwould bring all kinds of productive labor into the same district; but alaw higher than their theories brings artisans of the same kind into theneighborhood of each other;--it is the coöperative action of theprinciples of differentiation and unitization. 

The effect of this process is to make one locality dependent on anotherlocality. Once, as we have seen, the family was adequate to its ownneeds; now, we perceive the industrial producers of one district havebecome dependent on each other, and on the products of other districtsand nations, for the supply of their needs. This industrial division andconcentration gives increased importance to commerce, without whichthere could be no industrial development. It is thus that these twoactivities are separating the elements of society in order to bind themthe more firmly together. 

The improvement of roads, rivers, harbors, the construction of canals, railroads, and telegraphs, the development of industry, the extension ofcommerce, the advance of general culture, and the consequent increase ofhuman wants, is making society a very complicated structure;--indeed, ithas nerve and tissue, and is becoming very sensitive. The loss of a cropin one country affects all other countries. The burning of a city, oreven of a great manufacturing establishment, is really felt to theremotest ends of civilization. A commercial crisis on either shore ofthe Atlantic shocks the whole civilized world. A rebellion in the UnitedStates is affecting the agriculture of the whole country, the productionof a staple on three continents, manufacturing in France and New and OldEngland, commerce everywhere. Every partisan clique, every politicalcourt and cabinet, even political destiny itself, throughout the wholeworld, reels with every surge of a distant revolution! How differentfrom the condition even of Europe in the twelfth century, when a wholecity or barony, an entire kingdom, or half the continent even, mighthave sunk beneath, the ocean, and the rest of the world have knownnothing of it by its social results!

Thus, as in the undeveloped organism there is a want of dependence andsensitiveness, so is there the same want in undeveloped society. As inthe higher organic structures there is a high degree of unity andsensitiveness, an injury to the remotest part affecting instantaneouslythe whole organism; so, precisely, is the same true of society in itshigher stages of development. The law is universal; it governs theorganic as well as the inanimate, the social as well as the organicworld. Hence the reason why the rupture of Europe, on the death ofCharlemagne, into provinces and kingdoms loosely united, could notprevent the ultimate organization of national government, and the riseof relations external to the individual nation, out of which diplomacygrew, for the consummation of a policy above the nations themselves. Obstructions may be thrown in the way of unitization, but it willexpress itself in some form or other. If, on account of the viciousnessof primitive conditions from which it has been developed, modern Europecannot yet exist as a union of states under one great and gloriousgovernment, it will, nevertheless, approximate that union, as best itcan, and consummate vast national leagues, which are becoming constantlymore comprehensive and permanent as civilization advances. 

WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?

 'Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one _lives_ it--to not many is it _known_; and seize it where you will, it is interesting. '--_Goethe. _

 'SUCCESSFUL. --Terminating in accomplishing what is wished or intended. '--_Webster's Dictionary. _

CHAPTER XV. 

Our hero starts once more with a new field before him--the field whereall his hopes and aspirations have been centred since he first wascapable of comprehending the shrewd advice of Hiram Bennett, of the firmof H. Bennett & Co. 

Yes, he starts with a new field in view, unencumbered by any loveaffair, and free from all entanglements of that nature--indeed, of anynature. 

I have endeavored to be so minute in this history as to give the readera proper idea of young Meeker at the time he was ready to launch uponNew-York life. He was now nearly twenty-three years old, and fullycompetent, by his previous education and experience, to undertake anykind of business. 

Mr. Bennett, with whom Hiram had become a great favorite, lookedconfidently to securing him in his establishment. It is true, he hadattempted to make no positive engagement with his namesake in advance, but for the last year he always spoke to him as if, in due time, he wasto enter his service as a matter of course. Hiram did not assent nordissent to such observations; but, really, he had not the slightest ideaof taking a situation with his cousin. He did not like 'dry goods' tobegin with. He thought the trade offered too little scope forenterprise, unless, indeed, one had good foreign connections, and eventhen he had his objections to it. The competition was more active, thecredits longer, and the risks were greater, than in other commercial ormercantile pursuits. The question, as you may naturally suppose, hadoccupied his serious attention for years; but he kept his counsel, andnever spoke of his designs. 

The first that was known of Hiram's whereabouts, he was established asthe junior clerk in a first-class ship chandler's store in South street. It was rather difficult to obtain such a situation; but the reader wellknows that, once in it, Hiram will not fail to merit the approbation ofhis employers. 

Singular to say, he was indebted for the place to that scapegrace Hill. The head clerk was Hill's cousin, himself utterly unlike his relation, yet a good deal attached to him. Hiram, who made it a rule never to losesight of anybody, always managed to fall in with Hill (who had quitJoslin) whenever he came to the city, and on one occasion Hillintroduced him to this cousin. He managed to make himself veryagreeable, and an intimacy commenced, which ended in Hiram's obtainingthe place of the junior clerk, who was about leaving. Of course, Hiramcame backed with the highest recommendations, so that his friend hadreally to assume no responsibility on his behalf. Thus he secured theplace. 

A 'ship chandler!' Reader, have you any idea of his occupation? You havedoubtless some business notion of commerce, or at least a romantic ideaof ships on the ocean, their sails spread to favorable breezes, orclosehauled, braving adverse gales--joyous in fine weather, defiant inthe tempest--yes, you know or feel something about this. But to enablethe good ship to pursue her way, she must be 'provided. ' She must notonly have wherewithal to feed crew and passengers, but every specialnotion which can be conceived of in the ship's 'husbandry. ' From out aship chandler's establishment comes everything, directly or indirectly, which shall furnish the vessel. 

Step in, and look through such a store. Taking the interest I hope youdo in Hiram, pray devote a few moments to visiting the place where hehas resolved to _begin_ his New-York life. You won't find it anagreeable spot. Nothing to compare with the neat, well-arranged officeat Burnsville--pleasant Burnsville!--nor even as attractive as thecountry store of Benjamin Jessup, at Hampton. It is dark anddisagreeable. It smells of tar, bacon, cheese, and cordage, blended witha suspicious odor of bilge water. This last does not really belong tothe store, but comes from the docks, which are in close proximity. Theplace is ample. It has a large front, runs back deep, and you will find, if you walk far enough, a respectable counting-room, where the gas iskept all the time burning. This establishment is managed by threepartners, careful, economical men, who divide a large sum each year inprofits. They have, it is true, the cream of the trade, for they arereliable, straightforward people, and can be trusted to fit out a shipwithout fear that advantage will be taken if they are not closelywatched. No danger that the pork, when opened ninety days out, willprove to be rusty, or the beef a little tainted. Hendly, Layton & Gibbare old-fashioned, respectable people. They have been already twentyyears together. Hendly keeps the books, Layton makes all the purchases, Gibb fits out the vessels. Levi Eastman (Hill's cousin, Hiram's friend), now over ten years in the place, is head man under the firm, having ageneral supervision of whatever is going on. He is forty years old atleast, has a wife, and, some say, in addition to a good salary, enjoys apercentage on all profits over a certain amount. Hiram Meeker ranks nextto Eastman, though it will take him a few weeks to get familiar with hisduties. 

I will tell you presently what decided Hiram to become clerk to a shipchandler, I do not intend, after being so communicative, to hide hismotives on this occasion. I say I will explain presently: meantime, donot fear that Hiram has any desire to supplant his friend Eastman, orget the control of the business of the firm; not at all. Other views, far more important, engage his mind--views which he thinks, in this shipchandler's store, to study and develop to advantage. 

Hiram seemed to have altered his tactics on leaving Burnsville. Therehis style of living was considered expensive. His salary was veryliberal, and although he did not spend it all (it was much increasedafter the Joslin affair), he appeared far from calculating in hisdisbursements. Now, this was all changed. Eastman, who had no children, and with two spare rooms in his house, consented, after consulting hiswife, to take Hiram as a boarder, on more moderate terms than he couldpossibly get elsewhere for comfortable accommodations. 

In this arrangement, Hiram had unquestionably decided to forego theluxury of pleasant female society. Mrs. Eastman had a sour-lookingcountenance, which did not in the least belie her disposition. In fact, her husband had a hard time of it, and doubtless thought Hiram'spresence might prove a distraction for him--or for his wife. In eithercase, he would be the gainer, even if Hiram suffered somewhat. Thelatter did not appear to be apprehensive, but made himself at home inshort order. 

Then, and not before, he called on Mr. Bennett, and told him, ere thelatter had time to inquire, that he had quit Burnsville, and was nowclerk for Hendly, Layton & Gibb, ship chandlers. 

'Well, that's a move, I declare! Did you suppose I was so full I couldnot make room for you?'

'Not that; but, you see, I am not going into your line, ' said Hiram, blandly. 

Till that moment Mr. Bennett had himself no idea how much he wascalculating on Hiram's assistance in his largely increasing business. Hewas greatly disappointed. He was too shrewd, however, to express muchregret. He only said, 'I should have been glad to have had you with me, but you know your own business best, I dare say. You will _do_ anywhere, I guess. Now you are here, come and see us often, and let me know when Ican be of use to you. '

Keen men sympathize with keen; knaves with knaves; the good with thegood. 

CHAPTER XVI

When Sarah Burns, after Hiram's departure, sat down, quietly to thinkover the events of the past few days--for during the week he remained inthe house she had no opportunity for reflection--she was sensible of aspecies of relief that she was no longer bound to him. 

It was not permitted in nature nor in God's providence that this fellowshould have lasting power over one so true hearted. With such, hisinfluence was not to become absolute or controlling. 

This was Sarah's first love affair, and she had no experience as to herown emotions, and possessed, therefore, no test by which to judge oftheir intensity. Now she could look back and see that her heart had notbeen satisfied. 

'_Not satisfied!_' How many a young girl has been forced bitterly totake up this burden--when too late. '_Disappointed!_' How many, when itis past help, whisper the terrible word in secret to their souls! Howmany are now dragging out a despairing existence, chained to some HiramMeeker, with heart-wants never to be filled; with sympathies never to beresponded to; with rich capacities for loving, which find in returnneither tenderness nor appreciation; with affections, and no lawfulobject;--glowing, earnest natures companioned with calculation andselfishness and a remorseless subtlety; full, fresh, joyous vitality, yoked to a living corpse. 

Thank God! for Sarah Burns it was not too late. 

It is true, she persuaded herself she loved Hiram, and that she enjoyedevery delight which flows from affections mutually pledged. But, really, it was entirely on one side. He, as we know, utterly selfish, had nogenuine affection to impart; so all was made up by her. Out of her fullimagination she brought rich treasures, and bestowed them on her lover, and then, valued him for possessing them. 

Still, for Sarah Burns it was not too late. 

That afternoon, when she came and threw her arms around her father'sneck, and pleaded to come back again to his confidence, she was fullyconvinced of Hiram's real character. From that moment everything wassettled. She permitted no explanations; for Hiram, when he saw howsummarily he was to be disposed of, felt not only piqued, but roused, Imay say, to a certain degree of appreciation of the object he was tolose so unexpectedly. He believed Sarah was so strongly attached to himthat she would become reconciled to his going to New York, and then hecould permit the affair to drag along to suit his convenience, to berevived or die out at his pleasure. So all his attempts at a privateinterview, his injured looks, and woful countenance went for nothing. 

Sarah treated him precisely as she would treat an ordinary acquaintance, while Mr. Burns was careful to make no allusion to the subject, orpermit the slightest difference in his conduct toward his confidentialclerk. Hiram, therefore, was the one to feel uncomfortable; but the weekwas soon brought to a close, and he departed. 

He went first to Hampton to visit his home. When the wagon drove to Mr. Burns's house to receive his luggage, Sarah was entertaining two orthree young ladies who were paying her a morning visit. I dare say therewas an object in the call not altogether amiable: namely, to see howSarah would 'appear' in respect to Hiram's departure, and to find out, if possible, by the way she bore it, whether or not there was anythingin the rumor of an engagement between them. Hiram had already taken amost affectionate leave of each of these young ladies the day before, and they thought he was to depart early in the morning. Much to theirdisappointment, Sarah Burns never appeared more natural or more at ease. She spoke of Hiram's going to New York as a settled plan, determined oneven before he came to Burnsville; and (the trunks were now all in thecarriage) at length exclaimed, 'Come, girls; I think Hiram must bewaiting to bid us good-by. '

Thereupon, all went on the piazza, and thus frustrated a design ofHiram of taking a brief but most pathetic and impressive andnever-to-be-forgotten farewell of his cruel betrothed. He had prepared ashort speech for the occasion, which he believed would plant a dagger inher heart. He intended, just as soon as everything was ready, to findSarah, deliver his speech, then rush to the carriage, and be almostinstantly lost sight of. 

As it was, he saw with intense mortification a bevy of girls comerunning out, each with something to say, and all at once--for, toconceal any little private feeling of her own, each one was as gay aspossible. At last Hiram was forced to mount the wagon (the trunks filledall the vacant space, and, besides, were provokingly placed so that hisseat was a most awkward one) and to drive away very unromantically, amidthe adieus and railleries of the commingled voices. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Freed from Hiram's disagreeable presence, Sarah Burns, as soon as hervisitors had left, sat down to _think_; and she experienced, as I havealready remarked, a species of relief. By degrees her spirits rose totheir old, natural level, and then the fact struck her that they had notof late been so elastic and joyous as formerly. Presently she jumped up, and, snatching her hat, she resolved to run into the office, as she usedto do in 'old times, ' and surprise her father by a little visit. Shetripped cheerfully out, and was soon at the office door. Here shepaused. Her heart beat loudly, but it was with pleasure. Then shequietly opened the door and stepped in. 

'Good morning, sir, ' she exclaimed. 'Here is your old clerk back again. '

She rushed up and gave him a kiss, and received a dozen in return. 

Mr. Burns used afterward to say it was the most blissful moment of hislife. 

After that, how they enjoyed themselves!--like school children letloose. Sarah ran up, and down, and around the office, through the frontroom and the little room back, then in the closets, her fatherfollowing, as much of a child as she--his heart also freed of a load, and his soul filled with sunshine--no Hiram Meeker to cast a balefulshadow over it. 

There were not any explanations between those two. Explanations were notin the least necessary. Each felt that all _was_ explained, and all wasright and happy again. That was enough. 

After a while, some one came in to see Mr. Burns on business, and Sarahtook her departure. With a light heart she retraced her steps towardhome. She had reached the memorable corner where she once encounteredHiram--it was on his first visit to Burnsville--when, quite abruptly, asit seemed, a tall, handsome young man stood directly in her way. 

She stopped, of course; she could not do otherwise, unless she chose torun into the arms of the stranger. A pair of bright, dark eyes wereturned inquiringly on her. 

'I have found you at last, ' said the young man, in a pleasant tone. 'Ihave just left your house. I did not think you would be out so early. And now that we do meet, ' he continued, 'I perceive you don't know me:that is too bad!'

Sarah stood like one in a trance. At first she thought the man wasderanged; but he looked so handsome and so intelligent, she quicklyabandoned that hypothesis. Then she began to think she was a little outof her wits herself. That seemed to her more probable. 

Meanwhile, there he stood, directly and squarely in her path. Heappeared rather to enjoy Sarah's perplexity. 

'Yes, it is unkind in you to forget an old friend--one you promised toremember always. '

Sarah was beginning to recover herself. It was evident, from the wholeappearance of the stranger, that he would not adopt this singular modeof addressing her, unless he had some claim to her acquaintance. So shereasoned. Resolving she would no longer play the part of a bashful miss, she said: 'I am very sorry to be obliged to confess it; but, really, Ihave not the slightest recollection of you. '

'Ah, that is the way with the sex!' continued the other, in the sametone. 'Who would have thought it? After bestowing on me such a precioustoken (here he presented a locket, in which he exhibited a curl ofhair), you now propose to ignore me altogether. '

'I am inclined to think you are the one in error. I am quite sure youmistake me for some other person, ' retorted Sarah, quietly. 

'Possibly. Therefore, permit me to inquire whether or not I have thehonor of addressing Miss Sarah Burns?'

'Yes. '

'Yet you have no recollection of presenting me with this?'

'You must have shown me the wrong locket, ' said Sarah, dryly. 'The hairis several shades lighter than mine. '

'True, I did not think of that, ' said the mysterious young gentleman. ' Iought to have known it would be so; but it never occurred to me. Good-by!'

He bowed courteously and passed on his way, leaving Sarah in completebewilderment. She walked slowly toward home. She roused her memory. Shewent through the list of her acquaintances. She endeavored to recallthose she had encountered when taking some little trips with herfather--but the stranger was not any of these. 

A faint outline was, nevertheless, before her. A shadowy image, thesame, yet not the same, with the young man who had stood in her path. 

'Who? where? when?'

In vain she asked herself the questions. 

Over the past hangs a dim uncertainty, like that which veils the future, and, young as Sarah was, she could already realize it. At length shestopped her efforts, and recurred to the more pleasing task of thinkingabout the young gentleman as he now appeared, without respect to anyother circumstance. She recalled his manly form. He was nearly six feetin height. How bright his eyes were, and how mischievously they wereturned on her, yet how kindly--she was almost ready to thinklovingly--when the locket was produced! What about that locket? Shenever gave anybody a locket, never--not even Hiram Meeker. Faugh! Itsickened her to think of _him_ now, and in this connection. Only imagineit! A lock of her hair. How ridiculous! No living being had a lock of_her_ hair. She knew that well enough. Besides, this was so muchlighter--as light as hers was when she was a child. A sudden thoughtstruck her. Strange; how very, _very_ strange! Yet, it was true. Once inher life she _had_ given a single curl! Was this it? Had she promisedanything with the curl? And was this young man he? Sarah's heart beattumultuously as she entered the house. She reflected on the words of thestranger as he turned to leave her. Should she see him again? * * *

A message came from her father. He would bring a gentleman to dine withhim--that was all. 

Who would it be? the one she had lately parted with? Not a doubt of it. _That_ she felt instinctively. 

On a certain occasion, as the reader may remember, Sarah hadimperceptibly prepared herself to receive Hiram Meeker. It was the firsttime he took tea at the house. This day she did the very same thing toreceive somebody else. There is no use to deny it, for such is the fact. Yet it was but a short week since she was the betrothed of Hiram, andbelieved she loved him. That very morning they had separated forever!

It often happens that a young girl is deceived by or disappointed in heradmirer. They may prove to be incompatible, or, what is worse, he mayprove unworthy; and she discards him, but with reluctance, after astruggle, leaving a pang in her heart, while she mourns over her lost_love_--not lover. _Him_ she no longer regards with any feeling; but thememory of the old attachment is dear to her, though it be sad, and timeis required before the heart will be attracted by new objects, or seekto be engrossed by a fresh passion. 

The bond between Hiram and Sarah was of no such nature. He exercised aspecies of magnetism over her, in consequence of her lively andsympathetic nature; but it was of a kind that, when broken, neitherpleasing nor mournful reminiscences remained--no recollection of pastjoys, no thought of former happiness and bliss. The fountains of theheart had not been reached, and when Hiram Meeker quitted her presence, she was as though she had never known him. 

Thus it was, when she received her father's message, her pulses thrilledat the idea of meeting the one he was to bring with him. 

Already she guessed who it was. 

VATES. 

 Poets are never in the wrong, Whate'er the present age may say: The future only, in their song, Will see the truth of this our day; And what a BRYANT says and sings May well outweigh all false-born things. 

THE PHYSICAL SURVEY OF NEW YORK HARBOR AND ITS APPROACHES. 

No coast offers more admirable opportunities for the study, on a largescale, of the effects of winds, waves, and currents, tidal and others, on the movable matters which line the ocean shores, than that from NewYork southward. Besides the peculiar local actions, there are generalones, which are changing, slowly or rapidly, the whole of the sandycoast line. While here the pebbles of the ancient drift are beingassorted by size and shape, and rolled into ridges and heaps, by theaction of the waves, there heaps and ridges of wet sand are formed bythe waves and travel under their motion, and the dry sand is forcedalong by the winds, covering up meadows and woods, and changing theocean shore line; and in other or the same localities, sub-currents, setting in a nearly constant general direction, roll onward the movablematerials of the bottom of the sea, or tidal currents roll them forwardand backward, giving the general direction of the resulting motion. 

The reports of the Government and State engineers and commissioners, public and private, who have studied the improvements of differentlocalities, have given us glimpses of the local, and even of the generalactions; but most commonly there has been a want of means or suchpreliminary experiments as were necessary fully to develop the actions, and which, like the stitch which saves nine, would often have saved thecostly experiment on the full scale of construction. Remarkableinstances of complete modes of investigation occur in the examination ofthe Mississippi River by Captain A. A. Humphreys and Lieutenant Abbot, ofthe Topographical Engineers, and by the commission of which GeneralTotten, Prof. Bache, and Admiral Davis were members. As most familiar tome, from having taken an official part in the experiments andobservations made, I propose to notice the Physical Surveys of New Yorkand Boston, indicating the chief agents which are at work in destroyingand building up, so as to produce the present condition of theseimportant ports. 

 * * * * *

In connection with the surveys made a few years since by direction ofthe Commissioners on Harbor Encroachments, there was undertaken, as anincidental inquiry, an investigation into the physical conditions underwhich the shoals and beaches in and about New York harbor had submittedto those changes of position and area which the repeated surveysrevealed. It was at the request of these Commissioners that ProfessorBache, the Superintendent of the Coast Survey, gave his personalattention to this subject. He drew up a comprehensive scheme for aseries of observations upon all the natural agencies at work, and, forthe execution of the project, selected one of his assistants, whoseexperience had already been considerable in similar studies. 

The investigation was commenced in the lower harbor early in the springof 1856. Records were kept of tides, currents, winds, and waves, and themost careful notes were made on the immediate effects of these workingagents as observable in the movements of the sands. 

A glance at a general coast chart discovers at once a marked contrastbetween two different sections of our seaboard: to the eastward of us, the principal harbors of New England are rockbound, with elevated backcountries; while to the southward, in the region of alluvial drift, which extends all along the coast of the Middle and Southern States, theharbors have flat and sandy shores. The harbor and neighborhood of NewYork, holding an intermediate position between these diverse sections, exhibit a singular combination of the leading physical features of both, and present to the hydrographer a field for research that is quitewithout a parallel. 

We recognize in the Bar of New York simply a submerged portion of that_sandy cordon_ which skirts the coast from Montauk Point to Florida; andalthough, in the ordinary sense, the lower entrance to the harbor is notan _inlet_, it may nevertheless be regarded as belonging to the sameclass. 

This _sandy cordon_, which may be said to be the principalcharacteristic of our coast, is an exceedingly interesting feature; itappears to have been formed by the action of the sea, which hasdisintegrated the borders of shallow flats, bearing away the lightvegetable moulds, but suffering the coarse quartz sand to remain rolledup into ridges. In many places the dry winds have caught up these sands, when laid bare at low water, and elevated them into dunes or galls. 

The distance of the sand ridge from the mainland is observed to varywith the slope of the adjacent country. It is the _motion oftranslation_ which a wave acquires on reaching shallow water, that givesit such great capacity for the transportation of material. 

This _translative action_, as it is technically called, commencesordinarily in about three fathoms water, and is most violent in six oreight feet depths, within which the sea breaks. It is just within thebreaker that the windrows of sand are observed to form on exposed flats. 

This disposition of the sea to cast up well defined boundaries of sandalong its margin, is so great and persistent, that the inland waters aredammed up and suffered only to escape into the ocean by narrow avenues, where their rapid currents maintain a supremacy of power--albeit withunceasing contest. 

Wherever, along our coast, the waves drive _obliquely_ upon the beach, amovement of the sand takes place, and the inlets are consequentlycontinually shifting. 

The Long Island inlets are moving _westward_, and Sandy Hook advances tothe _northward_, because the sea rolls in along the axis of the greatbay between Long Island and New Jersey, and necessarily sweeps along thebeaches, instead of taking the direction of a _normal_ to the shoreline. 

The movement of Sandy Hook to the northward is, however, a problem notso easily disposed of as we might conceive from the aboveconsiderations; for although, in the most general sense, its existencemust be regarded as the work of the waves, there are other agentsinfluencing materially its form and its rate of progress. The currentscontrol, to a very great extent, the final disposition of the sands wornaway or kept in motion by the waves. 

Professor Bache's investigations in the neighborhood of Sandy Hook havebeen published, and we should not especially refer to them here, exceptthat the recent physical changes reported by Colonel Delafield to theEngineer Department, have reawakened an interest in the matter. 

The measurements of the Coast Survey, made in 1856 and 1857, showed thatthe Hook was being washed away on the east and west shores, but wasextending slowly to the northwest, where it already encroached on themain ship channel. This order of things has continued up to the presenttime, and is now in progress. 

The able Superintendent of the fortifications at Sandy Hook has evincedconsiderable alarm lest the new fort shall fall a prey to theencroachments, or be separated from the main body of the beach byslue-ways. The Coast Surrey has been notified of the matter, and theassistant to whom I have already referred has visited the Hook, and madean informal report, which agrees essentially with the statements ofColonel Delafield. A complete and reliable report can only be made upon_actual surveys_; and we trust these will be executed, and theGovernment placed in possession of the whole truth. 

We understand that Colonel Delafield has already, upon a small scale, made some very successful experiments of curvilineal dikes, constructedwith caissons of concrete; and we have no doubt that, with adequatemeans at his disposal, this ingenious engineer could avert the dangerswhich threaten, not only the fort, but the noble harbor of New York. 

To return to the Physical Survey, and to speak as briefly as we may uponso extended a subject, we hold that it is possible, by a patientcollection of facts and figures, to determine the natural _scheme_ ofthe harbor--we had almost said the _formula of its development_. 

It is ascertained that the group of shoals which form the Bar--composed, as they are, for the most part, of loose and shifting sands--are notaccidental accumulations, modified by violent storms and freshets, butthat they are orderly arrangements, made by the currents, to whoseunceasing activities are due the form and preservation of each bank andchannel. The peculiar contours of the shoals given by our most ancientcharts are still developed by recent surveys, although alterations inmagnitude have taken place. _The order of the physical forces isunchanged, but their work is still progressing. _

Now, since these currents have determinable laws, regulating theirperiods, durations, velocities, and directions, it was only necessary tocompile observations, in order to reduce this study to a simpleconsideration of the _composition of forces_. 

'The process by which sand is swept along by currents upon the bottom ofthe sea, is not unlike the motion of dunes upon the land; a ridge ofsand is propagated in the direction of the current by the continualrolling of the particles from the rear to the front. This movement isexceedingly slow when compared with that of the current which inducesit, and for this reason a shoal, though traversed by violent tidalcurrents, may, as a whole, remain stationary when the alternate driftsare equal and opposite; for in this case, though the sand upon thesurface is drifted to and fro, it undergoes no more ultimate change ofposition than it would if the forces which acted upon it weresimultaneous and in equilibrium. '[9]

Of course, so simple a case as that in which the ebb and flood forcesare equal and opposite, is rarely presented; for at most of the stationson the Bar the direction of the flow varies from hour to hour, goingquite round the circle in a half-tidal day: the velocities anddirections also vary with the depth. These circumstances complicate thecomputation a little, but the problem is still simple and direct. Everything depends upon the faithfulness of the observations. 

The physical diagrams which have been plotted from the results of thesestudies may be regarded as decided successes, for they show in mostcases that the shoals lie in the foci or in the equilibrium points ofthe observed forces. 

The current stations occupied cover a district embracing not only theimmediate vicinity of the shoals, but extending many miles from them indifferent directions; for it was deemed necessary that each elementaryforce should be separately studied before it reached its working point. It has been ascertained that among the causes of the different shoalformations there exists a mutual relation and dependence, so that theymay be regarded as a single physical system. _It will be seen from thisconsideration, that any artificial disturbance of the conditions, at asingle point, may interrupt the operations of nature in other localitiesmore or less remote, or cause general changes in the hydrogaphy of theharbor. _

It is not simply the superficial drift of the tidal and other currentsthat these observations comprehend; but, with the use of apparatussuitably arranged, the movements at all depths have been determined, with the exact amount of power exerted by streams coursing along the bedof the sea. The necessity for this minuteness of examination has beenfully shown in some of the curious discoveries that have been made. 

In several parts of our harbor, systems of counter-currents have beendetected, occupying strata of water at different depths, and thesepresent, in their motions, striking contrasts of directions, velocities, and epochs. The most remarkable exhibition of these sub-currents wasobserved in the neighborhood of the city, in the channel betweenGovernor's and Bedloe's Islands. In this locality, during the lastquarter of the ebb, floating objects drift southward toward the sea, while the heavier material upon the bottom is borne northward toward thecity piers. While, upon the surface, the ebb exceeds the flood both invelocity and duration, the motions of the lowest water-stratum aresubject to the reverse conditions: it therefore follows that _theheavier deposits from the city drainage cannot be swept away throughthis the main avenue to the sea_. This contrast of motion between theupper and lower drifts was observed in greater or less degree throughoutthe entire distance from the Bar to a point in the Hudson River off FortWashington. These results appear to us of the highest importance, sincethey would seem to indicate that the scouring action of the currentswill not be sufficient to prevent the accumulation of certain classes ofdeposits in the upper harbor--as the ashes from the steamers, and thelike. 

The course of the land waters in their progress seaward was followednearly sixty miles beyond the Bar, where currents of considerablevelocity were still observed. At the station farthest seaward, where thesounding is thirty fathoms, the observations at different depthsdisclosed some very remarkable peculiarities. It was perceived that themoving stratum was not always of the same depth; the whole body of thesea moving steadily forward at one time, while at another no motioncould be detected below a superficial stream. 

The land waters, to which allusion has been made, augment the ebbcurrent to such a degree, that a general eastwardly preponderance wasobserved in the drift along the south shore of Long Island; and thispreponderance, increasing steadily from station to station at eachremove, was found, at a point twenty-five miles east of Fire IslandLight, to outlive the tidal currents and maintain itself as a constantcoastwise stream. 

One very curious discovery was made with regard to this stream alongshore. It was ascertained that during easterly gales a portion of thewater, crowded up into the bight of the coast, escapes seaward by asub-current. Shells, carefully marked, were deposited in the sea duringfine weather, and, after an easterly gale, were picked up on the shoreof Fire Island, _four miles eastward_ of the place of deposit. There wasno evidence that these shells travelled any distance during stillweather. 

We do not despair of the possibility of artificial improvements at theLong Island inlets. 

At present the great inland basins on the southern portion of LongIsland communicate with the sea only by narrow passes obstructed by barsand shoals; yet, in spite of the dangers which are always presented, large fleets of market vessels pass out daily through the inlets, ladenwith farm produce and shell fish. It requires no thought to perceivethat if these inlets were made safe and permanent by suitable marineconstructions, and were furnished with the proper buoys and beacons, there would spring up in their neighborhood great commercialenterprises. 

While, in the case of the lower harbor and its approaches, it was thedesign of the observations to detect in the movement of the waters thecauses of alterations in the physical geography, the same kind ofstudies, undertaken afterward in Hell Gate, had for their object thereverse inquiry, viz. , to ascertain to what degree and in what mannerthe form of the rocky channel influenced the tides and currents, inorder that some prediction might be made of the consequences likely tofollow the removal of obstructions from the waterways. The propagationsof the tide wave meet at Hell Gate, so that here the observations, whenplotted, exhibit compound curves, in which the portion due to the wavefrom Sandy Hook is easily distinguishable from that due to the wave fromLong Island Sound. The Sandy Hook tide wave differs so widely in heightand time from that of Long Island Sound, that there is over three feetdifference of level between the harbor and the Sound at certain stagesof the tides; and at these times the currents rush through the Gate, vainly endeavoring to restore the inequalities. 

The problem of referring a current to a _tidal head_ is a very difficultone. The current, for instance, which renders Hell Gate so dangerous, isnot at any time so great as a _permanent head_, equal to the differenceof the tides observed, would engender. The currents are so very slow intheir movements, compared with the undulations of the tide wave, that itcannot be ascertained as yet, what are the magnitudes of such elementsas _inertia_ and _friction_, and how they are to be corrected for, so asto predict the time and velocity of the current from observations of thevertical rise and fall. 

It is due to the officers of the Coast Survey to state that theirservices to the Harbor Commissioners were rendered gratuitously; thework offered to them only an opportunity for research. 

This Physical Survey must, at the outset, have held out smallinducements to patient labor--the field was so large and ill defined, and had been so long the region of mere speculation; but the few simpleand useful generalizations it has now grasped should, hereafter, provethe stepping stones to larger inductions, valuable alike to physicalscience and commercial interests. 

FOOTNOTES:

[9] Report of the Observations for the Completion of the Physical Surveyof New York Bar and Harbor, in pursuance of the Act of the Legislatureof New York, April 17, 1857, and of the authority of the Commissionerson Harbor Encroachments. By A. D. BACHE, Supt. U. S. Coast Survey. 

AN ENGLISHMAN IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 

DECEMBER, 1860, AND JULY, 1862. 

II. 

'Mornin', sa! De Cunnel send dis with his compliments. Merry Christmas, sa!' Such was the salutation arousing me on the anniversary of the birthof Him who came on earth to preach the Gospel of love and fraternity toall men--or the date which pious tradition has arbitrarily assigned toit. And Pomp appeared by the bedside of the ponderous, old-fashionedfour-poster, in which I had slept, bearing a tumbler containing thatvery favorite Southern 'eye-opener, ' a mixture of peach brandy andhoney. I sipped, rose, and began dressing. The slave regarded mewistfully, and repeated his Christmas salutation. 

I knew what the poor fellow meant, well enough, and responded with agratuity sufficient to make his black face lustrous with pleasure. Allthrough the South the system of _backsheesh_ is as prevalent as inTurkey, and with more justification. At the hotels its adoption iscompulsory, if the traveller would shun eyeservice and the mostprovoking inattention or neglect. His coffee appears unaccompanied bymilk or sugar, his steak without bread, condiments are inaccessible, andhis sable attendant does the least possible toward deserving that name, until a semi-weekly quarter or half dollar transforms him from a miracleof stupidity and awkwardness into your enthusiastic and ever-zealousretainer. This, however, by the way. 

My present had the usual effect; Pompey became approbative andtalkative:

'You come from England, sa?' he asked, looking up from the hearth andtemporarily desisting in his vigorous puffing at the fire he had alreadykindled for me to dress by. 

'Yes, ' I answered. 

'Dat a long ways off, sa?'

'Over three thousand miles of salt water, Pompey. '

'Golly! I 'fraid o' dem! didn't tink dere was so much water in deworld!' adding a compliment on the supposed courage involved in crossingthe Atlantic. Negroes have almost no relative ideas of distance ornumber beyond a very limited extent; they will say 'a tousan'd, ' fiftyor a hundred 'tousand, ' with equal inexactitude and fluency. PresentlyPompey began again:

'Many colored people in England, sa?'

'Very few. You might live there a year without meeting one. '

'I'se hear dey's all free--dem what is dar? dat so?' he asked, curiously. 

'Yes; just as they are at the North; only I think they're a littlebetter treated in England. We don't make any difference between men onaccount of their skin. You might marry a white woman there, Pompey, ifyou could get her to have you. '

Pompey honored this remark with as much ready negro laughter as heseemed to think it demanded. 

'I'se got a wife already, sa, ' he answered. 'But 'pears to me Englandmust be good country to lib in. '

'Why so?'

'All free dar, sa!'

'Why you'd have to work harder than you do here, and have nobody to takecare of you. The climate wouldn't suit you, either, there's not enoughsunshine. You couldn't have a kinder or a better master than Colonel----, I'm sure. '

'No, _sa!_' with a good deal of earnestness; 'he fust-rate man, sa, data fac; and Mass' Philip and de young ladies, dey berry good to us. But--' and the slave hesitated. 

'What is it, Pompey? Speak out!'

'Well, den, some day de Cunnel he die, and den trouble come, _suah!_ Deole plantation be sold, and de hands sold too, or we be divide 'tweenMass' Phil, Miss Jule, and Miss Emmy. Dey get married, ob course. Somego one way, some toder, we wid dem--nebber lib together no more. Dat'swhat I keep t'inkin ob, sa!'

What answer could be made to this simple statement of one of the direcontingencies inevitable to slave life? perhaps that most dreaded by thelimited class of well cared-for house servants, of which Pompey was agood representative. He knew, as well as I, that his poor average ofhappiness was fortuitous--that it hinged on the life of his master. Athis death he might become the chattel of any human brute with a whiteepidermis and money enough to buy him; might be separated from wife, children, companions and past associations. Suggesting the practicalwisdom involved in the biblical axiom that sufficient for the day is theevil thereof, I turned the conversation and presently dismissed him. Iexperienced some little difficulty in accomplishing the latter, for hewas both zealous and familiar in my service: indeed, this is one of thenuisances appertaining to the institution; a pet slave seems hardly tounderstand the desire for privacy, and is prone to consider himselfill-used if you presume to dispense with his attendance. His ideal of amaster is one who needs a great deal of waiting on in trivial, unlaborious ways, who tolerates all shortcomings and slovenliness, andbestows liberal gratuities. 

Descending to the breakfast parlor, I received and responded to theappropriate salutations for the day from my host and his family, who hadalready recognized it, English fashion, by the interchange of mutualpresents, those of the Colonel to his daughters being jewelry of ahandsome and expensive character. The trinkets were submitted to myinspection and duly admired. 

'I must tell you something about these knick-knacks, Mr. ----, ' said theevidently gratified father. 'You wouldn't suppose, now, that thesemercenary girls actually asked me to give them money instead oftrinkets?'

His tone and looks involved some latent compliment to the young ladies, and I said as much. 

'They wanted to give it to the State, to help arm and equip some of themilitary companies. I couldn't let 'em suffer for their patriotism, youknow; so I had to advance the money and buy the trinkets, too; thoughI'll do them the justice to say they didn't expect it. Never mind! theSouthern Confederacy and free trade will reimburse me. And now let'shave breakfast. '

The Southern Confederacy and Free Trade! During secession time inCharleston, there was displayed in front of the closed theatre, afoolish daub on canvas, depicting crowded wharves, cotton bales, arriving and departing vessels, and other indications of maritime andcommercial prosperity, surmounted by seven stars, that being theexpected number of seceding States, all presented as a representation ofthe good time coming. It remained there for over a month, when one ofthose violent storms of wind and rain variegating the humidity of aSouth-Carolinian winter tore it to pieces, leaving only the skeletonframework on which it had been supported. May not this picture and itsend prove symbolical?

'Did you observe that our Charleston ladies dress very plainly, thisseason?' continued the Colonel, as we sat at breakfast. 'There are nosilks and satins this Christmas, no balls, no concerts, no marriages. Weare generally economizing for whatever may happen. '

'Why, I thought you didn't expect war?' I answered. 

'No more we do; but it's well to be prepared. '

'There's to be no race ball, I understand, ' said the lazy gentleman, whohad appeared later than the rest of us, and was having a couple of eggs'opened' for him into a tumbler, by Pompey. 'The girls will miss that. Can you tell me how the betting stood between _Albine_ and _Planet_?'

I could not, and observed that the Colonel changed the subject with somemarks of irritation. I learned afterward that his indolent relative hadan incurable passion for betting, and, when carried away by it, wascapable of giving unauthorized notes upon his opulent relative, who paidthem in honor of the family name, but objected to the practice. Hehimself affected to discourage betting, though his State pride actuallyinduced him to risk money on the 'little mare' _Albine_, aSouth-Carolina horse, who subsequently and very unexpectedly triumphedover her Virginian opponent. But this by the way. 

Breakfast over and cigars lighted (the Colonel imported his own fromHavana, each one enwrapped in a separate leaf, and especially excellentin quality), we strolled abroad. The negroes were not at work, ofcourse; and, early as it was, we found their quarters all alive withmerriment and expectation. Some of the younger men, dressed in theirbest clothes--generally suits of plain, substantial homespun, white orcheck shirts, and felt hats--went from house to house, wishing theinmates the compliments of the season, blended with obstreperous, broad-mouthed laughter; in some instances carrying nosegays, received, in common with the givers, with immense delight and coquetry on the partof the females. These wore neatly-made, clean cotton dresses, withgaily-colored handkerchiefs arranged turban fashion upon their heads. Many of the old men and not a few of the old women were smoking clay orcorncob pipes; the children laughed, cried, played with each other, rolled upon the ground, and disported themselves as children, white, black, or particolored, do all the world over; the occasional twang of abanjo and a fiddle was heard, and everything looked like enjoyment andanticipation. Of course, the huts of the future brides constituted thecentre of attraction: from the chattering of tongues within we inferredthat the wedding dresses were exposed for the admiring inspection of thenegro population. 

The Colonel had just arrived at the peroration of an eloquent eulogiumof the scene, when the overseer appeared at the end of the avenue oforange trees, and presently drew rein beside us, his countenanceexhibiting marks of dissatisfaction. 

'I've had trouble with them boys over to my place, Colonel, ' he said, briefly, and looking loweringly around, as though he would be disposedto resent any listening to his report on the part of the negroes. 

'Why, what's the matter with them?' asked his employer, hastily. 

'Well, it 'pears they got some rotgut--two gallon of it--from somewhereslast night, and of course, all got as drunk as h----, down to the oldshanty behind the gin--they went thar so's I shouldn't suspicionnothin'. They played cards, and quarrelled and fit, and Hurry's John hecut Timberlake bad--cut Wilkie, too, 'cross the hand, but ain't hurt himmuch!'

'Hurry's John! I always knew that nigger had a d----d ugly temper!' I'llsell him, by ---- ! I won't have him on the place a week longer. IsTimberlake badly hurt?'

'He's nigh killed, I reckon. Got a bad stick in the ribs, and a cut inthe shoulder, and one in the face--bled like a hog, he did! Reckon hemay get over it. I've done what I could for him. '

The Colonel's handsome face was inflamed with passion; he strode up anddown, venting imprecations of an intensity only to be achieved by anenraged Southerner. Presently he stopped and asked abruptly:

'Where did they get the liquor from?'

'I don't know. Most likely from old Whalley, down to the landing. He'smean enough for anything. '

'If I can prove it on him, I'll run him out of the country!I'll--I'll--d----n it! I'll shoot him!' And the Colonel continued hisimprecations, this time directing them toward the supposed vender of thewhiskey. 

'These men are the curse of the country! the curse of the country!' herepeated, excitedly; 'these d----d mean, low, thieving, sneaking, pilfering, poor whites! They teach our negroes to steal, they sell themliquor, they do everything to corrupt and demoralize them. That's howthey _live_, by ----! The slaves are respectable, compared to them. By----, they ought to be slaves themselves--only no amount of paddling[10]would get any work out of their d----d lazy hides! I almost wish wemight have a war with the Yankees: we should get some of 'em killed off, then!'

How little Colonel ---- thought, as he uttered these words, 'so wickedand uncivic' (as Gellius says of a similar wish on the part of a Romanlady, for which she was fined the sum of twenty-five thousand poundsbrass), that in the future lay such dire fulfilment of them! Apropos ofthe subject, what fitting tools for the purposes of rebellion have thesehated 'poor whites' proved themselves!--their ignorance, their vices, their brutality rendering them all the more appropriate instruments forthe work in hand. It would seem, almost, as if a diabolic providence hadprepared them for this very result. 

'I must ride over and see about this business at once, ' resumed theColonel. 'Mr. ----, I can very well suppose you'd rather be sparedaccompanying me, so make yourself at home for an hour or two. I won't bea minute longer than I can help. Perhaps you'd better not mention thisunfortunate affair up at the house until I return; it'll shock thegirls, and I'm very careful to keep all unpleasant things out of theirway. It's the first time such an atrocity has occurred on thisplantation, believe me. '

And, ordering his horse, he rode off with the overseer. I should reallyhave preferred visiting the scene of the recent tragedy, but my host'swish to the contrary was evident, and I knew enough of Southernsensitiveness with respect to the ugly side of their 'institution' tocomply. (I had been advised by a fellow countryman not to attend a slavesale in Charleston, lest my curiosity might be looked upon asimpertinent, and get me into trouble; but I did it, and, I am bound tosay, without any evil consequences. ) So I retraced my steps toward thehouse, presently encountering the lazy gentleman, and one in black, whowas introduced to me as the Reverend Mr. ----, an Episcopal clergyman ofBeaufort, also a resident on an adjacent island. 

The lazy gentleman inquired after Colonel ----. Judging that my host'scaution, as to secrecy, was only intended to apply to his daughters, Imade no scruple of relating what I had heard. My auditors were at oncemore than interested--anxious. Whenever a negro breaks bounds in theSouth, everybody is on the alert, a self-constituted detective, judge, inquisitor, and possible executioner. Eternal vigilance is the priceof--slavery!

'That boy born on the plantation?' asked the clergyman, when the affairhad been discussed at considerable length. 

'Yes! He's a valuable hand, too; I've known him pick seven hundred andfifty pounds of cotton in a day--of course, for a wager. '

'The Colonel will have to sell him, I suppose? he can't keep him afterthis. '

'Reckon so, though he hates to part with any of his hands. This troublewouldn't have happened, if it hadn't been for the whiskey, I've nodoubt. The rascal who sold it ought to be responsible. '

'Are crimes originating in drunkenness common among the negroes?' Iasked. 

'Well, no!' answered the clergyman, deliberately; 'I can't say that. Butmost of them will drink, if they get an opportunity--the field handsespecially; and then they're apt to be quarrelsome, and if there's aknife handy, they'll use it. '

'That's so, ' assented the lazy gentleman, nodding. 'You Englishmen andYankees--excuse me for coupling you together!--know very little of negrocharacter; and, because the darkies have a habit of indulging inunmeaning laughter on all occasions, you think them the best-temperedpeople in existence. In reality their tempers are oftenexecrable--infernal!' And he compacently blew a ring of tobacco-smokeinto the mild, humid morning. The clergyman looked on assentingly. 

'They can never be trusted with any responsibility involving theexercise of authority without abusing it. They ill use animals on alloccasions--treat them with positive brutality, and sometimes whip theirchildren so unmercifully that we have to interfere. I don't know whatwould become of them without us, I'm sure!'

'What do you think of their religious convictions?' I asked of theclergyman, when the speaker had arrived at his comfortable, characteristically Southern conclusion. 

'Our best negroes are unquestionably pious, ' he answered; 'and some ofthem have a very earnest sense of their duties as to this life and thenext; but I regret to say that a good deal of what passes for religionamong them is mere exitement, often of a mischievous and sensualcharacter. '

'Heathenish! quite heathenish!' added the lazy gentleman. 'Did you eversee a _shout_, Mr. ----?'

I responded in the negative, and inquired what it was. 

'Oh, a dance of negro men and women to the accompaniment of their ownvoices. It's of no particular figure, and they sing to no particulartune, improvising both at pleasure, and keeping it up for an hourtogether. I'll defy you to look at it without thinking of Ashantee orDahomey; it's so suggestive of aboriginal Africa. '

I had an opportunity, subsequently, of witnessing the performance inquestion, and can indorse the lazy gentleman's assertion. Inheriting thesaltatory traditions of their barbarous ancestry, the slaves have also acurrent fund of superstition, of a simple and curious character. Butfurther ethical disquisitions were here cut short by the appearance ofthe Colonel's daughters, when the conversation was at once changed, asby tacit consent of all three of us. What their father had told me, relative to his solicitude to keep them in ignorance of all 'unpleasantthings' accruing from the fundamental institution, was in perfectaccordance with Southern instincts. I had observed similar instances ofhabitual caution before, reminding me of the eulogized tendency toward'Orientalism' alluded to in the previous chapter. And, of all people, South-Carolinians possess the equally rare and admirable faculty ofholding their tongues, when there is occasion for it. 

We joined the ladies in a walk. As the elder had much to say to theclergyman about mutual acquaintances, while her fat relative strolledcarelessly by her side, her sister naturally fell to my companionship. With a rather handsome and intelligent girl I should have preferred toconverse on general topics than the one with which I had been alreadynauseated at Charleston--secession; but she was full of it, and wouldnot be evaded. Very soon she asked me what I supposed would be thesentiment in England toward the seceding States, in the assumed event oftheir forming a confederacy. 

I told her, as I then believed, that it would be adverse, in consequenceof the national hostility to slavery, appealing to her own Britishexperience for confirmation. 

'Yes, ' she said, 'they were all abolitionists in England, and couldhardly credit us when we told them that _we_ owned negroes. They thoughtall Southerners must be like Legree in _Uncle Tom's Cabin_! But papa, who went to the club houses, and mixed with the aristocracy, says that_they_ are much better informed about us; that they were opposed toemancipation in the West Indies, and have always regarded it as a greatmistake. And England must have cotton, you know. '

'If there's a war between the North and South, won't you find it verydifficult to retain your negroes?' I asked, waiving the immediatequestion. 

Miss ---- responded by the usual assertion of the fidelity of the slavesto their owners. 

'What if the new Government resorts to emancipation as a weapon againstyou?' I made this inquiry, thinking it possible that this might be done_at the outset_. Like other foreigners, though familiar with the North, I had not supposed that nearly two years of civil war, with itsinevitable expenditure of blood and treasure, would be needed to inducethis direct and obvious means of subduing a rebellion. Englishmen, it isknown, have ferocious ideas on the subject, as witness India. 

'If the slaves rose, we should kill them like so many snakes!' was theanswer. And the young lady's voice and flashing eyes showed that she wasin earnest. 

 * * * * *

Our promenade lasted until the return of the Colonel, who presently tooka private opportunity of informing me that the wounded slave wouldprobably survive, and that he had sent for a surgeon from an adjoiningplantation, expressing some apprehension that delay or indifference onhis part might involve fatal consequences. 

'It's Christmas time, you see, and perhaps he won't care about coming, 'said my host. I may add that his anticipation was in part verified bythe result, 'the doctor' not appearing till the following morning. Thanks, however, to a rough knowledge of surgery on the part of theoverseer, aided by the excellence of his constitution, 'Timberlake'recovered. I will mention here, in dismissing the subject, that 'Hurry'sJohn' was subsequently sold to a Louisiana sugar-planter, a fate onlyless terrible to a negro than his exportation to Texas. 

Within an hour of our return to the house, we partook of an excellentand luxurious Christmas dinner, to which birds of the air, beasts of theearth, and fish of the sea had afforded tribute, and the best ofEuropean wines served as an appropriate accompaniment. The meal was, Ithink, served earlier than usual, that we might attend the event of theday, the negro weddings. 

These were solemnized at a little private church, in the rear of whichwas absolutely the most enormous live-oak I had ever seen, its branches, fringed with pendent moss, literally covering the small churchyard, where, perhaps, a dozen of the ---- family lie buried--a few tombstones, half hidden by the refuse of the luxuriant vegetation, marking theirplaces of sepulture. The plain interior of the building had beendecorated with evergreens in honor of the time and the occasion, underthe tasteful direction of the young ladies, who had also contrived tofurnish white dresses and bouquets for the brides. These, duly escortedby their future husbands, clad in their best, and looking alternatehappiness and sheepishness, had preceded us by a few minutes, and werewaiting our arrival, while all around beamed black faces full ofexpectation and interest. 

We walked through a lane of sable humanity--for the church was too smallto contain a fourth of the assembled negroes--to the little altar, before which the six couples were presently posed by the clergyman, infront of us and himself. That done to everybody's satisfaction, theColonel stationed to give away the brides--an arrangement that caused avisible flutter of delight among them--and as many lookers-onaccommodated within the building as could crowd in, the ceremony wasproceeded with, the clergyman using an abbreviated form of the Episcopalservice, reading it but once, but demanding separate responses. Inoticed that he omitted the words 'until death do ye part, ' and Ithought that omission suggestive. 

The persons directly concerned behaved with as much propriety as if theyhad possessed the whitest of cuticles, being quiet, serious, andattentive; nor did I detect anything indecorous on the part of thespectators, beyond an occasional smile or whisper by the youngernegroes, whose soft-skinned, dusky faces and white eyeballs glancedupward at the six couples with admiring curiosity, and at us, visitors, with that appealing glance peculiar to the negro--always, to mythinking, irresistibly touching, and suggestive of dependence on, humility toward, and entreaty for merciful consideration at the hands ofa superior race. Perhaps, however, the old folks enjoyed the occasionmost, particularly the negresses: one wrinkled crone, of at leastfourscore years, her head bound in, the usual gaudy handkerchief, andher hands resting on a staff or crutch, went off into a downrightchuckle of irrepressible exultation after the closing benediction, echoed more openly by the crowd of colored people peeping in at thedoors and windows. 

The ceremony over, the concourse adjourned to a large frame building, part shed, part cotton-house, ordinarily used for storing the stapleplant of South Carolina, before ginning and pressing. The Colonel hadsent his year's crop to Charleston, and the vacant space was nowoccupied by a triple row of tables, set out with plates, knives andforks, and drinking utensils. Here, the newly married couples beinginducted into the uppermost seats, as places of honor, and the rest ofthe company accommodated as well as could be effected, a substantialdinner was served, and partaken of with a gusto and appreciation onlyconceivable in those to whom such an indulgence is exceptional, coming, like the occasion, but once in a year. Upward of a hundred and fiftypersons sat down to it, exclusive of those temporarily detailed aswaiters, who presently found leisure to minister to their own appetites. Their owner surveyed the scene with an air of gratification, in which Icould not detect a trace of his recent serious discomposure. I am wellpersuaded, however, that he had not forgotten it, as that the cause ofit was known among the negroes; I thought I observed evidences of it intheir looks and deportment, even amid the general hilarity. 

The ladies had returned to the house, and we were about following them, when the clatter of a horse's hoofs was heard without, and the officiousvoices of the negroes announced the arrival of a visitor or messengerfor the Colonel, who stepped forward to meet him. A young man, clad in acoarse homespun gray uniform, scantily trimmed with red worsted, and aFrench military cap, alighted, and addressed our friend in a faltering, hesitating manner, as though communicating some disastrous intelligence. I saw the Colonel turn pale, and put his hand to his head as if he hadreceived a stunning blow. Instinctively the three of us rushed towardhim. 

'My God! what's the matter? what has happened, ----?' inquired theclergyman. 

'Philip! Philip! my boy's dead--shot himself by accident!' was theanswer. 

A very few words explained all, The young volunteer had fallen a victimto one of those common instances of carelessness in playing with loadedfirearms. While frolicking with a comrade, at his barracks, he had takenup his revolver, jestingly threatening to shoot. The other, grasping thebarrel of the cocked pistol, in turning it round, had caused itsdischarge, the bullet penetrating the breast of the unfortunate owner ofthe weapon. Conveyed to the hospital, he had died within an hour afterhis arrival. 

 * * * * *

Our holiday-making, of course, came to a sudden termination. Next day Iaccompanied the Colonel to Charleston, to claim the body of his deceasedson, and not long afterward parted with him, on my return to the North. 

FOOTNOTES:

[10] The paddle has superseded the cowhide in all jails, workhouses, andplaces of punishment in South Carolina, as being more effective--that ispainful. In some instances it is used on the plantations. It consists ofa wooden instrument, shaped like a baker's peel, with a blade from threeto five inches wide, and from eight to ten long. There are commonlyholes in the blade, which give the application a percussive effect. InCharleston this punishment is generally administered at the guardhouseby the police, who are all Irishmen. Any offended master or mistresssends a slave to the place of chastisement with a note, stating thedesired amount, which is duly honored. Like institutions breed likeresults all over the world: in Sala's 'Journey Due North' we find thesame system in operation in Russia. 

PEN, PALLET, AND PIANO. 

With the roar of cannon and tramp of armed men resounding through theland, and the fair young face of the Republic disfigured to our eyes bythe deep furrows of war, it is pleasant to know that in certain nooksand corners, gentler sounds of harmony still linger, and that ateliersexist where men's fancies grow on canvas from day to day into soothingvisions of loveliness. 

The scarlet-and-gold and general paraphernalia of war are too temptingto pallet and brush, not to be seized on with avidity and reproducedwith marvellous truth; but it is more agreeable to pass over accuraterepresentations of the Irish zouave, with Celtic features, not purelyclassical in outline, glowing defiantly under the red cap of the Arab, and Teutonic cavalrymen, clinging clumsily to their steeds, and turn forsolace to the grand, solemn Shores of Niagara, to wander amid thetangled luxuriance of the Heart of the Andes, or to bask in the sweetsilence of Twilight in the Wilderness. There are Icebergs too, floatingin the Arctic Sea, frozen white and mute with horror at the dreadsecrets of ages; but, responsive to the versatile talent of the handthat creates them, they glow with prismatic light of many colors. Mr. Church irradiates the frozen regions with the coruscations of his owngenius, bringing to these lonely, despairing masses of ice therevivifying hope and promise of warmer climates. 

In pondering over the sad mystery of these Icebergs, we float down againto Tropical Seas and Islands; and as we linger under the shade of palmand banana tree, the rude chant of the negro strikes the ear in thegrotesque and characteristic framework of the '_Bananier_, ' theplaintive melody of '_La Savane_' sighs past on the evening breeze, Spanish eyes flash out temptingly from the enticing cadence of the'_Ojos Criollos_, ' and Spanish guitars tinkle in the soft moonlight ofthe '_Minuit à Seville, _' and Tropical life awakes to melody under thetouch of the Creole poet of the piano, Mr. Gottschalk. 

There are many beings, otherwise estimable, to whom the Tropical senseis wanting; who are ever suspicious of malaria lurking under the rich, glossy leaves of the orange groves; who look with disgust and loathingat the exaggerated proportions and venomous nature of all creepingthings; who find the succulence of the fruit unpleasant to the taste, and the flowers, though fair to the eye, deadly as the upas tree to allother sense;--for whom it is no compensation to feel, with the firstbreath of morning air, the dull, leaden weight of life lifted, or nohappiness to watch the sea heaving and palpitating with delight underthe rays of the noon-day sun, and to know that the stars at night droopdown lovingly and confidingly to the embrace of warm Tropical earth. With an insensibility to these influences, there can be but littlesympathy or appreciation of the works of Mr. Gottschalk; for all that isborn of the Tropics partakes of its beauties and its defects, itspassionate languor, its useless profusion and its poetic tenderness. Andwhere else in the United States, can we look for a spontaneous gush ofmelody? Plymouth Rock and its surroundings have not hitherto seemedfavorable to the growth and manifestation of musical genius; for the oldPuritan element, in its savage intent to annihilate the æsthetic part ofman's nature, under the deadening dominion of its own Blue Laws, and tocrush out whatever of noble inspiration had been vouchsafed to man byhis Creator, rarely sought relief in outbursts of song. 

Psalmody appears to have been the chief source of musical indulgence, and for many a long, weary year, hymns of praise, nasal in tone anddismal in tendency, have ascended from our prim forefathers to thethrone of grace on high. 

Such depressing musical antecedents have not prepared New England forgreater efforts of melody than are to be found in the simple balladssupposed to originate with the plantation negro, who, in addition to hisother burdens, is thus chosen to assume the onerous one of Northernsong, as being the only creature frivolous enough to indulge in vaincarolling. If we can scarcely affirm that the Americans are yet amusical people, that they would be is an undeniable fact, and oneconstantly evinced in their lavish support of artists, from the highestto the lowest grade. Among the musical aspirants to popular favor, nonehas of late enjoyed so large a share of notice and admiration as Mr. Gottschalk; and to return from our recent digression, we will proceed tothe consideration of his compositions. Fragmentary and suggestive as arehis ideas, there is infinite method and system in their treatment. Avoiding thus far what is termed '_sustained effort_, ' and whichfrequently implies the same demands on the patience of the listener ason the creative power of the composer, Mr. Gottschalk's compositionscontain just so much of the true poetic vein as can be successfullydigested and enjoyed in a piano piece of moderate length. With the powerto conceive, and the will and discipline of mind to execute, there is noreason why, with perhaps a diminished tendency to fritter away positiveexcellence at the shrine of effect, enduring proofs of the genius of ourAmerican pianist should not be given to the world. 

As a mere player, the popularity of Mr. Gottschalk with the uninitiatedmasses is due, in a great measure, to his tact in discerning theAmerican craving for novelty and sensation, and to his nativeoriginality and brilliancy, which allow him to respond so fully to theseexigencies of public taste, as to possess on all occasions the keynoteto applause. The faculty of never degenerating into dulness, the rock onwhich most pianists are wrecked in early youth, is another just causefor insuring to our compatriot the preëminence which he enjoys. Viewedfrom a critical point, the mechanical endowments and acquirements ofGottschalk are such as to enable him to subject his playing to the testof keenest analysis without detriment to his reputation. For clearnessand limpidity of touch and unerring precision, for impetuosity of style, combined with dreamy delicacy, he has few rivals. The evenness andbrilliancy of his trill are unequalled, the mechanical process requiredto produce it being lost to sight in the wonderful birdlike nature ofthe effect. In the playing of classical music, Mr. Gottschalk has tocontend against his own individuality. This individuality, naturallyintense and of a kind calculated to meet with public favor, has beencultivated and indulged in to such an extent as to prove an occasionalobstacle to the exclusive absorption and utter identification with theideas of another composer that classical music demands. In the merematter of execution there is no difficulty which the fingers of thisskilful pianist cannot overcome, and his intellectual grasp of a subjectenables him to discern and interpret the beauties of all musical themes;but where an earnest, passionate interest in the music of the oldmasters is not felt by the performer, it is rarely communicated to hishearers. 

The world of letters, however, has not seemingly regretted the inabilityof Byron to trammel his muse with the uncongenial fetters of Pope'smetre, and has certainly never quarrelled with Tom Moore for notassuming the manners and diction of the revered Samuel Johnson, LL. D. 

With due allowance for difference of latitude, and wide difference ofaim and pursuit, the contemplation of the Master of Creole Melodyrecalls to us a genius which found utterance in song none the lessmelodious that it was written, not sung. The 'ashen sky' and 'crisped, sere leaves of the lonesome October, ' so thrillingly pictured by EdgarPoe in his 'Ulalume, ' find echo in the foreboding sadness of the openingbars to Gottschalk's 'Last Hope;' and as both poems grow in vague, dreamy sound, they culminate in a cry of smothered despair at the tombwhere all hopes lie buried with the lost Ulalume. The same weirdconception and eccentricity of design, with knowledge of rhythmicaleffect and extreme carefulness of finish, are prominent traits of bothartists; and the American disregard of tradition, as evinced in allenterprises, whether literary, artistic, or commercial, and whichreadily infects the simple sojourner among us as well as the happy beingborn to republican privileges, marks alike the nationality of poet andpianist. 

Edgar Poe's literary reputation undoubtedly gains additional lustre asthe lapse of years permits the veil of obscurity to fall over thepersonal vices and irregularities which so tarnished the living fame ofthis great artist. Genius draws around itself a magical circle, attracting and keeping by the force of its own magnetism those whom itvalues, but at the same time exercising an equally repellent effect onthe envious and ignorant wandering beyond the pale of its charmedprecincts. Hence the difficulty of judging it by contemporaneousstandards. The Hyperion head of Poe was lost to the view of many by atoo persistent search for the satyr's cloven foot. In considering thepoet's eccentricities, in common with other extraordinary and anomalousbeings, it must be deeply deplored that one so endowed with wealth ofintellect beyond his fellow men, should be still so poor in moral storethat the dullest of them could dare look with disdain on this heir togifts regal and sacred. 

He could forget his deep, earnest love of order in things intellectual, in every excess of disorder in things material, and his passionate loveof the beautiful could be profaned by frequent grovelling amid thehideous deformities of vice. Poe, in his reverence for Art (his onlyreverence), seemed generally to set greater store on the elaborate andartistic perfection of his works, than in the spontaneity of geniustherein displayed. So it would seem, at least, in his voluntarilyexposing the skeleton design of his greatest poem, 'The Raven, ' and thevarious processes by which this grand shadow attained its finalharmonious and terrible proportions. This may be a noble sacrifice tothe principles of Art, intended as a warning to rash novices against thesin of slovenliness in composition; but the poem must be of solid fibreto resist this disenchanting test. The unveiling of hidden mysteries, the disclosure of trap doors, ropes, and pulleys, may assist in thegeneral dissemination of knowledge; but in behalf of those who prefer tobe ignorant that they may be happy, we protest against the innovation. In this dangerous experiment of Poe's, however, we are forced to do whathe would have us do--admire the ingenuity of the poet, together with hisknowledge of effect, rhythmical and dramatic, his flexibility andstrength of versification, and marvellous faculty of word painting. Thispropensity to make all things subservient to the advancement of Art isnot always productive of present good to one's fellow beings, whatevermay be the results to posterity, as the luckless women who cross thepath of such men cannot unfrequently testify--oftentimes assiduouslywooed, won, and lightly discarded, to furnish an artistic study of thefemale capacity for suffering, as well as to supply renewed inspirationfor further poetic bemoanings. In the prose narrations of Edgar Poe, thesame skilful handling of mystery, and the turning to account of anyincident susceptible of dramatic effect, are always apparent as in hispoems. But the want of extended sympathy with mankind, the artistegotism, which looks inwardly for all material, and in truth scorns theapproval of the masses, must naturally fail to secure the interest of alarge class of readers. His compositions, on the contrary, which givefull scope to his keen, subtle powers of analysis, and vigorous handlingof the subject in question, are more widely understood and appreciated. Since the days when Poe dealt with contemporaneous literature, andliterary men, in not the most temperate mood of criticism, poetic firein America, with few exceptions, seems to have sunk into a dead, smouldering condition, and to have yielded to its sister art of paintingthe task of grappling with the New-World monster of utilitarianism andpractical reform. The demands for indigenous painters in America beingconstantly greater, the result is necessarily a vast increase andimprovement in this branch of Art. 

New England, on whose barren musical soil we have already descanted, andwho has not hitherto disputed to the Old World her privilege of pouringout on our untutored continent the accumulated wealth of years ofmusical study and training, has at last gone far to redeem herreputation of artistic nullity, by producing the greatest landscapepainter of which the country can boast. With us, the superiority ofatmospheric effects over most countries, and the great variety andoriginality of American scenery, have united in bringing the landscapepainter into existence, and the public have assured this existence byfostering applause and pecuniary compensation. Nature, thus prodigal ofgifts to America, has, in a crowning act of munificence, conferred alsoa painter, capable of interpreting her own most recondite mysteries, andof faithfully transcribing the beauties revealed to all eyes in theirsimple majesty. 

Immensity of theme possesses no terrors for Mr. Church's essentiallyAmerican genius; his facile brush recoils not before the giganticnatural elements of his own land, but deals as readily and composedlywith the unapproachable sublimity of Niagara and the terrible beauty oficebergs as with the peace of simple woodland scenes and the glowingsentiment of the tropics. To tread the beaten path of landscapepainting, and offer to the public a tame transcript of the glories hehas beheld, is repugnant to the creative power of this true artist; butwhen form, color, and the legitimate means at his command fail to embodyall he would express, his suggestive faculty is generally of forcesufficient to reach all beholders, even those of feeblest imagination. 

In standing before the _Falls of Niagara_, one can, in fancy, feel thecool moisture of spray, rising, incense-like, through a rainbow ofpromise, from the inspired canvas, together with the earth's tremor atthe roar of mad waters rushing headlong to a desperate death. Thisinestimable quality of suggestiveness is preserved in Mr. Church'spictures when deprived of the aid of color and reduced to mere black andwhite in engraving, a fact bearing equally conclusive testimony to theirinherent correctness of lines and elegance of composition. 

Mr. Church's prominent characteristics of hardy vigor and adventuroustreatment of a subject, seem to have monopolized his artistic nature, tothe frequent exclusion of tenderness, either in idea or in the handlingof color. The painting, in our eyes, least open to this objection, is_Twilight in the Wilderness_--a dreamy picture of inexpressible sadness, of a tearful silence that is felt, and of a loneliness too sacred to beprofaned by human intrusion. The gorgeous panorama of the _Heart of theAndes_, its snowy mountain peaks, and plains glowing with tropicalverdure, is too bewildering in its complicated grandeur to excite dreamsof beauty so tender and sadness so touching. 

In contemplating this last-named picture, the demands on the attentionare so numerous and weighty, --in the first place, to comprehend thesituation, and exchange at a moment's notice the stagnation of thetemperate zone for the emotional excitement of the tropics; then toseparate and classify the many points of beauty, to rise to the summitsof distant mountains, sublime in their snowy crests, and sink again toearth at the foot of the rustic cross, by whose aid we may one day riseto sink no more, --to follow the painter successfully through this mazeof thoughts, without the guiding light of his own matchless color, wouldseem a difficult and displeasing task. But the task has beenaccomplished with complete success, in an English line engraving of the_Heart of the Andes_, recently arrived in this country; which indicationof popularity abroad conduces materially to the ever-growing fame of theartist. The same test, we believe, is in store for the _Icebergs_--withwhat result, time will show. Meanwhile, the picture itself will, onforeign soil, plead the cause of American civilization, and tend toassure those who look with dismay at the tumultuous upheavings offreedom's home, that imperishable Art still maintains her placid sway inthis distracted land, and that her votaries falter not in theirallegiance. 

Volcanoes pour out fiery lava under the red glare of the setting sun, obedient to Church's magic touch--delicate fancies are weaved intopoetic life by the fingers of Gottschalk--but the voice of Poe, alas! ismute forever. The 'Lost Lénore, ' found too late, may have inspired asong far beyond the dull range of human comprehension, but poor mortalsleft below, can only echo, with the grim and ghastly raven: _Nevermore!Nevermore!_

LITERARY NOTICES

 THE SLAVE POWER; ITS CHARACTER, CAREER, AND PROBABLE DESIGNS: BEING AN ATTEMPT TO EXPLAIN THE REAL ISSUES INVOLVED IN THE AMERICAN CONTEST. By J. E. CAIRNES, M. A. , Professor of Jurisprudence and Political Economy in Queen's College, Galway, and late Whately Professor in the University of Dublin. Second edition. New York: Carleton, 413 Broadway. London: Parker and Son & Co. 

It is to be sincerely hoped that the American public, in its detestationof the ungenerous, narrow-minded, and inconsistent conduct of themajority of Englishmen toward the Federal Union since the present warbegan, will not lose sight of the fact that, here and there in GreatBritain, men of superior intelligence and information have laboredstrenuously to make the truth known, and to vindicate our cause. Amid amob of ignorant and furious foes of freedom, France has seen a Gasparinrise calm and great in superior knowledge, declaring incontrovertibletruths; and in like manner, the English press has given the views ofStewart Mill and Professor Cairnes to their public, at a time when itseemed as if falsehood had completely triumphed. In 'The Slave Power, 'the latest work by this last-named writer, we have indeed such asearching analysis of the present American crisis, and find the historyof the entire difficulty set forth so fully, yet with such remarkableconciseness, that we cannot suppress a feeling of astonishment that acountry which has slandered us so cruelly should, at the same time, havegiven to the world by far the best vindication of our cause which has asyet appeared. For it is no undue praise to say, that in this book wehave the completest defence of the Federal cause and the most effectiveonslaught on the Slave Power which any writer has thus far placed onrecord; and we cordially agree with the vigorous reviewer of the_Westminster_, in believing that a work more needed could scarcely havebeen produced at the present time, 'since, ' as he adds, 'it containsmore than enough to give a new turn to English feeling on the subject, if those who guide and sway public opinion were ever likely toreconsider a question on which they have so deeply committedthemselves. '

'The Slave Power, ' it is true, contains little which has not, at onetime or another, been brought before the mind of the well-informedAmerican republican; yet it is precisely in this that its chief meritconsists, since it is not by idle oratory and fine writing, but by_facts_ and the plain truth, that we can be best vindicated. Englishmenare grossly ignorant of the true causes of this struggle, or of theprinciples involved--a matter little to be marvelled at, when we findalmost a majority of professed Federal Americans, under the name ofDemocrats, cheerfully admitting that their confederate foes are quite inthe right as far as the _main_ cause of the difficulty is concerned. Forall such men, a clear exposition of facts, logically set forth, cannotbe other than a real blessing; since their amiability to the South, whennot based on traitorous and selfish interests, means simply nothing morenor less than ignorance--and that of a kind which is little less thancriminal, let the guilt rest where it may. 

Professor Cairnes begins judiciously by showing that in the beginning itwas believed, not without very apparent cause, in England, that our war'sprang from narrow and selfish views of sectional interests, ' in whichthe free-trading South was in the right, and that the abolition ofslavery was a mere pretence by which the North sought, without a colorof truth, to attract foreign sympathy. And when we remember for how longa time slaves were returned by Federal officers to their owners, and howpersistently anything like abolition, or even the most moderateemancipation, was earnestly and practically disowned by the Federalpower, it is not wonderful, as Mr. Cairnes declares, that England shouldhave regarded our claim to be fighting for the cause of free labor as ashallow deceit. Even as we write, we have before us a journal containingan allusion to an officer who attempted to return to slavery acontraband who had brought to him information of the greatestimportance. Yet, despite the frightful appearances against us, ourwriter saw, through all, the truth, and declared that, as regarded thepopular British abuse of this country, 'never was an explanation of apolitical catastrophe propounded, in more daring defiance of all thegreat and cardinal realities of the case with which it professed todeal. '

Slavery is the cause and core of our national difficulty. Secession andSouthern Rights have flourished in strength in exact ratio to the numberof slaves in the States--nay, in the very counties in which slavesabounded. Slavery early developed a sectional class of politiciansdevoted to one object, who, by the sheer force of intense, unscrupulousapplication, from the year 1819 down to 1860, swayed our councils, gavean infamous character to American diplomacy, and stained our nationalcharacter. They are called the Free Trade Party: why was it, then, thatthey never employed their power to accomplish that object, 'or how doesit happen that, having submitted to the tariffs of 1832, 1842, and 1846, it should have resorted to the extreme measure of secession while underthe tariff of 1857--a comparatively Free Trade law'? 'From 1842 down to1860, the tendency of Federal legislation was distinctly in thedirection of Free Trade. ' 'If Free Trade was their main object, why didthe Southern senators withdraw from their posts precisely at the timewhen their presence was most required to secure their cherishedprinciple?' Or why did they not apply to their supple and infamous tool, Buchanan, to veto the bill? _Because they wished it to pass_--to makepolitical capital against the North in England; and they accordinglyaided its passage, Mr. Toombs being in the Senate, and actually votingfor it! Or if it was a Free Trade question, why was it that the WesternStates did not take part with them?

The North, however, did not take up arms to destroy slavery, but theRight of Secession, since that was the irritating _point d'honneur_, and, what was more, the real first cause of injury which at firstpresented itself. Mr. Lincoln had cause to know that in the beginning, even in the South itself, secession was only the work of a turbulentminority. 'To have yielded would have been to have written himself downbefore the world as incompetent--nay, as a traitor to the cause which hehad just sworn to defend. ' In short, we were misunderstood--painfullyso--and it is not a matter of indifference to learn that at last thereis a reaction of intelligence in our favor, and that light is breakingthrough the bewildering mists which once veiled the truth. 

In discussing 'the economic basis of slavery, ' Professor Cairnes dealsout truths with a prompt vigor which is truly admirable. From Stirling, Olmsted, Sewell, and others, he disposes of the old falsehood that onlythe negro can endure the Southern climate--a fact but recently_generally_ made known at the North--that isothermal lines do not followthe parallels of latitude--and that it is a gross error to believe theblack incapable of improvement as a freeman. He admits that slave laborhas its advantages, in being absolutely controllable, and in returningthe whole fruit of its labor to the owner. It may, therefore, becombined on an extensive scale, and its cost is trifling. But, on theother hand, slave labor is given reluctantly, and is consequently alosing means, unless much of it can be concentrated under the eye of oneoverseer. It is unskillful, because the slave cannot be educated; and, therefore, having once learned one thing, he must be kept at that forlife. 

The result of this is that, as the slave, unlike the free farm-laborer, cannot (with rare exceptions) be profitably employed at aught saveagriculture, and indeed only at one branch of that, he soon exhausts thesoil. If all the blacks in the South were capable of laboring atrotation of crops, they would soon be free. Slavery has always of itselfdied out in the wheat and corn regions--because, in raising cereals, labor is more widely dispersed than in cotton or tobacco planting, andthe workers are more difficult to oversee. Hence the constantimmigration from the wornout to the new plantation, and the cry for newland; and hence the admission, by the most intelligent men of the South, that to prevent the extension of slavery would be to destroy it. Freelabor flourishes even on barren soils--ingenuity is stimulated andscience developed. But slave labor requires abundance of fertile soiland a branch of culture demanding combination and organization of largemasses of labor and its _concentration_. 

Yet, in spite of these facts, a writer in the London _Saturday Review_informs the English public that the rapid deterioration of the soilunder slave labor is a popular fallacy! Could the gentleman who givesthis information so glibly, examine, we do not say Virginia, but simplythat lower county of Delaware which has adhered somewhat to the oldSouthern slave system, in contradistinction to its two sisters, he mighthave distinctly ascertained if the exhaustion of soil by slave labor bea fallacy. Again, if the profits of slavery be only for the master, itmay be true that the same process which enriches him impoverishes thecountry at large; and this is really the case through all the South. Free labor shuns slave society: a few Northern men may here and therelive in the South, but as a rule the negro makes the poor white meanerthan himself. It is true that free white labor in new lands is veryexhaustive--but in time it takes them up again and restores them: thisthe negro never does, and never can do. 

The tendencies of slavery to render the white man insolent, arrogant, and oligarchical, are well pointed out by Professor Cairnes, and withthem the evil tendencies of slave societies. It makes bad white men, andintolerable political neighbors. In the ancient world, slaves wereconstantly being educated, freed, and made equal to their masters; butin the confederacy, everything is done to crush them lower and lower;and in these facts lie _perdu_ the future further degradation of everypoor white in the South, the constant increase of power and capital inthe hands of a few, and the diminution in number even of these few. 

The fact that Virginians breed slaves expressly for sale is well exposedin this book. Our author is kind enough to believe that they never raisea single negro for the _express purpose_ of selling him or her; but we, who live nearer the 'sacred soil, ' know better. It is not many dayssince a farmer in our present immediate vicinity, on the SouthernPennsylvania line, found himself obliged to dismiss a fine six-footnegro runaway from Virginia, whom he had hired, on account of the entireinability of the contraband to do the simplest farm tasks. 'What _is_the reason you can't stand work?' inquired the amazed farmer. 'Why, mass', to tell de trufe, I wasn't brought up to wuck (work), but to_sell_. If I'd been wucked too hard, it ud a spiled my looks fo' demarkit. ' Professor Cairnes may accept the sorrowful assurances of morethan one person, who has been taken frequently enough into the councilsof 'the enemy' in bygone times (_crede experto Ruperto_), that slaves_are_ begotten, born, bred, and raised for the Southern market--as muchso as any pigs--and that, too, by eminently aristocratic and highlyrefined scions of first families. Now that we can and dare speak thetruth, it is not amiss to do so. We recall the day when to have takenpart in the charge of the Six Hundred would have been a trifle ofbravery compared to making the above truthful statement--for any one whovalued social standing, or indeed a whole skin--on the border. Whethertheir own children were sold may be imagined from an anecdote longcurrent in Virginia, relative to ex-Governor Wise, who, in a certain lawcase where he was opposed by a Northern trader, decided of a certainslave, that the chattel, being a mulatto, was of more value than 'amolangeon. ' 'And what, in the name of God, _is_ a molungeon?' inquiredthe astonished 'Northern man. ' 'A _mulatto_, ' replied Wise, is the childof a female house-servant by young master'--a molungeon is the offspringof a field hand by a Yankee peddler. '

Mr. Cairnes has, we doubt not, often heard of mulattoes--they constitutethe great majority of Virginia slaves. But did he ever hear of'molungeons'?

Mr. Cairnes justly denies the common theory that the South hasmaintained paramount political sway in the Union by a superior capacityfor politics. He declares that men whose interests and ideas areconcentrated in a very narrow range, on one object, have vast advantageover their intellectual superiors, when the latter pursue no such singlecourse. He might have added that the young Southern gentleman, when notintended for a physician, almost invariably devotes to mere provincialpolitics and the arts of declamation and debate, all of thoseintellectual energies which the Northerner applies to business, art, commerce, literature, and other solidly useful occupations. If theSoutherner has an inborn superior _talent_ for politics, why is it that, as in the case of British or French statesmen, he never develops theslightest talent for _literature_? So notoriously is this the case, thateven the first writers of the South, especially for the press, aregenerally broken-down Northern literary hacks, or miserable Irish andEnglish refugees. Mr. Cairnes quotes De Bow's _Review_. He might beamazed, could he examine a number of that remarkable periodical, at thequality of the English written by some of the most eminent philosophers, patriots, and politicians of the confederacy!

The history of the Slave Power, as set forth in Louisiana, Missouri andits Compromise, the Mexican war, Kansas, the rise of the RepublicanParty, the Dred Scott decision, the attempt of John Brown, andsecession, are given in a masterly manner in this work, and with amiraculous appreciation of truths. Not less vigorous and shrewd is thechapter devoted to the designs of the Slave Power, in which the futurecapacity of that power to do illimitable mischief is set forth in amanner which will be new even to the great mass of American Republicanreaders. If we differ with him in his 'Conclusion, ' it is that we may beconsistent to his earlier position. We do not agree with him when headvocates the giving permission to the South to secede with theMississippi as their western boundary. Penned up by North and West, andwith their ports occupied by us, the South would soon decay. But werather believe the North, brought to the tremendous trial of a testbetween aristocracy and republicanism, will yet conquer by destroyingslavery and giving the poor whites of the South their rights. But wecannot conclude without expressing the earnest hope that this book willbe read, and that thoroughly, by every intelligent American. There is atpresent a reaction rapidly forming in England in favor of the Federalcause, and we foresee that this extraordinary work--the best summary inexistence of our principles, and the most overwhelming stylus-strokewhich slavery has ever received--is destined to be of incalculableservice to the great cause. Let it circulate by the hundredthousand!--and do you, dear reader, do your part by perusing it, andmaking its merits known to all. In connection with it, we commend thereview in the _Westminster_ already referred to. It is pleasant torealize that we have friends among enemies. Let us hope that whenbrighter days come, our Government and our people will not be unmindfulof those who defended us in the days of darkness and dole. We owe agreat debt of gratitude to such men as Professor Cairnes, and must notbe slack in paying it. 

 LES MISERABLES. No. IV. _St. Denis. _ By VICTOR HUGO. New York: Carleton. 

A great improvement on the preceding miserable trio, yet still far fromfulfilling the extravagant assertions as to its merit with which thepress has been deluged. We see in this novel, historic pictures, notwithout accuracy, details of life which are true enough, and, we mightadd, familiar enough, from a thousand _feuilletons_, but we find noPURPOSE, corresponding to the expectations excited. We have everyvariety of miserable wretch imaginable paraded before us, without a hintof any means of curing their social disease. 'There is a hammer fortearing down, but no trowel for building up, ' beyond a little empty talkon the benefits to be derived from education. The truth is that VictorHugo writes, like too many of his nation, simply for sensation andeffect. The fault to be found with this series is, that, like JackSheppard, it degrades the taste and blunts the feelings--in a word, itvulgarizes, and is as improper reading for the young, so far as _effect_is concerned, as the most immoral production extant. Vulgarity is theopen doorway to vice, and, philosophize as we may, sketches of thievesand vagabonds, _gamins_, prostitutes and liars are vulgar and unfitreading for youthful minds, if not for any minds whatever. 

 ABEL DRAKE'S WIFE. By JOHN SAUNDERS. New York: Harper & Brothers. 

The reader is well aware that this work has attained a greatpopularity--we may add that it has deserved it, being a work of markedoriginality; one of characters and feelings which will even bear atsundry times reperusal: as good a character as can be given to a novel, and a far better one than we are disposed to award to the majority ofthose which we meet. It is, we should say, in justice to the progressivepowers of the author, far superior to his earlier productions. 

EDITOR'S TABLE. 

In the noble Message of President LINCOLN, there are two paragraphswhich should be committed to memory and constantly recalled by everyman:

 'Fellow citizens, we cannot escape history. We of this Congress and this Administration will be remembered in spite of ourselves. No personal significance or insignificance can spare one or another of us. The fiery trial through which we pass will light us down into honor or dishonor to the highest generation. 

 'We say 'we are for the Union!' The world will not forget that we say this. We know how to save this Union. _The world knows we know how to save it. _ We--even we here--hold the power and bear the responsibility!'

'We cannot escape history. ' And this is true, not only of the Congressand of the Administration, but of all men who at the present day areraised one fraction above the veriest obscurity and completestnothing-ism. You, reader, and series of those whom you daily meet, mayfancy that your deeds, speeches, writings, overshadowed as they are bythe greater men and events of the day, will be forgotten. It is not so. 

The last age was more antiquarian, more given to collecting, searching, and recording, than its predecessor. This present one is, however, ahundredfold more seeking and more chronicling than the last, and thistendency increases every year. As it is, scarce a hero or a traitor, even of the Revolution, is escaping glory or infamy. Will it be less thecase with the good and bad men of the Emancipation? There is not oneamong them who shall escape history. 

There is no thieving contractor, no 'helping' official, no shoddyscoundrel, no unrighteously 'commission' gathering leech, who is notquietly noted down here and there, to be duly exposed, some soon--somein after years. We know that extensive researches have been undertaken, to prepare and keep in black and white a record of the rascality of thiswar, in high places as well as low. _They shall not escape history. _

There is no cowardly, dishonest, selfish politician--be he who hemay--no trimmer and truckler to the times--who will be forgotten. Themost important war of all history--the greatest and most clearlyoutlined struggle between Aristocracy and Republicanism--will not passaway into oblivion. Men will toil away their lives that they may revivesome of the salient points of this great fight for freedom. Tocommemorate the good, they must set forth the opposition of the bad--ofthose who aided the foe either by approving of endless slavery, byclogging the action of the Administration, or by turning the hardlyearned income of Government, wrung from a suffering people, to their ownprofit. They shall not escape history. 

Those who had the ability to aid the great cause of truth in any way, bybrain or hand, and yet who did nothing--verily they shall not escapehistory. 

The cautious, shrewd fellows, who hurrah loudly for the truth--after ithas become safe and profitable to do so--they who run with the hound andhold with the hare--they may chuckle to themselves in their day, andrejoice at their shrewdness-but Time and GOD sift all things, howeversmall--even such men as these. They shall not escape history. 

And let them cry, 'After us the Deluge, ' who will. You will live againin your children; the heritage of sin is repaid with compound interestto your name. How do you know but there is a GOD and a future knowledgeof all this, that you act so boldly? What evil have your children oryour name done you, that you should lay a curse on them? For if you donot put forth your hand to the great cause of truth and in the greatbattle of the LORD on behalf of Freedom, be certain that you are nowshaping a malediction, and awaking the anathema maranatha, which shallgo down into the deepest ages, and even in many lands, to cover you andyours with the dark shadow of shame forever. You shall not escapehistory. 

But neither shall they escape who have fought the good fight for truth, for man and liberty. Truly, as the German proverb hath it, _Zeit brichtRosen und Zeit bringt Rosen_--'Time breaks roses--but Time brings themalso. ' There is an age coming which will distinguish between the battlesfor conquest and idle glory and the honor of kings, and those which werefought for holy freedom. In that age, the great and good and wise, yes!even the smallest and weakest who chose the cause of Truth, will beprized above the men of all battles which ever were beforetime. Standfast, O soldier! be firm, O friend of the good cause! let us see thisthing bravely through to the end, come what may. GOD bless you!--and he_will_ bless you! Die on the battle field, or labor humbly at home--ifyour heart and your hand have been given to the good work, you shall notescape history. 

 'Fate for you shall sheathe her shears, You shall live some thousand years. '

 * * * * *

It has been nobly proposed, and we doubt not that the proposition willbe as nobly realized, that a shipload of food be sent to the relief ofthe starving operatives of England. If the wealthy classes of GreatBritain were generous in proportion to the same order of men in thiscountry, and in proportion to their own riches, it would be simplyabsurd for us to offer to relieve their paupers. But they are not so;and it is a matter to be deeply deplored, that the manufacturers whohave made fortunes from their operatives, are, in Great Britain, theones who are least inclined to relieve the sufferings of their poordependants. And this we state entirely on the authority of the Britishpress, and from the comments made by it on a recent and wretchedlyabortive effort to collect from manufacturing capitalists somewhat tofeed the poor who had enriched them. To an American, accustomed to hearof deeds of generosity and public spirit, the list of moneys subscribedfor such an object, against the names of millionaires, would seemincredibly beggarly and pitiful. 

However this may be, some one must feed the poor; and if John Bullcannot afford it, Jonathan must. There is a degree of suffering in whichEnglishman or confederate rebel becomes simply a suffering brother, andwhen he who would not act the good Samaritan becomes most truly anoutlaw to all humanity. Therefore, let there be, not one, but manyshiploads sent to the sufferers--let us cast our bread upon the waters, literally as well as figuratively, and give no heed or thought to itsreturn. The London _Times_ will, we presume, impugn the motives of thecharity--call it Pecksniffian and Heep-ish--or possibly try to provethat the Federals had no hand in the good deed. Let it rave--thebusiness in hand is to feed starving men, women, and children, and notto make political capital, or gain glory, or please a party--for that wemost assuredly shall not--but to do good and act in the large-heartedmanner which gives a good conscience, and which as a national trait isthe noblest characteristic of a republican. 

 * * * * *

The South has been quicker than the North in perceiving that publicopinion in England is rapidly changing in certain quarters in favor ofthe Federal cause, and it is for this reason that the press in Secessiahas of late been so unamiable toward Great Britain, while SEMMES hasshown in his pirating so little kindness to English goods. PossiblySecessia may after all discover that she might do a more unprofitablething than be in alliance offensive and defensive with us, and that shemight go further and fare worse, either alone, or with foreign friendswho are, after all, only foes in disguise. 

But it is a mad and a foolish thing for England to hope to be benefitedby our dissension. Have we grown weaker or less dangerous by thediscovery that we are capable of raising the greatest armies and themost invincible fleets in the world? While we flourish in prosperity, weafford her an outlet for all her paupers, thieves, vagabond Bohemians, and refuse of all sorts, to say nothing of the vast mass of the reallyindustrious poor who do well here, but who would have starved to deathat home. With one person in eight in Great Britain dying as a pauper andburied at the public expense, it is hardly expedient for its people towish to see us ruined. Were we to exclude her vagabonds and paupers byan alien act from entering this country, and at the same time close ourmarkets to her goods, of what avail would all the cotton in the world beto her? The American public understand this thing perfectly--soperfectly that the first movement toward intervention would be toeffectually shut out the offending party, to bear by itself the worstresults of prostrated manufactures and a turbulent starving population. 

But we trust that nothing of the kind may happen, and that England willperceive that a great, prosperous, and united America, though it coversthe whole Western hemisphere, will be of more advantage to her than adivided, impoverished land, full of fighting factions. It is a bad, aninhuman, and a most un-Christian policy to set wealthy and powerfulneighbors at dissensions, to rejoice at their losses, and finally hopeto see them from prosperous citizens, turned into starved brigands. Envyis of the devil. And it is the more wicked, because _we_ know, and everyone of our readers knows with us, that there never existed in thiscountry, within our recollection, any desire whatever to see Englandimpoverished, injured, or in any way 'set back' as a country. Thatdeep-seated desire, openly avowed by her orators and press, to see ourgrowing greatness checked, was never seriously cherished by any trueAmerican--and it could be proved that the insulting expressions of sucha desire have in almost every instance originated with British _emigrés_in this country, who are notoriously the most bitter foes to theirfatherland. 

It is finally worth noting that the sympathy expressed by Americans forRussia during the Crimean war, has been of late frequently urged inEngland as a reason for withholding sympathy from the Federals. Now itis most _undeniably true_ that, with certain rare exceptions, thefriendship for Russia _at that time_ came in a great measure from theDemocratic party, and especially from the South. It was an Irishantipathy to England in the North, and a serf-sympathy in the Southwhich caused it all--naturally enough, in all conscience. If any onedoubts this, let him recall Roger Pryor's book, indorsing Russia as thegreat power destined to swallow up all Europe--written at a time whenPryor was beyond question the first and loudest exponent living ofSouthern feelings and principles. This is the simplest and plainest offacts, most easily susceptible of proof--and yet how many Englishmen arethere who would believe it?

The truth is that the whole criticism of America by England haspresented the melancholy spectacle of prejudice and envy, made maudlinby gross ignorance--and the worst of it all has been the making theNorth responsible for the bygone evil deeds of the South. Repudiation, protection, Russian sympathy, filibustering, and other objections--areall heaped on the Federal head alone to bear? Will the _truth_ ever cometo light in England?

 * * * * *

May we venture to mention to our readers that 'Among thePines'--originally published in these pages--is now selling its_thirtieth_ thousand, with constantly increasing orders. And inconnection we would add that 'Americans in Rome'--originally publishedin THE CONTINENTAL under the title of _Maccaroni and Canvas_ hasappeared in book form, and may be obtained from George P. Putnam. Thiswork is, we believe, one of the most remarkable collections of sketchesand observation ever written on Italy; combining a very great amount ofaccurate personal observations of the Roman people, both in the city andcountry, with that of American artists' life there. The observations arethroughout racily humorous, and those who have within a few yearsvisited 'the Cradle of Art' cannot fail to recognize, as hit off with nosparing hand, more than one American notoriety. Art quackery as itexists, is well shown up in 'Americans in Rome;' the author havinglittle in common with those amiable romancers who glorify everyilliterate picture-maker, though he never fails to do justice to truegenius. We believe, in short, that these sketches form a very peculiar, piquant, and _earnest_ work, as truthful as it is amusing, and as suchcommend it to our readers. 

The

CONTINENTAL MONTHLY:

EDITORS:

 HON. ROBERT J. WALKER, CHARLES G. LELAND, HON. FRED. P. STANTON, EDMUND KIRKE. 

The readers of the CONTINENTAL are aware of the important position ithas assumed, of the influence which it exerts, and of the brilliantarray of political and literary talent of the highest order whichsupports it. No publication of the kind has, in this country, sosuccessfully combined the energy and freedom of the daily newspaper withthe higher literary tone of the first-class monthly; and it is verycertain that no magazine has given wider range to its contributors, orpreserved itself so completely from the narrow influences of party or offaction. In times like the present, such a journal is either a power inthe land or it is nothing. That the CONTINENTAL is not the latter isabundantly evidenced _by what it has done_--by the reflection of itscounsels in many important public events, and in the character and powerof those who are its staunchest supporters. 

By the accession of HON. ROBERT J. WALKER and HON. F. P. STANTON to itseditorial corps, the CONTINENTAL acquires a strength and a politicalsignificance which, to those who are aware of the ability and experienceof these gentlemen, must elevate it to a position far above anypreviously occupied by any publication of the kind in America. Preserving all "the boldness, vigor, and ability" which a thousandjournals have attributed to it, it will at once greatly enlarge itscircle of action, and discuss, fearlessly and frankly, every principleinvolved in the great questions of the day. The first minds of thecountry, embracing men most familiar with its diplomacy and mostdistinguished for ability, are to become its contributors; and it is nomere "flattering promise of a prospectus" to say, that this "magazinefor the times" will employ the first intellect in America, underauspices which no publication ever enjoyed before in this country. 

CHARLES GODFREY LELAND, the accomplished scholar and author, who hastill now been the sole Editor of the Magazine, will, beside hiseditorial labors, continue his brilliant contributions to its pages; andEDMUND KIRKE, author of "AMONG THE PINES, " will contribute to eachissue, having already begun a work on Southern Life and Society, which, will be found far more widely descriptive, and, in all respects, superior to the first. 

While the CONTINENTAL will express decided opinions on the greatquestions of the day, it will not be a mere political journal: much thelarger portion of its columns will be enlivened, as heretofore, bytales, poetry, and humor. In a word, the CONTINENTAL will be found, under its new staff of Editors, occupying a position and presentingattractions never before found in a magazine. 

TERMS TO CLUBS. 

 Two copies for one year, Five dollars. Three copies for one year, Seven dollars. Six copies for one year, Thirteen dollars. Eleven copies for one year, Twenty-four dollars. Twenty copies for one year, Forty-four dollars. 

PAID IN ADVANCE. 

_Postage, Thirty-six cents a year_, TO BE PAID BY THE SUBSCRIBER. 

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JOHN F. TROW, 50 Greene St. , N. Y. 

PUBLISHER FOR THE PROPRIETORS. 

As an Inducement to new subscribers, the Publisher offers the followingvery liberal premiums:

Any person remitting $3, in advance, will receive the Magazine fromJuly, 1862, to January, 1864, thus securing the whole of Mr. KIMBALL'Sand Mr. KIRKE'S new serials, which are alone worth the price ofsubscription. Or, if preferred, a subscriber can take the Magazine for1863 and a copy of "AMONG THE PINES, " bound in cloth (the book to besent postage paid). 

Any person remitting $4. 50, will receive the Magazine from itscommencement, January, 1862, to January, 1864, thus securing Mr. KIMBALL'S "WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?" and Mr. KIRKE'S "AMONG THE PINES" and"MERCHANT'S STORY, " and nearly 3, 000 octavo pages of the best literaturein the world. Premium subscribers to pay their own postage. 

[Illustration: THE FINEST FARMING LANDS

WHEAT CORN COTTON FRUITS & VEGETABLES]

 EQUAL TO ANY IN THE WORLD!!! MAY BE PROCURED At FROM $8 to $12 PER ACRE, Near Markets, Schools, Railroads, Churches, and all the blessings of Civilization. 

 1, 200, 000 Acres, in Farms of 40, 80, 120, 160 Acres and upwards, in ILLINOIS, the garden State of America. 

 * * * * *

The Illinois Central Railroad Company offer, ON LONG CREDIT, thebeautiful and fertile PRAIRIE LANDS lying along the whole line of theirRailroad, 700 MILES IN LENGTH, upon the most Favorable Terms forenabling Farmers, Manufacturers, Mechanics and Workingmen to make forthemselves and their families a competency, and a HOME they can callTHEIR OWN, as will appear from the following statements:

ILLINOIS. 

Is about equal in extent to England, with a population of 1, 722, 666, anda soil capable of supporting 20, 000, 000. No State in the Valley of theMississippi offers so great an inducement to the settler as the State ofIllinois. There is no part of the world where all the conditions ofclimate and soil so admirably combine to produce those two greatstaples, CORN and WHEAT. 

CLIMATE. 

Nowhere can the industrious farmer secure such immediate results fromhis labor as on these deep, rich, loamy soils, cultivated with so muchease. The climate from the extreme southern part of the State to theTerre Haute, Alton and St. Louis Railroad, a distance of nearly 200miles, is well adapted to Winter. 

WHEAT, CORN, COTTON, TOBACCO. 

Peaches, Pears, Tomatoes, and every variety of fruit and vegetables isgrown in great abundance, from which Chicago and other Northern marketsare furnished from four to six weeks earlier than their immediatevicinity. Between the Terre Haute, Alton & St. Louis Railway and theKankakee and Illinois Rivers, (a distance of 115 miles on the Branch, and 136 miles on the Main Trunk, ) lies the great Corn and Stock raisingportion of the State. 

THE ORDINARY YIELD

of Corn is from 50 to 80 bushels per acre. Cattle, Horses, Mules, Sheepand Hogs are raised here at a small cost, and yield large profits. It isbelieved that no section of country presents greater inducements forDairy Farming than the Prairies of Illinois, a branch of farming towhich but little attention has been paid, and which must yield sureprofitable results. Between the Kankakee and Illinois Rivers, andChicago and Dunleith, (a distance of 56 miles on the Branch and 147miles by the Main Trunk, ) Timothy Hay, Spring Wheat, Corn, &c. , areproduced in great abundance. 

AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTS. 

The Agricultural products of Illinois are greater than those of of anyother State. The Wheat crop of 1861 was estimated at 85, 000, 000 bushels, while the Corn crop yields not less than 140, 000, 000 bushels besides thecrop of Oats, Barley, Rye, Buckwheat, Potatoes, Sweet Potatoes, Pumpkins, Squashes, Flax, Hemp, Peas, Clover, Cabbage, Beets, Tobacco, Sorgheim, Grapes, Peaches, Apples, &c. , which go to swell the vastaggregate of production in this fertile region. Over Four Million tonsof produce were sent out the State of Illinois during the past year. 

STOCK RAISING. 

In Central and Southern Illinois uncommon advantages are presented forthe extension of Stock raising. All kinds of Cattle, Horses, Mules, Sheep, Hogs, &c. , of the best breeds, yield handsome profits; largefortunes have already been made, and the field is open for others toenter with the fairest prospects of like results. DAIRY FARMING alsopresents its inducements to many. 

CULTIVATION OF COTTON. 

_The experiments in Cotton culture are of very great promise. Commencingin latitude 39 deg. 30 min. (see Mattoon on the Branch, and Assumptionon the Main Line), the Company owns thousands of acres well adapted tothe perfection of this fibre. A settler having a family of youngchildren, can turn their youthful labor to a most profitable account inthe growth and perfection of this plant. _

THE ILLINOIS CENTRAL RAILROAD

Traverses the whole length of the State, from the banks of theMississippi and Lake Michigan to the Ohio. As its name imports, theRailroad runs through the centre of the State, and on either side of theroad along its whole length lie the lands offered for sale. 

CITIES, TOWNS, MARKETS, DEPOTS, There are Ninety-eight Depots on the Company's Railway, giving about oneevery seven miles. Cities, Towns and Villages are situated at convenientdistances throughout the whole route, where every desirable commoditymay be found as readily as in the oldest cities of the Union and wherebuyers are to be met for all kinds of farm produce. 

EDUCATION. 

Mechanics and working-men will find the free school system encouraged bythe State, and endowed with a large revenue for the support of theschools. Children can live in sight of the school, the college, thechurch, and grow up with the prosperity of the leading State in theGreat Western Empire. 

 * * * * *

PRICES AND TERMS OF PAYMENT--ON LONG CREDIT. 

 80 acres at $10 per acre. With interest at 6 per ct. Annually on the following terms:

 Cash payment $48. 00 Payments in one year 48. 00 " in two years 48. 00 " in three years 48. 00 " in four years 236. 00 " in five years 224. 00 " in six years 212. 00 " in seven years 300. 00

 40 acres at $10 per acre; Cash payment $24. 00 Payments in one year 24. 00 " in two years 24. 00 " in three years 24. 00 " in four years 118. 00 " in five years 112. 00 " in six years 106. 00 " in seven years 100. 00

Address Land Commissioner, Illinois Central Railroad, Chicago, Ill. 

 * * * * *

Number 14

25 Cents

The CONTINENTAL MONTHLY. 

DEVOTED TO Literature and National Policy. 

FEBRUARY, 1863. 

NEW YORK:

JOHN F. TROW 50 GREENE STREET (FOR THE PROPRIETORS). 

HENRY DEXTER AND SINCLAIR TOUSEY. WASHINGTON, D. C. : FRANCK TAYLOR

 * * * * *

CONTENTS. --No. XIV. 

 Our National Finances. Robert J. Walker, 129

 A Trip to Antietam. Charles W. Loring, 145

 American Destiny. John Stahl Patterson, 160

 The Birth of the Lily, 169

 Was He Successful? Richard B. Kimball, 171

 Nullification and Secession. Hon. Robert J. Walker, 179

 The Sioux War. John G. Nicolay, Private Secretary

 to President Lincoln, 195

 "Dead!" 204

 A Merchant's Story. Edmund Kirke, 206

 The Consequences of the Rebellion. Hon. Frederic

 P. Stanton, 223

 Sunshine in Thought, 233

 How they Jested in the Good Old Time. Charles G. Leland, 237

 Literary Notices, 248

 Editor's Table, 250

The article in this number of THE CONTINENTAL, on "Our NationalFinances, " by Hon. ROBERT J. WALKER, will be found worthy of especialattention at the present time. 

 * * * * *

Our next issue will contain a valuable article on "GOLD. "

 * * * * *

ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by JAMES R. GILMORE, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the UnitedStates for the Southern District of New York. 

 * * * * *

INDEX TO VOLUME III. 

 A Chapter on Wonders. Perth Granton, 461

 A Fancy Sketch, 482

 A Heroine of To-Day, 543

 A Merchant's Story. Edmund Kirke, 206, 289, 451, 528, 642

 American Destiny. John Stahl Patterson, 79, 160

 An Englishman in South Carolina, 110

 A Trip to Antietam. Charles W. Loring, 145

 A Winter in Camp. E. G. Hammond, 519

 Cloud and Sunshine, 687

 Consequences of the Rebellion. Hon. F. P. Stanton, 26, 223

 Cost of a Trip to Europe, 730

 "Dead, " 204

 Down in Tennessee, 469

 Editor's Table, 126, 250, 379, 503, 747

 Ethel. Mrs. Martha Walker Cook, 435

 False Estimations, 274

 Flag of our Union. Hon. R. J. Walker, 480

 For and Against, 334

 Gold. Hon. Robert A. Walker, 279

 Great Heart, 629

 Henrietta and Vulcan. Delia M. Colton, 421

 How they Jested in the Good Old Time. Charles Godfrey Leland, 237

 How the War affects Americans. Hon. F. P. Stanton, 411

 How Mr. Lincoln became an Abolitionist. S. B. Gookins, 727

 Huguenots of New Rochelle. Hon. G. P. Disosway, 1

 Huguenots of Virginia, 348

 'I;' or, Summer in the City, 40

 In Memoriam. Richard Wolcott, 527

 'Is there Anything in It?' 688

 Last Words. Ingoldsby North, 282

 Literary Notices, 122, 248, 374, 500, 630, 744

 Maccaroni and Canvas. Henry P. Leland, 7

 May Morning, 657

 Mill on Liberty. Hon. F. P. Stanton, 674

 Miriam's Testimony. M. A. Edwards, 589

 Montgomery in Secession Time, 354

 National Ode, 554

 Nullification and Secession. Hon. Robert J. Walker, 179

 Our National Finances. Hon. R. J. Walker, 129

 Our Present Position, its Dangers and Duties, 488

 Parting, 288

 Pen, Pallet, and Piano, 117

 Pictures from the North, 398

 Poetry and Poetical Selections, 474

 Promise. Edward S. Rend, jr. , 78

 Promoted, 420

 Reason, Rhyme, and Rhythm. Mrs. Martha Walker Cook, 662, 698

 Shylock vs. Antonio. Carlton Edwards, 539

 Sunshine in Thought, 233

 The Birth of the Lily, 169

 The Blue Handkerchief, 279

 The Buccaneers of America. Wm. L. Stone, 703

 The Captain of '63 to his Men, 315

 The Causes and Results of the War. Lieut. E. Phelps, U. S. A. , 617

 The Century of Inventions. C. G. Leland, 318

 The Chained River. Charles G. Leland, 410

 The Chech, 395

 The Complaining Bore, 496

 The Confederation and the Nation. E. Carey, 694

 The Destiny of the African Race in the United States. Rev. J. M. Sturtevant, D. D. , 600

 The Great Prairie State. Mrs. C. M. Kirkland, 513

 The Ivy. Charles Godfrey Leland, 47

 The Lady and her Slave. Mrs. Martha W. Cook, 330

 The Mishaps of Miss Hobbs. Wm. L. Williams, 54

 The Navy of the United States, 659

 The New Rasselas, 404

 The Physical Survey of New York Harbor and its Approaches. Henry Mitchell, 105

 The Return. E. S. Rand, jr. , 464

 The Sioux War. John G. Nicolay, 195

 The Skeptics of the Waverley Novels. Chas. G. Leland, 439

 The Soldier's Burial, 373

 The Surrender of Forts Jackson and St. Philip. F. H. Gerdes, 557

 The Union. Hon. R. J. Walker, 68, 366, 465, 615

 The Value of the Union. W. H. Muller, 571, 633

 The Vision of the Monk Gabriel. Eleanor C. Donnelly, 316

 The Wonders of Words, 385

 Thought, 23

 Three Modern Romances, 667

 Touching the Soul. Lieut. Egbert Phelps, 734

 Turkey. A. Comté, jr. , 257

 Virginia, 714

 Visit to the National Academy of Design, 718

 War Song--Earth's Last Battle. Mrs. M. W. Cook, 562

 Was He Successful? Richard B. Kimball, 98, 171, 611, 719

JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER.