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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seul ciichA, 11 est f iim6 A partir de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 i'a- 'S"'^? a^fl at i lM i. -iTi. ROBERTSON'S CHEAP SERIES. POPULAR REAOINQ AT POPULAR PRIOE& HE TWm SKGTW. m -3 11 Th« only publication containing the complete Sketches of this celebrated Author, including those written up to January, i88L COMBLBTM* TOBOFTOi 1. BOeS BOBEBISON, 65 EINQ-Sr. WEST, OOB. BiT. 18 81. V'. >%. ■>.. :..^ -y ■■< «*Zv...:rrS>n!'?>Vl ,f*-n?^^n niijjn'-^ii. TA fiiiiaA=i^r h/.,?u':o*^ ^i^^ l'!Hll.iJ.f '.J Yi'tf, wvn * ■':'. 'm^. X ♦ - uty j i(vl I* MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. iitii. ■n\^i CELEBRATED JUMPINO FBOO OF CALAVERAS COUNTY. In oomplianoe with the reqaMt of • friend of oiine, *who wrote me from tne Eut, I called OD good-natured, jgarmlons old Simon Wheeler, and enonired after my friend's friend, Leonidaa W. Smiley, as requested to dok and I hereunto append the result. I hare a lurking suspicion that Leonidas W. Smiley is a myth ; that mv friend never knew such a personage ; and that he only eonjectured that, if I asked old Wheeler about him, it would remind him of his in- famous Jim Smiley, and he would go to work and bore me to death with some ex- asperating reminisoenoe of him as long and tedious as it should be useless to me. If that was the design, it succeeded. I found Simon Wheeler dozinff oomfort* ably by the bar-room stove of the culapidated tavern in the decaved mining camp of Anffel's, and I noticea that he was fat and bald-headed, and had an expression of win- ning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance. He roused up and bade me good-day. I told him a friend of mine had commissioned me to make some in- quiries about a cherished companion of his boyhood named Leonidas W. Smile;^ — ^Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, a vouns mimster of the Oospel, who he had heard was at one time a reindent of Angel's Camp. I added that, if Mr. Wheeler could tell me any- thing about th^s Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, I would feel under many obligations to him. \ Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his chair, and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous parrative which follows this paragraph. He never smiled, he never frowned, he never changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key to which he tuned the imtial sentence, he never betrayed the slightest suspicion of enthusiasm ; but all through the inter- minable narrative there ran a vein of im- pressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed ma plainly thaL so far from his ima> :.r- k ■'■)-■,.',■ ' e;' rinlng that thera was anything ridionlooa «r funny about his story, he r^nrded it aa a reallv important matter, ana admired its two heroes as men of transoendent genius ia Jinease. 1 let him so on in his own way, and never interrupted him once t There was a feller here once by fha naitta of Jim Smiley, in the v.-inter cf '49— or mav be it was tha spring of '60—1 dont reooUeel exactly, somehow, though what makes ms think it was one or the other isbeoansal remember the big flume wamt finished when he first come to the oamp ; but any way, he was the curiosest man aoont always ' bettinff on anything that turned up yon «v«r sei^ if he could £[et anybody to bet on tin other side ; and if he couldn't, he'd change sides. Anywav, what suited the other maa •ovild Mit mm — anyway jnst so's he i a bet, he was satisfiecC But still le was luoky, uncommonly lucky ; ha most always come out winner. Ha was always ready and laying for a ohanoe j there couldn't be no sokt'ry thuiff mentioned but thar feller'd o£Eer to bet on it^ and tska any Side yton please, as I was jttst' tolling von. If there was ahoise race, you'd fi n d him flush or you'd fiad him busted at tha end of it ; if tnAre was a dog-fighi he'd b«% on it : if there was a eat-fi^t he'd bet on it ; if there was a chicken-fight, he'd bet on it ; why, if there were two birds setting on a fence, he would bet you which one would fly first ; or if there was a camp meeting, ho would be there reglar, to bet on Parso^ Walker, which he judged to be the besli ex« horter about there, and so he was too, and a good man. If he even saw a straddle-bug start to go anywheres, he would bet yoa how long it would take him to mt to— to wherever he was going to, and you took him up, he would follow that straddle-bug to Mexico but what he would find out where he was bound for and how long he was on the road. Lots of the boys here has seen that Smiley, and can tell you about him. Why, it never made no difference to him — he ¥ronld bet on anything — ^tJbe '^^" gd ^frt MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. Ubm, Puwm Wftlkor's wife laid very sick •Boa, tor ft good while, and it seenied as if thcgr warn's going to aare her ; but one morning he oome in, and Smiley np and •ikad oim how she was, and he aaid she was considerable better — thank the Lord for Us infnit mercy — and coming on so smart that with the blessing of Pror'dence she'd get well yet ; and Smiby, before he thought, says, 'Well 111 resk two-and-a-half that she don't, anyway.' Thish yer Smiley had a mare— the boye called her the fifteen-minute naff, but that was onlv in fun, you know, because, o course, she was faster than that — and he oaed to win monev on that horse, for all she was so slow and always had the asthma, or Che distemper, or the consumption, or some- thing of that kind. They used to give her two or three hundred yards' start, and then pass her under way ; but always at the fag- •nd of the race she'd get excited and despe- late-lOu^ and coma cavorting and straddhng ■p^ and aeattering her legs around limber, iOij|iatimaa in the air, and sometimes out to ona aide amongst the fences, and kicking up IMHI^ dost and raising m-o-r-e racket witn k«r coughing and sneezing and blowing her anaa and uwaya fetch np al the atand jnat aibont a neck ahead, aa near aa yoa could agrvher it down. And ha had a little amall bull-pup, that to took at him you'd think he waal worth a imki, Imfc to set around and look ornery, and lagr lor a chance to steal something. But ■a iOCB aa mone^ waa up on him, ha was a diftcant dog ; his under jaw'd b«gia to stick attt.lika the fo'castle of a steambMt, and his ktmbiWBnUivacafnt >nd shin* wicked, ym hear ma. And a do|( might taokk him, and Mly-rag hiai, and hito him, and throw him •rar hia ahonldar two or three timea, and Andrew Jackson— wUoh waa the name of the pup— 'Andrew Jaokaon would never let m nut what he waa satisfied, and hadnt ex- Moted nothinff else— and tha beta beinjr Jtonblsd and cutubled on tha other aide all ttw time, till the money waa all np i and fhan all of a sudden ha would srab that other dog Jest by the j ^t ol his hind lea and freeae tol^not chaw, yon understand, but only Sit grip and hang on till they throwed np e sponge^ if it waa a year. Smiley alwaya some out winner on that pup, till he bar- ■eaaed a dog onoe that didn't have no hind im, because they'd been sawed off by a cir- emar saw, and when the thing had ffona •long far enough, and the money was alfup, Ind he come to make a snatoh for his pet holt, he see in a minute how he'd been mi- posed on, and how the other dog had him in na door, ao to apeak, and ha^pearad prised, and then he looked sorter diaoonr- aged-like, and didn't try no more to win thi tight and so he got shucked out bad. H« tnve Smilev a look, as much as to say hit heart waa broke, and it was his fault, foi putting up a dog that hadn't no hind le^ for him to take hold of, which was his main dcpenilenoe in a fight, and then he limped off a piece and laid down and died. It was a good pup, was tliat Andrew Jackson, and would liave made a name for hisself if he'd lived, for the stuff was in him, and he had genius— I know it, because he iiadn't had no opportunities to speak of, and it don't stand to reason that a dog could make such a fight as he could under tliem circumstances, if he liadn't no talent. It always makes me feel soiry when I think of that Uist figltt of his'n, and the way it turned out Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken cocks, and tom-cats, and all them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and vou couldn't fetoh notbingfor him to bet on but he'll matoh you. He ketohedafrog one day, and took him home, and said he cal'latod to educate him ; and so he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yara and learn that frog to Jump. And you bet you he did leant him, too. He'd give him a little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see that frog whirling in the air like a douffhnut — see him turn one somerset, or maybe a couple, if he sot a good start, and oome down flat-footed and all right like a cat. He got him up ao in the matter of oatohing flies, and kept him in practice ao constant, that he'd nail a fly •veiy time aa far as he conld see him. Sailoy said all a frog wanted waa education, and be oould do !moat anything— and I believe kim. Why, I've aeen him setl)an'l Webater down here on this floor — Danl Webater waa Hm name of the frog— and sing out, 'Flies, Danl, fliea t * and quicker'n yon could wink, he'd spring straight up, and shake a fly oS^ the counter there^ and flop downoa the floor again as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratohing the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent as if he hadnt no idea ha had been doin' any more'n any frog might da Yon never see a frog so modest mad atraightfor'ardashewas, for all he was ao sifted. And when it came to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more Bround at one straddle than any animal of his Dreed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you under- stand, and when it coma to tliat. Smiley #ould ante up money on him as long as he had a red. Smiley was monstrous prqud of his firog, and well he mioht be, for fellem that had travailed and oeen every wherec mmm liM MARK TWAIN'S 8KBT0HE& rtor disooar* e to win thi It bad. H« I to aay hit lit fault, foi o hind legi 'aM his main > he limped id. It waia ackson, and ssclf if he'd and he had kdn't had no don't atand 8uoh a fight tances, if h« kes me feel iglttofhii'n, tamera, and id all them t rest, and m to bet OD tohedafrog >nd taid he 10 he never but Mt in S to jump. II him, too. ind, and the whirling in n turn oae if he got a ■footed and n up ao in kept liim in nail a fly um. Smiley ion, andbe •elievehim. baterdown r waa the at, 'FUes, souldwink, t^&j oiPn oa the floor Ad fall to th his hind at no idea frog might lodest and he was ao and square i get over an J animal ping on a rou under- At, Smiley long as he spnmd of for lellecs arvwherec an said ha laid over any frog that vrmt they Well, Smiley kap' the beast in a Uttla kt* tioe box, and ne used to fetoh him down town sometimes and lay for a bet. One day a feller — a stranger in the eamp. ha waa— oome across him with his box, and aava t ' What might it be that yonVe got in the bozr And Smiley says, sorter indiflforant lika^ * It might be a parrot, or it might ba a oan* ary, maybe, but it ain't — it's only josl a frog.' And the feller took it^ and looked at it ear^l, and turned it round this way and that, and savs, • H'm— ao tia. Well, what's he mod for r 'Well,' Smiley says, aaqrand careless, * he's g«>od enott((h for one uiinj^, I should judge— he oan ontjump any frog in Oalaver- as oonntv.' The feller took the box again, and took an- otong, lolyparticular look, and gave it back Mey, ennSand saya, vary dalibwate, ' Well, ueedrh i no p'ints about that frog that's betteratm"n any other frog. ' ' Maybe you don't,' Smiley says. ' May< be you understand frogs, and maybe you dont understand 'em ; maybe you're had ex* perienoe, and maybe you ainH only a ama- tore, as it were. Anyways, I've got my opinion, and I'll reek fortv dollars that he oan ontjump any frog in Calaveraa county. And the feller studied a minute, and then says, kinder sad like, ' Well, I'm only a stranger here,< and I ain't got no frog ; but if I had a frog, I'd bet you. ' And then Smiley says, ' That's all njKht— if yottll hold my box for a minute, rll go aiidset you a frog.' An so the feller took the box, and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley's, and set down to wait. So he set tiiere a good while thinking and thinking to hisself, and then he got the frog out and poised his mouth open and took a teaspoon and filled him full of quail shot — Ktied him pretty near up to the chin — and atst him on the floor. Smiley he went to the swamp and slopped around in the mud for a loiiff time, and finally he ketched a frog, and fetched him in, and give him to this feller and aaya : ' Now, if you're ready, set him alongside of Dan'l, with his fore-paws just even with DaiTs, and I'll give the word.' Then he says, ' One — two — three — git 1' and him and the feller touched up the fross from be- hind, and tiie new frog hopped offlively, but Danl give a heave, and hysted up his shoul- ders — 80— like a iSrenchman, but it wasn't no use — he couldn't budge ; he was planted aa solid as a church, but he couldn't no more stir than if he waa anchored oat. Smiley was a good deal surprised, and ha was dis- Ssted too, but ha didn't have no idaa what e matter was, of course. The feller took the money and started away t and when he was going oat at the door, he aorter jerked his thumb over hia shoulder— this way— at Dan% and H^ again, very deliberate. 'Well, I don'tsaa no p"ints about that frog that's any better*n any other frog. ' Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Danl a long time, and at last he said, ' I do wonder what in the nation that frog throw'd off for— I wonder if there ain't somethinjg the matter witl him— he 'peart to look nuffhty baggy, somahow.' And he ketched Dainby the nap of thenepk, and hefted him, and says, 'Why, blama wn cats, if ha dont weigh five pound I' and turned him upside down, and he belohed out a double nandfnl of shot. And then ha aae how it was, and he waa the maddeat man — he set the frog down and took oat after the feller, but he never ketched him. And — Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front yard, and got np ta see what waa wanted. And tumingto ma aa he moved away, ha said : ' Just set where you are, atranger, and reat easy — ^I aint ga- ins to be a second.' But, by your leave, I did not think that a continuation of the history of tiie entar* rising vagabond Jim Smiley would ba ikely to afford me much information ooa> cerning the Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, aaA so I started away. At the door I met the sociable WheaiMP returning, and he buttoned-holed meaki4 ra- uommenced : ' Well, thish-yer Smiley had a yaller ona« eyed cow that (Udn't have no tail, onlv josl a short stump like a bananner, and ^ Lacking time and inclination, I did not twait to hear about the afiBioted caw, bat ook my leave. HOW I EDITED AN AGRICULTURAL PAPER ONCE. I did not take the temporary editwship of an agricultural paper without misgivingK Neither would a landsman take command of a ship without misgivines. But I waa in cif- cumstances that made we salary an object. The regular editor of the paper was going oif for a holiday, and I accepted the termi he offered, and took his place. The sensation of being at work again waa luxurious, and I wrousht all the week with unflagging pleasure. We went to press, and I waited a day with some iolicituae to saa Fi A"": MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. I wlietber my effort was going to attract any ootioe. As I left the office, toward lundown* a group of men antl boya at the foot of th« ■taira difiperaed with one impulae, and gave me passage way, and I heard one or two of them say : ' That's him I' I was naturally f leased by this incident. The next morning found a similar group at the foot of the stairs, and scattering ouuplcs and individuals standing here and there m the street, and over the way, watching me with interest. The group separated and fell back as I approached, and I heard a man say ' Look at nis eye 1' I pretended not to observe the notice I was attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, and was purposing to write an account of it to my aunt. I went up the short flight of stairs, and heard cheery voices and a ringing laugh as I drew near the door, which I opened and caught a glimpse of two yonnc rural-looking men, whose faces blanch> ed and lengthened when they saw me, and then they both plunged through the window with a great. craifh. X was surprised. Ih about half an liour an old gentleman, with a flowing beard and a fine but rather SiUStere face, entered, and sat down at my invitation. Jkle seemed io have something on his mind. He took off his hat and set it on the floor, and got out of it a red silk hand- kerchief and u copy of our paper. He put the paper on his lap, and, while 1)« pohshed his spectacles with his handker- cUef, he said, ' Are you the new editor ?' ^ Isold I was. 'Have you ever edited an. a^riqalturalpa- |{«r before V , ' No,' I said; ' thia i« my first attempt' 'Very likely. Have you had any e^peri- eOGO in agnculture before ?' , "^No, Ibeliev^I have not.' 'So my instinct told me, 'said the old Kntleman, putting on his spectaolei and >king over them at me with as{>erity, while he folded his paper into a convenient shape, 'i wish to read you what must have made m^ have that instinct. It was this editori^L Listen, and see if it was you who wrote it: — * Turnips should never b«f pulled; it in- jures them. It is much better to send a hqiy vp and let him shake the tree.' * Now, what do you think of that — ^forl VBally suppose you wrote it ?' ' Think of it ? Why, I think it is «ood. I think it is sense. I have no doubt thai every year millions and millions of bushels oi tumipa are spoiled in this township alone beinK pulled in a half-ripe condition, ley bad sent a boy up to shakethe 'Oh, they don't, said they did r Tli .* Shake your grandmother 1 Tnrnlpe don'fc grow on trees 1 dont they ? Well, who le langnagu was intended to be figurative, wholly uguritive. Any* body tlm knows anythmg will know that I meant that the boy snonld shake the vine.' Then this old person sot up and tore his paper all into small slircds and stamped on theni.and broke several things with hisoane, and said d did not know as much aa a oow | and then went out and banged the door after him, and, in short, acted in such a way that I funoied he was displeased about somethinjN But, not knowing what the trouble wae, I oould not be any help to him. Pretty soon after this a long oadaverona creature, with lanky locks hanging down to hiu uliuulderH, and a week's stubble briatiing from the hills and valleys of his face, dartea within the door, and halted motionlese with finger on lip, and head and body bait in Us- teuing attitude. No sound was heard. Still he listened. No sound. Then he turned the key in the door, and came elaborately tiptoe* ing toward me till he was within long reach- ing distance of me, when he stopped, amd after scanning my faoe with intense intereal for a F^il®) orew a foMod copy of our paper from bis bosom, and said— * There, yon wrote tliat Read it Id a% quick! Relieve me. I suffer.' I read as follows : and as the sentenoea fdl front Qiy lips I could see the relief ooom^ I Qould see the drawn muscles relax, and the anxiety go out of the face, . and reet and peace steal over the features like the merci* nil moonlight over a desolate landscape t ' The guano is a fine bird, but great cai« b necessary in rearing it. It should not he imported earlier than June or later than September, In the winter it should be kept in a warm plitoe, where it can hatoh out iti young. ' It is evident that we are to have a beek* ward season for grain. Therefore, it will be well for the farmer to begin letting oal his corn-stalks and phmtinghis Imokwheat cakes in July instead of August. ' Coucemmg the Pumpkin, — This berry b a favourite with the natives of the interior of New England, who prefer it to the goose-. berry for the making of fruit oake, and who likewise give it the preference over the rasp-, berry for feedin^f cowe, as being more filling and fuUy as satifying. The pumpkin is the only esculent of the orange ^mily that will thnve in the North, except tiie gourd and one or two varieties of the squash. But the onstom of planting it in the iront yard with the shrubbery irfaet going out of vogoe^ for it is now senerally conoeded that the pumpkm aa a shade tree is a failnrei.' ■■:*.,;. MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. Well, who u intended tive. Any* know iiuA ■hake the uid tore hie ■tamped on ith hie oene, oe e oow i le door after t a way that ■omethini^ mble waa, 1 oadayarona ing down to ble brietUnff faoe, dartoa ionleaa with bent in lie* heard. StiU e turned the »tely tiptoe* long reaoh* top^Bd, and use intereel of eorpapw ^itloa% antenoeafdl ilief oooMk I AX, and the kd reet and ethenMfd* deoape t great oaMie ould not be later than >nld be kept atoh ont iti lave a baek* Fore, it will setting oat buckwheat niiB berry ie le interior ol > the gooee*. e, and who rer the rasp* more filling npkin is the ily that wiU I gourd and h. But the It yard with i of TOgne^ d tha* tho * Now, aa the warm weather approaohea md the ganders begin to spawn ^ The ezoited listener sprang towl^d van, to shako hands, and said— 'There, there, that will do I I know I am all right now, beoause yon hare read it just aa I did, word for word. But, Btranser, when I first read it this morning I said to myself. I never, never, believed it before, notwiwstanding my fnends kept me under wateh so striot, but now j believe I am crazy } and with that I fetched a howl that you might havehoartl twoniiles away, and started out to kill somebody — beoause, you know, I knew it would come to that sooner or later, and eo I might as well be^pn. I read one of them paragraphs over again, so as to be oer* tain, and then I burned my house down, and started. I have crippled several people, and have got one fellow up a tree vmere I can gM him if I want bun. But I thought I would call in here as I passed along, and make the thing perfectly certain ; and now it is oertain, and I tell you it is lucky for the diap that is in the tree. I should have hilled him, sure, as I went baok« Qood-by, dr, good-by ; yon have token a good load off my mind. My reason has stood tne strain ' of one of your agricultural articles, audi Imow that nothing can ev^r unseat it now. Gkwd-by. sir.* i I felt a little unoomforteble about tho i ' orippllngs and arsons this person had been | •entertaining himaelf with, for I could not ; help feelifig remotely accessory to them ; i bat these thou|(hto were quickly banished, for the regular editor walked in I [I thought to myself, now; if you had g^ne to Egypt ae | I iecommendM you to^ I might havenad a ehtooe to get my hand in ; but you wouldn't do it, and here you are. I sort of expected fou.] The editor was looking sad and perplexed i and dejected.' He surveyed ^e wreck which that old fibter and those two young fanners had made, and then said, * This is a sad business —a very sad business. There is the muci*. lage bottle broken, and six panes of glass, and a spittoon and two candlesticks. But that ia not the worst The reputetion of the eper is injured, and permanently, I fear.' ue, there never was such a caU for the paper before, and it never sold such a large edition, or soared to such celebrity ; but does eiie want to be famous for lunacy, and pros- Mr upon the mfirmities of his mind? My triena, as I am an honest man, the street out here is full of people, and others are fopsting . ati the fences, waiting to get a l^id^pee of you, because tiiey think you are And well they might, after reading Eir editorials. They are a di«gnee to malism. Why, what pat it into your head t you could edit a paper of this nature f You do hot seem to know the first radimento of agriculture. You speak of a furrow and a harrow aa beina the aame thing } yoa talk of the moulting season for oows t and you recommend the domestication of the pole-oat on aooonnt of ita playfulnees and ito excellence as a ratter. Your remark that clams will lie quiet if musio be nUyed to them was superfluous— entirely superauous. Nothing disturbs oUms. CSams always lie ' quiet. Olams care nothing whatever about music. Ah, heavens and earth, friend ! if you had ma(\e the acquirina of i^poranoe the stody of your life, you oould not havo gr*> duatod with higher honour than yoa ooo^ to-day. I never saw anything like it. Your observation that the horse chestoutasan article of commerce ie steadUy gaining ia favour, is simply calculated to destroy ^us joumaL I want you to throw up your sitoa- tion and go. I want no more holiday— I '. oould not enjoy it if I had it. Certainly pol with you in my chair. I would always stwnd in dread of what you might be going to r^ , commend next It miUies me loee all p*- tience every time I think of your disouasing ^Hter beds under the head of ' Landscape Qardening.' I want yon to go. Ndthing on earth could persuade me to tako another holiday. Oh, why didnt you tell me yon didn't Know anything about agriotpdture ? ' ' Tell you, you cornstalk, you oabbaga^ fou son of a cauliflower ? It's the first time ever heard such an unfeeling remark. I tell you I have been in the editorial busine« gding on fourteen yean, and it is the fini time I ever heard of a man's having to know.^ anything in order to edit a newspaper. Yoa turnip ! Who write the dramatic critiquee for the second-rate , P9P«n ? Why, a yvcoti of promoted shoemakers and apprentice apotuecaries, who,l(no>r just as much about, good acting as | do i^bout good farminff, and iio more. Who review the books ! People who never wrote onel Who do up the heavy leaders on finance ? ' parties who have had the largest opportunities for knowing no* thing a^ut it. Who criticise the Indian campaigns ? Gentlemen who do not know a war-whoop from a M'igwam, and who never have had to run a foot-race with a tomahawk, or pluck arrows out of. the several membem ; of their families to build the evening camp-fire with. Who write the tern* Serance appeals and clamour about the owing bowl ? Folks who will never draw another sober breath till, they do. it~ in tho grave. ' Who edit the agncnlturalpftpen^ you — yarn ? Men. as a seneral thiiuc. woo MARK TWAnra SKKTOHEa. f, ■ frfl in Um poetry lina^ y«Ilow«ooT«Md nord 1|m^ Mnmldoii'dnina une, oi^-editor lint^ Md fiiMlIy hXL back cm agrionltors rjf » tern- ftqfnuy reprieve frem fhe poor-hoav;^. Yoa t^ to tell me aaything about the newapapw MudncM ? Sir, I h*T« been throogh it from Alphft to Omaha^ and I tell yoa that the lees a man knows the bigffar noise he makes and til* hi^^er the salaiyne commands. Heaven knows if I had been ignorant instead of onUiyated, and impndein instead of diffi- dentk I conld hare made a name for myself in tldB oold, selfish world. I take my leave, rir. Since I ha'*^ been treated as you have treated me^ I t m perfectly willing to so. Bat I haw done my duty. I have fulfilled my odtttraott as far as I was permitted to do il' I riaid I could make your paper of inter- eat to all classes, and I have. I said that I ooald run your circulation np to twenty thoosand copies, and if I had hsd two more wodu I'd have done it. And I'd have givcti you the best class of readers that ever aa agncultaral paper had — not a fanner in it, ■or a solitary mdividual who could tell a iriiter-melon faee from a peach-vine to save Us life. You are the loser by this rupture, not me. Pie-plant. I«Imb left A NEW BEECHER CHURCH. If the Rev. Mr. Smith, or the Rev. Mr. Johm, or the Rev. Mr. Brown, were about to boild a new church edifice, it would be iwojieeted on the same old pattern, and be lUte pretty much all tha other churches in ^e country, and sv I iimiiild . naturally men- tiinn it as a new Presbyterian church, or a vim Methodist, or a new Baptist church, arid' never think of oallins it by the pastor's aime ; but when a Mecher projects a eftarch, that edifice is necessarily going to be somethinflr entirely fresh and original ; it is not going to be like any ether church in the worM ; it is going to bo as variegated, ec- aentrie, and markod ^tli as peculiar and striking an individuality aa a mecher him- sidf ; it is going to have a deal more Beecher in it than any One narrow creed can fit into without rattling, or any one arbitrary order of architecture can symmetrically enclose and cover. Consequently to call it simply a Congregational church would not give half an idea of the. thine;. There is only one #oid broad enoush, and iriAe enough!, and fteep enough to take in the whole aSair, and Sxpress it clei&rly, luminously and concisely, itid tiiat is— Beecher. The projected edi- fl6(i I link about to speak of is, therefore, pro- berty named in nqr caption as a new ^Jkicher Church.' The projector is tlia Bar. TImmdm K. Beecher— brother of tha othar oiml of ooons —I never knew but ooa Beeoher that wa8n\ and he was a nephew. Tha new church is tt be bailt in Blmiiai N.Y., where Mr. B. has been preaching to ona and tha same congr» gation for the last sixteen years, and is wo- roughly esteemed and beloved by his people. I have had opportunity to hear all about tha new church, for I have lately bean visitiag in Elmira. Now, when one haa that disssss whidk five its possessor the title of 'humourist^' e must make oath to his statemants, elas the public will not believe him. Ihereforal make solemn oath that what I am going ta tell about the new church is the strict truth. The main building— for there are to ba^ three, massed together in a laigi grassy square, ornamented with quite a forest w shade trees, will be the church proper. It will be lofty in order to secnre gooa air and ventilation. The auditorium wiu be droolar — an amphitheatre, after the (urdinaiy pa^ tern of an opera-house, without nJlenes. It is to seat a thousand persons. On one uda (or <»e end, if yoa choose) will be an ample raised platfnrm for the minister, the rear naOT of which will be occupied by theorgan'and tha choir. Before the minister will be the cir- clint; amphitheatre of pews, the first thirty at forty on the level floor, and the next rising in ffndatktbi tiers to tiie walls. The seats >y his people ftU about th* TJaitiag whieb 'htunouriat^* temanti, elaa Theraforal n going to t atnot truth, ire ara toba. laiga graa^j a foreatw 1 proper. It mod air tut iubedronlar rdinary pat- mllenea. It On one aide bean ample , the rear hi^ >rgaiiMidthe^ U betheoir- first thirty 01^ e next rising TheaeatB« by the aged uroh through ' arm, without b oeeafwing doa«l dooia i bbbjr, aod their; * Aeae nt InaefaL Under tb» • atalla Ibr laae maj br nierainllb* hitall tobt I maaonnr^ wiUhaTe a manK>f*war. ith 'deaden- ,that neithior theohnreb lehoneawiO an h6ur or a defile t|» «; oleanaiqg right agaia» bachurob— be MARK TWAIN'S SKET0HE8. Than ia to ba no ball, beoauae all men kneiw what time ohnroh serrioe begini with- aol that exaaperating nuisance. In explana- tioo of this remark, I will state that at home I suffer in the vicinity and under the distracting clangour of thirteeh church bells, all of whom (is that right?) clamour at once, and no two in accord. A large part of my time ia taken up in devising cruel and nn- oinal sufferinoB, and in fancy inflicting them on thoae bell-ringers, and having a good The second building is to be less lofty than the church; it is to be built right against the rear of it^ and communicate with it by a door. It ia to have two stories. On the first floor will be three distinct Sunday B^ool rooma — all large, but one considerably bugerthan the other two. The Sundav school connected with Mr. Beecher's church baa alwajrs been a ' graded one,' and each depurtment singularly thorough in ita grade of ustruction ; the pupil wins his advance- ment to the higher grades bv hard-won pro- fieiamsy, not by aurely added years. The laigeat of the three odbipartments wiU be ■aad aa the main Sunday school room and for tha week-day avening lecture. The whole upper storey of this large build- ing iriUba well lif^ted and ventilated, and aeonpied wholly aa a play*room for the ahilwren of the ehorob, and it will atand open and weleonia to them through all tha wnek-djm. They can fill it with their play* tfungs if they choose, and, besides, it wdl be Ibmiahed wok durab-belb, swings, rocking- boMia, and aU anoh matters as children de- IJil^t in. The idea ia to make a child look npon a oharob aa only another home, and a sy OMb rathar than • dismal exile or a Tha third bnUdingwiUbaleaa lofty than tta aaoond i it will adj<»n the rear of tha ■eeond, and oonunnnicate with it by a door ar doota. It will oonsist of three sloriea. lika tha other two boildingi, it will oovwr aonaideBablo gnwnd. On the fl)|Bt floor will ba tiha *«hntai parloaf%* where the al catharinA «C modem «ongregati< bauL On tha aama flow, v^a opening into tiia paiioon^ will ba a reception room, andaboaoinmlatinglibrary— anea libtaiy I aimply Craa to tha ohnroh membership^ bnt to avenrbody, Joal aa is the preaani Ubcarjr of w. Baaoher% ehnrob (and few llbcanea an non extensively and mon difigantly and grate f ull^ used than tiiia one). Alao on thia floor, and awnmonioating with tha parlours, will ba— teU it not in Oath, publish it not in Aakalon t^-aix bath romns I— hot and oold 'to any applicant amonff the nndean of tha congrem^nt The iaea is sound and atesible, for this rea> son : Many members of all congregations have no good bathing facilities, and are not able to pav for them at the barbers' shopa without feeling the expense ; and yet a luxurious bath is a thing that all oiviliised beings greatly enjov and derive healtny benrat nom. The cnnrch buildings an to be heated by steam, and consequentlv tha waste steam can be very judiciously utilized in the propoeed bath-rooms. In speaking ol this bath-room project, I have revealed a stote secret — but I never oould keep one of any kind, stoto or otherwise. Even the oon- greffiktion were not to know of this mattsr-^ ihe Duilding committee were to leave it nn, mentioned in their report ; but I got hold of it — and from a member of that committee^ too— and I had rather part with one of wj hind legs than keep still about it. The bath rooms are nntj^uestionably to be binltk and aa why not tell it? In the second storey of this third building will be the permanent residence (rf Hut * church missionary', a ladv who oonatantiy looks after the poor and sick of the church ; also a set of lodging and living rooms for the janitors (or Janitresses ? — ^for they will be women, Mr. Beecher holding that woman are tidier and more efficient in such a noai* tion than men, and that they ought to owell upon the premises and give them their un* dividad Oan) ; alao on toia aeoond floor an to be six rooms to do duly as a chur atanoe), and half-a-doaef nelining invalid* ehaira at present belonging to the oEnnh, an alwaya in demand and never olnt af aervioa. Part of tha appurtenanoea ,i \. vend o|ie year in raislnff a parit ,9f t^e monex in a'lV'Tiricc, and in gettinc «MitniolBi ■' e a^ One yeaiv-plans and con- ,__„.> ^^^. ^._ tnicts.. ' April 1, ttn to isn One year— build and cover ' In *• MWtolWJ One year — plaster, finish and fumudi ** 1878 to 1874 One year-pay for in full ^ • .^^ ^ ,^^ Ukd dedicate " 1874 to 1875 It is proposed to expend not less than twenty thousand aoUars nor more than fifty thousand —according to llie ability shown by the returns of these card** of o P0Bt-6ffi(B6^' hto natti«- the oertaftf ni,aad tfatt' «I WhWf 'V^ oomle Ha, ilibved'thKt' ' rate 6f not n^t ttumy orkingmfla ing from • ^ ten, and theplMiof ■aoo«« il iMiA — .art t. .— i WKlWBOffntr Ing than the exeeedingly onriona edifice the money is to create. The reason the moneya are to be naid in fimr annual instahnentih— for that is the plan —is, partly to make the payments easy, but ehiefly because the church is to be substan- tially built, and its several parts allowed a good part of the first year to settle and compact them themselves, after completion ; the walls the second year; and so forth and lo on. There is to be no work done by con- tract and no unseasoned wood used. The materials are to be sound and good ; and honest, competent, conscientious workmen (Beecher says there are such, the opinion of of the world to the contrary notwithstand- ing) hired at fall wages, by the day, to put them together. The above statements are all true and genuine, according to the oath I have already made thereto, and which I am now about to repeat before a notary in legal form, with my hwd upon the Book. Consequently we are going to have at least one sensible but very, very bi(riouB church in America. I am aware that I had no bjosiness to toll alltiiese mattcnrs, but the reporter instinct waa strong' npon me, and I could not help it. And besides, they were in evaiybody's month in Elmixa anyway. THE STOBT OF A BAD LITTLE BOY WHO DIDN'T COME TO GRIEF. One* tharawaa ft bad little boy, whose aame was Jim— though, if you notioe, you will ' find that bad little boys are nearly idwaya called James in your Sunday- ■ehoolbooka. It waa veiy atrange^ but still it waa tma^ that this one waa aimply called Jim. Ho didnH have any aide mothai^ eithar— a ridk mother who was pioua and had the oon- ftuiption, and would oe |dad to lie down in the grave and be at reat, l>ut f or the atrong love she bore her boy, and the anzieiy she felt that the world would be harsh and cold towards him when she waa gone. Most bad b^s in the Sunday bodes are named Jimea, and have edok mothers, who teach them to «ay ' Now I lay me down, ' &o., and •ing them to sleep with sweet plaintive voices, and thenkisa them ffood-nieht, and kheel down by the bedaide and weep. But it waa difierent with thia fellow. He waa named Jim, and there wasn't any- thing the matter with the mother — no con* alimption or anything of that kind. She was rather stotit than otherwise, and ahe waa not piona ; moreover, aho waa not anxiooa dn Jim'a aoooutit. She aaid if he were to : hit aaok, it wwddat b« nuoh loaa. She always spanked Jim to sleep, and she never kissed him good-night; on the con- trary, she boxed hisears when she wm^ ready to leave him. \ Once this little bad boy stole tiie key. of the pantry, and slipped in there and helped . himself to some jam, and filled up the ven^l with tar, so that his mother would nevsc know the difference ; but all at once a tor- rible feeling didn't come over him, and some- thing didn't seem to whisper to him, ' Is it Isn't it sinful boys ffo who, right to disobey my mother ? to do this? Where do bad gobble up their kind mother's jam ?^ And then he didn't kneel down all alone and promise never to be wicked any more, and rise up with a light happy heart, and go and toU his mother all about it, and beg her forgiveness, and be blessed by her with tears of pride and thankfulness in her eyes. No .; thac is the way with all other baid boys in: the books ; but it happened otherwise with; this Jim, strangely enough. He ate that jam, and said it was bully, in his sinful, vul- gar way ; and he put in the tar, and said that was bully also, and laughed, and (d>- served ' that the old woman would get nn^ and snort ' when she found it out ; ana when she found it out^ he denied Imowing anything about it, and she 'wlupped him, severely, and he did the crying himfolf Everything about this boy waa ourioua-H» everything turned out differently witii.him; f rom the way it does to the bad Jameses in' the books. Once he climbed up Farmer Aoom'a ftpplt* tree to steal apple8,and thelimb didnt Iweak, ajud he didn't fall and break his ann, and get torn by the farmer'r» great dog^ and then Iftngmsh on a sick bed for weeks, and repont and become good. Oh, no; he stole as mainr apples as he wanted, and came down aU: right ; and he 'waa all ready for the dog too^ and knocked him endwaya with a bric^ when he came to tear him. It was very strange- nothing like it ever hanpened in ^ose mild little books with marDie baoka, ■ and with pictures in them of men with swallow-tailed coats, and bell-crowned hats, and pantaloon* that are short in the legs, > and women with the waists of their dresses under tiieir arma, and no- hoops on. Nothing like it in any of the Sunday-school books. Once he stole the teacher's penknife, aad when he was afraid it would, oe fonnd oat* and he would ffet whipped, he slipped it into George Wikon^a cap— poor Widow Wibonlfe aon, the moral Ik^, tiie goodlitUe boy'^of tha village, who always obey«d his mother, and never told an nntntth, and waa fond of hi* leaaona, and infatuated with Snnday-sohooL And wheatho knifo dropped., from bb mgn It MARK TWAIN'S SKETGHSa \k •f , I i^ i •ndj^oor Oeocfa hnnc hk head and blnihed, M if in oonaoioiui giiut,Mid tha grieved teaoh- «r charged the theft upm him, and was jnrt in the rtry act of bringing Idbie twitch do¥m ■poh his trembUng shoulMra, a white haired ▼enerable jnitioe of the peaoe did not lud- denlv appear in their midat and strike an at* titnde and aay, 'Spare this noble boy— there stands the cowering onlprit I I was paMdng the sohool«door at reoess, and, unseen myself I saw the theft committed I' And then Jim didn't set whaled, and the vener- able jnstice didn^t read the tearful school a hooaiiy and take Georee hv the hand and say such a boy deserved to be exalted, and then tell him to come and make his home with him, and sweep out the office, and make fires, and run errands, and chop wood, and ■lady law, and help his wife to do house* hold labour, and hav^ all the balance of the time to play, and get for^ cents a month •nd be happjr. No ; it would have happen* ed that way in the books, but it didn't hap* p«i that wa^ to Jim. No meddling old dam of a justice dropped in to make trouble, and so the model boy, George, got thrashed, and Jim Was glad of it ; because, you know, J^ hated moral boys, Jim said he was * down on them milksops.' Such was the •Hurse language of this bad, neglected boy. But the strangest thing that ever happen* «d to Jim was the time he went boating on Sunday and didnt get drowned. Mid that etiier time that he got caught oat in the storm when he was fishing on Sunday, and didnt flet struck by lightning. Why, you m&glbt fook, and look, and look tbroush the Sonday-school books, from now till next Ohristmaa, and you would never come across aoything like this. Oh ! no ; you would find that all the bad bovs who go boating on Sondary invariably get drowned ; and all the had hoyn who get caught out in storms, when they are fishing on Sunday, infallibly get struck 1^ li^tning. Boats with bad bojrs in them alwnyr upset on Sunday, ' and it always storms when bad boys go fishing on dM iMbbath. How this Jim ever esoi^ped is n mvstevv to me. Inis Jim bore a charmed life— that must hnve been the way of it. Nothing could hart him. He even gave the elephant in the menagerie a plug of tobaoM, and the ele- flMnt didn't knock the top of his head off wi^h his trunk. He browsed around the enpbcard alter essence of peppermint, and mn*t make a mistake and drink aquafoitis. He stole his father's gun and went hunting •n this Sabbath, and cUdn't shoot three you see there never was a bad Jamee in the Sunday-school books that had such a streak of luck as this sinful Jim with the charmed life. THE STORY OF THE QOOD LTTTLI BOT WHO DID NOT PROSPER. Once there was » good little hov bgr tbt name of Jacob Blivens he always obeyed hia parents, no matter how abrard and on* reasonable their demands were; and he always learned his book, and never was Ut« at Sabbath School He would not pkv hookey, even when his sober judgment told him it was the most profitable thing heeonld do. None of the other boys could ever make that boy out, he acted so stran^ly. He wouldn't he, no matter jiow convciu«n4 it was. He just said it was wrong to lie, and that was sufficient for him. And he was so honest that he was ridiculous. Tha ouriouswaya tiiat that Jacob hadsuiprised everything. He wouldn't play marbles «• Sunday, be wouldn't tob birds' nests, ha wonldii't give hot pennies to organ-grindera'' monkeys; he didn't seem to take any in> terest in any kind of rational amusement. So the other bojrs used to try to reason it out and wmie to an understanding af him, but they oooldnt arrive al any satisfactory oonclusion. Aa I said before^ they could only figure out a sortof vagua idea that he was ' afflicted,* and so thoy took him under their protection, and never allow* ed any harm to come to him. This good little boy read all the Sunday* school books ; they were his greatest de> liffht. This was the whole secret oi it. Ha believed in 4ie good little boys thsj put in the Sunday-school books ; hs had every confidence m them. He longed to coma across one of them aUTa» oaoe ; but ha navit nd die with herlipatiuA eakingheM^ sr got liok tiM i at laslL and laelf lad And M daening in ine eniDowar* iwn And flon* [>me dmnk m on-houM th* I And nuMd A 1 All with AB by All mAnner low he is the in his nAtiv* loted, Andb*- bed JAOMAin b had luoh A im with th* )D LITTLI OSPBB. I boy hy th« ji obeyed his urd And nn* »re; And he ever WAS lAt« lid not plAV idgment told hing heeonld could ever 10 strAnj^Iy. oonvfNuen* yrong Ui lie, im. And he cnloue. The lad raiprised mArbfee «• ' nesta, h» gan-grindert'' take Any in« Amuiemenl ry to rsAeoA >rstanding el ive at Anj ■Atd betori^ ■ort of TAgUt ■0 they took never allow* the Svndt^- greAtest de* wtofit. He « thegr put in e had every (ed to oome but he atvit MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 11 did. They all died before his time, maybe. Whenever he read about a particularly good ene he turned over quickly to the end to lee what became of him, because he wanteA to travel tiionsands of miles and gaze on him ; bat it wasn't any nse ; that good little boy always died in uie last chapter, and there was a picture of the funeral, with all his re- lations and the Sunday-school children stand- ing around the grave in pantaloons that were too short, and bonnets that were too large, and everybody crying into handker- chiefs that had as much as a yard and a half of stuff in them. He was always headed off in this way. He never oould see one of those good little boys on account of his alwAys dving in the last chapter. Jacob had a noble ambition to put np in a Sunday-school book. He wanted to be put hi, with pictures representing him eloriously declining to lie to his uother, and her weep- ing for }oj about it ; and pictures repre- senting him standing on the doorstep giving A penny to a poor beggAr-wonum with six ehildrwo. And telling her to spend it freely, but not so be eztravA^ant, becAUse extravA- gAnee is a sin ; And pictures of him niAgnA- nimously refusins to tell ontho bad boy who AlwAys lay in wait for him around the comer AA he oAUie from school. And welted him over the head with a lath, and then chased him home, saying ' Hi I hi I hi I ' as he {uro- oeeded. Thatwaa the ambition of young Jacob Blivens. He wished to be put in a Sunday-school book. It made him feel a little uncomf ortAble sometimes when he re- flected tiiAt the good little boys aIwajts died. He loved to live^ yoa know, and this was the most unpleasant feature about being a Snnday-aohool oook boy. He knew it was ■ot healthy to be good. He knew it was more £atal than oonsumption to be so super- ■atorally good aa the boys in the books were ; he nnew that none of them had ever been able to stand it long, and it pained him to think that if they put him in a book he wouldn't ever see it, or even if they did Kt the book out before he died it wouldn't popular without any picture of his funeral in tiie back pArt of it. It couldn't be much of A Sunday-school book ^that couldn't tell about the advice he gave tb the community when he was dying. So at last, of course, he had to make up his mind to do the best he could under tne circumstances — ^to live right, and hang on as long as he oould, and have his dying speech uil ready when his time came. Kit somehow nothing ever went right with this good little hoy ; nothing ever turned out with him the way it turned out with the good little boys in the books, "niey always had a good nme, and tlie bad boys had the bro- ken legs ; but in his ease there was a sersw loose somewhere^ and it all happened iosl the other way. When he found Jim BUm stealing apples, And went under the tree to reed to him about the bad little boy who fell out of a neidibour's apple-tree and broke his arm, Jim fell out of the tree too, but he fdl on him, and broke his arm, and Jim wasnt hurt at alL Jacob oouldnt understand that. There wasnt anything in the books ike that. And once, when some bud bcja pushed a blmd man over in the mud, and Jacob ran ^ helphii6'',up and receive his blessing, the blind man did not give him any blessmg at all, but whacked him over the head witii his stick, and said he wovid Uke to catch him shoving him again, said then pretending ^ help him up. TlvM was not m accordance with any of the books. Jacob looked t^m all over to see. One thing that Jaoob wanted to do was to find a lame dog that hadnt any place to stay, and was hungry and persecuted, and bring him home and pet him, and have that dog's imperishable gratitude. iSnd at laat he iounct one and was happv; and he brought him home and fed him, but when he was ting to pet him the dog flew at him and re all the clothes off him except those that were in front, and made a speotaole of hhm that was astonishing. He examined anthoi^ ities, but he oould not understand the mat- ter. Is was of the same breed of dogs that was i^ the book, but it acted vei^ different^ Whatever this boy did he ^t into tronblo. The very things tiie boys m the books got rewarded for, turned out to be about tne most unprofitable things he oould invest in. Once when he was on his way to Sunday- school he saw some bad boys starting oA pleasuring in a sail-boat. He was filled witili consternation, because he knew from his reading that boys who went sailing aa Sunday invariably got drowned. So he ran out on a raft to warn them, but a log turned with him and slid him into tho river. A man got him out pretty socm, aM the doctor pumped the water out of 1dm, and ' gave him a freui start with his bellowa, but e caughtcold and lay sick a-bed nine weeks. But the most unaccountable thing about it was that the bad bovs in tlie boat had a good tiihe all day, and tiaen reached home alivo and well in the most surprising mannei^. Jacob Blivens said thwe was nothing like these thinos in the books. He was peiteotly dumbfounded. When he got well he was a httle discour- aged, but he resolved to keep on tryine any- how; He knew that so far his expenenceo wouldn't do to go in a book, butmhadn^t yet reached the dlotted term of life for sood MARK TWAIN'S SKETOHES. I! V I h I lltCle boys, and he hoped to be able to make a record yet if he could hold on till his time was fully up. If everything else failed he had his dying speech to falTbock on. He examined iiis authorities, and found that it was now time for him to go to sea as a oabin-b^. He called on a ship captain aQd made his applicatibn, and when the captain adud for hu recommendations he proudly drew out a tract and pointed to the words, '*To Jacob Blivens, from his affectionate teacher.' But the captain was a coarse, vnl* '|nr man, and he said, ' Oh, that be blowed ! tnat wasnt any proof that he knew how to wiwh dishes or handle a slush-bucket, and be guessed he didn't want him.' This was altogether the most extraordinary thin? that snrer happened Jacob in all his life. A com- pliment from the teacher, on a tract, had aerer failed to move tiie tonderest emotions ti ship captains, and open the wa^ to all of- fioQS of honour and profit in their gift — it sever had in any book he had ever read. He could hardly believe his sensea. This boy always had a hard time of it. 'ITotiting ever came out according to the au-' i^ihprities with him. At last, one day, when he was around hunting up bad little boys to j^dmonish, he found a lot of them in the old iron foundry fixing up a little joke oi| fourteen or fifteen dogs, which they had tied together in along procession, and were going to ornament with nitro-glycerine cans made fast to their tails. Jacob°a heart was touched. ^e sat down on one of those cans (for he never minded grease when duty was befor6 him), and he took hold of the foremost dog by the oollar, and turned his reproving eye upon wicked Tom Jones. But just at this moment Alderman McWelter, full of wrath, stepped in. All the bad boys ran away, but Jacob Blivens rose in conscious innocence and began one of those stately little Sunday-school book ■peedhes which always commence with ' Oh, Sir !' But the alderman never waited to hear the rest. He took Jacob Blivens by the ear and turned him round, and hit him a whack in the rear with the flat of his nands ; and in an instant i^t goo cording to the books. Every boy who ever did as ne did prospered except him. Hi* case is truly remarkable. It will pocobably never be aooounted for. THE DANGER OF LYING IN BED. The man in the tioket-office said, *Baim an accident-insurance ticket also V ' No,' I said, after atudyins the matter • little. ' No, I believe not ; I am goine to be travelling by rail all day to-day. ^w- ever, to-morrow I don't traveL Give me one for to-morrow.' The man looked puzzled. He said — 'But it is for accident-insurance^ and if yon are going to travel by ndl— ^' ' If I am going to travel by rail I shanl need it. Lying at home in bed ia the thine I'm afraid ci.' I had been looking into this matter. Last year I travelled twenty thousand miles, d[« most entirely by rail ; the year before, I travelled over twenty-five thousand miles, half by sea and half by rail : and the year before that I travelled in the neighbourhood of ten thousand miles, exclusively by raiL I suppose if I put in all the little odd joar> neys here and there, I may say I have tra- velled sixty thousand miles during the three years I have mentioned, and never an aooi- denti For a good while I said to myself evetj morning, 'Now I have escaped thus far, and so the chances are just that much in* creased that I shall oateh it this time. I will be shrewd, and buy an accident ticket.' And to a dead moral certainty I drew a blank, and went to bed that night vrithout a joint started or a bone spliitered. I got tired of that daily bother, and fell to- buying accident tickets that were good for » month. I said to myself ' a man can't buy thirty blanks in one bundle. ' But I was mistaken. There was never a prize in the lot. I could read of railway accidente every day — the newspaper atmos* phere was foggy with them ; but somehow they never came my way. I found I had spent a good deal of money in the accident business, and had nothing to show for it. My suspicions were arouse^ and I began to hunt around for somebody that had won ia this lottery. Ifoimd plenty of people who . fhtrertol amonff fow o hold five in* ether he WM scaxred. Ym boy who did oome out ao> boy whoevcff ipt him. Hia will porabably t INBED. ■aid, *HBt« Uof the nutter • am goine to to-day. aow- >veL Oire me le laid - iranoe^ and if I ' f raillihani led ia the thing I matter. Last sand miles, al* year before, I lousand miles, ; and the year neighbourhood isively by raiL ittle odd jour* say I have tr»> iiring the three never an aod> rnvself •my iped thus far^ that much iu> it this time. J an accident ral certainty I }ed that night lone spliitered. ler, and fell tO' ■rei-e good for a man can't buy ere was never read of railway vspaper atmoa* ; but somehow [ found I had in the accident io show for it. and I began to bat had won in of peo^who MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. IS had never had an accident or made a cent. I had invested, but not an individual wht) stopped buying accident tickets and went to ei]mering. Tw result was astounding, the PXaiL LAY NOT IN TSAVBLLINO, BUT 8TAY1NO AT HOHK. I hunted up statistics, and was amazed to find that, after idl the glarina newspaper headings concerning railroad maasters, leas than three hundred people had really lost their lives by those aisasters in the preced- ing twelve months. The Erie road was set down as the most murderous in the list. , It had killed forty-six — or twenty-six, I do not exactly remember which, but I know the number was double that of any other road. But the fact straightway suggested itself that the E2rie was an immensely long road, and did more business than any other line in the country ; so the double number of killed ceased to be matter for surprise. By further figuring it appeared, that be- tween New York and Rochester, the Erie ran eight-passenger trains each way, every day —sixteen altogether — and earned a daily average of 6,000 persons. That is about a mOlion in six months — the population of N2w York city. Well, the Erie kills from thirteen to twenty-three persons oi;t of its million in six months ; and in the same time 13,000 of New York's million die in their beds ! My flesh crept, my hair stood on end. ' This is appalling ! ' I said. ' The danger isn't in travelline by rail, but in trusting to those deadly beds. I will never sleep in a bed again.' I had figured on considerably less than one-half the length of the Erie road. It was 1>lain thiat the entire road must transport at east eleven or twelve thousand people every day. There, are many short roads runping o^t of Boston .that do fully half as much ; a gireat many such roads. There are many roads scattered about the Union that do a jNTodigious passenger business. Therefore it was fair to presume that an average of 2,500 passengers a day for each road in the countnr would DO about correct. There are 846 rail- mjiky lines in our country, and 846 times 2,500 are 2,115,000. So the railways of America move more than two millions of people every day ; six hundred and fifty millions of peo- ple a year, vrithout counting the Sundays. They do that too, there is no question about it ; though where they get the raw material is clear beyond the jurisdiction of my arith< metic ; for I have hunted the census through and through, and I find that thero are not that many people in the United States by a matttf of six hundred and ten milUons at the very least. They must use some of the same people over again, likely. San Francisco is one-eighth as populous as New York ; there are 60 deaths a week in the former and 600 a week in the latter — if they have luck. That is 3,120 deaths a year in San Francisco, and eight times aa many in New York — say about 25,000 or 26,000. The health of the two pUces is th* same. So we will let it stend as a fair pre- sumptioii that this will hold' good idl over the country, and that consequently 25,000 out of every million of people we have, must die every year. That amounte to one-for- tieth of our total population. One million of us, then, die annually. Out of this mil* lion ten or twelve thousand are stebbed, shoi^ drowned, hanged, poisoned, or meet a simi- larly violent death in some other popular wav, such as perishing by kerosene lamp ana hoop-skirt conflagrations, getting buried in coal mine<<> falling off housetops, breaking through church or lecture-room floors, taking patent medicines, or committing suicide in other forms. The Erie railroad kills from 23 to 46 ; the other 845 railroads kill aa averagio of one-third of a man each ; and the rest of that million, amounting in tiie , ^ gate to the appalling figure of nine hui^ and eighty-seven thousand six hundred and thirty-one corpses, die naturally in their beds ! You will excuse me from taking any more chances on those beds. The railroads ai» good enough for me> And my advice to all people is, don't stay at home any more than you can help ; but when you have got to stop at home a while, buy a packet of those insurance tickets and sit up nights. You cannot be too cautious. (One can see now why I answered that ticket agent in the manner recorded at the topof this sketch.) The moral of tiiis composition is, that thoughtless people grumble more than is fair about railroad management in tiie United States. When we consider that every day and night of the year, full fourteen thousand railway trains of various kinds, freighted with life and armed with death, go thunder- ing over the land, the marvel u, not that they kill three hundred human beingfi in a twelvemonth, but that they do not kill three hundred times three hundred 1 ABOUT BAKBEBa All things change except barbers, the way* of barbers, and the surroundings of bttrbers. These never change. What one experiences in a barber shop the first time he enters traught, and lookingWed, as men always do who are awaitiiig their turn in a barber^l ■hop. I sat down in one of the iron-armed compartments of aa old sofa, and put in the tfane for a while reading the framed adver- tisements of all sorts of qnaok nostnims for dyeing and colouring the nair. Then I read tiie greasy names on the mrivate hay mm bottles ; read the names ana noted the num- bers on the private shaving cups in the pigeon-holes ; studied the stained and damaged cheap prints on the walls, of bat- tles, early Pi^idents, and voluptuous re- ennibent sultans, and tiie tiresome and ever- lasting voung girl putting her grandfather's spectacles on ; execrated in my heart the cheerful canary and the distracting parrot that few barbor-shops are without Finally, I searched out the ledst dilapidated of last {rear's illustrated papers that littered the bundling and tumbliiig my head this Snj oul centre-table and conned their on- and that ss convenience in shaviiur demuuC JustiflaUs miarepreaentations of cldfoi|ati ten events. At last my torn came. A vdoe said ' Nffiit ! ' and I surrendered to— No. S; of course. I said meekly I was in a hurry, and it affected him as strongly as if he had never heard it He shoved up my head, and put a napkin under it He ploughed lus finnn into my colLir and fixed a towel there, ne explored my hair with his claws and sa^ gested that it needed trimming I said I did not want it trimmed. He explored again and said it was pretty long for the present style — better have ahttle tiucen off ; it needed it behind especially. I said I had bad it cut only a week before. He yearned over it reflectively a moment, and then ask- ed with a disparaging manner who cut it ? I came back at him promptly with a * Yoa did I ' I had him there. Then he fell to stirring up his lather and regarding himsslf in the glass, stoppins now and then to get close and examine his chin critically ortor^ ture a pimple. Then he lathered one side of my face thoroughly, and was about to lather the other, when a dog-fight attracted his at- tention, and he ran to the window and stay- ed and saw it out, losing two shillings on the result in bets with other barbov, a uing which gave me great satisfaction. He finished lathering meantime getting the brush into mv mouth only twice, and then besan to rub in the suds with his hand ; and as he had his head tuned, discussing the dog-fight with tiM other harb«r% ho natuiadly shovelled considerable latiier into my mouth without knowing it, hat I did. He now began to sharpen his raior on aa old suspender and was delayed a good deal on account of a controversy aboot a cheap masquerade ball be figured atthenij^t be- fore, in red camfaric and bqgos ermine, ss akindof akiuA His was so gratified witk being chaflbd about some damsel whom he had smitten with Us charms^ that he vsed every means to oontiane the contr o v e r sy by pretending to be annoyed at tiie ehafflngscl his fellows. This natter hegat more surveys ings of himself in the glass, and he put dowa his razor and brushed nis hair with elaborate care, plasterinsf an inverted arch of it dowa on his forehead, aeoomplishing an accurate 'part' behind, and brushing the two whigp forward over his ears with nice exaotaess. In the meantime tiie latiier was drying on my face, and apparently eating into my vitals. Now he began to shave, digging his fingers into my countenance to stretch tiie ^jujn, making a handle of my nose now and tiien. Dundhi not mix sat gar sddeds was de thisgav finger ii the con this bit discove: shop wi often w the bar boss. Abou trying likely t of me, I before] immedi have d( shave, second hisraz< the sid places out ma wante( and in along t pimple mgam histov my fac manbi way. dry pa ever d barber he pol histo> dered again, powdc rebell< whole «nt( his ha Then heirn edthi tyial He 1 Hair( Ided *Jone tosel MARK TWAIN'S SKETC5HBS. of oldfoi|oti A Toio« Mid rtd to— No. 2, of M in a harry, aad M if he had nevor ny head, ud p«ft onghed his fingm towel there. u» oUwi andmi^ unin^ I nidfl 1. He exploifd ett^ long for 11m fthttletdcenoff t lly. iMidlhad ore. He yearned Dt^ and then aak- iner who ont it f Uy with a • Ton Then he fell to regarding himialf and then to get \ critically or tor^ thered one nde Attracted his at* window and stay* two ihillingi oa IT barbers, a&ing ^tisfaction. He ime gettinff tha [ twice^ ana then ith his hand ; and i, discossing the ber barbery he mbla lather into r it, bat I did. nhis raioronaa »7ed a good deal ■y aboat a cheap atthenii^t b^ bogos ermine^ as •p gratified with damsel whom ha m, that he osed Bccntroveny by bthe ohaffingscf got more sntreyb andhepatdowB ir with ekborata arch of it down ling an acoarata I uia two wingi nice ezaotnessL was drying on eating into my igging his fingers ^tch the skin, '■ now and tiiea, head this Vay Bhavinir deaiaiuC and * hawkiutf ' and expectorating plea- itly all the while. As lone as he was on e tough sides of my face I aid not suffer ; t when he began to rake, and rip, and ig at my chin, the tears came. I aid not mind his getting so close down to me , I did not mind his garlic, because all barbers sat garlic, I suppose ; but there was an added something that made me fear that he was decaying inwardly while still alive, and Uiis gave me much concern. He now put his finger into my mouth to assist him in shaviug the comers of my upper lip, and it was by this bit of circumstantial evidence that I discovered that a part of his duties in the shop was to clean the kerosene lamps. I had often wondered in an indolent way wlietlier the barbers did that^ or whether it was the boss. About this time I was anmsine myself trying to guess where he would oe most likely to cut me this time, but he got ahead of me, and sliced me on the end m the chin before I had got my mind made up. He immediately sharpened his razor — he might have done it before. I do not like a close shave, and would not let him go over me a second time. I tried to get him to put up his razor, dreading that he Would make for the side of my chin, my pet tender spot, a place which a razor cannot touch twice with- out making trouble ; but he said he only wanted to just smoothoff oue little roughness, and in that same moment he slipped his razor along the forbidden giound, and the dreaded pimple-signs of a close shave rose up smart- ug and answered to the call. Now he soaked his towel in bay rum, and slapped it all over my face .hastily ; slapped it over as if a hu- man being ever yet washed his f ?.ce in that way. Then he aried it by slapping with the j dry part of the towel, as if a human being ; ever dried his face in such a fashion ; but a barber seldom rubs you like a Christian. Next he poked bay rum into the cut place with his towel, then choked the wound with pow- dered starch, then soaked it with bay rum again, and would have gone on soaking and I powderingitf or evermore, no doubt, if I had not ' rebelled and begged off. He powdered my whole face now, straightened me up, and be- gan to plough my aaar thoughtfully, with his hanos and examine his fingers critically. Then he suggested a shampoo, and said my hair needed it badly, very badly. I observ- ad that I shampooed it myself veiv thorou^- lyinthabathyesterdajr. I 'had him 'again, fie next recommended some of 'Smith's Hair Olbrifler, ' and offered to sell me a bottie. I declined. He praised the new perfume, 'Jones* Delight of tha T(nle' ' and propoaed "to sell ina aome 61 that. '^ eclinad again. He tende{pd ma a tooth-wash atroci^ of hia own invention, and when I declined offered to trade knives with me. He returned to business after the misoar* riage of this last enterprise, sprinkled me all over, legs and all, greased my nairin defianea of my protests against it, rubbed and scrulv bed a good deal of it out by the roots, and combed and brushed the rest, parting it be- hind and plastering the eternal mverted arch of hai. down on my forehead, and then, while combing my scant eyebrows and defil- ing them with pomade, strung out an account. of the achievements of a six ounce black and tan terrier of his till I heard the whistles blow for noon, and knew I was five minutes too late for the train. Then he snatched uway the towel, brushed it lightly about my face, passed his comb through my eyebrows once more, and gaily sang out ' Next 1 ' This barber fell down and died of apoplexy two hours later. I am waiting over a day for my revenge— I am going to attend his funeral THE RECENT GREAT FRENCH DUEL. Much as the modem l^rendi duel is ridi- culed by certain smart peo]^le, it is in reality one of the most dangerous institutions of our day. Since it is always fought in the open air, the combatants are nearly sure to catch cold. M. Paul dti Cassagnac, the most in- veterate of the French duellists, has suffered so often in this way that he is at last a con- firmed invalid ; and the best physician in Paris has expressed the opinion that if he goes on duelling for fifteen or twenty years more — ^unless he forms the habit of fighting in a comfortable room where damps and draughts cannot intrude — he will eventually endanger bis life. This ought to moderate the talk of those people who are so stubborn in maintaining that the French duel is tha most health-giving of recreations because of the open air exercise it affords. And it ought also to moderate that foolish talk about French duellists and socialist-hated monarohs being the only people who are iiu mortaL But it is time to get at my subject. As soon as I heard of the late fieiy outbreak 1 -e tween M. Gambetta and M. Fourtou in ILt* French Assembly, I knew that trouble must follow. I knew it because a Ions personal friendship with M. Gambetta baa revealed to me the desperate and implacable nature of the man. Vast as are his physical propoi tions, I knew tliat the thirst for reveng<> would penetrate the remotest frontiers of hi^ peraon. I did not Mrait for him to call on me, liut 1» MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. went at once to him. Am I expected, I found the biave fellow steeped in » profound French calm. I say IVench calm, because J*>ench calmness and English calmness have points of difference. He was moving swiftly l>aok and forth among the debris of his fur- uiture, now and then staving chance frag- ments of it across the room with his foot ; erinding a constant grist of curses through his set teeth ; and haltins every little whue to deposit another handful of his hair on the Ue threw his arms around my neck, bent lae over his stomach to his breast, kissed me on 1)oth cheeks, hugged me four or five times, and placed me m his own arm-chair. As soon as I had got well again, we began bosi* ness at once. I said I suppoaed he would wish me to act as his secona, and he said, ' Of course i ' I sitid I must be allowed to act under a French name, so that I might be shielded from ob> loquy in my oount^, in case of fatal results, lie winced here, probably at the suggestion that duelling was not resurded with respect in America. However, ne agreed to my re- quirement. This accounts for the fact that m all the newspaper reports M. Gambetta'i second was apparently a Frenchman. First, we draw up my principal's will. I insisted upon this, and stuck to my point. I said r had never heard of a man in his right mind going out to fight a duel without firat making his wilL He said he had never heard of a man in his right mind doing any- thing of the kind. When we had finished the will, he wished to proceed to a choice of his ' last words.' He wanted to know how the following words, as a dying exclamation, ■truck me ; — ' I die for my Qod, for my country, for freedom of speech, for progrosa, ana the universal brotherhood of man I' ' I objected that this would require too lin- gering a death ; It was a gooa speech for a consumptive, but not suited to the exigen- cies of the field of honour. We wrangled over a good many ante-mortem outbursts, but I finally got him to cut his obituary down to this, which he copied into his me- morandum book, purposing to get it by heart : — *I DIX THAT T&AXCE MAT UVB.' I said that this remark seemed to lack re- levancy ; but he said relevancy was a matter of no consequence in last words — ^what yon wanted wasthrilL The next tiling in order was the choice of weapons. My principal said he was not feel- ing well, ana would leave that and the other details of the proposed meeting to me. Tkereforo I wrote the following note tad carried it to M. Fourtou's friend i— * Sn : M. Gambetta aooepti M. Foortoo^ ohallenffe, and authorizes me to prppow Plessis-Piquet as the place of meetmg; to- morrow morning at day -break is the uioe i and axes as the weapona. I am, air, witb great respect, «MabxTwaoi.' M. Fourtou'a friend read this note and shuddered. Then he turned to me, and said, with a suggestion of aeverity in hia tone : — ' Have yon considered, sir, what would be. the inevitable result of such a meeting aa this?" ' Well, for instanoet what would it be f « Bloodshed I' •That's about the size of it^' I aaid. ' Now, if it is a fair question, what waa your side proposing to shed f I had him there. He saw he had made » blunder, so he hastened to explaui it away. He said he had spoken jestinely. Then bm added that he ana his pnnoipid wonld eqjoy axes, and indeed prefer them, but such wea- Fins wera barred oy the French code, and ao must change my proposaL I walked the floor turning the thing over in my mind, and finally it occurred to ma that Oatling guns at fifteen paces would be m likely way to get a verdict on the field of honour. So I framed this idea into a pro* position. But it was not accepted. The oode wa» in the way again. I proposed rifles ; then double-barreUed shot-guns; then, Colt's navy revolvers. These being aU rojected, I re- flected a while, and sarcastically sugsested brickbats at three-quarters of a imle. I always hate to fool away a humorous thing on a person who has no perception of humour; and it filled me with bitterness when ^ia man went soberly away to submit the laafe proposition to his principaL ^ He came back presently, and said his prin* cipal was charmed with the idea of brick- bats at three-quarters of a mile, but musi decline on account of the danger to disin- terested parties passing between. Then I said, — *Well, I am at the end of my string now. Perhaps you would be good enough to sug* gest a weapon ? Perhaps you have even had one in your mind all the time?* His countenance brightened, and ha aaid with alacrity, — ' Oh, without doubt, monsieur I' So he fell to huntinff in hispooketi, — pocket after pocket, Mid he haaplea^of :i MASK TWAIE'S SKETCHES. ing note and nd I— iM. FoorfeovV • to propoM meetuiff; to* ii th« uoM I •m, lir, with TWAXV.' this note and to me, and irerity ia his irhst woold be. n meeting •• loolditbef it»' I add. rhftt was your le had made » lam it away. ;ly. Then be would enjoy butiuch wea> h oode, and so le thing orer lourred to me Mswoald be* 1 the field of i into » pro> rhe oode wa» I rifles ; then en, Colt's navy ejected, I re> illy suu[ested I a nule. I miorons thing ion of humour; ess when this bmit the lask 1 said his prin- idea of brick- nile, but musk wger to disin* reen. Then I ly string now. mough to sog« bave even had , and he said UPl' his pookets, — had plenty of instraments ? at fifty. Con- I are banded tfiem, — muttering all the while, 'Now, what eould I have done with themf At last he was sucuessfuL He fished out ef bis vest pocket a couple of little things which I carried to the lignt and disooverMl to be pistols. They were single-barrelled and silver-mounted, and very dainty and rretty. I was not able to speak for emotion, silently hung one of them on mv watoh- ehain, and returned the other. My com- panion in orime now unrolled a postage stamp oontaining several cartridges, and gave me one of them. I asked if he meant to sisnify by this that our men were to be allowed but one shot apiece. He replied that the French oode permitted no more. I then begged him to go on and sugsest a distance, for mv mind was growing weak and confused unoisr the strain which had been put upon it. He named sixtv'five yards. ' I nearly lost my patience. I said, — 'Sixty-five yards with th Pop-guns would be deadlier eider, my friend, yon and together to destroy life^ not to make it eternal.' But with all my pretensions, all my argu- ments, I was only able to get him to reduce the distance to thirty-five yards ; and even this concession he made witn reluctance, and said with a sigh, — ' I wash my hands of this slander ; on yourheadbeit' There was nothing for me but to go home to my old lion-heart and toll my humiliating story. When I entered M. Oambetta was laying his last look of hair upon the altar. He sprang towards me, exclaiming, — * You have made the fatal arrangements — I see it in your eye ?' ' I have.' His face paled a trifle,and he leaned upon the table for support He breathed thick and heavily for a moment or two, so tomul- toous were his feelings ; then he hoarsely whispered, — * The weapon, the weapon I Quick I what is the weajmn ?' * This r and I displayed that silver-mount- xl thing. He caught but one glimpse of it» then swooned ponderously to the floor. When he came to, he said mournfully, ' The unnatural calm to which I have sub- jected myself has told upon my nerves. But away with sickness ! I will confront my fate like a man and a Frenchman. ' He rose to his feet and assumed an atti- tude which for sublimity has never been ap- proached by man, and has seldom been sur- passed by statues. Then he said, in his deep MSB tones,-^ ' Behold, I am oalm } I am ready ; reveal to me the distance. ' * Thirty -five yards.' I could not hft him np, of oontM ; bnt I rolled him over, and poured water down his back. He presently oame to^ and said, — ' ThirW-flve yards,— without a rsst t Bnt why ask 1 Since murder was that man% in- tention, why should he palter with smi^ de- tails ? But mark yon one thing t in my fdl the world shall see how the ohivalty of France meeto death.' After a long silence he asked, — * Was nothing said about that man's fam- ily standing up with him as an offset to my* bulk? But no matter ; I would not stoop to make snch a suggestion ; if he is not noble enough to suggest it himself, he is weloome to this advantage, which no honourable man would take.' He now sank into a sort of stupor of i^ flection, which lasted some minutes ; after which he broke silence with, — 'The hour,— what is the hoar fixed for the collision?' 'Dawn, to-morrow.' He seemed to be greatly snrpriaad, aid immediately said, 'Insanity I I never heard of sneh • tUag. Nobody is abroad at such an hour.* ' That is the reason I named it. Do yon mean to say you want an audience?' * It is no time to bandy words. I am as- tonished that M. Fourton should ever haw agreed to so strange an innovation. Go at once and require a later hour.' I ran down stairs, threw open the front door, and almost plunged into the arms of Mi Fourtou's second. He said, 'I have the honour to say that my prin- ciMtl strenuously objecto to the hour choeen, aim begs that you will consent to change it to half- past nine.' 'Any courtesy, sir, which it is in our power to extend is at the service of your excellent priiicipaL We agree to the proposed change of time.' * I beg von to accept the thanks of my client. ' Then he turned to a person behind him, and said, ' You hear, M. Koir, the hour is altered to half -past nine.' Whereupon M. Noir bowed, expressed his thanks, and went ^ away. My accomplice continued :-t- ' If agreeable to you, your chief surgeonsr and ours shall proceed to the field in the same carriage, as is customary.' ' It is entirely agreeable to me, and I am obliged to you for mentioning the surgeons, for I am afraid I should not have thought of them. How manv shall I want ? I sapppae two or three will be enomrh ?' 10 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. I'v i * Two is th« auitonury uamber tor each ptf^. Infer to "chief" surgeoni ; but ooiuadering th« exjilted positiona occupied by our clients, it will bo well and decorous that each of os appoint tiuveral connultiug surgeons, from among the higheat in thu pro- feSBion. Thess will oome in their own pr)- ▼ate carriages. Have you engaged a hearse T' ' BloBS my stupidity, I never tbou^ltt of it ! I will attend to it right away. I must seem very isnorant to you ; but you must try to overtook that, because I hnvn never had mv experience of such a swell duel as this before. I have had a good deal to do with duels on the Pacifiu coaat, but I see •ow that they were crude affairs. A hearse, — eho ! we used to leave the elected lyiu^ •round loose, and let anyboticed thatth* together on 1 ; they there* bey shonld put f safety. The the two malti- I the duellists, The weather was agreed be- econd that be- e should each lable the com- ither'i wbere- loipal, and was lad lost a good best to hearten inss are not so g the character umber of shots e, the impene* md the added its is one-eyed 1 near-sighted, )\i need not ne- ) chances that lerefore, cheer effect that my led forth hm I laid it, all lonely and forlorn, in the oentre of the vast sohtude of his palm. He caied at it and shuddered. And still mourn- fully contemplating it, ha murmured, in a broken voice. • Alas, it is not death I dread, but mutila- tion.' I heartened him onoe more, and with such success that he presently said, ' let the tragedy besin. Stand at my back ; do not desert me m this solemn hour, my friend.' I gave him my promi"e. I now assisted him to point lus pist self that an mquest is about the only thing that could be a comfort to him !' THE JUDGE'S " SPIRITED WOMAN.'* *** I was sitting here," said the Judge "in this old pulpit, holding court, and we were trvincr a biir.wi<.ked-lookini/ Snanish des- perado for killing the husband of a bright, pretty Mexican woman. It was a lazy suu^- mercuty, and an awfully long one, and tha witnesses were tedious. None of us took any interest in the trial except that nervous uneasy devil of a Mexican woman — ^because you know how they love and how they hate, and this one had loved her husband with all her might, and nowhad boiled it all down into hate, and stood here spitting it at that Span- iard with her eyes , and I tell you she would stir me up, too, with a little of her summer lightning occasionally. Well, I had my coat off and my heels up, loUine and sweating, and smoking one of those cabbage cigars the San Francisco people used to think were i;ood enough for us in those times ; and the awyers they all had their coats off*, and were smoking and whittling ; and the witnesses the same, and so was the prisoner. Well, the fact is, they wam't any interest in a murder trial then, because we fellow wm always brought in ' not guilty, ' the jury ex- pecting him to do as much for them some time : and, although the evidence was straight and square against the Spaniard, we knew we could not convict him without seeming to be rather high-handed and sort of reflecting on every gentleman in the com- inunity ; for there wam't any carriages and liveries then, and so the only * style ' there was, was to keep your private grave- vard. But that woman seemed to have her heart set on hanging that Spaniard ; and you'd ought to have seen how she would glare on him a minute, and then look up at ^me in her pleading way, and then turn and for the next five minutes search the jury's faces, and by-and-by drop her face in her hands for just a little while as if she was most ready to give up, but out she'd come again directly uud be as live and anxious as ever. But when the jury announced the verdict — Not guilty, and I told the prisoner he Was acquitted and free to go, that woman rose up till she appeared to oe as tall and grand as a seventy-four-gun ship, and says she — ' "Judge, do I understand you to say that this man is not guilty that murdered ^y husband without any cause before my pwn eyes and my little children's, and that all has been done to him that ever justice and the law can do ?' • "The same, "says I. ' And then what do you reckon she did f Why she turned on that smirking Spwish fool like a wild cat, and out with a Vnavj' ' and shot him dead in open court." 'That was spirited, I am willing to ad- mit. •Wasntitthouah?' said the Judse. ad- nd of a briglit, was a lazy sau^- g one, and th« ae of OB took ipt that nerroos roman — ^because how they hate, usband with all I it all down into it at that Span- 1 you she would } of her summer [, I had my coat and sweating, >bage cigars the to think were times ; and the tts off, and wer* the witnesses trisoner. Well, ly interest in a the fellow was the jury ex- ^or them soms evidence was the Spaniard, ct him without uded and sort of an in the coon- ly carriages and r< y * style * there private grave- lled to have her Spaniard ; and tiow she woQld then look up at 1 then turn and arch the jury's iier face in her ! as if she was }ut she'd come and anxious as announced the >ld the prisoner go, that woman De as tall and ship, and says you to say that i murdered my before my pwn a, and that all ^er justice and vokon she did ? lirking Spanish ; with a * navy ' nirt." willing to ad- the Judse, ad- MARK TWAIE'R SKETCHES. nirinely. * I wouldn't half missed it for anytiims. I adjourned court right on the spot, and wa put on our coats and went out and took up a collection for her and her cubs, and sent them over the mountains to their friends. And sha was a spirited wench I ' MY LATE SENATORIAL SEC5RETARY- SHIP. I am not a private secretary to a senator any more now. I held tlie berth two months in security and in great cheerfulness of spirit, but my bread began to return from over the waters, then — that is to say, my works came back and revealed themselves. I judged it best to resign. The way of it was this. My •mployer sent for m« one morning tolerably early, and aa soon as I had finished inserting some conundrums clandestinely into his last great speech on finance, I entered the pre« ■cnce. There was somethmg portentous in his appMi^an^je. His cravat was untied, his hair was in a state of disorder, and his •onntenance bora about it the signs of a sup- vressed steam. He held a package of lutters m his tense grasps and I luiew the dreaded Pacdfic mail was m. He said — 'I thou^t you were worthy of confidence.' I said, 'Yes, sir.' He said, 'I ^ave you a letter from cer- tain of my constituents in the State of Ne- Tada, askmff for the establishment of a post- office at Budwin's Ranch, and told you to answer it, as ingeniously as you could, with arguments which should persuade them that there was no real necessity for an office at that place. I felt easier. * Oh. if that it all. sir, I did 4othat.' ' Yes, you did. I will read your answer, lor your own humiliation :--- • •• Washington, Nov. 2L * ** Meaars, Smith, J— "•OFNTLEifKN,— YonwillbavetogototheStMa Legislature about that speculation of youra— Congress don't know anything about religion. But don't you hurry to go there, either; beoiuse this thing you aropose to do out in that new country is inexpedient— in fact, it is ridiouloua Your religious people there are too feeble in in- tellept, in morality, in piety— in every^ing, pretty much. You nad better drop it— you cannk make it work. You cant issue stock on an in- corporation like that— or if you could, tt would only keep you in trouble all the time. The other denominations would abuse it and " bear" it, and "sell it short," and break it dowm. They would do with it just as they wooid with one of your silver mines out there— they would try to make all the wqeld believo it was " wildcat." You ought not to do anything that is calculated to bring a sacred thing into disrepute. You ought to be ashamed of your* selves, that is what I think about it. You close your petition with the words: 'And wa ^111 ever pray.' I think you bad better— yiMi need to do it. ' " Very truly, eta, '"Mark Twain. • •• For James W. N*, U.S; Senator.* 'That luminous epistle finishes me with the religious element among. my constitu- ents. But that my political murder migltt be made sure, some evil instinct prompted me to hand you this memorial from the grave company of elders composing tire ftoard of Aldermen of the city of San Fratl- I Cisco, to try your hand upon — a memorial ! praying that the city's right to the watoT- I lots upon the city front might be establiniied by law of Congress. I tola you this was a dangerous matter to move in. I told you to write a non-com nittal letter to the Alder- men — an ambiguous letter — a letter that should avoid, as far as possible, all real con- sideration and discussion of the water-lot question. If there is any feeling left in you — any shame — surely this letter you wrdts^ in obedience to that order, ought to ewiie it, when ito words fall upon your J •i MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. '"Washington, Not. 27. : At jHim. Board of Aldermen, etc : . Gbntubmbn :— George Washinsrton, fhe reTei^ •d Father of his Country, is dead. His long and WVlant cancer is closed, alas ! t'orev^. He waa greatly respected in this section of the country, and hue nntimely decease cast a gloom over the whole community. He died on the 14th day of December, 1799. He passed peacefully away from the scene of his honours and his great achievements, the most lamented hero and the best beloved that ever earth hath yielded unto Death, At such a time as this, you speak of wdter-lots— what a lot was his ! 'what is tame? Fame is an accident. Sir Isanc Newtuii discovered an apple Tailing to the ground— a trivialdisco very truly, and one which a million men hai made before him— but his parents were influential, and so they tortured uat small circunistuuce into something wonder- tdl, and lo ! the simple world took up the shout, and, inalmost the twinkHn;:^ot' an eye, thatman Wis famous. Treasure these thoughts. * Poesy, sweet poesy, who shall estimate what die world owes to thee I '^Ifary' had a little lamb, its fleece was white aa . snow— Aad everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go." "Jack and Oill went up thi hill To draw a pail of water ; Jack fell down and broke his crown, ; And Gill came tumbling after." ^,IV»r simplicity, elegance of diction, and free aom from immoral tendencies, I regard those two poems in the light of gems. They are suit- ed to all grades of intelligence— to every sphere of life— to the field, to the nursery, to the guild. Especially should no Board of Aldermen be without them.' 'Venerably fossils! write again. Nothing improves onl so much as friendly correspon- dence. Write again— and if there is anything in this memoriafof yours that refers to any- thing in particular, do not be backward about ^fffpuiinlng it. We shall always be happy to warjroaohirp. "" Very tifuly, etc. '"Mark Twain, • "Hot James W. N", U. S, Senator.' *11ial is an atrooioiu, a nunoas epistle 1 DistractiiHi I' ' Well, sir, I am really sorry if there is aaytbing wrong about it ; bat--bat — it ap- to me to dodge the water-lot question.' ' Dodge the mischief ! Oh ! — but never mind. As long as destruction must come now, let it be complete. Let it be complete — ^let tius last of your performances, which I am about to read, make a finality of it. I am a ruined man. I had my misgivings when I gave you the letter from Humboldt, asking that the post route from Indian Guloh to Shakespeare Gap and intermediate Sints be changed partly to the old Mormon liL But I told you it was a delicate ques- , tion, and warned you to deal with it deftly — .to answer it dubiously, and leave them a little in the dark. And your fatal imbecility (impelled you to make this disastrous reply. I snould think yrm wo^d stop your ears, if jon an not dead t9 . ***Mta»n. Perkins, Wagner, et al. ' "Gbntlbmi^.v :— It is a delicate qucstio nabout this Tndian trail, but handled M'ith proner deft- ness And diit.iousness, I doubt not we shall suc- ceed msoiue measure or otherwi('«, because the place when: ilic route leaves the Lasson Mea- dows, over 1)(" und wiiere those two Shawnee chiefs, Dilaniitato-l-Vengeauee and Biter-of-th^ Clouds, were s(,alped last wmt cr, this being the favourite direction to some, hut others ))refcr- ringsomethini' els*; in consequence of things.tlie Mormon trail Icaviiitj Mosny's at three In the morning, and passing through .)>,wbone Lat to Blucher, and titen dowu by Jug- Handle, tite road passing to the right of it, and naturally leaving it on the right, too, and Dawson's on the left of the trail, where it liasses to the left of said Dawson's, and onward thence to Toma- hawk, thus makii^g the route cheaper, easier of acL'ess toall who can getat it, and compassing all the desirable objects so considered by others, and, therefore, conferring the most good upon the greatest numlier, and, consequently, I am enuouroged to hope we shall. However, I shall be ready, and happy, to afR)rd you still further information upon the subject, from time to time, as you may desire it, and the Poet-office Depart- ment be enabled to furnish it to me. ' " Very truly, et6., *Mark Twain •"For James W. M. ••, U. S. Senator." There, no#, what do you think of that?' •Well, I don't know, sir. It— well, it i(p- pears to me — to be dubious enotigh.' 'Du — leave the house! lam a raih.-u think of that? ' It— woU, it ip- enough.' I am a rain.d ivaa^s never will iir brAins up witli re lost the respect the Board of Al ing to say aboilt oissed it a little in aany for the Bald- rail* re it foreveriidd < of covert intima- iild be dispensed I never will be a ktor atgin. You ople. Thejrdou't urt appreoiate a- i SE OF GEORGE JASJED. ot a wild extrava- iMSon MackcTuie's is a plain sU.te- ;ance« with 'which I States has inter* time during th» latter of George a and unreleutiue lent and people M the United States — ^for it has never been so decided, and I hold that it is a grave and g ol«>inn wrong for a writer to cast slurs or eall names when such is the case — but will ■imply present the evidence and let the reader deduce his own verdict. Then we shall do nobody injustice, and our consciences shall be clear. On or about the 1st day of September, 1813, the Creek war being then m progress in Florida, the crops, herds, and houses of Mr. George Fisher, a citizen, were destroyed, either by the Indians or bv the United States troops in pursuit of them. By the terms of the law, if the Indians destroyed the property there was no relief for Fisher ; but if the troops destroyed it, the Govern* ment of the United States was debtor to Fisher for the amount involved. George Fisher must have considered that the Indians destroyed the property, because, although he lived several years afterward, he does not appear to have ever made any daim upon the Government. In tho course of time Fisher died, and his widow married again. And by-and-by, nearly twenty years after that dimly remembered ■lid upon Fisher's cornfields, the widow L''i8her^ new husband petitioned Congress for pay for the property, and backed up the petition with many depositions and affidavits which purported to prove that the troops, ■ad not the Indians, destroyed the property; that the troops, for some inscrutable reason, ddiberately burned down 'houses ' (or cabins) valued at |600, the same belonnng to a peaceable private citiaen, and also destroyed various other property belonging to the same dtiaem. But C!ongress decided not to believe that the troi^ were such idiots (after over* taking and scattering a band of Indians ftroved to have been found destroying •'ishVs property) •■ to calmly continue the work of destruction themselves, and make a complete job of what the Indians had only commenced. So Ooagtea» denied the peti- tion of the heim of George Fisher in 1832, and did not pay them a cent. We hear no more from them officially un- til 1848. sixteen yean after their first at* tempt on the Treasury, and a full generation after the death of the man whose fields were destroyed. The new generation of Fisher heirs then came forward and put in a bill for damages. Tha second Auditor awarded them f8,87S, being half the damages sus* tained by Fisher. The Auditor said the tantimony showed that at least half the des* truction was done by the Indians' 'before the troops started in pursuit,' and of course the OovemnMiit was not responsible for that halt 2. That was in April, 1818. In December, 1848, the heirs of George Fisher, deceased* came forward and pleaded for a ' revision' of their bill of damages. The revision was made, but nothing new could be found in their favour except an error of $100 in the former calculation. However, in order to keep up the spirits of the Fisher family, the Auditor concluded to go back and allow in- terest from the date of the first petition (1832) to the date when the bill of damagea was awarded. This sent the Fishers home happy with sixteen years' interest on |8,873 —the same amounting to $8,997 94. Total, $17,870 94. 3. For an entire year the suffering Fuhtsr family remained quiet — even satisfied, aftiar a fashion. Then they swooped down upon Government with their wrongs once mwa. That old patriot. Attorney -General Touoqr, burrowed through the musty papers of the Fishers, and discovered one more chance for the desolate orphans — interest on that original award of $8,873 from date f destruction of the property (1813) up to 18^2! Resull^ $10,004 89 for the indigent Fishers. So now we have : First, $8,873 damages ; second, interest on it from 1832 to 1S48, $S,997 94 ; third, interest on it dated back to 1813, $10,004 89. Total, ^,875 83 ! What better investinent for a great-grandchild than to get the Indians to bum a cornfield for him sixty or seventy years before his birth, and plausibly lay it on lunatic United States^ troops? . ' 4. Stranse it may seem, the Fishers let Congress afone for five years— or, what is per^ps more likely, failed to make them* selves heard by Congress for that length of time. But at last, in 1854, they got a hear* ing. lliey persuaded Congress to pass an Act requiring the Auditor to re-examine their case. Kit this time they stumbled upon the misfortune of an honest Secretary 01 the Treasury (Mr. James Guthrie), and ha spoiled everything. He said in very plain lan^age that the Fishers were not only noi entitled to another cent, but that thcAe children of many sorrows and acquainted with ATiefs had been paid too much already. ft. Therefore another interval of rest and ■ilenoe ensued — an interval which lasted four years, vis., till 1858. The 'right man in the right JplAoe ' was then Secretary of War— John a. Floyd, of peculiar renown t Here was a master intellect ; here was the very man to succour tha suffiering heirs of dead and forgotten Fisher. They came np from Fl(Mnda with a rush— a great tidal waro of Fishers, freighted with thesame oldmusty documents about the same immortal corn- fields of their ancestor. Iliey straightwaf MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ■k 4 i got an Aot passed transferring the Fisher matter from the dull Auditor to the in> genioos Floyd. What did Floyd do? He laid 'it was proved that the Indians de- stroyed everything they could before the -troops entered in pursuit.' He considered, therefore, that what they destroved must faave oozisisted of * the houses with all their Dontents, and the liquor ' (the most trifling |>art of the destruction, and set down at ■ropertv upon them, but^ even repenting him of charging them with burning the cabins and drinking the whiskev and breaking the crockery, lays the entire damage at the door of the imbe- cile United States troops, down to the very last item ! And not only that, but uses the forgery to double the loss of com at 'Bassett's Creek,' and use it again to absolutely treble the loss of com on the 'Alabama river.' This new and ably conceived and executed bill of Mr. Floyd's figures up as follows (I copy again from the printed U. 8. Senate document) : ■" '-'.Krt: ••»:■■ ;» o.i 's&Mi The United States in account vrtth the legal >»■ preaentatives of George Fiaher, deceased. 1813.-T0 550 head of cattle, at flO.. .. 9 6,500 00 To 80 head of drove hogs 1,201^)0 To 35!) head of stock hogs 1,750 00 To 100 acres of com on Bassett's Creek 6,000 00 To 8 barrels of whiskey 5.W 00 To 2 barrels of brandy 280 (K) To 1 barrel of rum.. .. 70 00 To dry-guods and merchandise in store... 1,100 00 To 36 acres of wheat 3fi»00 To2,000 hides 4,0„u"oo 5Jf MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. aa to the prio« made to name t witness bad e I The ole^ itention to tiiis ief of the caae it in writing. ;ot before Coa- et had a hint the Fisher pa> basis of the ignoring the "68 were mani- ioent forgery), r report that regard to the higher allow* lade by the estimates the acre (double nd then virtU'- the crop, bat bushel for tty old books Bsional library ler testimony : that in the th from 11.25 accomplished o next? Mr. r6 to .i execute le piously ru- es out an on- maffeb, and in es me Indians the destmo- m them, but^ arsinff them and drinking crockery, lays of the imbe- a to the very , but uses the 11 at 'Baasett's iolutely treble ibama river.' \Ad executed as follows (I U. S. Senate A theleffai r» r, deceased. 6.500 00 1,204^JO l,7oOOO 6,000 00 280 <« 70 OU 1,100 01) SS'.OO 4.U.U00 itt^B ise To furs and hatb In store .. 600 00 To crockery ware in store.. .. 100 00 To smiths' and carpenters tools 250 00 To houses burned and de- stroyed 600 00 To i dozen bottles of wine. ... 48 00 -To 120 acres of com on Ala- bama river 9,500 00 To crops of peas, fodder, etc . . 3,250 00 Total I Sl,»52 00 To interest on 922,202, from July, 1813, to November, 1860, 47 years and 4 months 63,053 68 He interest on $22,700, from September,1811, tu Novem- ber, I860, 46 years and 2 months 35,817 50 Total 1133.323 18 He puts eveiything in this time. He does ■oteven allow that the Indians destroyed the orockery or drank the four dozen bottles •f (currant) wine. When it came to super- natoral comprehensiveness in ' gobbling,' John B. Floyd was without his equal, in his «wn or any other generation. Subtracting from the above total the |67,000 already Eid to George Fisher's implacable heirs, r. Floyd announced that the Gh)vemment wai still indebted to them in the sum of ■ixty-six thousand five hundred and nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents, ' which,' Mr. Floyd compla^ntly remarks, 'will be paid, accordingly, to the administrator of the estate of Qeorge Fisher, deceased, or to his attorney in fact.' But, sadly enough for the destitute orphans a new President came in just at this time^ Buchanan and Floyd went out, and tiiey never got their money. The first thing Conorerss did in 1861 was to rescind the resolution of June 1, 1860, under which Mr. Floyd had been ciphering. Then Floyd (and doubtless the heirs of George Fisher likewise) had to give up financial business for a while, and go mto the Confederate army and serve their country. Were the heirs of George Fisher killed? No. They are back now at this verv time (July, 1870), beseeching Congress, through that blushing and diffident creature, Garrett Davis, to commence making payments again on their interminable and insatiable bill of damages for com and whiskey destroyed by a gang of irresponsible Indians, so long ago that even Government red-tape has failed to keep consistent and intelligent track of it. Now, the above are facts. They are his- tory. Any one who doubts it can send to the Senate Document of the Capital for H. B. Ex. Doc. No. 21, 36th Congress, 2nd Session, and for S. Ex. Doo. No. 106, 41st Congress, 2nd Session, and satisfy himself. The whole ease is set forth in the first volume of the Court of Claims reports. It is my belief that as long as the Conti- nent of America holds together, the heirs of George Fisher, deceased, ^vill make pile grimages to Washington from the swamp- of Florida, to plead for just a little mors cash on their bill of damages (even when they received the last of that sixty-seven thou- sand dollars, they said it was only one-fourth what the Government then owed them on that fruitful corn-field), and as long as they choose to come, they will find Garrett Da- vises to dnuj their vampire schemes before Congress. This is not the only hereditary fraud (if fraud it is — which I have before repeatedly remarked is not proven) t^tis being quietly handed down from generati<» to generation of fathers and sons, through the persecuted Treasury of the United States. THE FACTS IN THE CASE OF THB GREAT BEEP CONTRACT. In as few words as possible I wish to lay before the nation what share, howsoever small, I have had in this matter — this matter which has so ^exercised the public mind, en- gendered so much ill feeling, and so filled the newspapers of both continents with dis- torted statements and extravagant oommentik The oridn of thia distasteful thing was this — and I assert here that 0veij fact im the following remtroe can be amply proTed by the offioitd records of the Qenend (SorenX' ment : — John Wilson Mackenzie, d Rotterdam, Chemung county, New Jersey, deceased, contracted with the General Governments on or about the 10th day of October, 1861, to famish to General Sherman the som total of thirty barrels of beef. Very weU. He started after Sherman with the beet but when he got to Washington Sherinaa had gone to Manassas; so he took the beef and followed there, but arrived too late; he followed him to Nashville, and from Nash- ville to Chattanooga, and from Chattanooga to Atlanta — but he never could overtake him. At Atlanta he took a fresh start and foUow- ed him clear through his march to the sea. He arrived too late again by a few days; but hearing that Sherman was going out in the Quaker City excursion totiie Holy Land, he took shipping for Beirut, calculating to head o£F the other vesseL When he arrived in Jerusalem with his beef, he learned that Sherman had not sailed in the Quaker CSty, but had gone to the Plains to fight the Indians. He returned to America, and started for the Rooky Mountains. Aiter sixty-eight days, of aranons travel on the MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ill Plains, and when he had got within four nules of Sherman's , headquai-ter, he was tomahawked and scalped, and the Indians ffot the beef. They got all of it but one barrel. Sherman's army captured that, and ao, even in death, the bold navigator piurtly fulfilled his contract. In his will, which he had kept like a journal, he bequeathed the •ontract to his son, Bartholomew W. Bar* tholomewW. made out the following bill, and then died : — * Thh UNrrsD Statbs Id account with John Wii.son Mao KBNZiB, of New Joraey .deceased Or. To thirty barrels of beef for General Sherman, at $100 | 3,000 To travelling expenses and transporta- tion 14,000 Total 117,000 Reo'd Pay**. He died then ; but he left the contract to Wm. J. Martin, who tried to collect it, but died before he got through. He left it to Barker J. Allen, and he tried to collect it -also.^ He did not survive. Barker J. Allen left it to Anson G. Rogers, who attempted to collect it, and got along' as far as the Ninth Auditor's Office, when Death, the Ck Leveller, came all unsummoned, and dosed 6n him also. He left the biU to a relative of his in Comieatiout^ Vengeance Hojdcins by name, who lasted four weels and two days, and made the best time on record, coming within one of reaching the Twelfth Auditor. In his will he gave the contract bill to his uncle, by the name of 0-be-joyful , Johnson. It was too undermining for Joy- fuL His last words were : ' Weep not for RM— I am willing to go. ' And so he was, poor soul. Seven people inherited the con* tract after that ; but they all died. So it came mto my hands at last. It fell to me i:hh>'agh a relative bv the name of Hubbard — Bethlehem Hubbard, of Indiana. He hadhad a tprudge against me for a long time ; but in his last moments he sent for me, and forgave me everything, and, weeping, gave me the beef contract. This ends the history of it up to the time that I succeeded to the property. I will BOW endeavour to set myself straight before the nation in everything that concerns my share in the matter. I took this beef con- tract, and the bill for mileage and trans- Sortation, to the President of the United tates. He said, 'Well, sir, what can I do for jou?' I said, *Sire, on or about the 10th day of ' October, 1861, John Wilson Mackenzie, of Rotterdam, Chemung couiity, New Jersey, deceased, contracted with the General Gov- ernment to furnish to General Sherman the sum total of thirty barrels of beef ' He stopped me there, and dismissed tarn from his presence — kindly, but firmly. The next day I called on the Secretary of State. He said, 'Well, sir?' I said, ' Your Royal Highness ; on or about the lOth day of October, lf>61, John Wilson Mackenzie, of Botterdsua, Chemuns county. New Jersey, deceased, contractea with the General Government to furnish to Greneral Sherman the sum total of thirty barrels of beef ' ' That will do, sir — ^that will do ; this office has nothing to do with contracts for beef.' I was bo:wed out. I thought the matter all over, and finally, the following day, I visited the Secretary of the Navy, wJio said, ' Speak quickly, sir ; do not keep me wait- ing.' I said, ' Your Royal Highneaa, on w aboat the 10th day of October, 1861, John Wilson Mackenzie, of Rotterdam, Chemung conuty. New Jersey, deceased, contracted wil^ tiie General Government to furnish to General Sherman the sum total of thirty barrels of beef ' Well, it was as far as I could get. He had nothing to do with beef contracts for Gen- eral Sherman either. I besan to think it was a curious kind of a Government. It looked somewhat as if they wanted to get out of paying for that Mef. The fol- lowing day 1 went to the Seoretary of'the Interior. I said, ' Your Imperial Highnees, on or about the lOth day of October ' * That is sufficient, sir. I have heard of you before. Go, take your infamous beef contract out of this establishment. The In- terior Deppr;,mc'r.« has nothing whatever to do with subsistence for the army.' I went awav. But I was exasperated now. I said I would haunt them ; I would infest every department of this iniquitous Govern- ment till that contract business wte settled. I would collect that bill, or fall, as fell my predecessors, trying. I assailed the Post- master-General ; I besieged the Agricultural Department; I waylaid the Speaker of the House of Representatives. They had nothing to do with army contracts for beef. I moved upon the Commissioner of the Patent Office. I said, 'Your August Excellency, «b or about — ^ — ' ' Perdition ! have you got here with your incendiary beef contract, at last ? We have nothing to do with beef oontnots for tba I army, my dear sir.' MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. t) Sherman the )ee£ ' dismiBied nm but firmly. Secretary of hneos ; on or >r, 1P81, John I la^ti, Chemnnff ed, contracted to famish to lotal of thirty nil do ; thii \ contracts for ht the matter ilowing day, I avy, wJio said, keep me wait- M, on or aboat John Wilson smung county, cted with the ish to General irty barrels of i dget. He had acts for Q«n- in to think it >vemment. It By wanted to beef. The fol- Boretary of the ghneas, on or i have heard of infamous beef lent. The In- S idiatever to my.' asperated now. [ would infest uitous Govern- Bs wte settled, ill, as fell my iled the Post- e Agricultural ipeaker of the I. They had raets for beef, isioner of the ellenoy« oi or here with your »t? We have ntnote i«r tbe ' Oh, that is all very well — but somebody has got to pay for that beef. It has got to be Said now, or I'll confiscate this old Patent iffice and everything in it' 'But, my dear sir — ' ' It don't make any difference, sir. The Patent 0£5ce is liable for that beef, I reckon; and, liable or not liable, the Ptftent Office has got to pay for it. ' Never mind the details. It ended in a fight. The Patent Office won. But I found oat something to my advantage. I was told that the Treasury Department was the pro- per place for me to go. I went there. I waited two hours and a half, and then I was admitted to the Fir::>t Lord of the Treasury. I said, ' Most noble, grave, and reverend Seignor, on or about the 10th day of Octo- ber, 1861, John Wilson Macken ' * That is sufficient, sir. I have heard of yon. Oo to the First Auditor of the Trea- sury.' I did so. He sent me to the Second Au- ditor. The Second Auditor sent me to the Tliird, and the Third sent me to the First Comptroller of the Corn Beef Division. This began to look like business. He examined his books and all his loose papers, but found oo minute of the beef contract. I went to the Second Comptroller of ttie Coni-Beef Division. He examined his books and his loose papers, but with no success. I was en- couraged. During that week I got through the Claims Department ; the third I began and completed the Mislaid Contracts De- partment, and got a foothold in the Dead Beckoning Department. I finished that in three days. There was only one place left I for it now. I laid sicgs to the Commissioner of Odds and Ends. To his clerk, rather — ^ he was not thwe himself. There were six* teen beautiful young ladies in the room, writing in books, and there were seven well- favoured young clerks showing them how. The young, women smiled up over their shoulders, and the clerks smiled back at them, and all went merry as a marriage bell. Two or three clerks that were read- ing the newspapers locked at me rather hard, but went on reading, and nobody said any- thing. However, I had been used to this kind of alacrity from Fourth • Assistant Junior Clerks all through my eventful career, from the very day I entered the first office of the Corn-Beef Bureau, clear till I passed out of the last one in the Dead Reckoning Divi- sion* I had got so accomplished by this time that I could stand on one foot from the moment I entered an office till a clerk spoke to me, without changing more then two or oiay be three times. So I stood there tUlI had ohanged. fopv different times. Then I said to be done first. 'Where is this John Wilson Mackenzie I* said he. •Dead.' • When did he die V ' He didn't die at aU— he waa kffled.' •How?' •Tomahawked.' • W^ho tomahawked him ?* • Why, an Indian, of courso. Yon didnt suppose it was a superintendent of a Sunday* school, did you ?* • No. An Indian, was it?* • The same. ' • Name of the Indian ?* • His name ? I don't know his name.' • Must have his name. Who saw the tomahawking done?' . ' I don't know. ' • You were not preseijit yourself then f* ' • Which you can see by my hair I waa absent.' • Then how do you know that Mackenzie is dead ?' •Because he certainly died at that time^ and I have every reason to believe that he has been dead ever since. X kjoow tbat ho has, in fact ' • We mui^ hare WWlfc, , Bl^tp jou got tl# Indiajir . , ^^u yi .,.. •Of course not.*, ., ,^ij ,,^^^,^^uiuo 10 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. k ■tti *Well, yon must get him. Have you got the tomahawk V * I never thought of such a thing.' ' You must get the tomahawk. Yon mnat produce the Indian and the tomahawk. If Afackenzie'a death can be proven by theEie,yon can then go before the Commission appointed to audit clainui with some ahow of getting your bill under aucl^ headway that your chil- dren may poaaibly livt/ to receive the money and enjoy it. But that man's death must be proven. However, I may as well tell you that the Government wiU never pay that transportation and those travelling expenses of the lamented Mackenzie. It may possiblv pay for the barrel of beef that Sherman s ■oldien captured, if you can get a Relief Bill through Congress making an appropriation lor that purpose ; but it will hot pay for the twenty>nine barrels the Indians ate. ' Then there is only a hundred dollars due me, and that isn't certain I After all Mac- kenzie's travels in Europe, Asia and Ameri- ca with that beef ; after all his trials and tribulations and transportation ; after the ■laughter of all those innocents that tried to collect that bill ! Young man, why didn't the First Comptroller of the Corn-Beef Division tell me this 7' * He didn't know anything about the genuineness of your claim. ' ' Why didn't the Second tell me? why didn't the Third ? why didn't all thoM div- isions and departments tell me ?' * None of them knew. We do things by routine here. You have followed the routine "and found out what you wanted to know. It is the best way. It is the only way. It is yery regular, and very slow, but it is very oiertain.' ' Yes, certain death. It has been to the most of our tribe. I begin to feel that I, too, am called. Young man, you love the bright creature yonder with the gentle blue eyes- and the steel pen behind her ear — I see it in your soft glances : you wish to marry her, but you are poor. Here, hold out your hand ' — here is the beef contract ; go, take her and be happy 1 Heaven bless you, my .children I' This is all I know about the great beef contract that has created so much talk in the community. The clerk to whom I be- queathed it died. I know nothing further about the contract or any one connected with it. I only know that if a man lives long enough he can trace a thing through the Circumlocution Office of Washington, and find out after much labour and trouble and idelav, that which he could have found out Wi the first day if the busincM of the Cir- munlooutioa Office were aa ingeniously systematized as it would be if it were a grea* private mercantile institiition. , ., THE POOR EDITOR To be the editor of any kind of newspaper, either country or metropolitan (but very es- Eecially the former), is a position which must e very trying to a goo > offers hit Ic at the trifl* two dollars » would suppose ied with that, zle their thin tieaper way of ed — some way virtually for I the meanest es for robbing z., the confer* and begging lly endeavour- his sacred b ten doUan' sents' worth of that leave the i crushing debt >rrupted,editor, ependence and )tible presents, lant of his self- last abandons ind prostitute* every sort of ntr chooses to ctioner insult* of ice>cream — s' of editorial cer insults him 1 radishes and ets an editorial ith gratitude : three dollars' ke a man's leg, nel-buoy, or » his own head, nof exuberant d these trivial and gracefully .ently upon th* plainly ■hoir» lat the victim will be held to a strict ac* (untability in the next issue of bis paper. I am not an editor of a newspaper, and ihall always try to do right and be good, so ihal Ood will not make me one ; but there are some persons who have sot the impres- sion somehow that I am that Kind of charac- ter, and they treat me accordingly. They send me a new-fangled wheelbarrow, and ask me to 'notice' it ; or a peculiar boot- jack, and ask me to ' notice ' it ; or a sample of coffee, and ask me tQ ' notice ' it ; or an article of furniture worth eight or ten dollars, or a pair of crutches, or a truss, or an arti- ficial nose, or a few shillings' worth of rub- bish of the vegetable species ; and here lately, all in one day, I received a barrel of apples, a thing to milk cows with, a basket of peaches and a box of grapes, anew sort of wooden leg, and a patent • compoaition ' grave-stone. ' Notices ' requested. A bar- rel of apples, a cow milker, a basket of peaches and a box of grapes, all put to>. gether, are not worth the bore of writing a 'notice,' or a tenth part of the room the ' notice would take up in the paper, and so they remained unnoticed. I had no imme- diate use for the wooden leg, and would not have accepted a charity grave-stone if I had been dead and actually suffering for it when it came; so I sent those articles back. The ungrateful custom, so popular in the back settlements, of facetiously wailing about the barren pockets of editors, is the parent of this uncanny present-inflicting, and it is time that the guud that originated the cus- tom and now suffer in pride and purse from it reflected that decent and dignified poverty is thoroughly respectable; while the flaunt- ing of eitlier a real or pretended ueediness in the public face, and the bartering of nausea- ting ' puffs ' for its legitimate fruit of chari- table presents, are as thoroughly indelicate, unbecoming and disreputable. . •AFTER' JENKINS. ; A grand affair of a ball — the Pioneers' — oarae off at the Occidental some time ago. The following notes of the costumes worn oy the belles of the occasion may not be uninte- resting to the general reader, and Jenkins may get an idea therefrom: Mrs. W. M. was attired in an elegant pate de/oie grew, made expressly f<^r her, and was gi'eatly admired. Miss S., had her hair done up. She was the centre of attraction for the gentlemen and the envv of all the ladies. Miss O. W. was tastefully dressed in a tout ensemble, and was greeted with deafen- ing applai Mrs. C. N. was superbly arrayed in white kid gloves. Her modest and engaging man- ner accorded well with the unpretending simplicity of her costume, and caused her to be regarded with absorbing interest by every one. The charming Miss M. M. B. appeared is a thrilling waterfall, whose exceeding grao» ■ and volume compelled the homage of pio- neers and emigrants alike. How beautiful she was I The q^ueenly Mrs. L. R. was attractively attired in her new and beautiful false teeth, and the bon jour effect they naturally pro- duced was heightened by her enchanting and well-sustained smile. The manner oi the lady is charmingly pensive and melancholy, ana her troops of admirers desired no greater happiness than to get on the scent of her lozodont-sweetened sighs, and track her through her sinuous course among the gay and restless multitude. MissR. P., with that repngnanoe to osten- tation in dress which is so peculiar to her, was attired in a simple wmte lace collar, fastened with a neat pearl-button solitaire, the fine contrast between the sparkling viva- city of her natural optio and the steiadfait attontiveneas of her placid glass eye, wa* the subject of general and enthusiastic re- mark. The radiant and sylph-like Mrs. T. wore hoops. She showed to great advantage, and created a sensation wherever she appeared. She was the ^yest of the gay. Miss C. L. B. had her fine nose elegantly embalmed, and the easy grace with whico she blew it from time to time marked her as a cultivated and accomplished woman of the world; its exquisitely modulated tone excited the admiration of all who had the happiness to hear it. Being offended with Miss X., and our acquaintance having ceased permanently, I will take this opportunity of observing to her that it is of no use of her to be prancing off to every ball that takes place, and flour- ishing around with a brass oyster knife skewered through, her waterfall, and smiling her sickly smile through her decayed teeth, with her dismal pug-nose in the air. There is no use in it—she don't deceive anybody. Everybody knows she is old: everybody knows she is repaired (you might almost say built) with artificial hair and bones and muscles and things, from the ground up — put together scrap by scrap; and everybody knows, also, that all one would have to dc would be to pull out her key-pin, and she would go to piece* like a Chinese pu2zl*. 32 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. I|.^l? ANSWER TO AN INQUIRY FROM THE COMING MAN. 'Touvo AuTHOB.'— Yes, AgasBiK doeb re- «ominend authors to eat fish, becaus' the phosphorus in it makes braina. So far yoa are oorreot But I cannot help you to a de- cision about tlie amount you need to eat — at least, not with certainty. If the speci- men composition you send is about your fair oaual average, I should judge that perhaps a couple of whales would bo all ^ou want for tlie present. Not the largest kmd, but aim* ply good middling-nizerl whnles. CWNCERNING CliAMBERMAIDS. Against all chanibennaids, of whatsoever age or nationality, I launch the curse of bachelordom ! Because : They always put the pillows at the op- posite end of the Ded froui the gas-buiner, ao that while you read and smoke before sleep* ins (as is the ancient and hououred custom of bachelors), you have to hold your book «loft in an uncomfortable position, to keep the light from dazzling your eyes. When you find the pillows removed to the other end of the bed in the morning, they receive not the suggestion in a friendly flpirit ; but glorying in tiieir absolute sov- ereignty, and unpitying your helplessness, they make the bed just as it was oi-igiiuilly, and gloat iji seorct over the l)aug their tyrauay will cau: >• you. Always iiiter ti^at, when they find you have transposed the pillows, they undb your work, and thus defy and seek to embitter the life that Ooil has given you. If they cannot get the light in an incon- venient position any other way, they move the bed. If you pull your trunk out six inches from tiie wall, 80 that the lid will stay up when Tou open it, they always shove that trunk ttack again. They do it on purpose. If you want the spittoon m a certain spot, where it will be handy, they don't, and so thev move it. The^ always put your other boots into in* accessible places. They chiefly enjoy de- positing them as far under the l>ed as the wall wul permit. It is because this compels you to get down in an undignified attitude and make wild sweeps for them in the dark with the boot-jack and swear. They always put the match-box in some other place. They hunt up a new place for it every day, and put up a bottle, or other perishable glass thing, where the box stood before. This is to cause you to break tiiat glasa thing, groping in tne dark, and get yourself into trouble. T\\.^j are for ever and ever moving the furniture. Wliun you come in, in the night, you can cnlciilate on finding tite bureau where the wardrobe was in tiie nioniing. And when you go out in the moriiitig, if you leave the slop-biiclvet by the door und rock- ing-chair by the window, when you come in at niiduiglit, or liiereabouts, yon v«ill fall over that rocUiiig-chair, and you will pro- ceed toward tJie window and sit down in tliat alop-tub. This will disguat you. They like that. No matter wht \tj ^ou put anything, they are not gouig to lei it stay tliere. They will take it and move it tho first chance they get. It is tiiere nature. And, besides, it gives them pleasure to be mean and contrary tills way. They would die if they oouldnt be villains. Tiioy always save up all the old scraps of printed rul^bish you throw on the floor, and stack them up carefully on the table, 9';^ start the hre with your valuable iD'uiuHcripta. If tliere is any one particu- lar old scrap that you are more down on than any other, and which you are gradually wearing your life out tiying to get rid of, you may take all the pains you possibly can in the direction, but it won't be of any use, because they will always feteh that old scrap back and put it in the same old place again every time. It does them good. And they use up more hair-oil than any six men. If charged with purloining the same, they lie about it. What do they care about a hereafter ? absolutely notliing. If you leave the key in tlie door for con- venience sake, they will carry it down to the office and give it to the clerk. They do this under the vile pretence of trying to protect your property from thieves ; but actually they did it because they want to make you tramp back downstairs after it when you come home tired, or put you to the trouble of sending a waiter for it, which waiter will expect you topay him something. In which case I suppose the degraded creatures divide They keep always trying to make your bed before you get up, thus destroying your rest and inflicting agony upon you ; but after you get up, they don't come any more till next day. They do all the mean things you can think of, and they do them just out of pure ous- sedness. and nothing else. Chambermaids are dead to every human instinct. If I can get a Bill through the LegisUtnre abolishing ohambermaids. I mean to do H. • ! 3r moving th« , in the night, g the bureau tiie niunniig. loriiuig, if you door und rock* you come in you y*ll fall you will pro- a sit down in at you. They ny thing, they e. They will clianoe they ad, besides, it and coutraj-y they couldn't the old acrapa on the floor, on the table, ^our valuable one partioo- aore down on 1 are gradually ing to got rid i you possibly on't be of any fetch that old lame old place im good, ir-oil than any purloining the it do they care nothing, e door for con- it down to the They do this ring to protect ; but actually * to make you r it when you to the trouble ioh waiter will ing. Tn which ■eatures divide to make your estroying your you; but after any more till yon can think it of pure COB- If ARK TWAIE'8 SKBTCHB8. ■. » every human the Legulaiore mean to do ii «»«l«ivj.*I<3 g«.' BUBLRSQUE AUTOBIOORAPHT. Two or Ihreo ponona having at different Hmm intimated that if I would write an aotobiography thev would read it when they got loiaure, I yield at last to this frencied Bohlio demand, and herewith tender my history. Our* ia a noblo old home, and itretches a long way back into antiquity. The earlieat ancestor the Twains have any record of was a friend of the family by the name of Hig- gins. This was in the eleventh eentury, when our people were living in Aberdeen, oonnty of Cork, England. Why it is that oor long line has ever sinoe borne the ma- ternal name (ezoept when ono of them now and then took a playful refuse in an alias to avert foolishness) instead of Higgins, is a mysteiy which none of us has ever felt much desire to stir. It is a kind of vague, pretty tomance, and we leave it alone. All the old iamilies do that way. Arthur Twain was a man of considerable te— a solicitor on the highway in William Rafus's time. At about the age of thirty he went to one of those fins old English plaoes «f rssort called Newgate, to see about some- thing, and never returned again. While there he died suddenly. Augustus Twain seems to have made some> thing of a stir about the year 1160. He was as f uU of fun as he could be, and used to take his old sabre and sharpien it up, and get in a convenient place on a dark nighty and stick it through people as they went oy, to see them jum]^. He was a bom humourist But he got to gomg too far with it ; and the first time he was found stripping one of these parties, the authorities removed one end of nim and put it up on a nice place on Temple Bar, where it oould contemplate the people and have a good time. He never liked any flitnation so much, or stuck to it so long. Then for the next two hundred years the family tree shows a succession of soldiers — noble, high-spirited fellows, who always vent into battle singing, right behind the army, and always went oat a-whoopin^ lif^t ahead oi it. This is a scathins reboke to old dead Frois- sart's poor witticism, that our family tree never oad but one limb to it, and that that ens stuck out at right anj^ and bore fruit winter and summw. Early in the fifteenth oentoiy we hava Beau Twain, called ' the Scholar.' Ha wrote a beautiful, be«utifnl hand. And he eoold imitate anybody Is hand so doaely that it Waa anongh to make a person langh his head off to ifc Ha had infinite apart with hia takint Bat by-and-by ho took a contract to break stone for a road, and the roughness of the work spoiled his hand. Still he enjoyed Uls all the time he waa in the atone bosinaas, which with inconsiderable intervals, waa some forty-two years. In fact, he died in harnsas. During all those long years he gave sack satisfaction that he never was throag^ wdtk o riding about the ship with his nose in the air sneenng about the commander, and saying he did not believe Columbus knew where Im was going to or had ever been there bdfore. nie memorable cry of 'Land ho ' thrilled every heart in the ship but his. He gaaed a while through a piece of smoked glass at the pencilled line lyinff on the distant water, ukl then said, ' Land be hanaed I It's a raft f* When this questionabto passenger came on board the ship he brought nothing with him but an old newspaper containing a handker- chief marked * B, O.,' one cotton sook mark> ed *L. W. 0.,* one wodkn one marked 'D. F.,'and a night-shirt marked '0. M. B.' And yet dunng the voyage he worried more about his 'trunk,' and gave himself more airs about it than all the rest of the passenflers put tooether. If the ship waa * down l>y toe heao,' and would not steinr, ha would go and move his ' trunk ' further aft, and then watch the effects If tiie ship was ' by the stem,' ha would anggest to Colum- bus to detail some men to 'uiif t that bag- gage.' In storms he had to be gagged, be- eanse Us wailings about hia ' trunk 'made it impossible for the men to hear the orders. The man does not appear to have been open- ly charged with any gravely nnbeooming thinj^ but it is noted in the ship's log nm a *onnoas oironmstance ' that albeit he brought hb baggase on board the ship in a newspaper, he took it ashors in four trunks, n queenswaie orate, and a couple of etutta- pagno baakets. Bvt whan ha eaosa back ^f! MARK TWAIN'S fl^E^TOHES. •^ I insintuting, in au inaolent, twagguring w«y. that aome of bis things were uuHsing, and was goiufi to saaroh, tlia other nuHaengers' baggage, it was too much, and tuey threw him overboard. They watched long and wonderinofly for him to come up, but not •:vm a buobla rose on the auiet ebbing tide. But, while everyone was most absorbed in gazing over the side, and the interost was momentarily increasing, it was observed with consternation that the vessel was adrift •nd the anchor cable han«ng limp from the bow. Then in the ship's cGmmed and ancient we find this quaint note : — la time it was discoavered yt ye trouble- m pasaeager hadde gone downe and got « anchor, and toka ye same and soldo it ve ;am aauvagas from ye interior; saying yt M hadde f ounde it* y« aonne of a ghon 1 ' Yat this ancestor had good and nobla in* •tinots. and it is with pnde that we call to mind tna fact tiu^t he was the first white per* •on who avar interested himself in the work cl elevating and civilising our Indiuis. Ha built a commodious jail, and put up a gal* lows, and to his dying day ha claimed with ■atisfaction that he had lud a more restrain* ttm and elevating influence on the Indians than any other reformer that aver laboured among them. At this point the chronicle became less frank and chat^, and dosed ab* ruptly by saving that the old voyager went to aee his gallows perform on the first white man ever han|(ea in America, and while there received mjuriea which terminated in hia death. The great fpmniaoa of the 'Reformer' flourished in sixteen hundred and somethinfl^ and was known in our annals as the ' old Admiral,' though in history he had other titles. He was long in command of fleets of iwif t vessels, well armed and manned, and did and great service in hurrying up merchant* men. Vessels which he followed and kept bia eagle eya ou always made good fair time across the ooean. But if a ship still loitered in spite of all he could do, his indignation would grow till he oould contain himself no longer — and then he would take that ship home where he lived, and keep it there carefully, expectina the owners to come for it, but they never aid. And he would try to get the idleness and sloth out of the sailors of that ship by compelling them to take invigorating exercise and a bath. He called it 'walking a plank.' All the pupils liked iti At any rate they never found any fault with it after trying it. When the own- en ware lata poming for their ships, the Ad* mkml always burned them, so that the m* snrance money should not oe lost.. At last this fine old tar was cut down in the fulness of his years and honours. And to her fifing day bis poor, heart-broken widow believed that if he had been out down fifteen minutes sooner he might have boon resuscitated. Charles Henry Twain lived during the lat- ter part of the fieventeenth oentury, and was a zoalous and dtatinffuished missionary. Ha converted sixteen tnousand South Sea !•*< landers, and taught them that a dog-tootii neoklaM and a pair of spectacles was not enough clothinc to come to divine service in. His poor flock loved him very, very dearly ; and when his funeral was over they got up in a body (and came out of the restaurant), with tears in their eyes, and saving one to another that he was a good, tenoer mission- ary, and they wished they had soma more of him. PAH-oo-TO-WAH-FTKKvnsnwn (Mighty- Hunter- with-a-Hoffg-Eye) Twain adorned t£e middle of the eij^hteentn oentury, and aided Qen.Braddook with all his heart to resist the oppressor Washington. It was this ances- tor who fired seventeen times at our Waah- ington from behind a tree. So far the beautiful romantic narrative in the moral story-books is correott but when that nar- rative goes on to sav that at the seventeenth round the awe-stricken savage said solemnly that that man was being reserved by tha Great Spirit for some miahty mission, and he dare not lift his sacrilegiona rifle against him again, the narrative seriously impairs the integrity of history. What ha did say ' It aint no (bio) no use. That man's so drunk he can't stan* still long enoueh for a man to hit him. I (hie !) I can t fora tofool an^ any more am'nition on him 1' That was why he stopped at the seven- teenth round, and it was a good, pbun, mat- ter-of-fact reason, too, and one that easily oomnlends itself to us bv the eloquent per- snaaive flavour of probability there is about it. I always enjoyed the stor^-book narrative, but I felt a marrins misgivins that every Indian at Braddock^ Defeat who fired at a soldier' a couple of times (two easily grows to seventeen in a centiiry), ^nd missed him, jumped to the conclusion that the Great Spirit was reserving that soldier for some grand mission ; and so I somehow feared that the only reason why Washington's case is remembered and the others forgotten is, that in his the prophecy came true, and in that of the others it didnt. There are nol books enoush on earth to contain the record of the prophecies Indians and othei- unau- thorised parties l^ave made ; but one may carry in his overcoat pockets the record 6t afi the prophecies that lukve been fulfilled. I will anoestoi known i not felt thani, o; their bii Richard JohnW jJack;^ J Sheppai ehausen Kidd. Twain, i y _• MARK TWAIN'S SKBTCHE& id to her d^ng 'idow believed fifteen minutee lUBcitated. during the Ut- itury, and wm isaionary. H* South 8«a Is^ »ta dog-tootii Aolei WM not vine Mnrioe in. very dearly ; BT they got op he reetaurant), aving one to anoer miMrion- 1 soine more of (Migh^- kin adorned the ory, and aided ^ to resiat the raa this anoea- I at onr Waah- So far the in the moral 'hen that nar- be seventeenth ) laid solemnly •erved by th« miasion, and he la rifle against iously impairs At he did say That man's so { enongh for a n t 'fora tofool imi' at the seven- od, plain, mat- ae that eaaily eloquent per* there is about )Ook narrative, inff that every who fired at a D easily grows 1 missed him, bat the Great Idier for some >mehow feared shington's case s forgotten is, e true, and in There are nol ainthe record 1 othei- unau- i but one may tie record of aO fulfilled. I J I will T«mark here, in passing, that oertain ancestors of mine are so thoroushly well- known in history by their aUtuet that I have not felt it to be worth while to dwell apon them, or even mention them in the order of their birth. Among these may be mentioned Richard Brinsley Twain, aliat Ouy Fawkes | John Weutworth Twain, cUku Sixteen Strina Jaek ; William Hogarth Twain, alia* Jaok Sheppard ; Annanias Twain, tUiaa BaronMun- ehausen : John George Twain, alia$ Capt Kidd. Aud then there are George Francis Twain, Tom Pepper, Nebuohadnenar, and BdUuun's Ass— the]r all belong to our family, bat to a branch of it somewhat distantly re- moved from the honourable direct line— in fact from a collateral branch, whose memben ohiefly differ from the ancient stock in that, in order to acquire the notoriety we have al- ready yearned and hungered for, they hare got into a very low waT of going to Jail in- stead of getting hangea. It is not well, when writing an autobio- graphy, to follow ^our ancestry down too dose to your own time — it is safest to speak only vaguely of your great-grandfather, and then skip from there to yourself, which I now da I was bom without teeth— and there Richard III. had the advantage of me ; but I was bom without a hump-back likewise, and there I had the advantage of him. My pa- rents were neither poor nor oonspicuously honest. But now a thought occurs to me. My own history would reaUy seem so tame contrasted with that of my ancestors that it is simply- wisdom to leave it unwritten until I am hanged. If some other biographiea I have rpad had stopped with the ancestry until a like event occurred it wonid have been a felicitous thing for the reat^Mng publie. How doea it strike yon 1 THE UNDERTAKER'S CHAT. 'Now, that corpse,' said the undertaker, patting the folded hands of deoeased approv« mgly, 'was a bridi — every way yon took him he was a brick — he was so real aocom* modating, and so modest-like and simple in his last moments. Friends wanted metallio burial case — nothin else would do. I couldn't et it. There warat going to be timo— any* dy could see that 'Uorpse said never mind, shake him np some kmd of a box he could stretch out in comfortable, he wam't particular "bout the general style of it. Said he went more on room than style, anyway, in a last final omi- tainer. ' Friends wanted a silver door-plate on the ttffin, signifying who ko was and where ho was from. Now yon know a fellow eouldal roust out snoh a gaily thing as that in a li%> tie country townuke this. What did oorpM say? * C!orpse said, whitewash hia old eaaoo and dob his address and general destinatioB onto it with a bUoUng brush and a atanoU Elate long with • verse from some Ukoly ynm or other, and pint him for the tomlH and maA bim O.O.D., and just let him fliok- er. He wam't distressed any more than yo« be — on tho contrary, just aa ca'm and ooUected aa m hearse-horee ; said be Judged that wher' be was going to a body would find it considerable better to attract atten- tion by a picturesque moral character than a natty, bunal case with a swell door-plaA* «■ 'Splendid man, be waa. Fd nitber da for a oorpep like that'n any I've tackled te seven year. There's some satisfaction in bnrvin' a man like that. Yon feel that what youTe doing is appreciated. Lord bleaa yoo, so's be got planted before he sp'iled, he was perfeotly satisfied ; said bis relationa meant well, perfectly weU, bat all them prapan^ tiona was bound to delay tho thing moio at less, and be didnt wisn to be kept layin* aronnd. Yon never see such a clear heaa •■ what he had-HUid so ca'm and so cooL Joal a hunk of brains— that is what he was. FW- fectly awfuL It was a ripping distance from one end of that man's nead to t'other. Often and over again he's had brain fevei a-rasinff in one place, and the rest of the nile didn't know anything about it — didn't anect it any more than an Injun insurreotioB in Arizona affects the Atlantic States. 'Well, the relations they wanted a big funeral, but oorpse said he was down on flummery — didn^ want any procession — fill the hearse full of mourners, and get ont a stem line and tow him behind. He was the most down on style of any remains I evei struck. A beautiful, simple-minded creature — ^it was what he was, yoa 3an depend on that. He was just set on having things the way he wanted them, and he took • solid comfort in laving his little plans. He bad me measure him and take a whole raft of directions ; then he had the minister stand np behind a long box with a table-cloth over it, to >.'*p<'esent the coffin, and read his funeral sermon, saying, "Angcorejangoorel" at the good places, and making him scratch out every bit of brag about him, and all the hi'falutin' ; and then he made them trot out the choir so's he could help them pick out the tunes for the occasion, and he sot them to sing "Pop Goes the Weasel, '^beoanss he'd alwajrs liked that tone when he was down-hearted, and scdeoin arnsie made bia 'Vi If ARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. (' ( I ),\ Mid ; and wImb they ttuig thftt with teara in their eyea (beoMue they all loved him), and hi* reutiona grieving around, he juat laid thete as hapj^ aa a bn^^ and trying to beat time and uowing all over how much he en* y>j9d it ; and presently he got worked up aad exoited, and tried to join in, for mind voa he was pretty proud of his abilities in the singing line; but the first time he opened hia mouth and was just going to spread him* sell his l»eath took a walk. ' I never see a man snuffed oat ao sudden, ▲h, it waa a great loss— it was a powerful loss to this poor littiie one-horse town. Well, wdU, well, I hain't got time to be palavering #loDg here — ^got to nail on the lid and mosey alo^g with lum ; and if you just give me a Uft well sheet him into the hearse and meander al^ng. Belations bound to have it 8o-*-dout pay no attention to dying in* Jwietions, minute a corpse's gone ; but, if I had my way, if I didn't respect his last Wiahes and tow him behind the hearse I'll be eup'd, I oonsider that whatever a corpse wants done for his comfort is little enouoh matter, and a man hain't got no rioht to m* esive him or take advantage of him; and whatever a corpse trusts me to do I'm agoing to do, you know, even if it's to stuff him and paint him yaller and keep him for a keapsake — ^yon hear me.' He cracked his whip and went lumbering away with his ancient ruin of a hearse, and I continued my walk with a valuable lesson learned — ^that a healthy and wholesome cheer- fulness is not necessarily impossible to any ocq^mtion. The lesson is likely to be last> ing, lor it will take many months to oblite- rate the memory of the remarks and oiroum* atanoas that impressed it. f iU«) ...VI XHB FBTRIFIED MAN. k. ^•/ row» to show how really hard it is to foist a moral vt a truth, upon an unsuspecting public thiou^ a burlesque without entirely and absurdly missing one's mark, I will here set down two eneriences of my own in this thing. In the £01 of 1892, in Nevada and GaJiromia, ihe people got to running wild about eztraordinMTv petrifactions and other natural marvela. One could scarcely pick up a paper without finding facing in it one or two glorified discoveries of this kind. The mania was becoming a little ridiculous. I waa a bran-new local editor in Virginia City, and I felt called upon to destroy this growing evU ; we all have our benignant fatherly moods at some time or another, I suppose. I chose to kill tiie mtrifaotion mania with a delicatf, a very de^cato satire. But maybe ijli wt^ altogf^er too 4elioatfb for nobody, ever perceived the satire part of it at aO. I put my Bclieme in the shape of the discovery of a remarkable petriiied man. I had had a temporary falling out with Mr. Sewell, the new coroner and justice of the peace of Humlwldt, and thought I might as well touch him up a little lA the same time and make him ridioulous, and th«« combine pleasure with business. So I ttdd, in patient, belief-compelliug detail, all aboat tiie finding of a petnfied man at Gravelfy Ford (exacuy a hundred and twenty miles, over a break-neck mountain trail, from where Sewdl lived) ; how all the saranta of the immediate neighbourhood had bem to ex- amine it (it was notorious that there was not a living creature within fifty miles of there, except a few starr.ug xnmans, some crippled grasshoppers, and four or five boa- zaras out of meat and tOo feeble to getaway^ how those savants all pronounced the petn; fied man to have been in a state of complete petrification for over ten generations ; and then, with a seriousness that I ought to have been ashamed to assume, I stated that aa aoon as Mr. Sewell hear.ji vhe news he sum- moned a jury, mounted his mule, and posted o£^ with noble reverence for offical duty, on that awful five days' journey. tbron|;h alkidi, sagebrush, peril of body, and imminent starvation, to hold an inquest on this man that had been dead and turned to everlasting stone for more than three hundred years i And then, my hand being * in,' so to apeidit I went on, with the same unflinching gravity, to stete that the jury returned a venuct that ■deceased came to his death from protracted exposure. This only moved me to higher flights of imagination, and I said that the jury, with that charity so characteristic of pioneers, then dug a grave, auu wcru about to give the petrified man Christian burial, when they found that for agss a Umestoua sediment had been striking «>wn the f ace of the stone against whiok he waa sitting, and this stoff had ran under him and cemented him fast to * bed*rock ; ' that the jury (they were all ■Uv«r*minen) can- vassed the difficulty a moment; and then got out their powder and fuse, and proeeedea to drill a hole under him, in order to blast him from his position, when Mr. Sewell, ' with that delicacy so characteristic of him, for- bade them, observing that it would be little less tiian sacrilege to do such a thing.' From beginning to end the 'Petrified Man squib was a string of roaring absurdi- ties, albeit they were told witii an unfain pretence of truth that even imposed upon me to some extent, and I was in some danger of believing in my own fraud. But I leidly bad no desire to deesive anybody, and Bt ^ .^ MARK TWAnrS SKETCHEa. of itat tSL I of the disooveiy n. lling out witk ir and justice of and thonght I a little at the ionlons, and thm leaa. Soltold, ^ detail, aUabovt aan at Gravellj twenty milea, trail, from where ' 8a?aati of the xbA been to ex- \ that there wai fifty miles of inmans, some our or five bus- , sbletogetaway)- \ )unced the petn; itate of complete ;;enerations ; and 1 1 ought to have I stated that as e news he sum- mnle,and posted ■ offical duty, oa i. taron|(h alkali, , and unminenft [uest on this man i«d to everlasting hundred years 1 in,' 80 to speaks Bincbing gravity, led a Tenuct thai Irom protracted ed me to higher i I said that the characteristio of auu ^v'cru about [^luistian Irarial, U^a HmestouB down the face of le waa sitting, nder him and •d>rook } ' that rer-minen) oan« nti and then jgot nd proceedadto rder to blast hia Sewell, 'with ic of him, for* t would be littk > a thing. ' the •Petrified roaring absurdi- with an nnfain imposed upon in some danger But I Ndly >ybody, and Bt (flec ta tion of dmng it. I deluded on the way the petrified man was sittinff to explain li the public that he wi^ a swindle. Yet I ■nrpoaely mind that up with other things, Minngto make it obscure— and I did. I wqolor deawi^ the position of one foot, and then say liis ri^g^t tnumb waa against the sidbof hisnosa ; and then talk about his •ther foot, and presently oome back and say the fingers of his right hand were spread apart ; then tslk about the back of his head a little, and return and sav the left thumb was hooked into the right little finger ; tiien ramble off about something else, an«l S '-and 'by drift back again and remark that e fingers of the left hud were spread like those jhumbuggery of the article, was entirely t^'for nobody but me ever discovered and oomprehonded the peculiar and suggestive pfq«iw>iipf the petrified man's hands. '4i a satire on the petrifaction mania, or ^ythiiig else, ^y petrified man was a dis- l^eartening failure ; for evoybody received him lA mnocent good faith, and I was stonned to see the creature I had tbogpttem to poll down the wonder-busi- s^eas with, and bring derision upon it, calmly exalted to the grand chief nlace in the list of the genuine marvels our Nevada had produced. I was 90 disappointed at fteonrioos mucarriagci of mj sohemethat at.liratlwas angry, and did not like to think about it ; but by-and-bye, when the e;cch«ngsi be^jan to come in with the Petri- fied ICim copied and gpilelessly glorified, I began to feel a soothing secret satisfaction ; and aa my gentleman's field of travel broaden^ and by the exchanges I saw tiiat ha steadily and implacably penetrated terri- tory after territonr. State after State, and land after kncL till he swept the great globe and ottkdnated in sublime and nnimpeaohed legitimacgr in the august London Lom^A^ my eap waa roll, and I said I was glad I had d«M il I think that for about eleven months, as nearly as I oan remember, Mr. Sewell'B daily mail-bag oontinned to be ■WoUen by the addition of half a bushel of Mwwiapers hailing from many climes with the Petrified Man m them, marked around with a prominent belt itf ink. 1 sent them la him. I did it for spite, not for fun. He vaad to shovel them into his back yard and eufse. And every day during all those numths the miners, his constituents (for miners never quit joking a person when they get started), would oall on him and ask if he •oold ^11 them where they oonld jget hold of a paper with tika Petrified Man m it. He could have deluged a continent with them. I hated Sewell in those days, and these things pacified me and pleased me. I could not have eotten more real comfort ont of him without killing him. MARVELLOUS "BLOODY MASSACRE." The other burlesque I have referred to was volj fine satire upon the financial experiment of ' cooking dividends,' a thing Mrhich bo- came shamefully frequent on the Pacific coast for a while. Once more, in mv self- complacent simplicity, I felt that iihe time had arrived for me to rise up and be a re- former. I put this reformatory satire in the shape of a fearful/ Massacre at Empire Citv.' The San Irancisco papers were making a great outcry about the iniquity of the Daney Silver Mining Company, whose directors have declared a ' cooked or false dividend, for the purpose of increasing the value of their stock, so that they could scdi out at a comfortable ficnire, and then scramble from under the tumbling concern. And while abusing the Daney, these papers did not forget to urge the public to get rid ot all their silver stocks and invest in sound and safe San Francisco stocks, such as the Spring Valley Water Company, etc But right at this unfortunate juncture, behold the Spring Valley cooked a dividend too \ And so, under the insidious mask of an in- vented 'bloody massac^'e,' I stole upon the public unawares with my scathing satire upon the dividend-cooking system. In about half a column of imaginary inhuman carnage I told how a citizen had muMered his wife and nine children, and then oommitted suicide. And I said dyly, at the bottom, that the sudden madness of which this mdancholy massacre was the re^ suit, had been brought about by his having allowed himself to be persuaded by the Cali- fornia papers to sell his sound and lucrative Nevada silver stocks, and buv into Spring Valley just in time to get cooked along with thatcompan^'sfancy dividend, and sink every cent he had in the world. Ah, it was a deep, deep satire, and most ingenioualy contrived. But I made the horrible aetailaso carefully and conscien- tiously interesting that the public simply devoured them greedily, and wholly over- looked the f(^owine distinctly stated fiactL to wit: — ^The muraerer was perfectly wdl known to every creature in uie land as a bachelor, and consequently he eonld not murder his wife aim nine children ; his murdered them 'in his splendid dressed- stone mansion just in the edge of the great pine forest between Empire City and Dutch 38 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. i 1r I ■1 ill Nick's,' when even the very pickled oysters that came on oar tables knew that there was not a ' dressed-stone mansion' in all Nevada Territory ; also that, so far from there bein^ a 'great pine forest between Empire City ajM Dutch Nick's,' there wasn't a solitary tree within fifteen miles of either place ; and, finally, it was patent and notorious that Empire City and Dutch Nick's were one and the same place, and contained only six houses anyhow, and con- sequently there could be no forest between them, and on the top ot all these absurdities I stated that this diabolical murderer, after inflicting a wound upon himself that the reader ought to have seen, would have killed an elephant in the twinkling of an eye, jumped on his horse and rode four miles, wavmg his wife's reoking scalp in the air, and thus performing entered Carson City with tremendous eclat, and dropped dead in front of the chief saloon, the envy and ad- miration of all beholders. Well, in all my life I never saw anything like the sensation that little satire created. It was the talk of the town, it was the talk of the territory. Most of the citizens dropped gently into it at breakfast, and they never nished their meaL There was something ibo\it those minutely faithful details that was a snffipient substitute for food. Few people that were able to read took food that morning. Dan and I (Dan was my re^rto- rial associate) took our seats on either side of our customary table in the * Easle Restau* nmt, and, as I unfolded the shred they used to call a napkin in that establishment I saw at the next table two stalwart in- noeents with that sort of vegetable dandruff sprinkled about their dotmng which was the sign and evidence that thev were in from the Tntckee with a load of hay. The one facing me had the mominff paper folded to a long narrow strip, and I Knew, without anv telling, that that strip.represented the column that contained my pleasant financial satire. From the way he was excitedly muirbling, I saw that the heedless son of a hay -mow was skipping with all his might, in order to get to the bloody details as quickly as possibM ; and so he was missing the guide boards I had set up to warn him that the whole thina was a fraud. Presently his eyes spread wide open,just as his jawaswung asiinder to take in a potato approaching it on' a fork ; the potato halted, the face lit up redlj^, and the whole man was on fire with excitement. Then he broke into a disjointing checking-oflf of the particulars — his potato cooling in mid-air meantime, and his mouth making a reach for it occasionally, but always bringing up suddenly against a >y, and he took tile Cuss'd if I want aay new and still more direful performance flff my hero. At last he looked his stunned and risid comrade imprenively in the hek. and said, with an expression of ooncentratet 'Jin^heblledhis bab; old 'Oman's skelp, breakfast.' And he laid his lingering potato reverent?- ly down, and he and his friend departed from the restaurant empty, bnt satiafied. He never got down to where the satire part of it began. Nobody ever did. They found the thrilling particulars snfficiiBnt. To drop in with a poor little moral at the fag- end of such a gorgeoos maasaore, was to fol- low the expiring sun with a candle and ho]^ to attract tne world's atteniiou to it. TLq idea that anybody could ever take mj massacre for a genuine ooonrrenoe nerw once sngffested itself to me, hedged aboat asitwubyall thoee tell-tale annirditiM and impossibilities oonoeming the * pine forest,' the *diessed-stone sc. But I found out th«i, and never hvn forgotten since, that we never read the dill explanatory^ surroundings of niarvelloiu|]f exciting thmgs when we have no occadoB to suppose that some irresponsible seribbi^ is trying to defraud us; we skip all that) asd hasten to revel in the blood-onrdlpig pvtioa* lars and be happy. Therefore, bung bitterl;^ experienoed, I tried hard to word that agricultural aaiiib oi mine in such a way as to deceive nobodv ; and I partly racoiBeded, but not entbely. However, I did not do any harm with it am wa^. In order that parties who baye lateqr written m about vegetables and thint^ nuqr know that there was a time when TwaoM have answered their questiona to the veiy best of my ability, ana c(mddered it my im- perative duty to do it, I refer them to th^ narrative of my one week's experience as an agricultural ecUtor, which will be found in tms Memoranda next month. luty.I JOURNALISM IN TENNESSlfB. (From the Bunkum Bxpr«»s.) ) • •• ¥ ' The editor of the Memphis ^vatoncAcswoMW thus mildly down upon a correspondent '«nio posted him as a Badical :—" While he wee vrriting the first wor^, the middle, dotting Uf i's, crossing his t's, and punching his perioo, the black-hearted reptile knew he was oonooot- ins a sentence that was saturated with inteaiy ana rotten with falsehood."'— ^BcAan^e. Iwas told by the physician that a Soutiiem climate would improve my health, and ao I went down to Tennessee, a^id got a berth on' the Morning Olory and JobtuMn Counl^ ITor IKAoop as associate editor. When' I ai iodr wa . iefed 0oatpn, ^e^am ffuffledi larofo «rohief «oetom< «igar, a Botty I pavem laeslre Yorkei declin< JJurra and se We ohiet 4 (ell in broke withd enaoc >■ Ipt editwt tion. .Qen 'f> y" performanoe of Eed his stoniiti^ rely in the fMk of ooncentmtM ■ad he took tliit I waul aay Mtato reverent!^ friend departed itwtiafied. here the satire er did. They ■nfScient. To oral atthefaf- 01^ was to f of- udleaod ho]>e U to i M, d ever take my onrrenoe nerer hedged aboat le absnrditiss ag the *nmk ione maastoaf' &d never hav« ' read the dill marveUons^ re no occasloB neible soribUs? Ip all thai and 'Tdlingpartioo- experienoed, I iltural sqiiib of seive nobody; b not entirely, nn idth it any rhohayelatefy nd thinb|sni^ when Iwooul > to the reiy ered it my im- er them to the perienceaa an 11 be found in MAAK TWAIN'S SKETCHE& i^ESSEfS. > ;i> (^ ilanchtwmtmi ■pondent v^ VhUe he was e, dotting his « his perioSr » was oonodot* 1 with inteay lat a Southern Ith, and sol ot a berth on' iCoMN^ ITor lenliriUteB , I found the chief editer sitting tilted .'in a three-legged ohair, with his feet on blpinetftble. There was another pine table mi the room, and another affldcted chair, and Iboth were halt buried under newspapers and kps and sheets of uumuscript. TThere was I wooden box of sand, sprinkled with cigar gibs and old ' soldienr and a stove whose iobr was hanging by its upper hinge. The ief editor had a long-taued black frock ^ fct on, and white linen pants. His boots Ifrei'e small and neatly blacked. He wore a IrafSed shirt, a huge seal ring, a standing col- |lar of obsolete pa^isnuand a checkered neck- lief witii the raids hanging down. Bate of l«oetnme, about 1848. He was smokinc a [«igar, and trying to think of a word, and in ipawing his hair ne had rumpled his locks a S^eaL He was scowling fearfully, and I sd tiiat he was concocting a particularly ty editorial. .He told me to take the ' ' iges and skim through them and write [np the ' Spirit of the Tennessee Press,' con- [deasing into the Mrticle of all their contento I watsfemed of interest. I wrote as follows; — . * SPIRIT OF. TEG TENNESSEE PRESS. 'IheeditolSOf.ttieSfmi-H^eeAr^V Bkirthgtiake evidently labour under a misapprehension with tegard to tlie Ballyhaok RaHroad. It is not the ttqect of the oomtiany to leave Buzsardville otf loeaa side* On um contrary, they consider it ene of the meet important points alone the UiOk and oonsequehtly can have no deAre to Sllnt it. The gentleman of the Earthquake wiu, of eonrse, take pleasure in making the eoRection. * John W. Blossom, Esq.. the able editor of the HicmnsvIUe tliiihderboU and Battle Cry tfFrvSuxm, arrived, in the oi^ yesterday. He is stopping at the Yan Buren House. 'We observe that our contemporary of the> Mud Spring Morning Howl has fallen into the error of supposing uiat the election of Von Waiter is not an established fact, but he will have discovered his mistake before this remin- dier reaches him, no doubt. He was doubtless misled by incomplete eleotio%retums. 'It is pleasant to note mat the city of Blathersville is endeavouring to contract with eome New York gentlemen to pave its well- nigh impassable streets with the Xicholson pavement. But it is ditflcult to accomplish a desiie like this, since Memphis got some New Yorkers to do a like service .for ner, and then declined to pay for it. However, the Daily ^ufYaA still UKes the measure wrlth ability; and seems confident of ultimate success. ' We are pained to learn that Colonel Bascom, -chief editor of the Dyi^a Shritk for Liberty, fell in the streets a few evenings since and broke his leg. Re has lately been sutrering with debility, caused by overwork and anxiety «n account of sickness in his family, and it is sniipoeed that he fainted from the exertion of walking; too much in the sun. . . I passed my manuscript «ver to the chief editor for aoceptance, alteration, or destmcr tioB. H« glaneed at it and his face clouded. J^eran his eye .down the pages,, and his ; oounteoance grew portentous. It was easy to see that something was wrong. Flresent- ly he sprang up and said : — * Thunder and lightning I Do yon snp* pose I am going to speak of those cattle that way ! Do you suppose my subscribers are gomg to steed such gruel as that ! Give me the pen !' I never saw a pen scrape .'i.'«d soratoh ito way so viciously, or plough through another num's verbs and adjectives so leleptleosly. While he was in the midst of his work somebody shot at him through the open win- dow and marr jd the symmetry of his ear. 'Ah,' said he, 'that is that sooondtel Smith, of the Moral Foloano— he was due yesterday.' And he snatched a navy re- volver from his belt and fired. Smith dropped, shot in the thigh. The shot spoiled Snutn's fire, who was just teking a seoond aim and he erippled a stranger. U was me. Merely a finger shot off. Then the chief editor went on with his erasures and interlineations. Just as he finished them a hand-grenade come down the stove-mpe shattering it into a thousand fragmente.However,it did no further damagis, except that a vagrant piece knocked a couple of imr teeth out. 'That stove is uiterly mined,' said the chief editor. ,' , ,u I said I believed it was. ^'**^"' ';'' ' Well, no matter— dont want it this kind of weather. 1 know the man tiut did it. I'll get him. Now, here is the way thi| stuff ought to be written.' I took the manuscript. It . was scarred with erasures and interlineations till its mother wouldn't have known it if it had. Wftt It now read as follows : — ^^ ,./"■, „ *' '. ; ' SPIRIT OF THE TENNESSEE PRBSa •The inveterate liars of the Semi-WeekPy Earthqwuce are evidently endeavouring to palm off upon a noble and chivalrous people another of their vile and brntal falsehooos with regard to that most glorious conception of tlie nineteenth century, the Ballyhaok Railroad. The idea that Buzzard ville was to be left off at one side originated in their own fulsome brains— or rathSr in the settlings which they re- frard as brains. They had better swallow this ie if they want to save their abandoned reptile carcases, the cowhiding they so richly deserve. That ass Blossom of the Hinrinsville Thun- derbolt and Battle-Cry of Frtedomi, is down here again bumming at the Van Buren. ' We olieerve that the besotted blackguard of the Mud Springs Morning Howl is giving out. with his nsuar*nropen8ity for lying, that Van Werten is not elected. The heaven-bom mis- sion of journalism is to disseminate trtith ; to enradicato error ; to educate, reflae, and elevate the tone of public morals and manners, and make all men more gentle, more virtuoiu, more Chariteble, and in au waytf ii#ttor. andnoller, and happier : and yet this black-hearted villain degrades his great office persistently to the dl»^ MAUK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ■ fl %r^ wminaiion of falsehood, oalomiiy, vituperation, Mid denadlug vulgarity. 'Blauiersvllle wants a NioholBon paTement— il wants a jail and a poorhouse more. The lde» of a pavement in a one-horse town with two gin-millB and a blacksmith's shop In jL and tfaM mustard-plaster ot a newspaper, the DaUv Hurrah t Better borrow of Memphis, where the article is cheap. The crawling in- SMt, Buckner, who edits the Hurrah, is bray- Ing about this business with his customary im- baoilitjr and imagining that he is talking sense.' * IJow, that u the way to write— peppenr and .to the point. Mush-and-milk jonmal- ismnves me the fantodfe.' About this time a brick came through tbe window with a sprinkling of a crash, and five nie a considerable of a jolt in the back, moved out of range — ^I began to feel in the way. The chief said, ' that was the Colonel, lik^y. IVe been expecting him for two iam. He will be up nW right away. ' He was correct. The Colonel appeiiired in the 4002* * moment afterward, with a dra- goon revolver in his hand. He said, 'Sir, I habe the honour of ad- dressing the poltroon who edits this mangy sheet f ' 'You have. Be seated, sir. Be careful eC the chair ; one of its legs is gone. I beli( e I have the honooi' of addressing the blatant scoundrel Col. Blatherskite Tecum* seh?' 'That's me. I have a little account to iettle with you. Uyon are at leisure we wiUbe^' 'I have an article on the "Encouraging PlrogrefS of Monl and B ^ ,' wonnded the Colonel who remarked with fine humour that he would have to say goo4 morning now, as he had business up towi^ He then enquired tiie way to the nndertak er's. and left. The chief turned to me and said, ' I am expecting company to dinner, and shall havt to get ready. It will be a favour to me il you will read proof and attend to the cttsto- mers.' I winced a little at the idea ci attending to the customers, but I was too bewildered by the fusihule that was #till zinging in mjf ears to think of anything to say. He continued. 'Jones will be here at 9— cowliide him. Gillespie will call earlier, per- haps— throw him out of the window. Fer- guson will be along about 4 — kill him. That IS all for to-day, I believe. H you have anv odd time, yon may write a blistering artiele on the police— give the ChiOf Inspector rats. The cowhides are under the table : weapon*, in the drawer — ammunition there m the comer— lint and bandages up there in tho pigeon-holes. In case of accident, goto Luicet, the surgeon, downatair*. He ad» vertises — we take it out in trade. ' He was gone. I shuddeied. At the ehd of the next three hours I had been throu^ perils so awful that all peace of mind and id| cheerfulness had gone from me. Qiilespie had called and thrown me oat of the window. Jones arrived promptly, and wheA I got ready to do the cowhiding be took the job off my hands. In an encounter with a stranger, no(p in the bill of fare, I had lost my scalpw Aik other stranger, by the name of Thoknpeoiv left roe a mere wreck and ruin of chaotiec rags. And at last at bay in the comer, and beset by an infuriated mob of editors, black- legs, politicians and desperadoes, who raved and swore and fiourished their weapons aboui my head till the air shimmered with glanciim flashes of steel, I was in the act of rengning my berth up there inth* ' Mddent^ gotoi mstairs. He ad» trade.' led. At the eAd' bad been throu|^ » of mind and al| m me. Oillespio nt of the window. Iwheiii got ready ok the job off my th a stranger, not >t my scalp. A»> le of Thoknpooi^ ruin ofchaotie; I the comer, and of editors, black* adoes, who raved »ir weapons aboni red with glancin^l s act of reeigning; i the chief arriv* t of charmed and ensued a scene of to human pen, or iMoribe. People ered, blown up, . There was a- iphemy, with a. >nce glimmering I over. In five id the gory chief [the sanguinaiy round as. pUuse when pm ft to ezooM : OMw ite to tait ymt had had somor nage, I am Ment I could. But, to speak the plain trath, that sort of energy of expression has ili inoonveniencee, and a man is liable to in- terruption. You see that yourself. Vigor- oas writins is calculated to elevate the pub- lo, no douot, but then I do not like to at- tract so much attention as it calls forth. I «Hi't write with comfort when I am interup- ted^muchasl have been to-day. I like this berth well enough, but I don't like tob^ Ipit here to wait on tne customers. The ox- Criences are novel, I grant you, and etiter- ining, too, after a fashion, but they are not judiciously distributed. A gentleman shooijs at you through the window and cripples me ; a bomb-shell comes down the stove pipes for your gratification, and sends the stove door down my throat ; a friend drops in t<^' swap eomplii»ent8 with you, and freckles me witii bullet-holes till my skin wpn't hold my prindiples ; yon go to dinner,, and Jone^ comes ii^ith hit oowhide; Gillespie throws rre out of, window, Thompson tears all my «jtau>98off, vadaa^eniare starangei: takes my BMlpwith the easy freedom of anoldac- quamtanoje ; and in less than five minutes all the bh^kgua^ds in the country arrive in their war paint and proceed to scare t^e rest ot me to death with their tomahawks. Take it , altogether, I never had such a spirited time in all my life as I have had to- day. Ifo ; I like you, and I like your eaun onrufBed wayof explaining things to tiM oastomen, bot you see I am not used to ii The Southern heart is too impulsive, Spathem hospitality is too lavish with the stranger. The paragraphs which I have wriUen to*day, and into whose odd scptencea yoiiir masterly hand has infused the fervent spirit of Tennesseean journalism, wOl wake up another nest of hornets. All that mob of editon will come — and they ^^'ill come hungry, too and want somebody for breakfast. I shall have to bid you adiem decline to present at these festivities. I I »me south tor my health ; I will go back the same errand, and suddenly. Ten- on nessee journalism is too stirring for me. ' after which we parted with mutual regret, and I took apartments at the hospital. THB NEW CRIME— LEGISLATION NEEDED. This oonntry, during the last thirty or forty years, has produced some of the most i-emarkiJ^le cases of insanity of which there .ill any montion in hisjiioiy. , For instance, there was the Baldwin case, in Ohio, twenty^ two yean ago. Baldwin, from his boyhood •p, had beien of a vindictive, malignant, qoarrekomo nature. He put a boy's eye out once, anrl never was heard upon any ooca- ■ioa to ntter a regret for it He did many uauli things. But at last he did something that was serious. He cidled at a house just after dark, one evening, knocked, and wnea the occupant came to the door, shot hiaa dead, and then tried to escape, but was cap' tured. Two days before he had wanton^ insulted a helpless cripple, and the man no afterwards took swift vengeance upon with a» assassin bullet had knocked him down. Such was the Baldwin case. The trial was )o|^ and exciting ; the community was fearfully wrpughtup. Men said this spiteful, baa* htorted villain ha4 caused grief enouga in his timc^ and how he shooed sat- isfy the law. But they were ads^keni Baldwin was insane when he did tiio deed — they had Qot thought of that. By th* arffumenijs of counsel it was shown that ,^ mm past ten in the .morning on the day oi the murder, Baldwin became insane, and remaiped so for eleven hours and a half exactly. This just covered the., caas.^oom* fortabiy, and he was acquitted. ^ TauSt: if aii unthinking and excited commnnilgr had beea listened to instead of the arguments of tjbe couitsel, a poor cra^ creature woiud have been held to a fearful fesponsibtlity for a mere freak of madness^ Baldwin went 4ear, and although his relativetf and .friends were naturally incensed against th?, community for their injurious suspicions and remiarksr they said : Let it go for this time, and did not prosecute. The Baldwins were very wealthy. This same Baldwin had momentary fits of insanity twice r Twanhv and on )>oth occasions killed people he hail grudges against. And on both tiiese oc- casions the circumstances of the killing were BO aggravated, aud the murders so seemingly heartless and treacherous, tliat if Baldwin had not been insane he would have been hanged without the shadow of a doubt. As it was, it required all his political and family influence to set him clear in one of the cases, and it cost him not less thui $10,000 to get clear in the other. One of tiiese men he had notoriously threatened to kill for twelve years. The poor creature happened, by the merest piece of ill-fortune, to come along a dark alley at the veiy mo- ment Baldwin's insanity came upon him, and ■o he was shot in the rack with a gun load- ed with slugs. Take the case of Lynch Haokett, of Penn- sylvania. Twice, in public, he attacked a. butcher by the name of Bemis Felcber, wi^ a cane, and both times Feldiier whipped him with his fist*. Hackett was a vain, wealthy, violent gentlemau, who held his blood ^ family in high esterni, and believed that a ^ MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ■il' reverent respect was due to his great riches. He brooded over the shame of ois ohastise- ment for two weeks, and then, in a mo- mentary fit of insanity, armed himself to the teeth, rode into town, waited a coupl of houra until he saw Feldner coming down the Street with his wife on his arm, and then, as the oonjtle passed the doorway in which he had partially concealed himself, he drove a knif« into Feldner's neck, killing him in- •tantly. The widow oaud^t the limp form and eased it to the earth, ^th were drenched with blood. Hackett iocosely remarked to her that as a professional butcher's recent vifesheeould appreciate the artistio neat> neae of the job thai left her in a condition to many again, in case she wanted to. This rema^ and another which he made to a friend, that his position in society miade the kiUinjK of an obscure citizen simply an ' ec- Mntncity ' instead of a crime, were shown i» be evidences of insanity, and so Hackett escaped punishment. The jury were hardly inclined to accept these as proofs, at first, inaemnob as the prisoner haa never been in- ■Ane before the murder, and under the tran- qiAiUzfaig eflSect of the butchering had im- mediAtlBljr regained his right mmd ; but when the defence came to show that a third eooiinfll Hackett^ wife's stepfather was insane, and not only inaane, but had a nose theTery oonnterpart of Hackett's, it was plain tiiat insani^ was hereditarv in the family, and Hackett had come oy it by legitimate inheritance. Of course the jury thei& acquitted him. But it was a merciful Providence that Mrs. H.'s people had been afflicted as shown, else Hackett would cer- tainly luKve been hanged. However, it is not possible to recount all the marvellous cases of insanity that have oome under the public notice in the last thirty or forty years. There was the Durgin cAse m New Jersey three years ago. The servant girl, Bridget Durgin; at dead of night, invaded her mistress's bedroom and caarvAd the lady literally to pieces with a knife. Then she driigged the body to the middle of the floor, and' beat and banged it with' chairs and such things. Next she Opened the feather beds, and strewed the contents around, saturated everything with kerosene, and set fire to the general wreck. She now took up the young child of the mur< dered woman in her blood-smeared hands, and walked oS, through the snow, with no shoes on, to a neighbour's house a quarter of A mile off, and told a string of wild, incohe« Mnt stories about some men coming and let- ting fire to the house ; and then she cried friteously, abd without seeming to think were was anything suggestive fboat the blood upon her hands, her clothing, and the baby, volunteered the remark that she was aftraid those men had murdered het mistress! Afterward, by her omu confession and other testimony, it was proved that the mistress had always befn kmd to the girl, and tionie- quently there was no revenge in the murder; and it was also shown tmit the girl took nothing away from the burning house, not even her own shoes, and consequently rob> bery was not the motive. Now, the reader says, 'Here cotnes that same old plaa of tii- sanity again.' But the reader has deceived himself wis time. No such plea was offeMd in her defence. The judge sentenced her, nobody persecuted the Governor with peti- tion for her pardon, and she was promptly hanged. There was that youth in Pennsylvania whose curious confession Was published a year ago. It was simply a conglomeration of incoherent drived from beoinning to ehd, and so was his lengthy speeon on the s^- fold afterward. Korawude year he wsis haunted with a deidre to disflgnre a certain voung woman, to that nb one would marry her. He did not love her himself, and did not want to marry hei, but he did not want anybody else to do it. He would not go anywhere with her, and yet was opposed to anybody else's escorting her. Upon one oo* casion he declined to go to a wedding with her, and when sbe sot other oompany/iay in wait for the couple oy the tpaA, intending to make them go back or kill the escort Mber spending sleepless nights ovier his ruling dmehow it was iihe got killed. >lea of insanity increase inthe t. There are ) worth men> ly, if you kill, ^hatyou were aving friends evidence tiiH 8® days, too^ ng^ and high { the^ call It leptomaoia, and send him to the lunatic Wlum. If a person of high standinff Juanders his fortune jn dissipation, and [oees his career with strychnine or a bullet, Temporarv Aberration ' is what was the t>uble with him. Is not this insanity plea becoming rather Dmmon ? Is it not so common that the ider confidently expects to see it offered every criminal case that comes before the ^urts ? And is it not so cheap, and so com* ^on, and often so trivial, that the reader niles in derision when the newspaper men- Ions it? And is it not curious to note how ery often it wins acquittal for the prisoner ? Eitely it does not seem jpossible for a man to oonduct himself, before killing another Ln, as not to be manifestly insane. If he ^ks about the stars, he is insane. If he ppears nervous and uneasy an hour before ie killing, he is insane. If he weeps over i great gnef, hia friends shake their heads, nd fear that he is 'not right.' If, an hoiv fter 1;he murder, he s^ems ill at ease, pre- cupied and excited, he is unquestionably isane. Really, what we want now is, not laws unst crime, but a law against insanity, is where the true evil lies. MENTAL PHOTOGRAPHS. ,^^^"\ I have received from the pubiishers, New Tork, a neatly printed page 6t questions, ith blanks for answers, and am requested fill those blanks. These questionB are so kuged as to ferret out the most secret bints of & ihan's nature' without his ever ioticing what the idv-a is until it is idl done m'l his character fc.ae forever. A number ^f these sheets are bound together and called Mental Photogr^h Album. Nothing 3uld induce me to fill those blanks but the Bseveration of my pastor that it will benefit ov race by enablmg young people to see rhat I am, and giving them an opportunity become like somebody else. This over- omes my scruples. I have but little cha> icter, but what I have I am willing to part nth for the public good. I do not boast of ^hia character, further than that I built it ip myself, at odd hours, during the last "lirty years, ai;id without other educational id than I was able to pick up in the ordi- lary schools and colleges. I nave fifled the bilanks as follows : ' ^ 'j "* '", WAHT IS YOUR vAyojjtax^.' '" '"^'' Colonir ?— Anything but dun. Flower ?— The night-blooming Sirins. Tree ? — Any that neats forbidden fruit. Object in Nature ?— A dumb belle. ' , ' K> child's pocket-book. ,^, What book (not religious) would yoa pact- with, last ? — The one I might happen to b* you ohooae to have present Erie— it was reading oon railroaJ. during thjs season. What epoch would lived in ? — Before the safer. Where would yon like to Uve?— 'Li tlM moon because there is no wateir there. " Favourite Amusement ? — Hnnting the * tiger, ' or some kindred game. Favourite Ooonpation ?— * like dew on the gowan-^tying.' What trait of Character do yon most ad« mire in Man ? — The noblest form of oaoni* balism — ^love for his fellow-man. In womanf— Love tait onto *ut.' What ia jonr Aim in life f— To endearoar t» be absent when my time oomea. What is yoor Motto ? — Be virtuoaa asd yatt will be eccentric. A PAGE FROM A CALIFOBNIAN ALMANAC. At tiie inatanoe of e^veral friend* who feel a boding anxiety to know beforehand what ■art of i^enomena we may expect the ele- aoenta to exhibit during the next month or twa and to have loet all oonfidence in the ▼arknia^ patent medicine almanaea, becanae af the nnacooontable reticence of thoee woriu ootideniing the extraordinary event of tba 8th inst, I ha,y compiled the following almanae expreaaly for the latitada of Saa Francisoo >-' !,6ot. 17. — Weathar hazy ; atmoaphere Mor^ and denae. An azpresaion of pro- ioo^d inelanoholy will ba obaenraUe apon aoat ooontenancea. ^Oot 18, :ttt Slight earthquake. (;kNuita> nances grown more melanoboly? Oct lO'-^-Lopk out for rain. It would ba abenrd to look in for it. The fpatnl da- pression of pmrits iacreased. ^ , ^,, Oct. 20. —More weather. ,. ' ,'^ , Oct. 21.— Same. Oct. 22.— light winds, perhapa. Utbey blow it Will be from the ''east'ard, or the ■QfV^ ' 9^ ^* west'ard, w the south'ard, " «r from some general direction approximat- aig mo|re or less to these points ot the c(»n- pass or otherwiae. Winds are uncertain. . Opt. 23. — Mild, balmy earthquake. Oct 24k— Shaky. Oo^. 25. — Occasional shakes, followed by Mght showMS of bricks and plastering^ N. a. — Stand froiD under. Oct. 27.— Considerable phenomenal at- i^oapheric foolishness. About this time ex- pect more earthquakes ; but do not look for , them, on accounts of the bricks. Oct. 27.— Universal despondency indica- tive of approaching disastw. Abstain from Biniling, or indulgence in humourous conver- sation r ' ei^perating jokes. Oct. .'3. — Misery, dismal forebodings, and ilespair. Beware of all lif;ht discourse— « joke uttered at titis time would prodaca a ■apular outbreak. Oat. 20— Beware t Oct 30.— Keep dwk ! u. ^ ■ i Oct 31.-~Staad by for a surge ! > ^ Hov. l.-^TQrrifie earthqinka. Thi^ ' |s the gttet Mkrthqnig&e Month. More nUn fall and more worlds ara shied aroond lessly and destroyed in November than ia any other month of the twelve. Nov, 2. — Spaamodio but exhilaratin| quakea, accompanied by occasional ~ of rain and churches and thiaiEa. Nov. 3. — Make your wilL Nov. 4.— Sell out Nov. S. — Select yonr * laat worda.* Iheaa of John Qnincy Aaams will do, with tha ad- dition of a syllable, thaa : 'This ia tha laat of earth-quakea.' Nov. 6.— Prepare to ahad thia mortal eoiL Nov. 7.-8bed ! Nov. 8.— The sun will rise aa asal, hapa ; but, if he doea, he will doabtlasa' ba i stasBgered somewhat to find aothin|[ bet a lai^ round hole ei^^t thonaaud nnalaa ia dijmieter in the place where he aawtha world serenely spinning the day before. MT WATCH— AN INSTRUCHVB LtT TLB TALE. My beautiful new watch had ran ek(hteea months without losing or gaining, and with- out breaking any part of its audunenr or atoppin(^ X had come to believe it infdlibla in its jadgments about the time of day, and to oonsider its constitution and its anatomy im^riahaUa. But at last, (me night, I let it run down. I grieved about it as if it were a recognised messenger and forerunner of oa- lamily. Bat by-Mid-bye I cheered up, aat the watch by guess, and comnianded my. bodings and superstitions to depart. Next day I stepped into the chief jeweller's to set it by the exact time, and the hsad I ite madunenr ot tliere it infalliUe time of day, and and ite anatomy iu way that I t to tbe w«teh- B* if I bad oyer bad it repaired. I aaid no, it bad ■everneeded any repairing. He looked a locJc of Tidona bappmeia and eagerly pried the watch open, and then put a small dice box into hie eye, and peered into ita ma« ebinary. Hexaid it wanted cleaning and bye tbe comprehension le upon me that all solitaiy and alone I I lingerins along in a week before last* , the wcrM was out of sights I seemed to detect in myself a sort of sneaking fellow- leeling for the mummy in the museum, and a desire to swap news with him. I went to a watchmaker again. He took the watoh •11 to pieces while I waited, and then said tbe barrel was * swelled.' He said he could reduce it in three day*. After tbia the watch aTsraged well, but nothing more. For half a day it would go like the very mischief, and keep up such a barking and wheezing, and whoopmg and sneezing and snorting, that I could not hear myself think for the disturbance ; and as long aa it held out there was not a watch in ton land that stood any chance against it. But the rest of the day it would Keep on slowing down and fooU ingijong until all the docks it had left be- hind caught up again. So at last, at the end of twenty'four hours, it would trot up to the judges' stand allrisht and Justin time. It would show a nur and square aTcrage, and no man could sav it had done more or less than its duty. But a correct average ia only a mild virtiie in i^ watch, and I took this instrument to another watoh> maker. Henid tbe kingbolt was broken. I said 1 was gUd it was nothinff more seri- ous. To tdl the plain troth, I had no idea what tba kingbolt was, but I did not choose to appear ignorant to a stranger. He re- paired tba kingbolt, bat what tbe watdi gained ia one way it loat in another. It woold ran awhile and tben stop awhile, and then rna awhile aoain, and so on, nsing its own discretion about the intervahu And every time it went off it kieked back like a musket. I padded my breast for a few days, bnt finally took the watch to another watch* makers He picked it all to pieoest and tamed the rum over and over under bis glass ; an^ then he said there appeared to b« aometbiaff the matter with the hair-trigger. He fixed it and gave it a ireah atart. It did well now, except that always al ten minutes to ten tbo bands wonld abut t»- getber like a pair of soiasor% aad from that time forth tbey woald travd tofietber. Tbe oldest man in the world comd not make bead or tail of tba time of day by such a watch, and so I want •gain to have the thing repaired. This pe)^ son said that the crystal bad got b«n^ and that the mainspring was not straigbl He also remarked tlmt part of tbe works needed half-soling. He made these thinss all rii^i, and then my timepiece perfrnmed unexeep- tionably, save that now and then, j^ter working along quietly for nearly dsht hours, everythmg^ inside would let go all of • sudden and begin to buzz like • Dee, and tiie hands would straightway be^n to sma round and round so fast that their indiviail- •lity waa lost completely, and tbey simj^y seemed a delicate spider^ web over tbe face :JC'J AN BNTERTAININO ARTIdJl'*^^^'' I take tbe following paragraph from aa article in the Boeton ^OWn^Mer .^— 'Aw Bn«jsh Ciunc OK Marx I TwAm;-^ Perbfipe tbe meet auoeessfnl flights of the humour of Mark T^aiu have been desoriptioaa of the persons who did not appreaper reporter's way m telling tk story, and we havo licard of the tftuuflTania olerKynian who aadly returned Ilia "Innooents Atqroad" to the book atronL .with the remark that "the man who could fehed tJMuni over the tomb of Adam must be an UIMr But Mark Twain may now add a much Borejclovioiu butanoe to his atrlng of trophies. Thb aalmrday Review, in ita number of Octo- ber 8, reTlews nis book of travels, which has 'been republished In Enirland. and reviews It ■erionsly. We ean Imacine the delight of the •humourist in reading this tribute to his power ; •nd, Indeed, it is so amusing in itself that he can hardly do better than reproduce the article la fttll innls next monthly memoranda.' , tPQ^Ii^^^S tb" above paragraph thus, rires me a sort of authority for reproducing uie Saturday JReview't article in full in theie P*8M. I dearly want to do it, for Mma of m9 magazine's funny correspondents kave foniished me anything f the Coliaeum nd rubbish. It this nUt&mtnt ron prognunme n: under eaob e plainly be- ipon one ooca- ry puts the ht- :— ♦Weajdled indeed !. H» n«tn that at Byed from the iook him nnder le road again, d, and w«nt to time to restore t. Hestateethat ip's paaaengera appeasing hi» between meals, tat oame eleven the desert and h them ; yet he iS country that He mentions, ^-plaoe matter, broad daylight de BouiUonV more blood if Is own. These loment's atten- r foreigner who klem would be r loeehis life. it more of hie ilsehoodsf Let lie ; he aflBrms iophia, at Con- stuck up with 6 and genwal lore than twe tting my boots Kune Christian is monstrous* M — there is no e reader Ion- ance that pep- en we tell him lerfectly good it oompilatioB I mine of stu* Abroad,' has > schools and ^««ae ft tact. [ to cnticise cue xiaiians use oi ineir ngue. Hosoys they spell the name uir great pamter ' Vinci', but pro- it ' V iucy — and then adds witD a itressiag^ his re enouoh to e oite burn the book and despise the ^u'thor. lo one place he was so appalled at the Hudder spectacle of a murdered man un- veiled by ti\e mo9Alight. that he jumped out juf tlie window, going through sash and all, jid then remarks with the most child-like implicity that he 'was not scared, but was considerably agitated.' It put us out of pa- Jtioiice to note that the simpleton^ is densely nuncouBciouB tiiat Luorezia Borgia evsr ex- isted ofif the stage He ia vulgarly igno- rant of aU foreign languages, but was frank enough to criticise the Italians' use of their own tongue of their nounce it 'Viucy uajvatu possible only to helpless ignorance ' f*. .eigiiers always sp^U better than the pro- ,-i nouucu. ' In another place he oommitts the bald alisurdity of putting the phrase ' tare an ouns ' iu an Italian's moutn. In Rome he unhesitatincly believes the legend that St. Philip Neri^ heatt was so inflamed with divine love that it burst his ribs — believes it wholly, because an author with a learned list of university degrees strung after his { name and endorses it ' otherwise,' says the gentle idiot, " I should havlii felt a curiosity to know what had for dinner.* Our author makes a long fatiguing journey to the Orotto del Cane, on purpose to test its poisoning ' powers on a dog — got eloborately ready for , the experiment, and then discovered that he had no dog. A wise person would have kept such a thing discretely to himself, but i witli this harmless creature evei ythlng com( • 4 out. He hurts his foot in a rut two thousand < years old in exhumed Pompeii, and presently, \ when staring at one of the cinder-like colrpses unearthed iu the next square, conceives the idea that maybe it is the remains of the an- cient Street Commissioner, and straightway his horror softens doivn to a sort of chir- py contentment with the condition of things. In Damascus he visits the well of Ananias, ifhree thousand years old, and is as surprised and delighted ss a child, to find that the W&cer is 'as' pure and fresh as if the well had been dug yester- day. ' In the ttolv Land he Cjaes desperately at the hard Arabic and HeoreW Biblical names, and finally concludes to call them Baldwinsville, Vvilliamsburgh, and so on, ' for convenience of spelling r We have thus spokdn frMljr of this maali stupefying simplicity and innooeiioe, bat we cannot deal simihurly with his colossal igno- rance. We do not know where to begin. And if we knew vere to beein, we certamlv •hould not know where to leave off. We will rive one specimen, and one only. He did not iMow autil he got to Bone that Miahael Angelo was dead I And than, instead of crawling away and hiding his shamsful ig- norance somewhere, he proceeds to express ft pious, grateful sort of satisiaction that he le gone and out of of his troubles i No, the reader may seek out the author^ . exhibitions of his unonltivation forhimEO'f, The book is absolutely dangerous, consider- ing the magnitude and variety of its mis- statements, and the convincing eonfidonce with -which they are made. And yet it is ft text-book in the schools of America ! . . The poor blunderer mouses among the sub- lime creations of the Old' Masters, trying to acquire the elegant proficiency in art-know- ledge which he has agroupingsortof compie- hensionisft proper uiint; for tne travelled man to be able to display. But what is the manner of his >tudy f And what is the Erogress he achieves? To what extent dose e nmiliarise himself with the oreat pio- tures of Italy, and what degree oTappreeift- tion does he arrive at f Read : — 'When we see a monk going about with ft lion and looking up into heaven, we know that tbat is St. Marx; When we see a monk wiUi ft book and pen. looking tranquilly up to heaven, trying to think of a word, we know tbat that Is St. Matthew. When we see a monk sitting on a rook, looking tranquilly up to heaven, with ft human skull beside him, and witboat other boKifage, we say that is St. haka. When we see other monks looking tranquilly up to heaven, but having no trade- mark, we always ask who those parties are. We do this because we humbly wish to learn. He then enumerates the thousands and thousands of copies of these several pictorse which he has seen, »nd adds with accustom- ed simplicity that he feels encouraged to be- lieve that when he has seen ' some.more * of aach, and had a larger experience, he will eventually -: besin to take an absorbing interest in them ' — we vul|;ar boor I That we have shoMvn this to be a remark- able book we think no one will denv. Hull it inf pernicious book to place in the hands of the confiding and nninf ormed we think we h^ve also shown. That the book is a delibe rate and wicked creation of a diseased mind is apparent upon every page. Having placNBd our judsment thus upon record, let us dose with what charity we can by remarkinfr that even in this volume there is some good to be foundt for whenever the author tuks ^a^aJeKfiiiiw nn.t '"',, try something, and so I turn at last to Uts*> atura. Something tella me that that ia ths true bentof my genius, if I have any. I e»> doaesome of my pieces. Will yon rsad them over and give ma your candid mm- biassed opinion of them f And now I hate to trouble you, but you ^va bean a young man yourself, and what I want ia for yon ta sive me a newspaper Job of writing to dt^ xon know many newspaper ^vjople, and I aa entirely unknown. Ana will you make tha best terms yon can for me 7 — though I da not expect what might be called higli wagsa at first, of course. Will you canaidly say what such articlea aa tbeaa I enoloaa aia worth? I have plentw of tham. If ywi should sell theeeand let me know, I can send you more aa good and perhaps better than these. An early reply, me. •Yonn tnOy. Jtoi* I will answer yon in good faith. Wll» thar my reougrks shall have great valna cr not, or my suggestions be woriii following are the problems which I teka great pleasun in leaving entirely to you for solution. T» begin :— There are several oueationa in your letter which only a man's life experienoea can eventually answer for him — not anothsr man's words. I will simply skip those. 1. literature, like the minist^, modioinc the law, and all other oooupationa, is cramped and hindered for want of man to do tha work, not want of work to do. When peo> pie tell yon tha raversa, they apeak that which ia not true. If yon deaira to test thia, yon need only hunt up a first-class editoik reporter, business manager, foremru of a shop, mechanic, or urtist of any branch of industry, and tiy to hirs him. Yon will Cod that he ia already hired. Ha ia aobar, in- dustrioua, oapabia and leliabla, and ia alwajrsin demand. He cannot gat a day's holiday ezospt b^ oonrtsqr of his employer, or inatruotcd, nnambitioae and oomfort-seakinff editors, rsportars» Uww yors, doctors, ana maehaiuoa, apply any> whcrs. There are millioM of them to ha had at tha dropping of a htmdkerohief. 2. Ko ; t most Mt and will not ventois any opinion whatever as to the literary merit of your prod'notiona. Tha public ia the only critic whose judgment is worth anything at alL Do not ^ka my poor word for this, but reflect a moment and take your own. For inataoo^ if Sylvanos Cobb or T. S. Arth v had submitted their maiden MSS^ to yon. you would have said, witt tean in yo« 'ea, * Now, please don'lt write any nxn^ f '* yo^ s^ yoursfBlf.hoW popuhur tbey tifm. And if have ■) and th fulnest wiser ( Shakei ago, bi those ] upon . console toinfli( public conduii an uiui Sliakoi: 3. I labour Whenc proved value, huntitij do. have n( bly eve that wi arrive i apoken simple that is, oftura p three y this cii fidence tended then hi hia He IntI course other follow no syn young Ous crc to bec( requin oharau tostav — aud water let bin and f( y hi ard oeive i a weel and tv year, had' Setal oUa gettini want MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. a lart to Ufti*- ithU kthi re any. I «»• ^iU jaa tm4 t MDdid «B- id BOW I h«ti m yonag I is for yoo to irriting todt^ lople, and I tm you make th* -though I d« ed hign wagw candidly aay I enoloM aM thtm. If y«« low. I can MDd Utter thaa ra tn4j, kc* i faith, great Tains cr 'orth following > great pleasun solution. Ts estions inyoor expierieaoesoaa I — not anothsr ikip those, istfy, medicinsi ions, is cramped man to do tha lo. When peo* ley speak Ihdi lire to test this, rst-class editoi^ foremrn of a any branch ol I. Yon wiU iind Hs is sober, ia- tliable, and is uaot get a day's it his employer. J tha great yon need tit nnambitioae reporters^ lav> ios, apply an*, of them to bs dkerohief. ill not ventois ae litwarv merit iblio is the only th anything at [>rd for this, bat iroar own. For r T. S. Arthvr MSSi to yon, tears in yoor ito ahy mot^f pulte tfiey tif§k And if it had been left to you, yon would have said the ' Marhle Faun ' waa tireaome, and that even ' I'arudiHe Loaf laukeil oheor- fulneu ; but you know they aell. Many wiser and better men tlian you pooh-poohed Shakettpearu even aa late as two oentiirics ago, but Htill that old party haii outhved those people. No, 1 will not sit in judgment upon your literature. If I honeutly and conscientiouly praised it, I might thus hel]) tointliot a lingering and pitiless bore upon tht> public ; if I honently and oonHoientiouHly oonduinnod it, I might thus rob tHe world of an undevelopeil 111111 unsuspected Dickens or Shakespeare. 3. I shrink from hunting up ' teriiry labour for you to do and receiv pny for. Whenever your literary prodn tioiis have proved for themselves tliat they have a real value, you will never have to go around hunting for remunerative literary work to do. xou will require more hands than you have now, and more brains than you proba- bly ever will have, to do even half the work that will be offered you. Now, in. order to arrive at tb^ proof of value hereinbefore spoken of, one needs only to adopt a very snnple aud certainly very sure process ; and that is, to write without pay until someb-j ly ofttTs pay. If nobody oilers pay within three years, the candidate may look upon tiiis circumstance with the most implicit con- fidence that sawing wood ia what lie was in- tended for. If he iias any wisdom at all, then he will retire with dignity, and assume his Heaven-appointed vocation. In the above remarks 1 have offered a course of action which Mr. Dickens aud most other successful literary men bad to follow ; but it is a course which will find no sympathy with my client, perhaps. The young literary aspirant is a very, very curi- ous creature. Ue knows that if he wished to become a tinker the master smith would require him to prove the possession of a good character, and would require him to promise to stay in the shop three years — possibly four — aud would make him sweep out and bring water and build fires all the first year, and let him learn to black stoves in the intervals : and for these ^od honest services would pay him two suits of oheap clothes and his Board ; and next }rear he would begin to re- ceive instructions in the trade, and a dollar a week would be added to his emoluments ; and two dollars would be added the third year, and three the fourth ; and then, if he had become a first rato tmker, he would Set about fifteen or twenty, or may be thirty ollars a week, with never a possibili^ of gettins seventy-five while he lived. U he vantad to become a meohanio oi any otiier kind he wouH have to undergo this sanu tedious ill-paid apprenticeship. If he wante^ to liecome a lawyer or a doctor he woulo ^ot nothing at all during his long appren* tiucship, and in addition would have to pay a large sum for tuition, andhavethe privilegl of boarding and clothing himseli. Tm literary uH{>irant Knows all this, and yet h« has the hardihood to present himself foi reception into the literary guiii, and ask tc share its high honours and emolumenta, without a single twelvemonth's apprentice- -ihip to show in excuse for his presumption ' He would smile pleasantly if he were asked to make even so simple a thing as a ten- cent tin dipper without previous instructios i I the art ; but all green and ignorant, wordy, pompously assertive, ungrammatical, and witli a vague, distorted knowledge ol men and the world accpiircd in a back eoun- t y village, he will serenely take up so dan- gerous a weapon as a pen, ana attack the most formidable subject that finance, commerce, war or politios can furnish hin with. It would be laughable if it wen lui MO sad and so pitiui>le. The poor fellow would not intrude upon the tin shop without an apprenticeship, but is willing to seize and wield with unpractised hand an instrument which is able to overthrow dynasties, change religions, and decree the weal or woe of na- tions. If my correspondent will write free of charge for the newspapers of his neighbour- hood, it will be one of the strangest things tiiat ever happened if he does not get all the employment he can attend to on those terms. And as soon as ever his writings are worth morey, plenty of people will has* tell to offer it. And, by way of serious and well-meant encouragement, I wish to urge upon him once more the truth, that acceptable writers for the press are so scarce that book and periodical publishers are seeking them con- stantly, and with a vigilance that nevar grows heedless for a momenL THE LATE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. ['Never ptr! off till to-morrow what you can de the day after to-morrow just as welL'— B. 7.] This party was one of those persons whokt. they call philosophers. He was twins, belhg bom simultaneously in two different booses in the city of Boston. These houses remain unto this day, and have fcig is upon them worded according to the facts. The signs are considered well enough to have, though not necessarv, because the inhabitants point out the two birth-places to tlie stranger any- how, and sometimes as often as several timer in Hm same day. Tha sdbjeot of this memoir MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. yij :d\i : a ml n,i 'ii'i ■; h I of a yioiooB disposition, and early prosti- tated his talento to the invention of maxims and aphorisms calculated to inflict suffer- ' ing upon the rising generation of all subse- fuentages. His simplest acts, also, were •ontrived with a view to their being held up for the emulation of boys for ever — boys who might otherwise have been happy. It was in this spirit that he became the son of a soap-boiler, and proliably for no other reason than that the efforts of all future boys who tried to be anything might be looked upon with suspiciou unless they were the sons of ■oap-boilers. With a malevolence which is without parallel in history, he would work all day, and then si. up nights, and let on to be studying algebra by the light of a smoul- dering fire, so that all other boys mieht have to be that also, or else have ^njamin Franklin thrown up to them. Not satisfied with these proceedings, he had a fashion of living wholly on bread and water, and ■tudying astronomy at meal time — a thing which has brought affliction to millions of boys since, whose fathers had read Frauuk- bn's pernicious biography. His maxims were full of animosity toward boys. Nowadays a boy cannot follow out a ■ingle natural instinct without tumbling over ■ome of those everlasting aphorisms ancfhear- , faig from Franlilin on tiie spot. If he b^^ ■ two cents' worth of peanuts, his father says, ' B«member what Franklin has said my son —"a groat a day 's a penny a year;"' and the oomfort is all gone out of those peanuts. If he wants to spin his top when he is done irork, his father quotes, 'Procrastination is Khe thief of time.' If he does a virtuous ao- ioD, he never gets anjrthing for it, because ' Yirtne is its own reward. ' And that boy is Mmnded to death and robbed of his natural ^Mt, because Franklin said once, in one of lie inspired flights of malignity — 'Early to bed and early to rise. Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.* ks if it were anv object to a boy to be lealthy and wealwv and wise on such term • Fhe sorrow that that maxim has cost me lirongh my parents' experimenting on me, vith it, tongue cannot telL The legiti- •i^te result m my present state of general lebi^ty, indigence and mental aberration. dy parents used to have me up before nine •*elook in the morning, sometimes, when I ras a boy. If they htul let me take my n: ■ oral rest, where would I have been now ? Ceeping storey no donbt, and respected by IL And what an adroit old adventurer the sub- let of this memoir was ! In order to get a Imuum to fly his kite on Sunday he usm to hang a key on the string and let on to be fishing for lightning. And a guileless pub- lic would go home chirping about the ' wis- dom' and the ' genius' of the hoary Sabbath- breaker. If anybody caught him playing ' mumble-peg' iyy himself, after the age m Bixty, he would immediately appear to be cyphering out how the grass grew — as if it was any of his business. My grandfather knew him well, and he says Franklin was al- ways fixed — always ready. If a body, dur- ing his old age, happened on him unexpeot- euly when'he was catching flies or making mud-pies, or sliding on a cellar-door, he would immediately look wise, and rip out a maxim, and walk ofi' with his nose in the air and his cap turned wrong side before, trying to appear absent-minded and eccentric. He was a hard lot. He invented a stove that would smoke your head off in four hours by the clock. One can see the almost devilish satisfaction be took in it by bis giving it his name. He was always proud of telling how he en« tered Philadelphia for the first time, with nothing in his pocket and four rplls of bread under his arm. But really, when you come to .examine it critically, it was nothing. Anybody could have done it. To the subject of this memoir belongs the honour of recommending the army to go back to bows and arrows in place of bay* onets and muskets. He observed, with his customary force, that the bayonet was very well under some circumstances, but that he doubted whether it could be used with ac- curacy^ at long ran^e. Benjamin Franklin did a great many no* table things for his country, and made her young name to be honoured in many lands as the mother of such a son. It is not the idea of this memoir to ignore that or cover it up. No ; the simple idea of it is to snub thoee pretentious maxims of his, which he worked up with a great show of originality out of truisms that had become wearisome plati- tudes as early as the dispersion from Babel ; and also to snub his stove, and his military inspirations, his unseemly endeavour to make himself coi ipicuous when he entered Pliiladelphia, and his flying his kite and fooling away his time in all sorts of suoh ways when he ought to have been foraging for soap-fat, or constructing candles. 1 merely desired to do away with somewhat of the prevalent calamitous idea among head* of families that Franklin acquired his great genius by working for nothing, studying by moonlight, and getting up in the night in- stead of waiting till morning like a Christian^ and that this profframme, rigidly indicted, will make a FrankCn of erery iather'b fool. MARKTWAnrS SKETCHE& n satisfaction ke It ii time these gentlemen were finding out th»t these execraole eccentrioitieB of instinct and condnot are only the evidences of Knias, not the creators of it. I wish I had en the father of my parents long enough to make tiiem comprehend this tmth, and thus prepare them to let their son have an easier time of it. When I wlM a ohild I had to hoil soap, notwithstanding my father was wealthy, and I had to get np early and study geometry at breakfast, and peddle my own poetry, and do everything just as Franklin did, in the solemn hope that I would be a Franklin some day. And here I am. FASHION ITEM. The lieutenant of Marines attends one of General Grant's levees, and writes thus in- structively of it. It will interest the lady leaders of the Oclaxy : — At General Grant's reception, the other night, the most fashionably dressed lady was Mrs. G. C. She wore a pink satin dress, plain in fronl^ but with a good deid of rake to it — to the taiin, I mean ; it was said to be two or three yards long. One could see it creeping along the floor some little time af- ter the woman was gone. Mrs. C. wore also a white bodice, cut bias, with pompadour sleeves, flounced with ruches ; low neck, with the inside handkerchief not visible, with white kid gloves. She had on a pearl necklace, which glinted lonely, high up the midst of that barren waste of neck and shoulders. Her hair was frizzled into % tangled ohapparel, forward of her ears ; aft it was drawn together, and completely bound and plaited into a stump like a pony s tail, and furthermore was canted upward at a sharp angle, and ingeniously supported by a red velvet crupper, whose forward extrem- ity was made fast with a half -hitch around a hair-pin on the top of her head. Her whole top hamper was neat and becoming. She had a beautiful complexion whenshefirstcame, but it faded out by desrees in a most un- accountable way. However, it is not lost for eood. I found the most of it on my shoulder afterward (I bad been standing near the door when she had been squeezing out with the throng). There were other fash- ionable ladies present, of course, but I only took notes of one asaspeoimen. The subject is one of great interest to ladies, and I wquently marrying Jones. But there ii another phase in this complicated case ; you intend to marry Edwitha, and con- sequently, according to law, she is your ^ite — there is no getting around that ; but she didn't marry you, you are not her hus- band, of course. Ergo, in marrying Jones, she was guilty of bigamy, because she was the wife of another man at the time ; which is all very well as far as it goes— but then, don't you see, she had no other husband when she married Jones, and consequently she was not guilty of bigamy. Now, accord- ing to this view of the case, Jones married a spinster, who was a widow at the same time and another man's wife at the same time and yet had no husband and who never had one, and never had any intention of gettinc r '.ad, and therefore, of course, never had ). oi married ; and by the same reasoning .ou are a bachelor, because you have never been any one's husband ; and a married man, because you have a wife living ; and to all intents and purposes a widower, because you have been deprived of that wife ; and a consummate ass for G:oing off to Benecia in the first p'ace, while things were so mixed. And by this time I have got myself so tangled up in the intricacies of this extraordinary case that I shall have to give up any further attempt to advise yuu — I might get confused and «ul to make myself understood. I think I could take up the argument where I left ofi^ and by following it closely awhile, perhaps I could prove to your satisfaction, either that you never existed at all, or that you are dea pling down from the clouds he had been soai^ ing aiiw>ng, and was an obscure clerk again on a salary of two dollars and a half a weeL CHAPTER IL At eight o'clock that evening; with a hearc palpitating with the proud news he had brought for his beloved, Respnald aat in Mr. Smith's parlour awaiting Lucietia's appearance The moment she entered, he sprang to meet her, hit face lighted by the torch of love that was bUudng in his head somewhere and shining through, and eja lated, ' Mine own 1' aa he opwied his to receive her. •'Sir !' said she, and drew herself up like an offended queen. Poor Reginald was stricken dumb with astonishment. This chilling demeanour, this angry rebuff, where he had expected the old, tender welcome, banished the gladness from his heart as the cheerful brightoess is swept from the landscape when a dark cloud drina athwart the face of the sun. He stood be- wildered a moment, with ^ sens&of goneness on him like one who finds himself suddenly overboard upon a midnight sea, and beholds the ship pass into shrouding gloom, while the dreadful conviction falls upon his soul that he has not been missed. Me tried to speak, but his pallid lips refused their office. At last he murmured — ' Lucretia i wht^t have I done ? what is the matter ? why this cruel coldness ? Don't you love your Reginald any more 7 ' Her lips curled in bitter scorn, and she replied, in mocking tones — ' Don't I love my Reginald any more f No, I don't love my Reginald any mora ! Go MARK TWAINS SKETCHBa to your p!tifal junk-shop and grab ' pitiral yurd-stick, and stuff cotton in ^onr ears, so that you can't hear your itry shout to yon to iall in an shoulder 1. Oo i ' And then, unheeding the light th»t flasLed from his eyes, she from the room and slammed the door id her. Only a moment more I Only a single Dment more he thought, and he could have ~ her how he had ali«ady answered the ions and signed the muster>roll, and all rould have been well ; his lost bride would ftve come back to his arms with words of ise and thanksgiving upon her lips. He le a step forward, once, to recall her, but J remembered that he was no longer an JFeminate dry-goods student, iad his war- ior soul Bcomed to sue for quarter. He >de from that place with murtial firmness, nd never looked behind him. CHAPTER lU. Wden Lucretia awoke next morning the 'at music of a fife and the roll of a distant im came floating up on the soft spring Be, and as she listened the sounds grew I subdued, and finally passed out of near- She lay absorbed in thought for many rates, and then she sighed and said, 'Oh ! he were only with that band of brave fel- . how I could love him !' In tiie course of the day a neighbour drop- ad in, and when the oonversatin 8 own [I give the history in Mr. language.] There was a fellow travellin around in that country (said Mr. Nicker ,on), with a moral religious show — a sort of scriptural panorama — and he hired a si* .pie old crea- mre to play the piano for him, After the Irst night's performance, the showman lays : — 'My friend, you seem to know pretty much ill the tunes there are, and you worry along Brst-rate. But then didn't you notice that •ometimes last night the piece you happened to be pl&ying was a little rasping on the proprieties, so to speak— didn't seem to jibe ■jrith the general gait of the picture that was passing at the time, as it were — was a little R>reign to the subject, you know — as if you didn't either trump or follow suit, you under- 8tan(\' ' V\'ell, no,' the fellow said ; he hadn't noticed, but it might be ; he had played along just as it came handy. So they put it up that the poor old dummy was to kee]) his eyes on the panorama after that, and as soon as a smart picture was reeled out he was to get it to a dot with a piece of music that would help the audience to get the idea of the subject, and warm them up to an appreciation of it. That sort of thing would capture their sympathies, the showman said. There was a big audience that night. The showman began to swell himself up for his lecture, the old pianist ran his fingers up and doWn his instrtiment once or twice to see that all was right, and the supes behind the cur- tain commenced to unwind the panorama. The showman balanced his weight on his right foot,and propped his hands on his hips, and flung his eye over his shoulder at the scenery, and says — ' Ladies and gentlemen, the painting now before you illustrates the beautiful and touch- in w parable of the Prodigal Son. Observe the happy expression just breaking over the features of the poor, suffering youth — so worn and weary with his long march ; note also the ecstasy beaming from the uplifted countenance of the aged father, and the joy that sparkles in the eyes of the excited group of youths and maidens, and seems ready to burst in a welcoming chorus from their lips. The lesson, my friends, is as solemn and instructive as the story is tender and beautiful.' The musician was all ready, and the second the speech was finished he struck up — Oh ! we'll all get blind drunk When Johnny comes marching home i' Some of the people giggled, and some groaned a little. The showman couldn't say a word. He looked at the pianist, but he was all lovely and serene — he didn't know there was anything out cf gear. The panorama moved on, and the showman drummed up his pluck and began again: — 'Ladies and gentlemen, the fine picture now unfolding itself to your gaze exhibits one of the most notable events in the Bible history — our Saviour and His Disciples upon the Sea of Galilee. How grand, now awe- inspiring are the reflections which the subject mvokes ! What sublimity of faith is revealed to us in this lesson from the sacred writings? The Saviour rebukes the angry wave?, and walks securely upon tiie bosom of the dx,:ip ! • All around the house they were whisper- MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. SI ^ 'Oh! how lovely! how beautiful I' and S orohMtra let himaelf out again : — • Oh I a life on the ocean wave, And a home on the rolling deep r L There was a good deal of honest laughter Lt this time, and considerable groaning, and KM or two deacons got up and walked out. The showman gritted his teeth And cursed lie piano inan to himself; but the fellow sat Jiere like a knot on a log, and seemed to Ihink he was doing first-rate. I After things got quiet, the showman jthought he would make one more stagger at lit, anyhow, though his confidence was be- iginning to get very shaky. The supes started ithe panorama along again, and he says : — I 'Ladies and gentlemen, this exquisite [painting illustrates the raising of Lazarnis [from the dead by our Saviour. The subject {has been handled with rare ability by the [artist and such touching sweetness and I tenderness of expression has he thrown into it, that I have known peculiarly sensitive persons to be even affected to tears by look- mg at it. Observe the half-confessed, half- inquiring look upon the countenance of the awaking Lazarus. Observe, also, the atti- tude and expression of the Saviour, who takes him gently by the sleeve of his shroud with one hand, while he points with the other towards the distant city. ' Before anybody could get off an opinion in the case, the innocent old Muggins at the piano struck up :— ♦ Gome, rise up William Ril-ley, And go along with me t ' My ! All the solemn old flats got up in a fary to go, and everybody els' laughed tiU the windows rattled. The showman went down and grabbed the orchestra and shook him up, and says But what h^* said was too vigorous for re< petition, and is better left out. AN UNBURLESQUABLE THING. There is one other thing which transcends tht) powers of burlesque, and that is a Fenian 'invasion.' First, we have the por'^^entous mystery that precedes it for six months, when all the air is filled with stage wlfisper- ings ; when ' Councils ' meet every night' with awful secrecy, and the membership try to see who can get up first in the morning and tell the proceeaings. Next, the ex- patriated Nation struggles through a travail of national squabbles and politicafsplits, and is finally delivered of a letter of 'Govern- ments,' and Presidents McThis and Generals O'That, of several different complexions, po- KtioftUj speaking; and straightway the newspapers teem with the new names, and men who were insignificant and obscure ons day find themselves great and famous the next. Then the several 'Governments,' and presidents, and generals, and senates get by the oara. and remain so until the custtimaiy neoc '< '.' f carrj'iug the American city elec- tions vrit-h a minority vote comes around and unites them; then they begin to 'sound the tocsin of war' again — that is to say, in solemn whisperings at dead of night they secretly plan a Canadian raid, and publish it in the tVorld next morning; they begin to refer significantly to 'Bidgeway, and we refiect bodin^ly that there is no telling how soon that slaughter may be repeated. liresently the ' invasion ' begins to take tangible shape^ and, as no news travels so freely or so fast as the 'secret' doings of Feniaii brotherhood, the land is shortly in a tumult of apprehen- sion. The telegraph announces that 'last night 400 men went north from Utica, but refused to disclose their destinav. .a — were extremely reticent — answered no questions — ^were not armed or in uniform, but it was noticed that they marched to the depot in military fashion — and so on. Fifty such despatohv-'a follow eaoh other within tvo days, evidence that squads of locomotive mystery have gone north from a huncred different points and rendezvoused on the Canadian border — and that, consequently a horde of 25,000 invaders, at least, is gathered together ; and then, hurrah ! they cross the line ; hurrah ; they meet the enemy ; hip, hip, hurrah ! battle ensues ; hip— no, not hip nor hurrah— for U. S. Marshal and one man sent the Fenian General-in>Chief on the battle field, in the midst of his ' army,' and bowled himoff in acarriage and lodge him in a common jail — and, presto ! the illustri- ous * invasion ' is at an end 1 The Fenians have not done many things that seemed to call for pictorialillustrations ; but their first care has usually been to make a picture of any performance of theirs that would stand it as soon as possible after its achievement, and paint everything in it a violent green, and embelish it with harps and pickaxes, and other emblems of national grandeur, and print thousands of them in the severe simplicity of primitive lithography and hang them above the National Paladiam among the decanters. Shall we have a nice picture of the battle of Pigeon Hill and ^e little accident to the CoramanJAr-in- Chief ? No, a Fenian ' invasion ' cannot be bur- lesqued, because it u&es up all the material it- self. It is harmless fun, the annu^ mas- aaerading toward the border; but America liould not enooorage it^ for the reason uiftt ^1 •;} MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. I ' if il koKf muM time or other laooeed in em- Ivoiling the ooimtry in » war with a friendly Power— ftnd auoh an event aa that would be ill oompeneated by the liberation of even bo •xoellent • people as the down-trodden Nation. BILST — NEWSPAPER OORRBSPON- DENT. On* of the best men in Waahington— «r elaewhere — ie Riley, correspondent of the great San Francisco dailiea, Riley ie full of humour.and has an unfailing ▼da of irony, which makes his conversation to the laat degree entertaining (aa long aa the remarka areabont somebody else). But, notwithatanding the poaaession of these qnalitiea, which should enable a man to write a happy and an appetizins letter, Biley'a newapaper letters often display a aaore than earthly solemnity, and likewise an unimaginative devotioiji to petrified facts, which surprise and distress all men who Imow him in his unofficial character. He •zplaina thia curious thing by spying that his employera aent him to Waslungton to write facta, not fancy, and that aeveral times he has eome near loaine hia aituation \iy inserting hnmorona remdrks which, not keing lookd for at headquarter^ and con- •equently not understood, were thousht to 1m dark and bloody speeohea intended to wnvey aisnala and waminga to murderous «eoiet societies, or something of that kind, and so were acratehed out with a ahiver and a prayer and caat into the stove. Riley says that aometimea he ia ao afflicted with a jaaming to write a aparkling and abaorbing- ly readable letter that he aimply cannot re- aiat it, and so he goes to his den and revels in the delight of untrammelled scribbling ; and then, with suffering such aa only a mother «an know, he destroya the pretty children of hia fancy and reduces his letter to the re- 3 aired dismal accuracy. Having seen Riley o this very Ming more than once, I know whereof I speak. Often I have laughed witii him over a happy passage, and erieved to see him plough nis pen through it. He would say, ' I had to write that or die ; and I've got to scrateh it out or starve. They wouldn't stand it, you know.' I think Riley is about the moat entertain- ing company I ever saw. We lodged to- gether in many places in Washington during the winter of 61 'S, moving comfortably from place to place, and attractini; attention by paying our board — a course which cannot nil to make a person conspicuous in Wash- ingtoii. Riley would tell all about his trip t» CkUfomia in the early days, by way of the Isthmus and the San Juan river ; about his baking bread in San Francisco gain a living, and setting np ten-pins, Sraotisinjr law, and openinff oysters, and d*> vering lectures, and teaching French, mad. tending bar, odd reporting for the newi^ papers, and keeping dancing-school, and ia« terpreting Qiinese in the coorto — which lat- ter waa lucrative, and Riley waa doing hand- somely and laying np a little money whom people began to find fault beoauae hia toinslations were too *frf>et* a thing for which Riley considr* le onaht not to be held responsible, since he did not know a word of the Chinese tongneu and only adopted interpreting as a means of gaining an honest livelinood. Through the machinations of enemies he was removed from the position of official interpreter, and a man put in his place who waa familiar with tiie Chineae language, but did not know any English. And Riley need to tell about pul>> lishmg a newspaper np in what ia Alaaka now, but waa onfy an iceberg then, with a Oiulation composed of bears, walruses, ians, and otner animals ; and how th« iceberg got adrift at last, and left all his paying suoscribers beliind,and as soon as the commonwealth floated out of the iuri8di lish colony aa they drifted along down tM British poaaessions ; but a land breeze and • crooked current carried them by, and thej ran up the Stars and Stripes and steered for California, missed the connection again and swore allegiance to Mexico, but it wasn't any use ; the anohora came home every timc^ and away they went with the north-easi trades, drifting off sideways toward the Sand- wich Islands, whereupon they ran up ths Cannibal flag and had a grand human Imrbe- cue in honour of it, in which it was noticed that the better a man liked a friend the bet- ter he enjoyed him ; and as soon as they got fairly within the tropics the weather got so fearfhlly hot that the icebers begun to melt, and it got so sloppy under toot that it was almost impossible for ladies to get about at all ; and at last, just as they 'came in sight of the islands, the melancholy remnant of the once majes- tic iceberg canted first to one side and then to the other, and then plunged under forever, carrying the national archives along with it — and not only the archives and the populace, but some eligible town lote which had increased in value as fast as they dim- inished in size in the tropics, and whiman was Dumed to death in a house next or to us, and Rilev said that our landlady suld be oppressively emotional at brei^- because she generally made use of such ^portunities as offered, being of a morbidly itimental turn, and so we should find it to let her talk along and say nothing ok — it was the only way to keep her tears U of the gravy. Riley said there never a funeru in the neighbourhood but fct the gravy was watery for a week. [And, sure enough, at breakfast the land- ly was down in the very sloughs of woe entirely broken-hearted. Everything she Dked at reminded her of that poor negro [>man, and so the buckwheat cakes made kr sob, the ooffee forced a groan, and when |e beefsteak came on she fetched a wail »t made our hair rise. Then she got talking about deceased, and kept up a iy drizzle till both of us were soaked oueh and through. Presently sht" took [ fresh breath and said, with a v^^orld of Ah, to think of it^ only to think of I it ! — ^tha poor, old, faithful craature. For she was so foithfuL Would you believa it, she had been a servant in that self-sama house and that self-same family for twenty* seven years come Christmas^ and never » cross word and never a hck. And, oh, to think she should meet such a death aft last ! — a dttina; over the red-hot stove aft three o'clock in the morning, and went to sleep and fell on it and was actually roasted. Not just frizzled up a bit, but literally roasted to a crisp ! Poor faithful creature how she cooked ! I am but a poor wonun, but even if I have to scrimp to do it, I will put up a tombstone over that lone sufferer's grave— and Mr. Riley, if you would have the goodness to think up a little epitaph to put on it which would sort of descrihe . the awful way in which she met her " " Put it. ' WeU done, good and faith* ful servant I " ! said Riley, and never smiled. THE PACTS CONCERNING THE CENT RESIGNATION. BB> WASHiKaTON, Deo. 2, 1867. I have resigned. The Government ap- pears to go on much the same, but tiiere IS a spoke out of its wheel, nevertheless. I was clerk of the Senate Committee oa Conchology, and I have thrown up the post* tion. I could see the plainest disposition on th^ part of the other members of the Government to debar me from having any voice in the councils of the nation, and S9 I could no longer hold office and retain my self-ivspect. If I were to detail all the out* rages that were heaped upon me during the six days that I was connected ■wim the Government in an official capacity, the narrative would fill a volume. They appointed mo clerk of that Committee membe said thi all thei They s der. : •We Ihai •The I Com mi at me f h(!ard < Treasu •This recomn drums manac. The same v with a Indiani The cognise been iij again about fleet fd His prl excursl I saf positir of my I positi(| couucu was sJ meresi going [ thing! aCabl Th/ •T« at onJ in unl officia ThJ his m you clerkJ not nf the it ma desirj MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. •1 i said — * It is the to me yesterday a pf'i-tioii of the to unjust aod harmful conolusions, but it •urely soemed to me that the Secretary of State, the Secretary of War, the Secretary of the Treasury, and others of my cmfreret had conspired from the very beginning to drive me frotn tlie Administration. I never attended but one Cabir it meeting while I was connected with th* (jrovernment. That was sufficient for me. The servant at the White House door did not seem disposed to make way for me until I asked if the other members of the Cabinet had arrived. He said they had, and I entered. They were all there ; but nobody offered me a seat They stared at mo a» if I had boon an intru- der. The President said — • Well, sir, who are you ?* I handed him my card, and he read — 'The Hon. Mark Twain, Clerk of the Senate Committee on Conchology.' Then he looked at me from lioad to foot, as if he had never hoard of me before. The Secretary of the Treasury said — ' This is the meddlesome ass that came to recommend me to put poetry and couun- drums in my report, as if it were an al- manac. ' The Secretary of War same visionary that came with a sclieme to educate Indians to death, and massacr j the balance. ' The Secretary of the Navy said — ' I re- cognise tiiis youth as the person who has been interfering with my business time and again during the week. He is distressed about Admiral Farragut's using a whole fleet for a pleasure excursion, as he terms it. His proposition about some insane pleasure excursion on a raft is too absurd to repeat. ' I said — 'GentL.nen, I perceive here a dis- position to throw discredit upon every act of my official career ; I perceive, also, a dis- position to debar me from all voice in the councils of the nation. No notice whatever was sent to me to-day. It was only by the merest chance that I learned that there was going to be a Cabinet meeting. But let these things pass. All I wish to know is, is this a Cabinet meeting or not ?' The President said it was. ' Then, ' I said, ' let 410 proceed to business at once, and not fritter away valuable time in unbecoming fault-findings with each other's official conduct.' The Secretary of State now spoke up, in his benignant way, and said, ' Young man, you are labouring under a mistake. The clerks of the Congressional Committees are not members of the Cabinet. Neither are the doorkeepers at the Capitol, strange as it may seem. Therefore, much as we could desire your more than human wisdom in our deliberations, we cannot lawfully ftrail ourselves of it. The oouncila of the natioa must proceed without you ; if disastii follow, as follow full well it may, be it balm to your lorrowinff spirit, that by deed and voice you did what in you lav to avert it. You have my blessing, fareweU.' These gentle words soothed my troubled breast, and I went away. But the servant! of a nation can know no peace. I had hariUy reached my den in the Capitol, and disposed my feet on the table like a representative^ when one of the Senators on the Conoholo- gical Committee came in in a passion and said — ' Where have yon been all day?' I observed that, if that was anybody^ affair but my own, I had been to a Qabinet meeting. ' To a Cabinet meeting 7 I would like to know what business you had at a Cabinet meeting?' I said I went there to consult — allowing for the sake of argument, that he was in anywise concerned in the matter. He grew insolent then, and ended by saying he bad wanted me for three days past to copy a re- port on bomb-shells, egg-uliells, clam-shells, and I don't know what all, connected with conchology, and nobody had been able to find me. This w I? '■V ■m n Tb lalMy M Clerk of Senate CommittM on Concholoffjr, »ix days, at |6 per day Total. 88 12,986 * Territorial delegates charge mileage both ways although they never go oaok whuo they It here onoe. Why my mileage ia douied me more than I can undentund. K Not an item of this bill baa been paid, except that trifle of 36 dollars for clerkship saluy. The Secretary of the Treasury, ran his pen through all the otheritemis'id simply marked in the margin, 'Not allowed.' So the drea^ alternative is embraced at last. Repudiation has begun I The nation is lost. True, the President promised that he would mention my claim in his Messase, and re> eomnrend that it be paid out of the first moneys received on account of the Alabama elaims ; but will he recollect to do it ? And may not I be forgotten when the A labama claims are paid ? Younger claimants than I am may be forgotten when the Alabama claims are paid. I am done wi4h official life for the present. Let those clerks who are willing to be im- posed on, remain. I know numbers of them, m the Departments, who are never informed when there is to be a Cabinet meeting, whose advice is never asked about work, or finance, or commerce, by the heads of the nation, any mqre than if they were not connected with the Government, and who actually stay in their offices day after day and work 1 They know their importance to the nation, and they unconsciously show it in their bearing, and the way they order their sus- tenance at the restaurant—but they work. I know one who lias to paste all sorts of little scraps from the newspapers into a ■crap book — sometimes as many as eight or ten scraps a day. Ue doesn't do it well, but he does it as well as he can. It is very fatiguing. It is exhausting to the intellect. Yet he only gets 1,800 dollars a year. With a brain like his, that young man could amass thousands and thousands of dollars in some other pursuit, if he chose to do it. But no — hjs heart is with his country, and he will serve her as long as she has a scrap book left. And I know clerks that don^ know how to write very well, but such knowledge as they possess they nobly lay at the feet of their country,and toil on and suffer for 2,500 dollars a year. What they write has to be written over again by other clerks, some- times ; but when a man has done his best for his country, should his country com- plain ? Tlien there are clerks that Kave no clerkships, and are waiting, and waiting, and waitings for a Tacancy-^waiting patient- ly for a chance to help their country ovl~ ! and while they are waiting, they only gel barely 2,000 dollars a year for it. It is sad — it is very, very sad. When a member of Congress has a friend who is gifted, but has no employment wherein his great powers may be brought to bear, he confers him npoa his country, and gives him a clerkship in s Department And there that man has to slave his life out fighting documents for the benefit of a nation that never thinks of him, never sympathises with him— and all for 2,000 or 8,000 dollars a year. When I shall have completed my list of all the clerks in all the sovural departments, with my statement of what they have to do, and what they get for it, you will see that there are not half enough clerks, and that what there are do not get half enough pay. THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PIT- CAIRN. Let me refresh the reader's memory a lit- tle. Nearly a hundred years ago the crew of the British ship ' Bounty ' mutinied, set the captain and his officers adrift upon the open sea, took possession of the ship, and sailed southward. They procured wives for themselves among the natives of Tahiti, then proceeded to a lonely little rook in mid- Pa- cific, called Pitcaim's Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of everything that might be uselul to a new colony, and established themselves on shore. Pitcaim's is so far removed from the track of commerce that it was many years before another vessel touched there. It had always been considered an uninhabitable island ; so when a ship did at last drop an anchor there in 1808, the captain was crreatly surprised to find the phuie peopled. Although the mu- tineers had fought amonsr themselves, and gradually killed each otoer off until only two or three of the original stock remained, these tragedies had not occurred before a number of children had been bom ; so in 1808 the island had a population pf twenty- seven persons. John Adams, the chief mu- tineer, still survived, and was to live many years yet, as governor and patriarch of the flock. From Dein^ mutineer and homicide^ be hiMl turned Christian and teacher, and his nation of twenty-seven persons was now the purest and devoutest in Christendom. Adams had lona ago hoisted the British flag; and constitutedthe island an appanage of the British Chrown. To-day the population numbers ninety persons, — sixteen men, nineteen women» twenty-five boy% and thirtgr gjurls,— «U df MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ION m PIT. •eendants of the mutineers, all bearing the family names of thoai) inutiuecrs, and all •peaking English, and English only. The island stands nigh up out of the sea, and has precipitous walls. It is about three quarters «f a mile long and in places is as much as half a mile wide. Such arable land as it afifords is held by the several families, ao- eordiiig to a division made many years ago. There is some live stock, — goats, piga, ohiokens, and cats ; but no dogs, ana no Urge animals. There is one church build- ing, — used also as a capitol, — a school-house, and a public library. The title of the f)vernor has been, for ar generation or two, Ma^'istrate and Chief Ruler, in sub- ordiiiiition to Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain.' It waa his province to make tlie laws, as well as to execute them. His ollice was elective ; everybody over seventeen years old had a vote, — no matter about the sex. The sole occupations of the people were farming and tialiing ; their sole recreation, religious aervice*. Thei-e has never been a shoe in the island, nor any nu)ncy. Tiie ha- bits and dress of the people have always been primitive, and their laws simple to Enorility. They have lived in a deep Sab- ath ttanquility, far from the world and its I ambitions and vexations, and neither know- I iog nor caring what was going on in the mighty empires that lie beyond their limit- less ocean solitudes. Once in three or four I years a ship touclied there, moved them with aged news of bloody battles, devastating epidemics, fallen thrones, and ruined dy- nasties, then traded them some soap ii^nd flannel for some yams and bread fruit, and ] sailed away, leaving them to retire into [their peaceful dreams and pious dissipations [once mure. On the 8th of last September, Admiral de [Horsey, commander-in-chief of the British [fleet in the Pacific, visited Pitcairn's island ; [and speaks as follows in his official report to [the Admiralty : — ' They have beans, carrots, turnips, cab- jbages, and a little ma/e ; pineapples, fig- Bea, custard apples, and oranges : lemons, ind cocoa-nuts. Clothing is obtained alone jfrom passing ships, in barter for refresh- nents. There are no springs on the island, but as it rains generally once a month they lave plenty of water, although at times, former years, they have suffered from Irought. No alcoholic li<|unr8, except for ledicinal parpo8es,are used, and a drunkard unknown. ' The necessary articles required by the slanders are best shown by those we fur- bished in barter lor refreshments : namely. flannel, serge, drill, half-boots, oombs, to- bacco, and soap. They also stand much in need of maps and slates for their school, and tools of any kind are most acceptable. I caused them to be suppli<' 1 from the publio stores with a union-jack fo" display on the arrival r i ships, and a pit * .iw, ol which they were greptly in need. This, I trust, wiU meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent pe'..j.ile -f England were only aware of the wants '•f this most d'vierving little colony, they \-'uuld not i.ung go unsup* plied ' Divine service is helc' * viry Sunday at 10:20 a.m. and 6f '<*., in vue house h- 'It and used by John Ad'.;..- 'or that purpo . until ho died in 1829. it i i conducted strictly in accordance with Jie liturgy of the Church of England, by Mr. Simon Young, their selected pastor, who is much respected. A Bible class is held every Wednesday, when all who conveniently can, attend. There is also a general meeting for prayer on the first Fri- day in every moiith. Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is partaken of without asking God's blessing before and afterwards. Of these islanders' religious attributes no one can speak without deep respect. A people w^- "16 greatest pleasure ana privilege is to crv.,fiv ;ie in prayer with their God, and to join iA hymns of praise, and who are, more- over, cheerful, diligent, and probably freer from vice than any other community, need nopriest among them. ' Now I come to sentence in the admiral'* report which he dropped carelessly from his pen, no doubt, and never gave the matter a second thought. He little imagined what m freight of tragic prophecy it bore 1 Thia it the sentence : * One stranger, an American, has settled on the island, — a doubtful acquisition.' A doubtful acquisition indeed I Captain Ormisby, in the American ship ' Hornet,* touched at Pitcairn's nearly four month* after the admiral's visit, and from the facta which he gathered there we know all about that American. Let na put theae facta together, in historical form. The Amen* can's name was Butterworth Stavely. Aa soon as he had become well acquainted with all the people, — and this took but a few days, of course, — he began to ingratiate him« seu with them by all the arte he could com- mand. He became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to ; for one of the first thinga be did was to forsake his worldly wa^ of Um, and throw all bis enercies into reli> gion. He was alwavs reading bis Bible, or prayinflE, or sinoinff hymns, or aakinff bis ^Hi 64 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. lit i-':!:< ■ii HI. inn. Id prayer, no one had snch ' liberty ' M ne, no one could pray bo long or so welL At last, Mrhen he considered the time to be ripe, he began secretly to sow the seeds of discontent among the people. It was his deliberate purpose, from the beginning, to subvert the government, but of course he kept that to himself for a time. He used different arts with different individuals. He awakened dissatisfaction in one quarter by calling attention to the shortness of the Sun- day service ; he argued that there should be three hour service on Sunday instead of only two. Many had secretly held this opinion before ; they now privately banded themselves into a party to work for it. He ■howed certain of the women that they were not allowed sufficient voice in the prayer- meetings ; thus another party was formed. No weapon was beneath his notice ; he even descended to the children, and awoke dis- oontont in their breasts because — as he dis- oo^ered for them — they had not enough Sun- day-school. This created a third party. Now, as the chief of these parties, he found himself the strongest power in the cominu- nity. So he proceeded to his next move — a no less important one than the impeachment of the Cfhief Magistrate, James Russell Nickoy4 a man of character and ability, and possessed of great wealth, he being the owner of a house with a parlour to it, three acres and a half of yam land, and the only boat in Pitcaim's, a whale-boat ; and, most unfortonately, a pretext for this impeach- ment offered itself at just the right time. One of the earliest and most precious laws of the island was tlie law against trespass. It was held in great rev rence, and was re- garded as the palladium of the people's liberties. About thirty years ago an im- port|nt case came before the courts under this law, in this wise : a chicken belonging to Elizabeth Young (aged, at thcfc time,fifty- eigh^ a daughter of John Mills, one of the mutineers of the 'Bounty,') trespassed upon the crounds of Thursday October Christian (affed twenty-nine, a grandson of Fletcher Cbristian, one of the mutineers). Christian killed the ohicken. According to the law. Christian could keep the chicken ; or, if he preferred, he could restore its remains to the owner, and receive damages in ' produce ' to an amount equivalent to the waste and in- jury wrought by the trespasser. The court records set forth that ' the said Christian aforesaid did deliver the aforesaid remains to the said Elizabeth Young, and did demand one bushel of yams in satisfaction of the da- mage done. ' But Elizabeth Young consider- •d the demand exorbitant; the parties could not agre4 ; therefore Christian Drought suit in the courts. He lost his case in Um justice's court ; at least he was awarded only a half peck of yams, which he consider- ed insufficient, and in the nature of a defeat. He appealed. The case lingered several years in an ascending grade of coarts, and always resulted in decrees sustaining the original verdict ; and finally the thing got into the supreme court, and there it stuck for twenty years. But last summer, even the supreme court managed to arrive at a de- cision at last. Once more the original ver- dict was sustained. Christian than said he was satisfied ; but Stavely was present, and whispered to him and to his lawyer, sug- gesting, ' as a mere form,' that the original law be exhibited, in order to make sure that it still existed. It seemed an odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the demand was made. A messenger was sent to the magistrate's house ; he presently returned with the tid- incs that it had disappeared from among the State archives. The court now pronounced its late decision void, since it had been made under a law which had no actual existence. Great excitement ensued, immediately. The news swept abroad over the whole island that the palladium of the public li. berties was lost, — maybe treasonaoly de- stroyed. Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation were in the court room, — that is to say, the church. The impeachment of the oliief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion. The accused met his misfortune with the dignity which became his great office. He did not plead, or even argue ; he offered the simple defence that he had not meddled with the missing law ; that he had kept the State arcliives in the same candle-box that had been used as their de- positary from the beginning ; and that he was innocent of the removal or destruction of the lost document. But nothing could save him ; he was found guilty of misprision of treason, and degraded from his office, and all his property was con- fiscated. The lamest part of the whole shameful mat- ter was the reason suggested by his enemies for his destruction of the law, to wit, that he did it to favour Christian, because Christian was his cousin ! Whereas Stavely was the only individual in the entire nation whv. was not his cousin. The reader must remember that all of these people are the descendants of half a dozen men : that the first children intermarried together and bore grandchiU dren to the mutineers ; that these grand- children intermarried ; after them, great and great-great-grandchildren intermarried ; so that to-day everybody is blood-kin to everr* MAKK TWAIN '8 8KE'i\;MJfiti. -Hi body. Moreover, the relationships are won< derfuUy, even astoundingly, mixed up and complicated. A stranger, for instance, says to an islander — * Yon speak of that young woman as your cousin ; a while ago yon called her yoor aunt.' ' Well, she is my aunt, and my cousin, too. And also my step-sister, my niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third cousin, my forty-second cousin, my great-aunt, my grandmother, my widowed sister-in-law, — and next week she will be my wife. ' So the charge of nepotism against the Chief Magistrate was weak. But no matter ; weak or strv-ug, it suited Stavely. Stavely was immediately elected to the vacant magis- tracy ; and, oozing reform from every pore, he went vigourously to work. In no long time religious services raged everywhere and unceasingly. By command, the second prayer of the Sunday morning sennce, which had customarily endured some thirty-five or forty minutes, and had pleaded for the world, first by continent and then by na- tional and tribal detail, was extended to an hour and a half, and made to include suppli- cations in behalf of the possible peoples in the several planets. Everybody was pleased with this : everybody said, ' Now, this is something like. By command, the usual three-hour germons were doubled in length. The nation came in a body to testify their gratitude to the new magistrate. The eld law forbidding cooking on the Sabbath was ex- tended to the prohibition of eating, also. By command, Sunday-school was privileged to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was complete. In one short month the new magistrate was become the people's idol. The time, was ripe for this man's next move. He' began, cautiously at first, to poison the public mind against England. He took the chief citizens aside', one by one, and conversed with them on thii- topic. Pre- sently he grew bolder, and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to itself, to its honour, to its great traditions, to rise in its might and throw off ' this galling English yoke.' But the simple islanders answered, — ' We have hot noticed that it galled, how does it gall ? England sends a snip once in three or four years to give ns soap and cloth- tnf , and things whion we sorely need and gratefully receive ; but she never troubles us ; she lets as' go our own way. ' 'She lets you so your own wftyl So ilaves hav^ felt ana spoken in all the ages i rhia speech shows how fallen yon are, how MiM, now brutiklized, you have become, an- der this jprinding tynuiny I What ! hM aQ manly pnde forsaken 7:4? Is liberty ost^ thins? Are yon content to be a bmuw ap- pendage to a foreign and hatefal sovereignty, when you mif^ht rise up and take toot rightful place m the august family of ii»> tions, great, free, enlightened, independent^ the minion of no sceptered master bat tfafe arbiter uf yonr own destiny, and a voice and a power in decreeing the destinies of yoor sister-sovereiffnties of the world ?' Speeches like these produced aneffsetby- and-by. Citizens began to feel the English yoke ; they did not know exactly how or whereabouts they felt it, but they were per^ fectly certain they did feel it. They got t» grumbling a good dei^ and chafing undav their chains, and longing for reUef and rciti lease. They presenuy fell to hating the English flag, that sign and symbol of theur nation's degradation ; they ceased to gUme* up at it as they passed the capitol, bat averted their eyes and grated their teeth«| and one morning, when it was found trani* pled into the mud at the bottom of the sta£^ they left it there, and no man put his hand to it to hoist it again. , A certain thing which was sure to happen sooner or later happened now. Some of the chief citizeni went to the magistrate' by night, and said,—* * We can endure this hate n tjrrannyno longer. How can we cast it otiif •By a coup d'etat. ' 'How?' ' A coup d'etat. It is like this ; Every- thing is got ready, and at the appointed mo- ment, I, as the official head of the nation, Sublicly and solemnly proclaim its indepen- ence, and absolve it from allegiance to ai^ and all other powers whatsover. * That sounds simple and easy. We can do that tight away. Then what will be the next thing to do?' ' Seize all the defences and public proper^ ties of all kinds, establish a martial law, pat the army and navy on a war footing; and proclaim the empire !' This fine programme dazzled these banxh cents. They said, ' This is grand — this is splendid t but wQI not England resist ?' ' Let her. a%iii rock is a Gibraltar.' ' 'True. But about the empire? Dow* need an empire, and an emperor t' ' What you need my friends, is nnifiott- tion. Liook at Oermany; look at Italy. They are unified. Unification is the thing. It mtakes living dear. That oonstitutee pro- gress. We must have a standing army and a navy. Taxes follow, as a matter of ooone. All these things sanmieA ap make granchnli^ With unification and orandeor. wnat l MARK TWAIN'S 8KET0HES. i^l i'^: I'M ri:l 1 . -r ■l ft,. ■■•'^5 can yon want? Very well, — only the empire GUI oonfer these boons.' So on the 8th day oi December Pitcaim's Island was proclaimed a free and ind^pen- dent nation ; and on the same day the solemn coronation of Butterworth I., Em- peror of Pitcaim's Island, took place, amid great rejoicings and festivities. The entire nation, with tne exception of fourteen per- ■ons, mainly little children, marched past the throne in single file, with banners and mosio, the procession being upwards of ninety feet long ; and some said it was as mneh as three Quarters of a minute passing a giyin^ point. Nothing like it had ever been iMD in the history of the island before. Poblio enthusiasm was measureless. Now straightway imperial reforms began. Ordenof nobility were instituted. A mi* Butter of the navy was api)ointed, and the whale-boat put in commission. A minister of war was created, and ordered to proceed at onoe with the formation of a standing army. A first lord of the treasury was named and commanded to get up a taxation scheme, and also open negotiations for trea- ties, offensive, defensive, and commercial, with foreign powers. Some generals and ad- mirals were appointed ; also some chamber- lains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the bedchamber. At this point all the material was used up. The Grand Duke of Galilee, Minister of War, eomplained that all the sixteen grown men in the empire had been given great offices, and oonaequently would not consent to serve in this ranks ; wherefore his standing army was atSi stand-stilL The Marquis of Ararat, Biinister of the Navy, .nade a similar com- plaint., He said he was willing to steer the whale«boat himself, but he must ha|e some- body to man her. The Emperor did the best he could in the drcomstances ; he took all the boys about the age of ten years away from their mothers, and pressed them into the army, thus con- structing a corps of seventeen psivates, officered by one lieutenant-general and two major-generals. This pleased the Minister of War, but procured the enmity of all the mothers in the land ; for they said tlieir pre* cious ones must now find bloody graves in the fields of war, and he would be answer- able for it. Some of the more heart-broken and inappeosable among them lay constantly in wait for the Emperor and threw yams at him, unmindful of the body-guard. On account of the extreme scarcity of ma- terial, it was found necessary to refjuire the Duke of Bethany, Postmaster-General, to pull stroke-oar in the navy, and thus sit in tha rear of a noble of lov/er decree, namely. Viscount Cani^n, Lord-justice of the Com- mon Pleas. This turned the Duke of Bethany into a tolerably opMi malcontent and a secret conspirator — a thins which the I Emperor foresaw, but could not nelp. I Things went from bad to worse. The Em> : peror raised Nancjr Peters to the peerage on one day, and married her the next, notwith- ! standing, for reasons of state, the Cabinet I had strannously advised him to marrv Em* meline, eldest daughter of the Archbishop of B Ih'ehem. This caused trouble from a power- ful quarter, — the church. The new empress secured the support and friendship of two- thirds of the thirty-six grown women in the nation by absorbing them into her court as maids of honour ; but this made deadly enemies of the remaining twelve. The fa- milies of the maids of honour soon began to rebel, because there was now nobodv at home to keep house. The twelve snubbed women refused to enter the imperial kitchen as servants ; so the Ehnpress had to require the Countess of Jericho and other great court dames to fetch winter, sweep the pal- ace, and to perform other menial and equally distasteful services. This 'made bad blood in that department. Everybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for the support of the armv, the navy, and the rest of the imperial estaolish- ment were intolerably burdensome, and were reducing the nation to beggary. The Elm- peror's reply — ' Look at C^rmanT ; look at Italy. Are you better than they? and haven't you unification ? '-—did not satisfy them. They said, ' people can't eat unifica- tion, and we are starving. Agriculture has ceased. Everybody is in the arm^, evtrj' body is in the navy, everybody is in the public service, standing around in a uniform, with nothing whatever to do, nothing to eat and nobody to till the fields,^ ' Look at Germany ; look at Italjr. It it the same there. Such is unification, and there's no other way ta get it — no other way to keep it after you've got it, ' said the poor Emperor always. But the grumblers only replied, ' We cant stand the taxes— we can't stand them.' Now right on the top of this the Cabinet reported a national debt amounting to up- wards of forty-five dollars— half a dollar to every individual in the nation. And they proposed to fund something. They had heard that this was always done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on ex- ports ; also on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds ; also naper monev, redeem- able, in yams and cabbages in fifty years. They said the pay of the army and of the navy and of the whole governmental mauhioi MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 9i I was far in arrears, and nnlera loinethine was done, and done inunediately, national Bank* Iraptcy must ensue, and possibly insurreo« [lion and revolution. The Emperor at once resolved upon a high-handed measure, and I a[ a nature never before heard of in Pit- loaim's IsUmd. He went in state to ths I church on Sunday morning, with the army [at his back, and commanded the minister nt fortunately with such a peculiarly social lemocratic unprecision of aim as to do no ama((e. That very night the convulsion came. The nation rose as one man — though forty-nine }f the revolutionists were of the other sex. lie infantry threw down their pitchforks t le artillery cast aside their cocoa-nuts ; the »vy revolted ; the Emperor was seized, and jund hand and foot in his palace. He was rery much depres: ed. He said — * I freed you from a grinding tyranny ; I lifted you up out of your degradation, and aade you a nation among nations ; I gave ^on a strong, compact, centralized govern- kient ; and, more tnan all, I {^ve you the ^iessine of blessings — unification. I have lone all this, and mv reward is hatred, in« lit, and these bonds. Take me ; do with le as ye will. I here resign my crown and 11 my dignities, and gladly do I release my- Blf nom their too heavy burden. For your le I took them up ; tor vour sake I lay lem down. The imperial jewel is no more ; [low bruise and defile as ye will the useless etting.' By a unanimous voice the people condemn- 1 the ex-Emperor and the social democrat > perpetual banishment from church services, ■ to perpetual labour as galley-slaves in the fhale-boat — whichever they misht prefer, lenext day the nation assembled again. and re-hoisted the British Big, reinstated the British tyranny, reduced the nobility to the condition of commoners again, and then straightway turned their diligent attention to the weeding of the ruined and neglected yam patches, and the rehabilitation of the old useful industries and the old healing and solacing pieties. The ex-Emperor restored the lost trespass law, and explained that he had stolen it— not to injure any one, bnt to further his political projects. Therefore the nation gave the late chief magistrate his office again, and also his alienated property. Upon reflection, the ex-Emperor and the social democrat chose perpetual banishment from religious services, in preference to per- petual labour as galley-slaves ' with perpe- tual religious services, as they phrased it; wherefore the people believed that the pooK fellows' troubles had unseated their reasoiv and so they judged it best to confine thetn for the present. Which they did. Such IS the history of Pitcaim's ' doubtful acquisition.' A DAEINO ATTEMPT AT A SOLU- TION OP IT. The Fenian invasion failed because Qtorgt Francis Train was absent. There was no lack of men, arms, or ammunition, but there was sad need of Mr. Train's organizing power, his coolness and caution, ms traa- quility, his strong good sense, his modesty and reserve, his secrecy, his taciturnity, and above all his frantic and bloodthirsty cou- rage. Mr. Train and his retiring and diffi- dent private secretary were obliged to be ab- sent, though the foriner must certainly have been lying at the point of death, else nothing could have kept him from hurrying to the front, and offering his heart's best mood for the ' Down«trodden People' he so loves, so delights to champion. He must have been in a disabled condition, else nothing . conld have kept him from invading Oanada at ti^e head of his ' children.' And, indeed, this modem Samson, solitary and alone, with his formidable jaw, would have been a more troublesome enemy than five times the Fenians that did invade Canada, because they could be made to re- tire, bnt G, F. would never leave the field while there was an audience before him, either armed or helpless. The invading Fenians were wisely cautious, knowing that such of them as were caught would be like- ly to hang ; but the Champion would have stood in no such dantier. There is no law, military or civil, for hanging persons affliofe- ed in his peculiar way. He was not present, alas t— save in spiiift. MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. f '!; He conid not tad wonld not waste so fine an opportunity, though, to send some ectitatic lunacy over the wires, and so he wound up a ferocious telegram with this : — With Yenobancb steeped in Wormwood':^ D — ^D Uld Bnoland. bat wb au. t And keep yow powder dry. Oso. S^EiANois Train. Shkrman Hovbb, Ohioaqo, Noon, Thursday, May 26. P.S.— Just arrived and addressed Grand Tenian Meeting in Fenian Armoury, donating M dollars. This person could he made really useful \iy roosting him on some lighthouse or other prominence where storm prevail, because it takes 80 much wind to keep him going that he probably moves in the midst of a dead calm wherever he travels. r ;!-i A MEMORY. When I say that I never knew my austere father to be enamoured of but one poem in all the long half-century that he lived, per- sona who S3X&W him will easily believe me ; when I say that I have never composed but one poem in all the long third of a centunr that I have lived, persons who know me will be sincerely grateful ; and finally, when I say that the poem which I composed was not the one which my father was enamoured of, persons who may have known us both will not need to have this truth shot into them with a mountain howitzer before they can receive it. My father and I were always on the most distant terms when I was a boy — a sort of armed neutrality, so to speak. At irregular intervals this neutralitv was broken •md suffering ensued ; but I will be candid enough to say that the break ins; and the suf- fering were always divided up with strict impa^ality between us — ^which is to say, my father did the breaking, and I did the suf- fering. As a general thing I Was a back- ward^ OMitious, unadventurous boy. But once I jumped off a two-storey stable ; an- other time I gave an elephant a 'plus;' of tobacco, and retired without waiting for an answer ; and still another time I pre- tended to be talking in my sleep, and got off a portion of every wretched original con- undrum in hearing of my father. Let us not pry into the result ; it was of no consequence to any one but me. But tile poem I have referred to as attract- ing my father's attention and achieving his favoiir was ' Hiawatha. ' Some man who oourted a sudden and awful death presented liim an early copy, and I never lost faith in my own lenaes until I saw h^m sit down and go to reading it in cold blood^-eaw him o^n the book and heard him read these following lines with the same inflectionless judicial frigidity with which he always read hia charge to the jury, or administered an oath to a witness : * Take your bow, O Hiawath, Take your arrows, iasper-headed. Take your war-club, Pugeawaugun, And your mittens, Minjekahwan, And your birch canoe for sailing^ And the oil of Mishe-Nama. Presently my father took out of his breast pocket an imposing ' Warranty Deed, ' and fixed his eyes upon it, and dropped into meditation. I knew what it was. A Texan lady and gentleman had given my half-bro- ther, Orin Johnson, a handsome property in a town in the North, in gratitude to nim for having saved their lives by an act of brilliant heroism. By-and-bye my father looked toward me and sighed. Then he said, ' If I had such a son as this poet, hero were a subject worthier than the traditions of these Indians.' 'If you please, sir, where?' •In this deed.' ? hw w 'In the — deed.' ' ' 'Yes— in this very deed,' said my father, throwing it it on the table. * There is more poetry, more romance, more sublimity, more splendid imagery hidden away in that homely document than could be found in all the tra- ditions of all the savages that live. ' • Indeed, sir ? Could I get it out, sir ? Could I compose the poem, sir, do you think?' •You?' I wilted. Presently my father's face softened some- what, and he said, • Go and try. But mind ; curb folly. No poetry at the expense of truth. Keep strictly to the facts. ' I said I would, and bowed myself out and went up-stairs. ' Hiawatha ' kept droning in my head — and so did my father's remarks about the sublimity and romance hidden in my subject, and also his injunction to beware of wasteful and exuberant fancy. I noticed just here that I had heedlessly brought the deed away with me. Npw, at this moment ,came to me one of those rare moods of daring reck- lessness, such as I referred to a while ago. Without another thought, and in plain defiance of the fact that I knew my father meant me to write the romantic story of my half-brother's adventure and subse- quent good fortune. I ventured to heed merely the letter of his remarks and ignore MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. :ed toward me softened some- myself out and their spirit. I took the stupid 'Warranty Deed ' itself and chopped it up into Hiawa- tbian blank verse, without altering or leaving out three words, and witnout transposing six. It required loads of cour- age to go down-stairs and face my father with my performance. I started three or four times before I finally got my pluck to where it would stick. But at last I said I would go down and read it to him if he threw me over the church for it. I stood up to begin, and he told me to come closer. I edged up a little, but still left as much neu- tr£U ground between us as I thought he would stand. Then I began. It would be useless for me to try to tell what conflicting emo- tions expressed themselves upon his face, nor how they grew more and more intense as I proceeded ; nor how a fell darkness de- scended upon his countenance, and he began to gag and swallow, and his hands began to work and twitch, as I reeled off line after line, with the strength ebbing out of me and my legs trembling under me. •THE STORY OF A GALLANT DEED. TfflS INDENTURE made the tenth Day of November, in the year Of our Lord one thousand eight Hxmdred six-and-fif ty. Between Johanna S. E. Orat And Philip Gray, her husband. Of Salem City, in the State Of Texas, of the first part, And O. B. JoHNsoN,of the town Of Austin, ditto. WITNESSETH: That said party of first part, For and in ooiulderation Of the sum of Twenty Thousand Dollars, laAvful money of The U. S. of Americay, To them in hand now paid by mM, Party of the second part. The due receipt whereof is here. By confessed and aoknowledg-ed. Have Granted, Bargained, Sold, Remised, Released and Aliened and Conveyed, Confirmed, and by these presents do Grant and Bargain, Sell, Remise, Alien, Release, Convey, and Coil« Firm onto the said aforesaid Party of the second part. And to his heirs and assigns For ever and ever, ALL That certain piece or parcel of LAND situate in city of Oungirk, county of Chautauqiia, And likewise furthermore in York State, Bounded and subscribed, to wit. As follows, herein, namely : BBGINNING at the distance of A tniudred two-and-forty feet. North-half-eaat, nortlveast-by-north, East-norla-east and northerly Of the northerly line of MulUgan street, On the westerly line of Brannigan And running thence due northerly On Brannigan street 200 feet Thence at right angles westerly, North-west-by-west-and-west-half-westk West-and-by-north, north-west-by-weat. About — ? I kind of dodged, and the boot-jack broki the looking-glass. I could have waited t< see what Mcame of the other missiles if 1 had wanted to, but I took no interest ii such things. SCIENCE V. LUCK. At that time in Kentucky (said the Hon. Mr. Knott, M. C), the law was very stdot against what it termed ' games of chance. About a dozen of the boys were detected playing ' seven-up ' or * old sledge ' foi money, and the grand jury found a true bill against them. Jim Sturgis retained to de> fend them when the case was up, of course. The more he studied over the matter and looked into the evidence, the plainer it was that he must lose a case at last — ^there was no getting round that painful fact. Those boys had certainly been betting money on a game of chance. Even public sympathy was roused in behalf of Sturgis. People sail it was a pity to see him mar his successful career with a big prominent case like this, which must go against him. But after several restless nights an inspired idea flashed upon Sturgis, and he sprang out of bed delighted. He thought he saw his way through. The next day he whispered around a uttle among his cUents and a few friends, and then when the case came up in court he acknowledged the seven-up and the betting, and, as his sole defence, had the astounding effrontery to put in the plea that old sledge was not a game of chance ! There was the oroadest sort of a smile all over thlt faces of that sophisticated audience. The judge smiled with the rest. But Sturgia maintained a oountenanoe whose earnestness ^as even severe. The opposite counsel tried to ridicule him out of his position, but did not succeed. The judge jested in a ponder- ons judicial way about the thing, but did not move him. The matter was becoming grave. The judge lost a little of his patience, and said the joke had gone far enough. Jim Sturgis said he knew of no joke in the matter — his clients could not be punished for indulging in what some people chose to consider a game of chance until it was proven that it was a game of chance. Judge and I. tl 70 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ::i ■.■'.■ ■( ' m ooansel said that would be an easy matter, •nd forthwith called Deacons Job, Peters, Borke, and Johnston, and Dominies Wirt and MiggleOt to testify ; and they unani- mously and with strong feeling put down the leeal quibble of Sturgis by pronouncing that old sledge was a game of chance. * What do you call it now ?' said the judge. 'I call it a game of science !' retorte>] Sturgis ; 'and I'll prove it, too 1' They saw his little game. He broueht in a cloud of Mritnesses, and produced an overwhelming mass of testi- mony, to show that old sledge was not a game of chance, but a game of science. Instead of being the simplest case in the world, it had somehow turned out to be an excessively knotty one. The judge scratched hif head over it awhile, and said there was no way of coming to a determination, be- cause just as many men could be brought into court who would testify on one side as oould be found to testify on the other. But he said he was willins to do the fair thing by all parties, and would act upon any sugges- tion Mr. Sturgis would make for the solu- tion of the difficulty. Mr. Sturgis was on his feet in a second. ' Empanel a ju|ry of six each, Luck versus Science ; give them candles and a couple of decks of cards, send them into a jury room, and jnat abide by the result I' There was no disputing the fairness of the nrofKNation. The tour bacons and the two oominies were sworn in as the 'chance 'jury- men, and six inveterate old seven-up pro- fessors were chosen to represent the 'science ' side of the issue. They retired to the jury room. In about two hours Deacon Peters sent into court to borrow three dollars from a friend. (Sensation. ) In about two hours more Dominie Higgles sent into court to borrow a ' stake ' from a friend. (Sensation.) During the next three or four hours the other dominie and the other deacons sent into court for small loans. And still the packed audience waited, for it was a prodigi- ous occasion in Bull's Corners, and one in which every father of a family was necessar- ily interested. The rest of the story can be told briefly. About daylight the jury came in, and Deacon Job, the foreman, read the follow- ing ^— VKRDTCT. We, the jury in the case of the Common- wealth of Kentucky vs. John Wheeler et ai., have carefully considered the points of the case, and tested the merits of the several tlieories advanced, and do hereby unanl* mously decide that the game commonly known as old sledge or seven up is eminent* ly a game of science, and not of chance. In demonstration whereof it is hereby and here> in stated, iterated, reiterated, set forth, and nade manifest that, dunng the entire night .:he ' chance ' men never won a game or turned a jack, although both feats were com* iiion and frequent to the opposition ; and furthermore, in support of this our verdict, we call attention to the significant fact that the ' chance ' men are all busted, and the ' science ' men have got the money. It it the deliberate opinion of this jury that the ' chance ' theory concerning seven up is a pernicious doctrine, and calculated to mfliot untold suffering and pecuniary loss upon any community that takes stock in it. 'That is the way that seven-up came to be set apart and particuliarized in the statute* books of Kentucky as being a game not of chance but of science, and tnerefore not punishable under the law,' said Mr. Knotty 'That verdict is on record, and holds good te this day.' AUREUA'S UNFORTUNATE TOUNG MAN. The facts in the following case came to me by letter from a young lady who lives in the beautiful dty of San Jose ; she is perfectiy unknown to me, and simply signs herself ' Aurelia Mana,' which may possibly be a fictitious name. But no matter, the poor girl is almost heart-broken by the misfortunes she has undergone, and so confused by the conflicting counsels of misguided friends and insidious enemies, that she does not know what coui'se to pursue in order to extricate herself from the web of difficulties in which she seems almost hopelessly involved. In this dilemma she turns to me for help, and supplicates for my guidance and instruction with a monng eloquence that would touch the heart of a statute. Hear her sad stoiy : She says that when she was sixteen years old she met and lov«d, with all the devotion oi ^ passionate nature, a young man from New Jersey, named Williamson Breckin- rid^ Caruthers, who was some six years her semor. They were engaged, with the free consent of their friends and relatives, and for a time it seemed as if their career was destined to be characterized by an immunity from sorrow beyond the usual lot of humanity. But at last the tide of fortune turned : voung Caruthers became infected witli small-pox of the most pox of le roco c xvas nitted like a waffle-mould, and hk virulent type, and when he recovered from his illness his ft enngi which calmly cover Soi I he bro It jshesa^ [the fprevio [the bii |was i_ fectiJ imscj 3wn/ etrotl Shoi lOthQ »no ^'itys MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 71 iTE YOUNO comelineugone forerer. Aorelia thonj^ht to break off the engagement at first, bat pity for her unfortunate lover caused her to pos^ pone the marriage day for a season, and give him another trial. The very day before the wedding was to have taken piace, Breokinrid^ wh,ile ab* sorbed in watobihs the flight of a balloon, walked into a well and fractured one of his legs, and it bad to be taken off above the knee. Again Aurelia was moved to break the engagement, but again love triumphed, and she set the day forward and gave him another chance to reform. And again misfortune overtook the un- happy youth. He lost an arm by the pre- mature discharge of a Fourth-of-July cannon, and within three months he got the other Eulled out by a carding-machine. Aurelia's eart was almost crushed by these latter calamities. She oould not but be deeply grieved to see her lover passing from her by piecemeal, feeling, as she did, that he could not last for ever under this disastrous pro- cess of reduction, yet knowing of no way to stop its dreadful career, and m her tearful despair she almost regretted, like brokers who hold on and lose, that she had not taken 1dm at first, before he had suffered such an alarming depreciation. Still, her brave soul bore up, and she resolved to bear up with her Iriend s unnatural disposition yet a little loager. Again the weddiig-day approached, and attain disappointment overshadowed it ; Garuthers fell ill with the erysipelas, and lost the use of one of his eyes entirely. The friends and relatives of the bride, con- sidering that she had already put up with more than could reasonably be expected of her, no\7 came forward and insisted that the match should be broken off ; but after wav- ering awhile, Aurelia, with a generous spirit which did her credit, said she had reflected calmly upon the matter, and could not dig- eover that Breckinridge was to blame. So she extended the time once more, and I he broke his other leg. ' It was a sad day for the poor girl when I she saw the surgeons reverently bearing away [the sack whose uses she had learned by [previous experience, and her heart told her [the bitter truth that some more of her lover [was gone. She felt that the field of her affections were growing more and more cir- imscribed every day, but once more she }wned down her relatives and renewed her Btrothal. Shortly before the time set for the nuptials lother disaster occurred. There was but ►ne man scalped by the Owens River Indians 'mTtt year. That man was William Breckin- ridge Caruthers, of New Jersey. He was hurrying home with happiness in his hearty when he lost his hair for ever, and in that hour of bitterness he almost cursed the mb* taken mercy that had spared his head. At last Aurelia is in serious perplexity •• to what she ousht to do. She stiU loves hsr Breckinridge, she writes, with truly woman- ly feeling — she still loves what is left of him — but her parents are bitterly opposed to the match, because he has no property and is disabled from working, and sne has not suffi- cient means to support both comfortably. ' Now, what shoula she do ? ' she asks with painful and anxious solicitude. It is a delicate question ; it is one which involves the lifelong happiness of a woman, and that of nearly two-thirds of a man, and I feel that it would be assuming too great ft responsibility to do more than make a mers suggestion in the case. How would it dc to biuQ him ? If Aurelia can afford the ex- pense, let her furnish her mutilated lover with wooden arms and wooden legs, and a glass eye and a wig, and give him another show; give him nine^ days, without gn^ce, ana if he does not break his neok in the meantime, marry him and take the chances. - It does not seein to me that there is much risk any way, Aurelia, be- cause if he sticks to his singular propensity for damaging himself every time tie sees * food opportunity, his next experiment is ound to finish him, and then you are safe, married or single. If married, the wooden legs and such other valuables as he may possess revert to the widow, and yon see you sustain no actual loss save the cherished fragment of a noble but most unfortunate husband, who honestly strove to do right» but whose extaraordinary instincts were against him. Try it, Maria, I have tho ight the matter over carefully and well, and it is the only chance I see for you. It would have been a happy conceit on the jpai-t of Caruthers if he had started with his neck and broken that first ; but since he has seen fit to choo%9 a different policy and string himself out as long as possible, I do notj^ think we ought to upbraid him for it if he ha$« enjoyed it. We must do the best we can under the circumstances, and try nt^t to feel exasperated at him. MEDIAEVAL ROMANCE. CHAPTER I. ■'. • ■( THB SECRET REVEALED. It was night. Stillness reigned in the grand old feudal castle of KluffenRtein !%• ? I • .m n MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ,,j.|.... 7«ar 1222 wm drawing to a close. Faraway vp in the tallest of the oaatle's towers a sin- ffe light glimmered. A secret council was sing lield there. The sterii old lord of Klugenstein sat in a chair of state medi- tating. Presently he said with a tender ac- oent— ■ * My daughter ! ' A younff man of noble presence, dad from head to heel in knightly mail an- swered — T i^->(». * Speak, father ! ' * My daughter, the time is come for the reveahng of the' mystery that hath puzzled all your young life. Know, then, that it had its birth in the matters which I shall now unfold. My brother Ulrich is the f^eat Duke of Bradenburgh. Our father, on his death-bed, decreed that if no son were bom tOi Ulrich the succession should pass to my house, provided a son were born to me. And farther, in case no son were born to either, bat only daughters, then the succession should passtoUlrich'sdaughterif she proved stainless ; if she did not, my daughter should sacceed if she retained a blameless name. And so I and my old Mrif e here prayed fer- vently for tiie good boon of a son, but the r»yer was in vain. You were born to us. was in despair. I saw the mighty prize slipping from my grasp, the splendid dream vanishing away. And I had been so hope- fol ! Five years had Ulrich lived in Wed- lock, and yet his wife had borne no heir of either sex. "• Bnt hold," I said : «'aU is not lost " A laving soheme had shot across my brain. You ware bMn at midmght. Only the leech, the nurse, and six waiting-women knew fonr sex. I hanged them every one before •n hour had sped. Next morning all the Darony went mad with rejoicing over the E)clamation that a son was bom to ugenstein, an heir to the mighty Braden- surgh 1 And well the secret has been kept, four mother's own sister nursed your m- ancy, and from that time forwarc^we feared Mtliingi * ' When yon were ti^ears old a daughter ras bom to Ulrich. We grieved but hoped or good results from measles or physicians, >r other natural enemies of infancy, but were Jways disappointed. She lived, she throve —Heaven's malison upon her ! But it is lothing. We are safe. For, ha, ha ! have ve not a son ? And is not our son the uture Duke ? Our well-beloved Conrad, s it not so f — ^for, woman of eight-and- wenty years as yon are, my child none •ther name titan that hath ever fallen to 'OO* Now, it hath oome to pass that age hath laid its hand u{>on my brother, and he wax- es feeble. The cares of state do ' x hin sore. Therefore he wills that yon shall come to him and be already Duke in act, thougli not yet in name. Your ser- vitors are ready — you journey forth to- night. * Now listen well. Remember every word I say. There is a law as old as Germany, that if any woman sit for a single instant in the ereat ducal chair before she hath been absolutely crowned in presence of the peo- ple, SHE SHALL DIE ! So heed my wordb. Pretend humility. Pronounce your judg- ments from the Premier's chair, which stands at the foot of the throne. Do this until you are crowned and safe. It is likely that your sex will ever be discovered, but still it is the part of wisdom to make things as all safe as may be in this treacheraua earthly life.' 'Oh, my father, is it for this my life hath been a lie? Was it that I might cheat my unoffending cousin of her rights ? Spare uie, father ; spare your child. ' * What, hussy ! Is this my reward for the aagust fortune my brain has wrought for thee ? By the bones of my father, this pul- ing sentiment of thine but ill accords with my humour. Betake thee to the Dake in- stantly, and beware how then meddlest with my purpose. ' Let this suffice of the conversation. It is enough for us to know that the prayers, the entreaties, and the tears of the gentle-natur- ed girl availed nothing. Neither they nor an^hing could move the stout old lord of Klugenstein. And so, at last, with a heavy heart, the daughter saw the castle gates close behind her, and found herself nding away in the darkness surrounded by a knight- ly array of armed vassals and a brave fol- lowing of servants. The old baron sat silently for many min- utes after his daughter's departure, and then he turned to his sad wife and said — ' Dame, our matters seem speeding fairly. It is full three months since I sent the shrewd and handsome Count Detzin on his devilish mission to my brother's daughter, Constance. If h*^ fail we are not wholly safe, but if he do succeed no power can bar our girl from being Duchess e'en though ill fortune should decree she never should be Duke.' ' My heart is full of bodinss, yet M mar stiUbewell.' ' Tush, woman ! Leave the owls to croak. To bed with ye, and dream of Btandenbargh and grandeur 1' ins MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 71 CHAPTER II. nsnVITT AKO TBABB. Six days After the ocourrenoerelated in the above chapter, the brilliant capital of the Duchy of Brandenburgh was resplendent with military pageantry, and noisy with the rejoicings of loyal multitudes, for Conrad, the youne heir to the crown, was come. The old Duke s heart was full of happiness, for Conrad's handsome person and graceful bear- ing had won his lore at once. The great huls of the palace were thronged withnooles, who welcomed Conrad bravely ; and so bright and happy did all things seem that he felt his fean and sorrows passing away, and giv- ing place to a comfortmg contentment. But in a remote apartment of the palace a scene of a different nature was transpiring. By a window stood the Duke's only child, the Laay Constance. Her eyes were red and swollen, and full of tears. She was alone. Presently she fell to weeping anew, and said aloud — ' The villain Detzin is eone — has fled the dukedom ! I could not oelieve it at first, but, alaa ! it is too true. And I loved him 10. I dared to love biin though I knew the Duke my father would never let me wed him. I loved hi n — but now I hate him ! Witii all my soul I hate him ! Oh, what is to become of me ? I am lost, lost, lost ! I shall go mad !' CHAPTER m. ' -'!' TBB PLOT THIOKBNS. A few months drifted by. All men pub- lished the praises of the young Conrad's |p>vemment, and' extolled the wisdom of his judgments, the mercifulness of his sen- tences, and the modesty with which he bore himself in his great office. The old Duke soon gave everything into his hands, and sat apart and listened with proud satis- faction while his heir delivered the decrees of the Grown from the seat of the Premier. It seemed plain that one so loved and praised and honoured of all men as Conrad was could not be otherwise than happv. But, stran^- ly enough, he was not. For he saw with dismay that the Princess Constance had begun to love him ! The love of the rest of the world was happy fortune for him, but this was freighted with danser ! And he saw, moreover, that the delighted Duke had discovered his daughter's passion like- wise, and was already dreaming of a marri- age. Every day somewhat of the deep sad- nflM that bad bom in the princess's face fad- ed away ; every day hope and uaimation beamed brighter from her e^e ; and by-and* bye even vagrant smiles visited the face that hiMl been so troubled. Conrad was appalled. He bitterly cursed himself for having yieldnd to the instinct that had made him seek the companionship of one cf his own sex when he was new and a stranger in the palace — when he was sorrow- ful and yearned for a sympathy such as onlj women can give or feel. He now began to avoid his cousin. But this only made mat- ters worse, for, naturally enough, ti^e more he avoided her the more she cast herself in his way. He marvelled at this at first, and next it startled him. The girl haunted him ; she hunted him ; she happened upon him at all times and in all places, in the night tm well as in the day. She seemed singularly anxious. There was surely a m^'stery some- where. * This could not go on for ever. All the world sraa talking about it. The Duke was beginning to look perplexed. Poor Conrad wfis becoming a very ghost through dread and dire distress. One day as he was emerg- ing from Si private anteroom attached to the, picture gallery, Constance confironted hite, and, seizmg both his hands in hen, ex- claimed — ' Oh, why do yon avoid me? What have I done — what have I said to lose your kind opinion of me — for surely I had it once ? Cent* rad, do not despise me, but pity a tortured heart! I cannot, cannot hold the words un- spoken longer, lest they kill me— I lovb Yov, Conrad! There, despise me if you must, but they would be uttered !' Conrad was speechless. Constance hesi- tated a moment, and then, inisinteri>reting his silence, a wild gladness flamed in her eyeo, and cdie flung her arms about his neek and said — ' You relent ! yon relent I You can love me — ^you will love me ! Oh, say you will, my own, my worshipped Conrad i' Conrad groaned uoud. A sickly pallor overspread his countenance, and he Ambled like an aspen. Presently, in desperation, he thrust the poor girl from him, and cried — ., ' You know not what you ask I It is for ever and ever impossible I' And then he fled like a criminal, andleftthe princess stupe- fied with amazement. A minute afterward she was crying and sobbing there, and Con- rad was crying and sobbing in her ohamberi.. Both were in despair. Both saw ruin star- ing them in the face. By-and-bye Constance rose slowly to her feet and moved away, saying — ' To think that he was despising nnr love at the very moment that I thought it 74 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. U: ,1 flMltiii|r hii cruel hnart. I hate him. He •pamed me— ^d this man — he spurned me nom him like a dog. ' CHAPTER IV. TBI AWFUL BEVBLATIOW. Time psMed on. A settled sadness rested «Boe more upon the countenance of the good Duke'i daughter. She and Conrad were Men tot{ether no more now. The Duke grieved at this. But as the weeks wore •way Conrad's colour came back to his •heelos, and his old-time vivacity to his '•^e and he administered the government with a dear and steadily ripening wisdom. Presently a strange whisper began to be hsard about the palace. It grew louder ; it ipread farther. The ({ossipa of the city got nold of it. It swept the dukedom. And this is what the whisper said — ' The lady Constance hath given birth to • ohild.' When the lord of Klugenstein heard it he •wong his plumed helmet thrice around hia head and snouted — ' Long live Duke Conrad !— for lo, his €rown is sure from this dav forward. Detzin has done his errand well, and the good Moondrel shall be rewarded.' And he spread the tidings far and wide, and for eight-and-forty hours no soul in all the barony but did dance and sing, carouse and illuminate, to celebrate the ereat event, and all at proud and happy old Klugenstein "a •zpense. CHAPTER V. TBI nUOHTFUL GATASTHOPHT. The trial was at hand. All the great lords and barons of Brandenburgh were ns<:< >ubled m the Hall of Justice in the duo. , ive. (fo space was left unoccupied wli ' it^re was room for a spectator to staiul or sit. ^nrad, olad in purple and errmine, sat in she Premier's chair, and ^n either side sat 'Jie great judges of the realm. The old Duke lad sternly commanded that the trial of his laughter should proceed without favour. md then had taken to his bed broken- Marted. His days were numbered. Poor }onradhad begged, as for his very life, that *e might be spared the misery of sitting in ndgment upon his cousin's crime, but it did «ot avail. The saddest heart in all that great assem- 4age was in Conrad's breast. Tiie gladdest heart was in his father's, for, dBknDwn to his daughter * Conrad ' the old Baron Klugenstein was come, and wai among the crowd of nobles, triumphant in the ■welling fortunes of his house. After the heralds had made due proclama- tion and the other preliminaries had follow- ed, the venerable liord Chief Justioe said : ' Prisoner, stand forth I ' The unhappy princess rose, and stood un- veiled before the vast multitude. The Lord Chief Justice continued — ' Most noble lady, before the great Judges of this realm it hath been charged ana prov- en that out of holy wedlock your Qrace hath E'ven birth unto a child, and by our ancient w the penalty is deatit excepting in one sole contingency, whereof his Grace the act- ing Duke, our good Lord Conrad, will adver- tise you in his solemn sentence now ; where- fore give you heed. ' Conrad stretched forth the reluctant scep- tre, and in the self-name moment the woman- ly neart beneath hu robe yearned pityingly toward the doomed prisoner, and the tears came into his eyes. He opened hii lips to apeak, but the Lord Chief Justice said quickly — ' Not there, your Grace, not there I It is not lawful to pronounce judgment upon any of the ducal line save from the ducal throne !' A shudder went to the heart of poor Con- rad, and a tremor shook the iron frame of his old father likewise. Conrad had nov BEEN CROWNED — dated he profane the throne ? He hesitated and grew pale witii fear. But it must be done. Wondering eyes were already upon him. They would faie suspicious eyes if he hesitated longer. He ascended the throne. Presently he stretched forth the sceptre again, and said — * Prisoner in the name of our sovereign Lord Ulrich, Duke of Bradenburgh, I pro- ceed to the solemn duty that hath devofved upon me. Give heed to my words. By the anuient law of the land, except ycu produce the partner of your guilt and deliver him up to the executor you must surely die. Embrace this opportunity — save yourself while yet you may. Name the father of your child ! ' A solemn hush fell upon the great court — a silence so profound that men could heai their own hearts beat. Then the prin- cess slowly turned, with eyes gleaming with hate, and pointing her finger straight at Conrad, said, * .. • Thou art the man !' * An appalling conviction of his helpless, hopeless peril struck a chill to Conrad'f heart like the chill of death itself. What power on earth could save him ! To dis- prove the oharare he must mvmi.1 thnt. ho wo« MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 91 t woman, and for an uncrowned woman to lit in the ducal chair was d«ath ! At one ad the same moment he and his grim old ftther swooned and fell to the ground. The remainder of this thrilling and event* il story will not be found in this or any ^ther publication, either now or at any iture time. The truth is, I have got my hero (or lieroine) into such a particularly oloae place It I do not see how I am ever going to get n (or her) out of it again, and therefore I rill wash my hands ot the wliole business, id leave that person to get out the best wa^ jat offers — or else stay there. I thought it rai going to be easy enough to straighten it that little difficulty, but it locks differ- it now. MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. ' Just about the close of that long, hard [winter, ' said the Sunday-school superin- Itendent, 'as I waswendingtoward my duties lone brilliant Sabbath morning, I glanced (down toward tho levee, and there lay the I "City of Hartford " steamer I No mutake [about it ; and there she was, pufilng and I panting after her long pilgrimage through [the ice. A glad sight ? Well, I should say [so ! And then came a pang right away be- icaose I should have to instruct empty I benches, sure ; the youngsters would all be [off welcoming the first steamboat of the sea- Ison. You can imagine how surprised I was [when I opened the door and saw half the |buiche8 full ! My gratitude was free, large [and sincere. I resolved that they should not [find me unappreciative. ' I said, "Boys, you cannot think how [proud it makes me to see you here, nor what I renewed assurance it gives me of your affec- tion. I confess that i said to myself, as I came along and saw that the "City of Hart- I ford " was in — ' " No ! but is she though ?" ' ' And, as quick as any flash of lightning, I I stood in the presence of empty benches I I l^had brought them the news myselL' THE WIDOW'S PROTEST. One of the saddest things that ever came lander my notice (said the banker's clerk) was there in Corning, during the war. Dan \ Murphy enlisted as a private, and fought [ very bravely. The boys all liked him, and [when a wound by-and-bye weakened iiini [down till carrying a musket was too heavy [worL for him, Utey dubbed together auu, fixed him up as a sutler. Ha made motiey then, and sent it always to his wife to bank for him. She was a washer and ironer, and knew enough by hard experience to keep money when she got it. She didn t waste a penny. On the contrary, she began to grow miserly as her bank ac- count grew. She grieved to part with » cent, poor creature, for twice in her hard working life she had known what it was to be hungry, cold, friendless, sick, and without a dollar in the world, and she had a haunting dread of suffering so again. Well, at last Dan died ; and the boys, in testimony of their esteem and respect for him, telegraphed to Mrs. Murphy to know if she would like to have him embalmed and sent home ; when yon know the usual cus- tom was to dump a poor devil like him into a shallow hole and then inform his frienda what had become of him. Mrs. Murfdiy jumped to the conclusion that it would only cost two or three dollars to embalm her dead husband, and so she telegraphed ' YeH.' It was at the ' wake ' that the bill for embalming arrived and was presented to the widow. She uttered a wild, sad wail that pierced every heart, and said, ' Seventy -foive dollars for stooifin' Dan, blister their souls 1 Did thim devils suppose I was ^in' to stairt a museim, that I'd be dalin' in suoh expensiTO curiasities ?' The banker's clerk said there wm not m dry eye in the house. ^ POLITICAL ECONOMY. 1 i Political Economy is the basis of all good fovenunent. The wisest men of all ages ave brought to bear npon this sabjeefc the [Here I was interrupted and inf onned that m stranger wished to <^e down at the does. I went and confronted him, and asked to know his business, struggling ail the time to keep a tight rein o» my seetniug political economy ideas, and not let them break away firom me or get tangled in their harness. And privately I wished the stranger was in the bottom of uie canal with a cargo of wheat on top of him. X was all in a fever, but he was cool. He said ho was BoiTy to disturb me, but as he was passing he noticed that I needed some lightnins-rods. I said, ' Yes. yes— go on— what about it r Ho said there was nothing about it, in particular- nothing except that he would like to put them up for nte. I am new to housekeeping ; have been used to hotels and boarding-houses all my life. Like anybody else of similar experience, 1 try to appear to stransers, to be an old house- keeper; consequently 1 said in an off-hand wajr that 1 had been intending for some time to have six or eight lightning-rods put up. but The stranger started, and looked enquiringly at nxL but ! was serene. I thought that if I chanced to make any mistakes he would not cskMj^ |bo , ;,l i;,,'.l .ifiKi, ;.. »it»r; ! .f:'^::i%., 76 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ■■ r, Smyooontetuuioe. HeMdd 1m would r»ther T« mj OQBtom than any man's in town. I ■aid 'all right,' and started off to wrentle with mf great sutdeot again, when he called me back and said it would be necessary to know exactly how many ' points,' I wanted put up. what parts of the house I wanted them on. and what quality of rod I preferred. It was close quar- ters for a man not used to the exigencies of housekeeping, but I went through creditably, and he probably never suspectecT that I was a novice. I told nlm to put up eight 'points,' and put them all on the roof, and use the buflt quality of rod. He said he could furnish the 'plain' article at 20 cents a foot ; ' copfierod' 25 cents ; *Blnc-plated, spiral-twi^^t,' at 30 cents, that would stop a streak of lightning any time, no matter where it wus bouml.and 'render its errand hurmlesa and its furtlur progress apo- oryphoL' I Huid apocryplial wad no idouoh of a word, emanating frum the source it did, but, philology aside, 1 liked the spiral-twist and would take that brand. Then he said he could make twu hundred and fifty feet answer ; but to do it right, and make the ocst job In town of It, and attract the udmirntion of the just and the unjust alilce, and compel all parties to say they never saw a more symmetrical and hypothetical display of lightning-rods since they were bom, be supposed he really couldn't get along with- out four hundred, though he was not vindic- tive, and trusted he was willing to try. I said, go ahead and use four hundred, and make any kind of a job he pleased out of it, but let me get back to my work. 8o I got rid of him at last ; and now, after half an hour spent in getting my train of political economy thoughts coupled together again, I am ready to go on once more.] richest treasures of their genius, their expe- rience of life, and their learning. The great lights of commercial jurisprudence, interna- tional confraternity, and biological devia- tion, of all ages, all civilizations, and all na- tionalities from Zoraater down to Horace Qreeley, have— ; '.'••"' (Here I was inteirupted again, and required to go down and confer further with that light- ning-rod man. I hurried ott; boiling and surg- ing with prodigious thoughts wombed In words of such majesty that each one of them was iti itself a straggling procession of syllables that misht be fifteen minutes passing a given point, ana once more I confronted him— he so calm and sweet, I so hot and frenzied. He was stand- ing the contemplative attitude of the Colossus of Kiiodes, vrith one foot on my infaht tuberose, and the other among my pansles, his hands on his hips, his hat-brim tilted forward, one eye ■hut and the other gazing critically and admir- ingly in the direction of my principal chimney. He said now there was a state of things to make a man glad to be alive: and added. 'I leave It to you if you ever saw anvthing more deliriously picturesque than eight lightning- rods on one chimney I ' I said 1 had no present recollection of anything that transcended it. Ho said that in his opinion nothing on this earth but Niagara Falls was superior to it in the way of natural scenerv. All that was needed now. he verily believed, to make my house a perfect balm to the eye, was to kind of touch up the other chimneys a little, and thus "add to the generous coup tPoeil a soothing uniformity of •ehievement which would allay the excitement natiirall/ consequent npon the flrst oouptTetat.' tasked hin. I \c l<:arned to talk out of a boolL and if I CO 1 1.< ix>rrow it anywhcruT He smiled pleasantly.and said that his manner of speaking was not tnuKlit in books, and that nothing hoi familiarity with lightning could enable a man to handle nis conversational style with impun- ity. He then flgured up an estimate, and said that about eight more rods scattered about my roof would about tix mc right, and he guessed five hundred feet of stutl' would doit;anaadded that the flrst eight had got a little the start of him, so to speak, and used up a mere trifle of material more than he had calculated on— a hundred feet or along there. I said I was In a dreadful hurry, and 1 wished wc could get this business permanently mapped out, so that I could go on with my worlc. He said 'I could have put up those eight rods, and marched off about my business—uume men would havedone It. But no : I said to myself, this man is a St ranger to me, and I will die before I'll wrong him; there ain't lightning-rods enough on that house, and for one I'll never stir out of my tracks till Fve done as I would be done by, and told him so. Stranger, my duty is accomplish- ed ; if the recalcitrant and dephlogistio mcs- suiiger of Heaven strikes your ' 'There, now there,' I said, 'put on the other eight— add five hundred feet of spiral twist— do anything and everythingyou wanttodo;bnt calm your sut- ferings.and try to keep your feelings where you can reach them with the dictionary. Mean- while, if we understand each other now, I will go to work again.' I think I have been sitting here a full half hour, this time, trying to get back to where I was when my train of thought was broken by the last interruption ; but I oe- lieve I have accomplished it at last, and may venture to proceed again) wrestled with this great subject, and the greatest among them have found it a worthy adversary, and one that always comes up fresh and smiling after every throw, the mighty Confucius said that he would rather be aprofound political economist than a chief of police. Cicero frequently said that politi- cal economy was the grandest consummation that the human mind was capable of con- suming ; and even our own Greeley has said vague^ but forcibly that — y are il- lustrated, have singled out the stanza, and made it more celebrated than any that ever — (' Now, not a word out of vou— not a single word. J^ust state your bill and relupao into im- penetrable silence for ever and ever on these premises. Nine hundred dolloxsi is that all? rhis cheque for the amount will be honoiii-ud at any respectable bank in America. What is that multitude of people gathei-ed in the street for? How»— 'looldng at the lightninff-mfls ! ' Bless my life, did they never see any lixtitning- rods before 1 Never saw ' such a stuck of tlioin on one establishment,' did I imdev.stand yuu to sav? I will step down and 01*: cically observe this popular ebullition of ijmoiance.'] Thbks Days Latbb.— We are all about worn out. For . four-and-twenty hom« our bristling premises were the ta^ and Wonder of the towTtt. The theatres languished, for their happiest scenic inventions were tame and commonplace compared with my light- ning-rods. Our street was blocked night and day with spectators, and among them were many who came from the country to see. It was a blessed relief, on the second day, when a thunder-storm came up aind the lightning began to ' go for ' my house, as the historian Jowphns quaintly phrases it. It cleared the galleries, so to speak. In five minutes tb-^- wu not a spectatoi: within half a mile r ' m plaoe ; bnt all the high house* Aboat th»ft dia* tance away were full, windows, roof, and alL And well they miaht be, for all the falling stars and Fourth of July fireworks of » gen- eration, put together and rained down simultaneously out of heaven in one brilliant shower upon one helpless roof, would not haveany advantage of the pyrotechnic display that was making my house so magnificently conspicuous in tliuueneral gloom of t'leatorm. By actual couut, the lightning struck at my establishment seven hundred and sixty-four times in forty minutes, but tripped on one of those faithful rods every time, and slid down the spiral twist and shot into the earth before it probably had time to be sur- prised at the way the tiling was done. 4jid through all that bombut-dment only one patoh of slates was ripped up, and that was because, for a single iuutant the rods in the vicinity were trans- porting all the lightning they could possibly accommodate. Well, nothing was ever seen like it since the world began. For one whole day and night not a member of i^y family put his head out of the window bnt lie got the hair snatched off it as smooth as a buliard ball ; and, if the reader wiU be- lieve me, not one of us ever dreamt of stir- ring abroad. But at last the awful siege came to an end — because there was abso- lutely no more electricity left in the cloud* above us within grappling distance of my insatiable rods. Tlien I sallied forth, and gathered daring workmen together, and not u bite or a nap did we take till the premises were utterly stripped of all their terrific ar- mament except just the rods on the house, one on the kitehen, and one on the bam — and behold these remain even unto this day. And then, and not till then, the people ven- tured to use our street again. I will remark here, in passing, that during that fearful time I did not continue my essay upon po- litical economy. I am not even yet settled enough in nerve and brain to resume it. To Whom it May Conosbn.— Parties having need of three thousand two hundred and eleven feet best quality zinc-plated spiral-twist lightning-rod stuff, and sixteen hundred and thirty-one silver-tipped points, all in tolerable repair (and, although' much worn by use, still equal to any ordinary Emergency), can hear of a bargain by ad- dresswg tiie pnUisher. I oe HiH MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. -vm. tBE KnUNa OF JULIUS G^ESAB "LOCALISED." BriBjE the only tme and reliable aooount erer iraSllBlMd: taken from the Roman Daily jBwniTig Fiasoes, of the date of that tremen- dous occurrence. Nothing in the world affords a newspaper raporter so much satisfaction as gathering up tiie details of a bloody and mysterious mur- der, and writing them up with aggravating eiroumstantiali^. He takes a living delight hi this labour of love — for such it is to him — especially if he knows that all the other papers have gone to press, and his will bo the only one that will contain the dreadful intelligence. A feeling of regret has often eome over me that I was not reporting in Borne when Csesar was killed— reporting on an evening paper, and the only one in the dty, and gettmg at least twelve hours ahead id the morning paper boys with thi-i most magnificent 'item'that ever fell to the lot of the craft. Other events have happened M startling as this, but none that possessed •o peculiarly all the characteristics of the favourite 'item' of the present day, magni- fied into grandeur and sublimity by the high rank, fame, and social and political standing of the actors in it. In imagination I have seen myself skirmishing around old Rome, button-holing soldiers, senators, and citizens by turns, and trausfening ' all the particu- lars' from them to my note-book. Ah ! if I had lived m those days, I would have written up that item gloatingly, and Siced it with a little moralizing here and 9nty of blood there ; and some dark, shud- dering mystery ; and praise and pity for others (who do not patronize the paper), and gory gashes, and notes of warning as to the tendency of the times, and extravagant de- scriptions of the excitement in the Senate- house and the street, and all that sort of thing. However, as I was not permitted to report Caesar's assassination the regular way, it has at least afforded me rare satisfaction to trans- late the following able account of it from the original Latin of the Roman Daily livening Faseea of that date — second edition : * Ourusuallv quiet city of Rome was thrown bto a state of wild excitement yesterday by the occurrence of one of those bloody affrays which sicken the heart, and fill the soul with fear, while they ins^^ire all thinking men with forebodings for the future of a city where human life is held so cheaply,and the gravest laws are so openly set at defiance. As the r^ult of that affray, it is our painful duty, •8 public journalists, to record the death of one of our most esteemed citizens — a man wh.>se name is known whereverthispapercir- oilates, and whose fame it has been oar plea- 1 sure and privilege to extend, and also t» | Erotect from the tongue of slander and false, ood to the best of our poor ability. We ! refer to Mr. J. CsBsar, the Emperor elect. • The facts of the case, as nearly as our re. S>rter could determine them from the con- cting statements of eye-witnesses, wer«] about as follows :— The affair was an election I row, of course. Nine-tenths of the ghastly i butcheries that dis^, uce the city now-a-day» grow out of the biuKcringa, and jealousies, and animosities engendered by these accuised ' elections. Rome woulil be the gainer by it if her constables were elected to serve a cen- '. tury ; for in our experience we have never ' been able to chose a dog-pelter without cele- brating the event with a dozen knock-downs, and a general cramming of the station-house with drunken vagabonds overnight. It is said that when the immense majority for Csesar at the polls in the market was de- clared the other day, and the crown was of- fered to that gentleman, even his amazing unselfishness in refusing it three times was not sufficient to save mm from the whisper- ed insults -,f such men as Ca3ca,of the Tenth ward, and other hirelings of ' the disappoint- ed candidate, hailing mostly from ths Eleventh and Thirteenui and other outside distiicts, who were overheard speaking ironi- cally and contemptuously of Mr. Ctesar's conduct upon that occasion. ' We are further informed that there are many among us who think they are justified in believing that the assassination of Julius Caesar was a put-up-thing — a out-and-dried arrangement, hatched by Marcus Brutus and a lot of his hired roughs, and car- ried out only too faithfully according to the programme. Whether there be good grounds fer this suspicion or not, we leave to the people to judge for themselves, only asking that they wul read the following account of the sad occurrence carefully and dispassionately before they render that judgment. 'The senate was already in session, and Caesar was coming down the street towards the capitol, conversing with some personal friends, and followed, as usual, by a large number of citizens. Just as he was passing in front of Demosthenes and Thucydider drug store, he was observing casually to a gentleman, who, our informant thinks, is a fortune teller, that the ides of March were come. The reply was, ' Yes, they are come, but not gone yet.' At this moment Artemi- dorus stepped up and passed the time of day, and asked Ctesar to read a Hcliedule or a ti^ % or something of the kiud, which MARK TWAIN'S 8KE1\;HK». <' had brought for his peruaal. Mr. iua Brutua also said something about " humble suit " which he wanted read. ..Bmidorus begged that attention might be id to his firat, Ddcause it was of personal asequenceto Ceesar. The latter replied [lat what concerned himself should be read Bt, or words to that effect. Artemidorus egged and beseeched him to read the paper stently.* * However, Caesar shook him off, and re> ifiised to read any petition in the street. [He then entered the capitol, and the crowd Ifollowed him. 'About this time the following conversa- Etion was overheard, and we consider that kken in connection with the events which icceeded it, it bears an appalling signifi- ioanoe. Mr. Papilius Lena remarked to iGeorge W. Cassius (commonly known as the I" Nobby Boy of the Third Ward," a bruiser lin the pay of the Opposition, that he hoped [his enterprise to-day might thrive ; and [when Cassius asked, "What enterprise?" he lonly closed his left eye temporarily, and iBaid with simulated indifference, " Fare you Iwell," and sauntered towards Csesar. iMarcus Brutus, who is suspected of being [the ringleader of the band that killed [Csesar, asked what it was that Lena Lad id. Cassius told him, and added in b low tone, ' ' I fear our pu ri/ose is discovered. " ' Brutus told his wretoued accomplice to [keep an eye on Lena, and a moment after, sius urged that lean and hungry vagrant, iCasoa, whose reputation here is none of the fbest, to be sudden, for he feared prevention. [He then turned to Brutus, apparently much [excited, and asked what should be done, id swore that either be or Caesar should lever turn back — he would kill himself st At this time Caesar was talking to }me of the back-country members about the kpproaching fall elections, and paying little fttteution to what was going on around lim. Billy Trebouius got into conversation [with the people's friend and Caesar's — [Mark Antony — and under some pretence or other sot him away, and Brutus, Decius, " Bca, C;nna, Metollus Cimber, and others it t\\ti g%ng of infamous desperadoes that fnfest Home at preseut, closed around the loomed Ciesar. Then Metellus Cimber cnelt down, and becged that his brother light be recalled from banishment; but ' esar rebuked him for his fawning, aneakins induct, and refused to grant his petition. Mark that ; it is hinted by William Shak- ■peare, who saw the )N>|{inningand the end of me unfortimate afttay, that this " schedule " 'Its simply a note discuvering to Ccsaar »t t» plot was brewing to take his life. Immediately, at Cimber's request, finrt Brutus and then Cassius begged for the re- ' turn of the banished Publius ; bat CsBsai still refused. He said he could not be moved ; that he was as fixed as the Noirth Star, and proceeded to speak in the most complimentary terms of the firmness of the star, and its steady character. Then ho said he was like it, and he believed he wu the only ;iian in the country thatwaa; therefore, since he was " constant " thftt Cimber should be banished, he'd be d d if he didn't keep him so. 'Instantly seizing upon this shallow pretext for a fight, Casca sprung at Cassai and struck him with a dirk, Caesar grabbing him b^ the arm with his right hand,' ana launching a blow straight from the shoulder with his left, that sent the reptile bleeding to the earth. He then backed np againn Pompey's statue, and squared himself to ro> ceive his assailants. Cassius and Cimber and Cinna rushed upon him with their dag> gers drawn, and the former succeeded u mfiicting a wound npon his body ; but bafore he could strike arain, and' before either of the others coula strike at all, Caesar stretched the three miscreants at his feet with as many blows of his powerful fist. By this time the Senate was in an indescri- bable uproar ; the throng of citizens in the lobbies had blockaded the doors in their frantic efforts to escape from the building, the serjeant-at-arms and hid assistants were strugghng with the assassins, venerable senators had cast aside their encnmberiug robes, and were leaping over benches ana flying down the aisles in wild confusion towards the shelter of the committee-rooms, and a thousand voices were shouting ' Po«lioe i Pol-ice ! ' in discordant tones that rose above the frightful din like shrieking winds above the roaring of a tempest. And amid it all, great Caesar stood with his back against the statue, like a lion at bay, and fought his assailants weaponless and hand to hand, with the defiant bearing and the on* wavering courage which he had shown before on many a bloody field. Billy Tro> bonius and Cams Legarius struck him with their daggers and fell, as their brother-con- spirators before them had fallen. But at last, when Caesar saw his old friend Brutua ste^ forward armed with a murderous knife, it^ is said he seemed utterly overpowered with ^ef and amazement, and (uropning his invincible left arm by his side, he hid his face in the folds of his mantle and received the treacherous blow without an effort to stay the hand that cave it. He only said, *Et tu. Brute f* mad ML lifeless on the marble pavement 90 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. > 1 .■" 'We. learn that the coat deceased had on when he was killed was the same he wore in his tent on the afternoon of the day he overcame the Nervii, and that when it was removed from the corpse it was found to be oat and gashed in no less than seven differ* ent places. There was nothing in the pockets. It will be exhibited at the ooro- aer's inquest, and will be damning proof of the fact of the killing. The«e latter facts may be relied on, as we got them from Mark Antony, whose position enables him to learn overy item of news connected with the one •abject of absorbing interest of to>day. 'Latek. — ^While the coroner was sam- moning a jury, Mark Antony and other friends of the late Osesar got hold of the bod^ and lugged it off to the Forum, and at last accounts Antony and Brutus were making speeches over it, and raising such a row among the people that as we go to press, the chief of police is satisfied there is going to be a liot^ and is taking measures accordingly.' AN ITEM WHICH THE EDITOR HIM- SELF COULD NOT UNDER- STAND. Our esteemed friend, Mr. John William Skae, of Virginia City, walked into the office where we are sub-editor at a late hour last night, with an expression of profound and heartfelt suffering upon his countenance, and sighing heavily, ^id the following item reverently upon the desk, and walked slowly out again. He paused a moment at the door, and seemed struggling to command his feel- intrd safficiently to enable him to speak, and then nodding his head towards his manu- script, ejaculated in a broken voice, ' Friend of mine— -oh 1 how sad ! ' and burst into tears. We were so moved at his distress tJbat we did not think to call him back and endeavour to comfort him until he was gone, and it was too late. The paper had abready gone to press, but knowing that our friend would consider the publication of this item important, and cherishing the hope that to print it would afford a melancholy satisfac- tion to his sorrowing heart, we stopped the press at once and inserted it in our colunms : DiSTRBSaiNO AooiDENT.— Last evening, about ■iz o'clock, as Mr. William Schuyler, an old and respectable citizen of South Pork^ was leaving bis residenee to go down town, as has beeii his usual custom for many years, with the exoep. tion only of a short interval in the spring of ISoO, daring wUoh he was oonflned to his bed by in- juries received in attempting to stop a runaway norse by thoughtlessly placing himself directly In his wake and throwing up bis hands and I touting, which, if he had done so even ij moment soon w, must inevitably have frlghteivl ed the animal still more instead of cheokmg itil speed, although disastrous enough tohimseUi as it was, and rendered more melancholy and I distressing by reason of the presence of hlij wife's mother, who was there and saw the sad] ooourrence, notwithstanding it is at least like^, [ though not necessarily so, that she should Dtl reconnoitering in another direction when acoi>! dents occur, not being vivacious and on thii lookout, as a general thing, but even the rfrl verse, as her own mother is said to have stated, ] who is no more, but died in the full hope of »| glorious resurrection, upwards of three yeanl ago, aged 86, being a Christian woman and wiUtl out guile, as it were, or property, in consequence I of the fire in 1819, which destroyed everythinf j she had in the world. But such is life. Xietiiii all take warning by this solemn occurrence, and! let us endeavour so to conduct ourselves thati when we come to die we can do it. Let ul place our hands upon our hearts, and say witb] earnestness and sincerity that from this day] forth we will beware of the intoxicating bowl-i- 1 First Edition of the CcUifomian. The chief editor has been in here raising | the mischief, and tearing his hair, and kick. I ing the furniture about, and abusing me likij a pickpocket. He says that every time hi I leaves me in charge of the paper for half -an* f hour, I get imposed upon by the first infanta or the first idiot that comes along. And he I says that that distressing- item of Johnny] Skae's is nothing but a lot of distressing ] bfl«h, and has no point to it, and no sense I and no information in it, and that there wai| no earthly necessity for stopping the press to : publish it. He says that every man he meets | has insinuated that somebody aboot Thtl Ccd\fomian office has gone crazy. Now all this comes of being good-hearted. If I had been as unaccommodating and un- sympathetic as some people, I would have | told Johnny Skae that I wouldn't receive hiij communication at such a late homr, and tot go to grass with it ; but no^ his snuffling dit- 1 tress touched my heart, and I jumped at I the chance of doing something to modify hii| misery. I never read his item to see if then i was anything wrong about it, but hastily I wrote the few lines which preceded it, and I sent it to the printers. And what has my | kindness dona for me? It has done nothing! but bring down upon me a storm of abuse i and ornamental blasphemy. Now I will just read that item myself, i and see if there is an^ foundation for aU thii | fuss. And if there is, the author of it shall f hear from. • • ♦ . I have read it, and am bound to admit! that it seems a little mixed at a first glanoa | However, I will peruse it pnce more. I have read it again, and it dcesi-eallji seem a good deal more mixed than ever. ' i! MAM tWAlN'S SKETOSESK 81 imv«'iie«d''ii oVM^'Vvfr titees. tUd if I _:gM s«m ittMhW <^ it, I Wisti I may Bt my just.deBserts. if 'wtth't bear iutolinritt. "hen ' M'^hiiiMi abtiif i« vthloh I ealnnbt ihieW WfluaM Sb^uj^ler. It j\i8t aayB boaelb Mboiit Xhu tdc get bne^ mteifeBted lia (Sife^. and 1;>^ dt^ himi jio ii WilBtox Stimykit, anyhW, and |;«tpart((df Sooth {^at^ did he live iti? and' |r]te statt^ dawn t6itn'aMia'x o^elovk, did I ever get there, and if he did, did anything/ ben WMm f Irh«i the ih^i^dtial ttii^t i^Htlt iHi 'di«tk«BsinjB^ acerd^tf Gda' ^fr the elaborate ^rcumistihtMity of si Sm^)hMhVe W the iteiti; it- i^eems t6 nfife ;i1| 6^]A%p aoattLih tbore infdMiMtibtt it dbe?.', ' Op th* ' cdrittfaVyi' ilj H^tlfUciirti 1 oiOt bhly Qbkioar^, b«(t' iitterfy iiiii6m« Bhiti^Me. 'Wa« th* breatift^ of Mfc shnyldr^ left, fifteen years age, thit ^iiii* «aing itfximHi ' "that plunged' ' Mr. 8ka/b tto ttnspmb tip here atctead of night and stop tt^prete t6 acquaint the #brtd ' With th^ ^tc^mtttinee^t Of did the fllitiee l^ing to be a ' leoton' to t^i^.' And bvie atV 'What hM the ' int^ibcicHting Imwl ' Btt6 db with it, anyhow * It is not itated ~ SdhtiyU^'dfankr 0^ thkt hi^ Wifis t,' OV ,thait his mbther-iii-IaW drftttk, th^t the l^yise dnMtki-^irherefot«i then, 16 nlBfiMvhoi to the itito^icating boWl ? d<)M ' iMiU Ao me that, if M^. Skae '- ttR'^i < i&MxiiiWifng bdWl ilOM him* hi: ieV^ Wiittld h4Te goi into ^tf 6h' troiible abodt thi« imaginary die* it| ao6id«nt. I haVe read ^1 lAsurd em over - tttd orer a««in; WitH All ite in* itiatinl^k^bHittr. tfiitilmy headawtme ; it, loan make neither head or tail of ii.' "d^rtirii^ teenta to have been an ddentofaottie kind another, but it it im* ible tb determit^ What the natore of it ran, or Wh6 was the snfllAretr by ii. I do ttot Ike to do iiB, bttt I feet compeUed to feqtiest' ''-^ the ttexitfttM aaytbiag happeM to om of Mr. Sktfe^i friends, lie will append snoh explanatory notes to his aoconni of it as will enable me to find ont what aort of an accident it was and whom it happened to. I luUl' rather ail fais friends thould die* thaa that I sliould be dnren to the Veyga of Inna^ again in saying to cipher out the meaning « another «noh prodiiotion «a this abort. ">' ^»(it* A ..10 HaTO yon ever seeii aftaiily (^jmmm Jwfe^ back from Etitope— or Ytkrrup, aalhey pMM noimoe it? They nev^ talk to- yoai< - -^ I travelled With nich a lAmiiy btae etevnal' day. from New York te BostMi, Uttt we^ < Thbv had epentjuet. i^fear itf * Ynnmlp,' j£r!~i^ 'er^retnmi^ ho.ir> >-> BoMont iFapa said lie,' ' Hew Vt vk tf> receive and eari'' lOnie hWcatPgo V. rrmMUli i n'H^Uiy. \ Sik- iter' Attgeline; ged 98, aim'?.,' ^a|tttta»' agedc* 2$, and brbthu^ Charlee« f:i^dld'^»< iConyeMatiori.^ dHrel, aud "nunmMl tt«nM and admired, and f'hrer i^ some help' whoa/ occasion offered, io «iiMr ^ay Af MMMrabeifa^'^ voMO' ffSren^'barbOrV^l ahdidd aay sdiha IVench Count's— name, when they )Oi«tMid<>v ed to haVe' forgotten it. TiMy oconpied iSia choice {ie«ts in the parlour ol tM dwir^ ing-robm ear; and for twelve bottrs'I aail «|n poeite^ to them-^waa theh* vl»-€hH*, thay would have said, ia thair ohMTxing FretiOTr Augusta. — 'Plague that oAhetiy (nasty)* steamer ! ' IVe the h aad h ohs ;fei- 1 she rolled so the fifth di^<0«t.' i Angelina.-^* AadwUljMinkay.liMWisr saw such a dahMy old tab. I navav 'Waal'> to go in tha Ville da Paris again. Why didnH we jeo over to Londto aad amaa iaithar Scotia?' i ' ■■ -''-» Augttiit*.— < Beoansa wa ware fooia V») [I'endorsodthM sentiment.] • '>>(ii>» Angeline.— 'Gus, what nadt OoiinV NixkKmarouse diriva off looking' so bltie. that last Thursday in Pairy? (Paria, she meant) Ah, own up, now I ' (taiming har arm BO rognishtywHth har ivory un.) 82 MARK TWAIN'S SxvETCHES. Auguata. — ' Now, AD{$ie, how you talk ! I told the nabsty creature I would not re- ceive his Attentions any longer. And the old duke his father kept boring me about him and his two million francs a year till I Mot him oiT with a flea in his ear. ' !.Chorus. — ' Ke-be he ! Ha-ha-ha !' Charles — r[PuUing a small silken cloak to pieces.] 'Angie, where 'd you get this cheap tiling?^ Angeline. — ' You, ChoUy, let that alone ! Cheap ! Well, bow could I help it ? There we were, tied up in Switzerland — just down from Mod Blong (Mont Blanc, doubtless) — QOuldnt buy anything in those nahsty ■hops so far from Fairy. I had to put up witn th»t slimpsy forty-doUar rag — but bless jon, I couldn't go naked 1 ' Chorus. — ' Ke>he-he 1 * Augusta. — 'Guess who I was thinkine of? Those ignorant persons we first saw in £ome •nd afterwards in Venice — thos e ' .Angeline. — ' Oh, ha«ha-ha i He-e*h« ! It «M so funny 1 Papa, one of them called the Santa della Spiggiola the Santa della Spizziola ! Ha-ha-ha ! And she thought it was Canova that did Michael Angelo's Moses 1 Only think of it I— Canova a sculptor and the Moses a picture I I thought I. should die 1 I guess I let them see by the way I laughed, tiiat they'd made fools of themselves,, beoaase they blushed and sneak- ed off.' [Papa lanshed faintly, bat not with the •My grace of a man who was certain he knew what he was laushing about. 1 Augusta.— * Why ChoUy ! Where did yoa get those nahdty Beaumarchaia gloves 7 \y:«iri wouldn't, if X were you I ' Ma '•ma [with npiifted hands]. — ' Bean- narchaii^ my son > AngelinOb— ' Beanmarchaii i Why how can you ! : Nobody in Pairy wears those nahflly things but the commonest people.' Charles. — * They are a rum lot, but then Tom Blennerhassetl gave '«m to me — he wanted to do something or other to curry favour, I s'poie.' Angeline.-^' Tom Blennerhasset I ' Augusta. — ' Tom Blennerhasset i ' Mamma.— f Tom Blennerhassetl And have yoa been associating with him ? ' Papa, [suddenly interested]. — ' Heavens what has the' son of an honoured and honour- able old friend been doine ? ' ChoTous. — ' Doins ! Why, his father has endorsed himself bankrupt for friends— that's what's the matter I ' ^Angeline.- * Oh, mon Dieu, j'aij faim ! Avez-vous quelque chose de bon, en votre poohe, mon cher frere? Excuse me for speaking French, for, to tell tlie truth, I haven't spoken English for so long that it comes dreadful awkward Wish we wen back in Yurrup — c'est votre desire ausai,. n'est-ce pas, mes chores ? ' And from that moment they lapsed inta barbarous French ai.d kept it up for an hoot — hesitating, gasping for words, stumblinjg head over heels through adverbs and parti- ciples, floundering among adjectives, work- ing miracles of villainous pronunciation— and neither one of them by any chanoi ever understanding what another was driving at. By that time some new-comers had enter* ed the car, and so thc^ lapsed into English again and fell to holdmg everything Ameri* can up to scorn and contumely in order that they might thus let those new*comers know they were just home from 'Yurrup.' To use their pet and best beloved phrase, they were a ' nahsty ' family of American snoba, and there ought to be a law a^inst allowing such to go to Europe and misrepresent the nation. It will take these insects five years, without doubt, to get done turning up their noses at everything American, and making damaging compansons between their own country and 'Yurrup.' Let ua pitjr their waiting .^ends in Boston in their affliction. jf>" MORE DISTINCTION. | t if!M»T>. I have become an honoranr member of the Western New York Poultry Sodeij, and my ambiiion v ssXisfied. Seriouslv front c^.irly youth ^ I have taken an especial ini merest in the subject of poultry* raising, and so this membership touches a rea«ly sympathy in my breast. Even as a schoolboy poultry-raising was c study with me, and I may say without egotism that aa early as the age of seventeen I was acquaint* ed with all the best and speediest methods of raising chickens, from raising them off a roost by burning lucifer matches under their noses, down to ufting them off a fence on. a frosty night by insinuating' the end of a warm board uiider their heels. By the time I was twenty years old, I really suppose X h*^ raised more poultry than any one individual in all tlie section round about .there. The very chickens camo to know my talent, by- and-by. The youth of both sexes ceased to paw the eartli for wonps, and old roosters that came to crow, ' remained to pray,' when I passed by. , I have had so much experience in the raising of fowls that I cannot but think that ' a few hints from me might be useful to the Society. The two methods I Jiave already touched upon are very simple, and are only ua«d in tlie i-uising of the '.. cQuimouest cLsi MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. of fowls ; one ii for samtner and the other for winter. In the one case you start out with a friend along about eleven o'clock on a Kunmer's night (not later, because in some States — eipecially in California and Oregon —chickens always rouse up just at midnight and otow from ten to thirty minutes, ao* cording to the ease or difficulty they experi* ence in getting the public waked up), and your friend carries with him a sack. Ar- rived at the hen-roost (your neighbour's not your own), you light a match and hold it under first one and then another pal- let's nose until they are willing to go into that bag without making any trouble about it. You then return home, either taking the bag with you or leaving it behind, ac- cording as circumstance* shall dictate. N.B. I have seen the time when it was eligible and appropriate to leave the sack behind and walk off with considerable velocity, without ever leaving any word where to send it. In the case of the other method mentioned for raising poultry, your friend takes along a «:overed vessel witii a charcoal fire in it, and you carry a long slender plank. This is a frosty night, understand. Arrived at the tree, or fence, or other hen-roost (your own, if you are an idiot), you warm the end of your plank in your friend's fire vessel and then raise it aloft and ease it up gently against a slambering chicken's foot, if the subject of your attention is a tnie bird, he will infallibly return thatiks with a sleepy <;luck or two, and stey out and take up quarters on the plank, thus becoming so I conspicuiously accessory before the fact to his own murder as to make it grave question in our minds, as it once was in the mind I of Blackstone, whether he is not really and deliberately committing suicide in the second degree. (But you enter into a con> temptation of those legal refinementb subse- Iquently— not theu.) I When you wish to raise a fine, large. I donkey-voiced Shanghai rooster, yon do it [with a lasso, just as you woitld a balL It is [because he nmst be ohok'eHome that the ^ty pliyHifian xpldom or never orders them i>r tlie workhouse. Skill, 1 have once or twice procured as high as a dozen ftt a time for nothing, in the dark of the moon. The befl way to raise the Black Spanish fowl is to go late in the evening and raise coup and alL The reason I recommend this method is, that the birds being so valuable, the owners do not permit them to roost about promis- ouously, but put them in a coop as strong as a fire-proof sue, and keep it in the kitchen at night. The method I spfeiak of is not always a bright and satisfying success, and yet there are so many little articles of v&tu about a kitohen that if you fail on the coop fou can generally biingawav something else, brought away a nice steel trap, one nighty worth ninety cents. But what is the use in my pouring out mjr whole intellect on this subject ! I have shown the Western New York Poultry So- ciety that they hare taken to their bosom * party who is not a spring chicken by anv means, but a man who knows all about poul- try, and is just as high up in the most efS- oient methods of raising it as the President of the institution itself. I thank these gentlemen for the honorary membership tixey ave conferred upon me, and shall stand mi all times ready and willing to testify my good feeling and official zeal by deeds as well as by this hastily penned advice and is- formation. Whenever they are ready to go to raising poultry, let them call for me any evenincr after lileven o'clock, and I shfll be onhanH promptly. THE LEGEND OF THE GAPITOLINB VENUS. CHAPTER L [Seene—An Arli$t'$ Studio in Borne,}. ■ '^ * Oh, George, I do love you I* "' ' 'Bless you dear heart, Mary, Iknotr that — ^why is your father so obdurate f* * George, he means well, but art is folly to him — he only understands groceries. He thinks you would starve me.' ' Comound his wisdom — ^it saToars of in- spiration. Why am I not a money-making, bowelless grocer, instead of a divinely-gifted sculptor with nothinc to eat ?' * Do not desponu, Oeorgy, dear— all his prejudices shall fade away as soon as you shall have acquired fifty thousand dol ' ' Fifty thousand demons ! Child, I am in arrears for my board !' CHAPTKR II. [ScfM — A DiofUhtg in Ronv.) dear sir, it is useless to talk. •My Wt auytliing against you, but 1 can't lei MAJEtiK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ■\:'i ,11 , ^jpiy daughter nuurry a bask of love, art and itorvation — I believe yoa have nothiitg elae ^t(0 offer.' n 'Sir, I am poor, I grant yo«. Bnt is iai|[ie nothing 7 The Hon. Bellamy Foodie, ;of Arkansas, says that my new statue of Am.e^c^ is a clever piece of sculpture, and he 19 satisfied that vay name will one day be famous.' 'Bosh! T\^at does that Arkansas —i Ttnow about it ? Fame's nothing—- the mar- kciji price of your marble soare-crow is the tiiing to look at. It iicck }rou six months to ohisel it, and you can't sell it for a hundred dollars, Ko, sir ! Show me. fifty thousand dollars and you can have . my daughter- otherwise she mar/ies . ypung Simper. You have just six mouths to raise the money in* Qood morning, sir.' "MkoV/ siU im « ^ ,,' 41^^ 1,, ,Wo« i» "W J' •'■ v/>fl.t iiii) :iab -lauq iJfO'u: I; CHAPTER Uln i, Jr-M ^nA-ifu "i]tif< ■♦w>fn ■'' '•' '»i i)»J'' .'.'■'> *n3i-!h'n'l ini'^^xner-TAe Studio.] :\.]^>m luoi* J ^ Oh, John, friend of my boyhood, lam .^e unhappitist of men.' '• You're a simpleton I', ji vf.: -t b-ujiiI 1!« ^ ' I have nothing left to lave but my poor ickfitue — and see, even she has no sympathy for me in her cold marble eoantenauce—eo beftutif ul and so boartlesi ^ ' , , , • You're a duir.iny 1 * ,. «v»l3 iif^iU'. v,«uu»va •Oh, John!' * Oh, f udpr? I Didn't you say yon had six months to i'^uee the money in ? ' ' Don't deride my agony, John. If I had six centuries, what good would it do? How could it hel^ a poor wretch witii&'it name, capital or fnends ? * ' Idiot ! Coward ] Baby I Six monies i> raiso the money in— and flv« will do 1 ' ' AX9 you insane 7 ' ' Six montlis— an abundance. Leave it to me. Ill raise it.' *AVh«t do you mean, John? How on earth can you raise such monstrous sum for nui?' ' Will you let that be my business, and not medme ? Will you leava the thin« in rav hands 7 WiU you rwear to submit to whatever I do 7 Will you pledge me to find no fault with my actions ? ' ' I am dizzy — bewildered — but I swear.' John took up a hammer and deliberately smashed the nose of America ! He made ' another pass, and two of her fingers fell to the floor — another, and pai-t of an ear came away —another, and a row of toes were mangled and dismembered— another and the left lug, from the knee down, lay a f ragmen • tiMry ruin! John put on his hat and departed. George gazed speechless upon the battered^ and grotestjue nightmare before him for the space of thirty seconds, and then wilted to.^ the Boor and went into convulsions. John returns presently with a canriage,got ' the broken-hearted artist and the broken- legged statue aboard, and drove off whist- Ung^luw'and tianquilly. He left the artiitj at his lodgings, and ^rove off and disap.! peareH down the Via Qnirinalis with tml atatue. ., > .),|j; {I'M It ■•nil ''i"! p'!ll' Jeiit lybnii U "r.;.U-A T'iii -,..11 .(Hfc'-y ,.■ A .'if,;! CHAP'iEE IV, -rfi ut-Af ifl}\ . ,1} iiuY .ill [Seat&-The Stttdio.pi'^f r4«*>' ''^ ;[, , i'. Hu ;.;jiilnti.. j 'The six months will be up at twto o'olook to-day 1 Gu, agony ! My life is blighted. I ^rould that I were dead. I had no supper vesterday. I nave had no breakfast to-day; 1 dare not enter an eating-house. And .,.^ hungry 7— don't mention it ! My bootmaker :^ duns me to death — my tailor dnnn me— mya Umdlord haunts me. I am miserable. I '| haven't seen John since that awful day. Sht ■miles on me tenderly when we meet in tht m-eat thoroughfares, bnt her old flint of i ' lather makes her look in the othmr direotioi in short t.xler. Now who is knocking at that door 7 Who is como to persecute met That malignant villain the bootmaker, I1i warrant. Come in ! ' 'Ah, happiness attend your highness— ^^ Heaven be propi'ious to your grace ! I havi^ brought my lora . ^ew M)otiH-ah, say nO' fM tiling about the pay, there is no hurry, non« f ' in tM world. Shall be proud if my noble ^ lord will continue to honour me with hit : eastern -ah, adieu ! ' ' Brought the boots himself I Don't want i his pay ! Takes his leave with a bow and » I scrape fit to honour majesty w^'-hal ! Desireij a continuance of my custom . Is. the world j ooming to an end 7 Of all the — ' — Come in ! * Pardon, signer, but I have bronght yo«r MW suit of clothes for——' ■J»»i»«it »» >«»)« • •Come in!' « '■ ' : * A thousand pardons for this intrusion, vour worship ! But I have prepared th^ beautiful suite of rooms below for yon-<-t^ii ^; ipnretched den is but ill snited to ■ ' > * » < i > '^ •Comein!!' ' ' ' I have called to say that your credit at i our bank, some time since unfortunately in* temtpted, is entirely and most satisfactorily restored., iJttn\ we shall be most happy if you will draw upon us for any-— '* 'CUME iv ! I ! ' tr. Jiv Uui. ,:>•>• < 3k!y noble boy, she iii yoMH \ Shell be ben in a moment ! Taks ber—msrrv har<^ JVC lip. iivetl 01 -bu{ MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 8& '' ''t.ni ohon h' ■ Keif! Don't want! nth a bow and » j w'^hal ! Desire* |>in . Is the world; ' — Oomein ! ve bronght ycmr \ this intruftioB^ )ve her— be happv !— God Uess you both ! lip, hip, hur ' COlftE IN ! ri ! !' ■'''>,"»»" ' Oh, George, my own darling," we are ived !' * Oh, Mary, my own darling, we are saved -but ni swear I don't know why nor how 1* •f.'V.' oil .(»>' fn)l'*i}<(i> : CHAPTER V. ,v/ inl l>s.'>I..i !)'■" U'ff ii'diriiiivt [Scene— A Roman Cafe,^ i^d f.!ii..v/ Kours : Shell b« One of a group of American gentlemen ...is and translates from the weeluy edition ^f II Slangwlianger dt Roma as follows : ' WoNDBRruL DxscovBRT I— Some six months M Si^or John Smittbe, an American gentle- jan now some years a resident of Rome, pur- Ehaasd for a trille a small piece of ground in iie Campa«rna, just beyond the tomb of the Scipio family, from the owner, a banki'upt rela- live of the Princess Boiwhese. Mr. Smttthe Ifterwards went to the Miniater of Public Re- ords and had the piece of grotmd transferred I a poor American artist named George Am- bld, explaining that he did it as jiayment and latlsfaction for pecuniary damage accidentally lone by him loiw: since upon property belenging »Sisrnor Arnold, and further observed that he ..vouTd make additional satisfaction bv improv- ing thn ground for Signor A., at his own charge ftnd cost Four weeks ago, while making some teoessajry excavations upon the property, Sig- nor Smitthe unearthed the most remai-kable mcient statue that has ever been added to the npulent art treasures of Rome. It was an ex- quisite flgnre f^ a woman, and though sadly ptained by the soil and the mould of ages, no eye could look unmoved upon its ravishing Mauty. The nose, the left leg from the knee lown, an ear, and also ttie tees of the right foot ind two fingen of one of the hands, weregoae, but otherwise the noble figure was in remark- ible state of preservation. The Government ut once took military possession of the statue, and appointed a commissi x of art orlticB, anti- luaries and cardinal princes of the ohurch to Bsess its value and determine the remuneration liatmnstgo to the owner of the ground in rhioh it was found. The whole atfteir was kept _.h profound seoret until last night. In the mean- itime the commission sat with dosed doors, and {deliberated. Last night they decided unanl- imously that the statue is a Venus, and the work |cf some unknown but sublimely gUted artist of the third century before Christ. They consider it the most fatUtless work of art the world has jy knowledge of. , ' At midnight they held a final conference and |decided that the Venus was worth the enorm- lous sum of ten mQlion franc* ! In accordance |with Roman law and Roman usage, the Govern* lent being half owner in all worlcs of art found I the Campagna, UieStntn had nought to ('o It pay Ave million franca to Mr. Arnold and ^- : permanent pfiise.s*\. t of the beautiful ifiSto,!,'c. This monuvjir ! .■ Venus will bo re- tvi'jov •* lu the>rk <» ancient art the world contains. ' ' The worshipped, the illustrious Capitoline Venus — and wnat a sum she is valued at t^ Ten millions of franos 1' . v 'Yes — now she is.' ' And oh, Georgy, bow divinely beautiful she is r 'Ah, ye8-«;^ m 11 ;Mn '>rt 1f!l-i 1 s' ; MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. I I, t^V 4 'I :i ENIGMA. . . Not wishing to be oatdone in literary en- terprise by those magazines which have at- tractions especially designed for the pleasing of the fancy and the strengthening oi the in- tellect of youth, we have contrived and builded the following enigma, at great ex- pense of time and labour : — I am a word of 13 letters. My 7, 0, 4, 4, is a vilkee in Europe. My 7, 14, 5, 7, is a kind of dog. My 11, 13, 13, 9, 2, 7, 2, 3, 6, 1, 13, is a peculiar kind of stuff. My 2, 6, 12, 8, 9, 4, is the name of a great Eneral of ancient times, (have spelt to the st of ability, though may have missed the bull's eye by a letter or two, but not enough to signify). My 8, 11, 1, 9, 16, 2, 2, 6, 2, 0, 1.3, 2, 6, 16, 4, 11, 2, 3. 6, 1, 10, 4, 8, is the middle name of a Russian philosopher, up whose full cognomen fame la slowly but surely climbing. My 7, 11, 4, 12, 3, 1, 1, 9, is an obscure but very pro]^ kind of bug. My whole is — but perhaps a reasonable amount of diligence and ingenuity will reveal that We take a just pride in offering the cus- tomary gold pen or cheap sewing machine for oomot solutions of the above. - ■ WIT-mSPIRATIONS OP THE • YEAR-OLDS.' TWO- AD infants appear to have an in;pertinent and disagreeable fashion now-a-days of say- ing ' smart ' things on most occasions when they ought not to be sayine anything at all. Jndgins by the average published specimens of smart sayings, the rising generation of ohildren are litue better than idiots. And the parents must surely be but little better than the children, for in most cases they are the publishers of the sunbursts of infantile imbecility which dazzle us from the pages of our T)<)riodioals. I may seem to speak with lom':! heat, aot to say a suspicion oi personal ■pite ; and I do admit that it nettles me to hear about so many gifted infants in tliese days, and remember that I never said any- thing smart when I was a child. I tried it cnce or twice, but it was not popular. The family were not expecting brilliant remarks from me, and so they snubbed me sometimes, and spanked me the rest. But it makes my flesh creep and my blood run cold to think what might have happened to me if I had dared to utter some of the smart things of this generation's ' four-year-olds ' where raj I lather could hear me. To have simply ^ skinned me alive and considered liis duty at an end would have seemed to him criminal i leniency toward one so sinning. He was • | stern, unsmilins man, and hated all forms of precocity. If 1 had said some of the thingi t have referred to, and said them in his hea^ ing, he would have destroyed me. He would, indeed he would, provided the opportunity remained with him. But it would not, for I would have had judgment enough to taka ■ome strychine hrst and say my smart thing afterward. The fair record of my life hai been tarnished by just one pun. My father overheard that, and he hunted me over four or five townships seeking to take my life. If I had been full-grown of course he would have been right ; but, cliild as I was, I could not know how wicked a thing I had done. I made one of those remarks ordinary call- ed ' smart things' before that, but, it was not a pun. Still, it came near causing a seriona rupture between my father and myself. My father and mother, my uncle Ephraim and his wife, and one or two others, were present, and the conversation tnnied on a name for me. I was lying there trying some India- rubber rings of various patterns, and endea- vouring to make a selection, for I was tired of trying to cut my teeth on people's fingers, and wanted to get hold of something that would enable me to hurry the thing through and get at something elae. Did you sver notice what a nuisance it was cutting your teeth on your nurse's finger, or how back- ' breaking and tiresome it was trying to cut them on your big toe? And did you never ^t out of patience and wish your teeth were ; in Jericho long before you got them half cut? ; To me it seems as if these things happened yesterday. And they did, to some chimren. I But I digress. I Tias lying there trying the India-rubber rings. I remember looking at the clock and noticing that in an hour and twenty-five minutes I would be two weeks old, and thinking to myself how httle I had done to merit the blessings that were so un- sparingly lavished upon me. My father said, ' Abraham is a good name, My grandfather was named Abraham. ' 9|My mother said, ' Abraham is a good name. Very well. Let us have Abraham for one of his names. ' 'I said, 'Abraham suits the subscriber.' My father frowned, my mother looked pleased. My aunt said, ' What a little darling it is!' My father said, 'Isaac is a good name, and Jacob is a good name. ' My mother assented and said, ' No names MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. re better. Ibis uames. I said, Let as add Ismmj and Jacob to ^ All right. Isaao and Jacob arc i{Ood enough for yours truly. Pass me that rattle, if you please. I can't chew India- rubber rings all day.' Not a Boul made a memorandum of thes« Mayings of mine for publication. I saw that, •nd did it myself, else they would have been utterly lost. So far from meeting with a generous encouragement like other children when developing intellectually, I was now furiously scowled upon by my father ; my mother looked grieved and anxious, and even my aunt had about her an expression of seem- lin^' to think that maybe I had gone too far. I took a vicious bite out of an Idia-rubber ring, and covertly broke the rattle over the ikittten's head, but said nothing. Presently my father said, ' Samnel is a very excellent name. * I saw that trouble was coming. Nothing nld prevent it. I laid down my rattle ; over the side of the cradle I dropped my nude's silver watch, the clothes brush, the toy dog, my tin soldier, the nutmeg-grater, jid other matters which Iwaa accustomed to ixamine and meditate upon and make plea- t noises with, and bang and batter and ireak when I needed wholesome entertain- ent Tlien I put on my little frock and my ttle bonnet, and took my pigmy shoes in one [hand and my liquorice in the other, and limbed out on the floor. I said to myself, Now, if tile worst comes to the worst I am ready.' Then I said aloud, in a firm voice, 'Fla- ther, I cannot, cannot wear the name of ueL' ' ' , V" ' My son ! * Father, I mean it. I cannot.* •Why?' ' Father, I have an invincible antipathy to at name.' ' My son, this is unreasonable. Many reat and good men have been named imuel. ' ' Sir, I have yet to hear of the first in* itance. ' ' What ! There was Samuel the prophet. Vhat not he gieat and good ? ' ' Not so very. ' ' My son ! With his own voice the Lord died him.' Yes, sir, and had to call him a conple of imes before he would come ! ' And then I sallied forth, and that stem iold man sallied forth after me. He overtook be at noon the following day, and when the 'iterview was over I had acquired the name ' Samuel, and a thrashing and otlier useful fonnation : and lor means of this compro- (U". mise my father's wrath was appeased, and a misunderstanding bridged over whidi might have become a permanent rupture if I had chosen to be unreasonable. But, just judg- ing by this episode, what would my father have done to me if I had ever uttered in his hearing one of the flat sickly things these 'two-year-olds' say in print now-a-dayst In irv of>inion there would have been • ( of infanticide in our family. PERSONAL HA BITS OF THE SLIMESB TWINS. I do not wish to write of the personal hft> bits of these strange creatures solely, bat also of certain curious details of various kinds concerning them, which, belonging to their private Um, have never crept into print. Knowins the twins intimately, I feel that I am peculiarly well qualified for the task I have taken upon mjrself. The Siamese Twins are naturally tender and affectionate in disposition, and have clung to each other witli singular fidelity throughout a long and eventful life. Even as children they were inseperable oompan* ions ; and it was noticed that they alwayl' seemed to prefer each other's sooiely to that of any other person. They nearly always play together ; and, so accustomed was their mother to this peculiarity, thait, wheneTW both of them chanced to be Ibst, she usually only, hunted for one of them— -MMtisfied that when she found that one shi would find hit brother somewhere in the immediate neigh- bourhood. And yet' these creatures were ignorant 'and unlettered — barbarians them- selves and the offspring of barbarians, who know not the light of philosophy and science. What a withering rebuke is this to onr boasted civilization, with its quarrel- lings, its wranglingB, and its separations of brothers 1 As men, tiie twins have not always lived in perfect accord ; but, still there has always been a bond between them which made them unwilling to go away from each other and . dwell apart. They have even occupied the same house, as a general thing, and it is be- lieved that they have never failed to even sleep together on any night since they were bom. How surely do the habits of a lifetime become second nature to us ! The Twins always go to bed at the same time ; but Chang usually gets up about an hour before his brother. By an understanding between themselves, Chans docs all the in-door work and Eng runs au the errniula. Tliis iis because Eng like* to MARK TWAIN'S 8KETUHKS. go ott^ ; Chaug'g ha>'l« are aedentaiyr. How- •v«r. Chang auo goes aluug. Ea^ is a Bap- tut, but Chaug is a Roman Catholic ; still, to please his brother, Chang consented to be baptizud at the same time that Eiig was, on oomlition that it should not 'cfuint.' Dur- ing the War they were strong partisans, and both fought gallantly all throush the great 'taruggle — ^^ng on the Union side and C^ng on the Confederate. Thev took each other prisoners at Seven Oaks, out the proofs of capture were so evenly balanced in favour of each that a general army court had to be as- Minbied to determine which one was proper- ly the captor and which the captive. The jury was unable to agree for a long time ; but iihe vexed question was finally decided by agreeing to consider them both prisoners, :^d tbea exchanging them. At oi.ie time Ch»aometIiing, and Chang knocked Eng dpififn, futd then tripped ana fell on him, Hfhereupon l^tfa clinched and began to beat •nd go^ge j9ach other without tnercy. Tlie l^staodere interfered and tried to separate them, but they <|Ottld not do it, arol so al- lowed.'tbem to fight it out. In the end both iirere dnabledt and. wer9 oarried to the hoo* liijtal on one and the same shutter. ..-inieir ancient habit of going always to- gstlier had its dhiwbacks when thev reached nmp's estate, and entered upon the luxury of cpurtimr, Both fell in love with the same gii'l* &ph tried to steal clandestine inter- views with, her, but *t the critical moment thi! other would always turn up. By-and- bye Eng saw, with distraction, that Chang bad won the girl's affections i and, from that day forth he had to bear with the agony of beiiig a witness to all their dainty billing and coding. But with a magnanimity that did him infinite credit, he succumbed to his fate, and gave countenance and encouragement to a state of things that bade fa'r to sunder his generous heart-strings. He sat from seven every evening until two in the morning, listening to the fond foolishness of two lovers, and to the ooncussion of hundreds of squandered kisses — for the privilege of shsr- iug only one of which he would have given his right hand. But be sat patiently, and waited, and gaped, and yawned, and siretehKtd. ai|d lo{)ged for two o'cio 'k to come. A. id be took long walkn with the lovers on moonlight evenings— soniotimes traversing ten miles, , notwithstanding he was usually suffering from rheuma- tism. He is an inveterate smoker ; but he could not siiii)ke on these occasions, be- cause the lady was painfully sensitive to the smell of tobacco, Eng cordially wanted them married, and done with it ; but sithough Chang often asked the momentous question, the young lady could not gather sufficient courage to answer it while Eng was by. However, on one occasion, after having walked some sixteen miles, and sat up tiu nearly daylight, Eng dropped asleep, irom sheer exhaustion, and then the aiiestfon was asked and answered. The lovers were married. All acquainted with the circum- stances applauded the noble brother-in-law. His unwavering faithfuliiess was the theme of every tongue. He had stayed by them all through their long and arduous courtship ; and when at last the^ were married, he lifted his hands above their heads, and said with impressive unction, 'Bless ye, my children, I will never desert ye ! ^ and he kept his word. Magnanimity like this h all too rare in this cold world. By-and- bye Eng fell in love with hissister- in-law's sister, and lie married her, and since that day tiiey have all lived together, night and day, in an exceeding sociaDllity lyhiuh is touching and beautifnlto behold, and, is a scathing rebuke to our boasted dtvilization. The sympathy existing between these two brothers is so close and so refined that the feelings, the iipnulses, the emotions ^ the one are instanuv experieiiced by the other. When one is sick, the other is sifk ; when one feels pain, the other feels it ; when one is ^angered, the other's temper takes fire. We nave already seen with what happy facility, they both fell in love with the same girl. Now, Chang is bitterly opposed to all forn^s of intemperance, on principle ; but Eng is the reverse— for, while these men's feelings and emotions are so closely wedded, their reasoning faculties are unfettered ; their thoughts are free, Chang belongs to the Good Tcmplnys, and is a hard-working and enthi:siastic supporter of all temperance reforms. But, to his bitter distress, evenr now and then Eng jrcts drunk 'nd of course, that makes Ch;i.ng drunk This unfortunate thing Jias boen a gre ow to Chang, for it aniiost de. stroyt, Ills usefulness in his favourite field of effort. As sure as he is to head a great tem> perance procession, Eng ranges up alongsid* of him, prompt to the minute and drunk us a lord : but yet no more dismally aiid hope- lessly drunk than his bjr^tliei^. «rh« hdk noli , 13 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 311, 'Bless ye, my tsflted a drop.' And so tho two be^jin to hoot •n«l yell, and throw mud and bncks at th« Oood Templars ; and of course they break up the procession. It would be manifestly wrong to punish Chang for what Eng tloea, and, therefore, the Guud Teni^ilars accept the untoward situation, and suiler in silence and sorrow. They have otKdaUy and de- liberately examined into the matter, and find Chang blameless. They have taken tlie two brothers and tilled Chang full of warm water and sugar and Eng fullof whiskey, and in twenty-flve minutes it was not possible to tell which was the drunkest. Both were as drunk as loons — and on hot whisky punches, by the smell of their breath. Yet all the while Chang's moral principles were unsul> lied, his ouusoienoe clear ; and so all just men were torced to oonfesa tliat be was not morally, but only physically drunk. By every right and by every moral evidence the man was strictly sober ; aud« there- fore, it caused his friends all the more an- guish to see him shake hands with the pump, and try to wind up his watch with hia night-key. There is a moral in these Bolemn warnings —or, at least, a warning in these solemn morals ; o.ie or the other. No, matter, it is somehow. Let us heed it ; let us profit by it. I could say more of an instructive nature about these mtereoting beings, but let wliat I have written suffice. Having for^tten to mention it sooner, I will remark, in oondusion, that the ages of the Siamese Twins are,xeBpeotiye]y fitycone and fifty*three years. oiiiiV/ .v. n vio'{ >v^f k CURIOUS DREAM, CONTAINING A .u;>i<.; j,>^t.'; MORAXiMii;) lli/^iH rr:. Night before last I had a singular dream. I memed to be sitting on a doorstep (in no par- ticular city, perhaps), ruminating, and tiui time of night aeemea to be about twelve or one o'clock. The weather was balmy and delicious. There was no human sound of any kind to emphasize the dead stillness ex- cept the occasional hollow barking of a dog in the distance aad the fainter answer of ... f further dog. Presently up the street I ; heard a bony olaok-claciking, and guessed it ws the castanets of a serenading party. In I a minute more a tall skeleton, hooded, and half-olad in a tattered and mouldy shroud, iwuoee shreds were dapping about the ribby tlattice^work of its person, swung by me with la stately stride, and disappeared in the gray Igloom of the starlights It had a broken rand wovm-eaten coffin on its shoulder and a Ibandle of something in ite hand. .1 knew what the claok-olneking was then ; it wa» this party's joints wurkiug together, and bU elbows knocking agaiiiut lus sides as he walked. I may say I was surprised. Be- fore I could colluut my thoughts and enter upon any speculations as tu what this ap- parition miglit portuud, I hoard another one cuuiin ' —for I rucoguizcd his uluck-clack. He liu veo-thirds of a coOin onhisshoulder, oud H' i)ot-aud-liead-buar^ 4W Photographic ^Sciences Corporation \ <^ 1? A 23 WEST MAIN STRtfT WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. thaa nnooiuoioiuily giving himself a Jftimty and festive air very much at varianoe with the grave character of his position in life — so to speak — and in prominent contrast with his distressful mood. 'Proceed,' said L ' I reside in the shameful old graveyard a block or two above you here, on this street — ^there^ now, I just ezpecteid that cartilage would lat go I — ^third rib from the bot- tOHDB, friend, nitch the end of it to my sjkine with a string, if you have such a thing about yoo, thou({h a bit of silver wire is a deal plaasanter, and more durable and becoming, u one keeps it iK>lished— to think of shrea- 4Ung out and going to pieces in this way, just €11 account of the mdinerence and neglect of (h-tonea, silver mounted burial-case, monumental sort, that travel under black . plumes at the head of a procession and hav« choice of cemetery lots — I mean folks like the Jarvises, and the Bledsoe8,and Burlinea, . and such. They are all about ruined. Tix9 most substantial people in our set, they werat. And now look at them — utterly used up and poverty-stricken. One of the Bledsoe^, actually traded this monument to a late barr.^ keeper for some fresh shavings to put undar;. his head. I tell you it speiuu volumes, for there is nothing a corpse takes ao muqk, pride in as his monument^. He loves to read the inscription. He comes after a while iO| believe what it says himself, and then yon., may see him sitting on the fence night after' night enjoying it. Epitaphs are cheap, and, they do a poor chap a world of good atter h« is dead, especially if he had hard luck whil* he was alive. I wish they were used more. Now, I don't complain, but confidentially I do think it was a bttle shabby in my descen* dants to give me nothing but this old slab o| a cravestone — and all the more that ther» isn t a compliment on it. It used to have ' OONS TO HX8 Jtrar BBWAJID.' on it, and I waa proud when I first saw, IV butby-and-by I noticed that whenever Mi, old fnend of mine came along he would hook^ his chin on the railing and pull a loijig fao«; and read along down till he came to that,, and then he would ohupkle to himself and walk off looking satisfied and oomf ortabl*. , So I scratched it off to get nd of those foolfb, MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. Bdt » ietA naa always takes a deal of pridfl ul his moniuneikt. Yonder goes half -a-aosen of the Jarvises, now, With the family monu- ment along. And Smithera, and some hired 3 Metres went by with his a while ajgo. ello, Hig^ns, good*bve, old friend ! That's MeredithHiggins — dieain'44— belongs to onr bM in the cemetry — ^flne old family— great- ^andmother was anlnjun-^I am on the most familiar teams with him — he didn't hear me was the reason he didn'tanswer me. And I am sorry, too, because I wonid have liked to introducie you. You would admire him. Heis'themoBtdiBJ0inted,8way-backed and eener^U^ distorted old skeleton you ever saw, out he IS full of fnu. When he laughs it koundfl like nuiping two stonte together, and fa6 always starts it off with a cheery ■breech like raking a nail across a window* n^e. Hey, Jones f That is old Golumbus JIMies-^hroud oo«t four hundred dollars — siktiretrbusseav including monument, twenty liven hundred. THiis was in the spring m *26. It was enorinons style for tiiose days. Itead people came all the way from the AUe- ghanies to lite his things — ^the party that oeeUpied the grave nest to mine remembers itwwl. Now do you see that individual l^ofog along With a piece of a head-board uiicier his'Mrtii, (me lec-bone below his knee gitme, aiidlid«« thing in the world on ? Thai 18 Bi^tow Dalhouse, and next to Ookimbus JtaeshewM the ttiost sumptuously fitted pbrsQU i^at ever entered our cemetei^. ' We are idA l^ttVing. We cannot tolerate tluiireHt* iMitiit w« laM MCeiving at tlie handis of otpr detoehdaiitB. Iliey open new cemeter- iik, hat tliey bHye valto ourigimniny. They mend the strMtSj but they never mend ahy* HAng that is about ttsor Mlongs to us. Look 'at that ieoS^ of inine--yet I Veil you in its ^y it Wiw k pjeiee of foftyture that would halve attraotml attention in any drawing- riKimiiithiiidity, Yduti^ have it if you wantitMEoan't'afford to repair it. Put a n## bbttotti in her, and part of a new top, abdabitof ftesh'liuingftlottgthe left side, aiid ydn'Il find her about tm comfortable as any ren^btacle ol her species you ever tried. No thahks— -no, don't mention it — ^you have .beettdviltome, and I would iHve you all the property I have got before I would seem ungTatefid. NdW this Winding->8heet is a kind of a sweet thine in its way. If you wVnId like to^-^. No ? WeU, lust as you ■1^, boll Wished to be fair and liberal^— tiMire's iuothiBK mean about me. Good- Vye^ friend, I must be goink. I may have a good- way to goto-night— ^ob'tknow.- f 'ail, Tio^, and IV'lMv^ slii^'itt that dHify old cemetery again. I will taravel tiU I find respectabis quarters, if I have to hoof it to New Jersey. All the bojrn are going. It was decided in Eublio (ionclave, last night, to emigrate, and y the time the sun rises there won't be s bone left in our old habitations. Such oerae> teries may suit my surviviug friends, but they do not suit the remains that have the honour to make these remarks. My opinion is the general opinion. If yon doubt it go and see how the departing ghosts upset things before they started. They were al- most riotous in their demonstrations of dis- taste. Hello, here are some of the Bledsoes. and if you will give a lift with this tomb- stone I gu« as I will |bin company md joe alone with them — mighty respectable old family, the Bledsfoes, ana ^sed to always come out in six-horse hearses, and all that sort of thing, fifty years a|;o, when I walked these streets in day hght. €kK)d*by«^ friend.' And with his gravestone on his dioolder he joined the grisly procession, dra^eing his damaged co£Bn after him, for notwitlistand- ing he pressed it upon me so earnestly, I ut- terly refused his hospitality. IsuppoHothat for as much as two hours these sad outcasts went clacking by, laden with their dismal effsotii, and all that time I sat pitying them. One mtwo of the youngest and least dllapi- dated am<»g them inquired about midnight trains on the railways; 'but the rest seemed unacquainted with that mode of tiravel, and merely asked 'about common public roaoa t» Various towns and cities some of which uni not on this map now, and vataiihed from it aiid from the earth as much as thirty years agOk and some few of them never had ex- isted anywhere but on maps, and private ones in real estate agencies at that time. And they asked about the condition of the cemeteries in these towns and cities, and about the reputation the cities, bore as to' reverence for t^e dead. The whole matter interested me deeply, and likewise oompelled my sympathy for these homeless ones. And it all seemiiig real, and I not knowing it was a dream, 1 men- tioned to one shrouded wanderer an idea thnt had entered my head to pnbUsh an ac- count of this curious and vety sorrowful ex- odus, but said also that I could not describs it truthfully, and just as it occurred, with- out seeming to trifle with a grave subject and exhibit an irreverent for the dead that would shock and distress their surviving friends.. But this bland and stately remnant of- a former citizen leaned him far over my !gate and whispered in my ear, and said i — * Do not let tiie disturb you. The oom- 'muuity that can stand sooh fraveyaida as / if^K MAti^»s sktiTbii&s. li I thwg » V>dy cwk say about the oegleoi^a L,aadIoHrMk99 dead that ]iie in them.' Atthat veryin^qMntabofk crowed, and the weicd pgco«MsuM;i yaniahed and 1^ not a ahred or bone behind. I awpke, an<^ foond mjrfeitf lying witK ^7 bead o^iof Htfi bed and 'sagging flo^vuwarda cQtvv^nibfy —a powtion wvqnrablie to d^iea^g d^QV* with morals in them, joayb^ bni n^t ppistry. KoVB.— The readieir is apanre4 tlMt if 4>? cen^ terlM in bis towia arb kept ux gooa oraer, this Dream is *ot levelled at hi* town at all, but^ leveUAd t>vti me. I want to inv^t if T6ottie to like il I want to ask merely a'^w' ((nesfjons of th6 man who carries on this Accident shop:' ' ' General aoofdishts inclildlnar the 1?rayellinsr Risk, and also all forms of Dislooations, Broken Boae%Uuptare8.SDtnins,'CoafcrMsiQo«j Oi^ish- IngsTBruising)* Cn^ 0faba» Gw>aot Woi Poiiaoned Wounoik 3urnS and Bci|ld&, Fi BomMrst or MiiTdeim««,>t»eactitow LMh^^ or.awBstraka* the ^f»«^«{.ifi»io8ions,! iHioodfr Md Earthquakes, Satfooatipn by prowninf jur ^okincr-wh^te s«^h McoTdetttal IhjnriFto&l^ dlwhleB the ttetigon tnsuyed from fcuowtea hft nsoal aypiiattan, iitt> fian«M death within wm months ptf^^^kltm^ ft .^ h»ifjjfnlp^ 9* ^hp I want to ^kdttrte thfo )^a% ai fdlid^>- Ndw Smii^^I •}ippd^ likSly ^oar idkttie is Smith— I think we ciu^ cditl« to an nudef- •tMiding ab6(it Vdnr litiie gkiiftr nHihWli ttntr hardM\ihM. Fdtinirbm&: ' - Bo j(»a iOtow ttm sam^ iiibhi^ 6^ it dd^ bitii that vonido oil an* eartbqm^ ? Db yon take «p0ci41 risks fdr t^lb^ hoi^dfent^-^ that is to say, cbnld " for d6g-bit08'alotte, tookachaftlMin ji- , if so, Mipjpdiing I get iwiured s^diist «arW- qnak^s, ffctdia y^ ' charge tSty Mortt foir San Fkk^biscp M,naiibiiak«ii than f6k> thojw that prevail in ]^ei( that arri bettit ' ait^ choieddowu? And^ifl Hid; A )^H<^ t^n Aarthqnakes alohi^ l6oiildii1lV>lto0t Mt dbi(- Wtes, inayba> i| one Q< your ija,€«^ i^d mi^ hjw* wd M^h* /^othj^rjwctyrrr-cioi^d wt Other niai?^ oopif im von, for damagei?? Or could the ii«la1»irw of tfie paifty thus suddenly hurled oftr^her d«4iJMnt^y«f , Yea ^ ruin yQnnielf pa1?liphin|( .moh d«fflj»wwitftei»»wits,ap^tha^ ItoUyoajw a fnend. if yoa Md said tbat ^herfi%'AiilP th9MMm4 «iQe bwawred and fi%riSye.4«ed, and, thai torW-fiyi? lived, yw , wonld .h$m isOtwd^bpnt fo|i^,ton8o|E, poli/^es ,the,DMifi week. But people itre not g$mg tfirffpfkJtf- sured, when yon take so much pama t • proye that there is each precious fittle use m it. Would it be impertinent if I ahonld ask il you w^ fOfu^ed yourself tiy, /to M 'Gbod little ([Ms ought i^ei totdtiie motttilk kt thefr teablitfn^'fbr 'evijry triflimr t^fltooit TUt M^ of ie | gle moment, and one said to the other ; j ' Harris, if yonll do that for me, IH new | forget you, my boy.' My new comrade's eyes lighted nleasantly. \ The words had touched upon a nappy ms^ ' mory, I thought Then his face settlea into \ thoughtfulness— almost into doom. Hsj turned to me and said, ' Let me tell yon a ! story ; let me give you % secret chapter of i my uf*— a chapter that has never been rs^ f f«rred to by me since ita events transpired, j listen patiently, and promise that yon wiU \ not interrupt me. ' ^ 1 said I would not, and he related the fol* lowing strange adventure, speaking some>J times with animation, sometimes with met , ancholy, bat always with feeUng and a•^ nestness. TBI RBijraim^ VAMtJorvm. On the lOth December, 18S8, 1 started from St. Louis in the evening train bound for | Chicago. There were only twenty-four ps»> sengers, all told. There were no ladies and no children. We were in excellent spirit^^ ! and pleasant acquaintanceships were soon I formed. The journey bid fair to be a happj one ; and no individual in the party, I tinnk, i had even tSie vaguest presentiment of the j horrors we were soon to underao. At 11 p. m. it began to snow hard. Shortly lifter leaving the small village of Welden, we entered upon that tremendous prairie \ politude that stretches ita leagues on leagues ; of houseless dreariness far away towMrd the Jubilee Settlements. The winds, onob- stmoted l^ trees or hills, or even vagrant rocks, fiercely whistled across the leveldesert^ drivins the udling snow before it like spray from the crested waves of a stormy sea. The ■now was deepening fast, and we knew, by the diminished speed of the train, tnat i the engine was ploudiing through it with steadily increasing difficulty. Indeed, it^ almost came to a dead halt sometimei, | in the midst of grnat drifts that piM I thett^selves like colossal graves acroai the track. Conversation liiegan to flagi MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. BrfalneBB gare place to grave ooticem. jie possibility of being imprisoned in the loWi on the bleak prairie, nfty miles from ly house, presented itself to every mind, id extended its depressing inilaenoe over rery spirit 'At two o'clock in the morning I was onsed out of an uneasy slumber by the sine of all motion about me. The appall« ^g truth flashed upon me instantly — we sre captives in a snow-drift. ' All hands > the rescue 1' Every man sprang to obey, it in the wild night, the pitchy darkness, lie billowy snow, the drivmg storm every il leaped, with the oonsciousuess that a foment lost now might bring destruction to lalL Shovel, hands, boards— anything, ireiything that could displace snow, was jttght iuto instant requisition. It was a ird picture, that small company of frantic oi fighting the banking snows, half in the skest shadow and half in the angry light ' the locomotive's reflector. One short hour sufficed to prove the utter elessness of our efforts. The storm bar- led the track with a dozen drifts while Fe dug one away. And worse than this, it W discovered that, the last grand charge le engine had . m td^ upon the enemy had }keu the fore-and-aft shaft of the driving- leeL With a free track before us 'we kould still have been belple98. We en- the can wearied with labour, and sorrowful. We gathered, about the )Ve8, and gravely cab vatoed our situatiofa. [e ht^ no provisions whatever— ^in thie lay chief distress. We coiild not freeze, there was a good stilly of wood iu the kder. This was oui^ only comfort The Bussion ended at last ' in accepting the iheart^n^ decision bf th^ oohdnctor^ i., that it Would be death for any' man rattempt to travel fifty miles on foot '[ ' luch snow like that ' We eoirid not sei; d r'help : and if we did;; it could not come, fe must submit ail^. a#ait ai patiently we might succour or starvation. link the stoutest heart there feft a mo- .snUry chill when thoee Words were ktervif. iWithin the honr^ ooBversaticO subsided to |ow murmur here and there about the oar, Sht fitfully between the risii^ and Mliug e blast ; the lampe frrew dim ; and the ftjority of tneeastisways settled i^emselves loiigthefliokerin|( shadows to think—- to I'uet tlie present, if they >oonld-4.to aleep, theyangQtf ,; u' '. The eternal ni^ht— it surely seemed ernil to us— wore its lagging hours awayi M Mt, and the oohl gray dawn bioke' in the It As the li|^t grew stronger, the pas- sengers began to stir and. give signs of life, one after another, and each in turn poshed his slouched hat up from his forehead, stretched his stifieued limbs, and glanced out at the windows upon the cheerless prospect Jt was cheerless; indeed ! — not a human habitation ; nothing but a vast whitef desert ; uplifted sheets of snow drifting hither and thither before the wind — a world : of eddying flakes shutting out the firmament above. , All day We moped about the cars, saying: little, thinking much. Another Ungering di«ary night— ^d hunger. Another dawning — another day of silencski sadness, wasting hunger, hopeless watohr ing for succour tliat could not come.. .A^ night of restless slumber, filled with' dreame^i of feastingr— waking distressed with the grawings of hunger. The fourth day came and went — and th» fifth. Five days of dreadful imprisonment. A savage hunger looked out at every eye, . There was in it a sign of awful . import — ^th#.i foreshadowinjg Of a something that was vaguely shaping itself into eveiy, heart-tT*<( something which no tongue dwred yet.tQ; frame into words. The sixth day passed — the seventh dawn- ed upon as gaunt And hAgKard,and hopelees a company of men; •■ ever stood in tiie-. shadow of death. It must out now. That thing which had been growing np in every* heart was ready to leap, from every lip at last. Nature had been taxed to the atnwtst ~«he must yield. Richard H. QastcMi, of Minnesota, tall, cadaverous, and pale, roa*t np. AUlOiew what WM coming. AUpre> pared— every entotion, every semblanoe ol excitement was smothered-~only . a.ealn, ' ttMugbtfol seriousness appeared in tbe vgm, that wane lately so wild. . u 'Gentlemen, it cannot be delayedt longer: The time «• at hand. We must de- termine which of i» thaU. die to fumieliA food for the rest' .^^..\> .,» Mr. John A. WilUains, of Illmoia, roeeaad^ said ; 'Oentlemeui — ^I nominate the. Befi^^ JamestSnwyer, of Tennessee.' . ■:, .. , ui MriiWm. R. Adorns, of Indian^ ■aid,t> * I nominate Mr. Daniel Sloteu of New York.' . i Mr. Charles J. I^ngdon t * I wwnlnnlt Mr. Samuel A. Bowen, of St Lonie.' ■/ \ Mr. Slote i VCrentlemen, I desire to do> cline in favour (Kf Mr. John A. Van Nmi> tcand, jun., of New Jersey.* Mn, Uaston.t * If there, bo no objeo* tion, the gentleman'* desire will be aooededj t«: .■ ]■■ 1.,- Mr. Van Nastrand objeoting, the resigna- tion of Mr. Slote was rejeeted. The rengna- ICAEK TWAIH^i SK-BTCHBa. tioB of MflMi*. SttwylBr and Bow«d ww »1«o oflbNd;, and k«fMed upon the Mine gronandt; Mr. A. L. BtuMWm, of Ohio i ' I move th«t tlM wmoBtMon wtm ekiM, uid tluit the Btettw pNMeed i» Ml election by bnttot. ' Mr. Si^yetr i ' Qeatlenten^ I ^rotMt «w* iMtllyaignmetibeM phieeedinM. They«re< S«fV«ry Wny itregoUr uia mbecoiuing. . JiiiBit beg^ltt move ibM they be diwpped tA cbMj tmawBllf w elMi • ohnirmMi of the meeting end proper offioera to eieiit him, and tkeft we oeii CO «h witfi ' tiMi> boslMie b4ftee M-'ttndereteiMynriv.' d ,i.u. -"im:!.' .1. . Mr. Belknap, of lomtt* Gentlemen, lob* jeet« Thii i« no time te etend upon forme' atnd oeCMMmiOQii obeerveaaeei For more then •even d4ye we b«ve been without foad< BfMy inomentwe loee neidledieonskionui* oiertiMi MT diBteeaik I em latiBfied with' the nominationa that have 'bem mAde~-eyery geiMilemen 'preaeiit' ie, I beliet«— and I, lor vMt d«not «ee why w^e dboald not proeeed at once 1M> elect MM or more of them. I wish to offisr a reaolution— i^' Mr. Oeetoa i 'It would be objected to, •ad havwtotlie oYer^one day nnder the rulee,' tlt*i iMringkiw abOQt the very delay yon wieh to avoid. The gentleman ftom NewJer. ' Mti iV4a KTaatraadt * G«ntlMnBtt,'->I «m a' •tnita|Mr anoug yo«) I have liot sought the dletUkoticM'thitluie'bew^' ooafored upon ue^ aild'Iieetajdtolimiey'''*^ ' ^< ix-'i >'>'>*'' - -^ ' •i Ml,' 'Bimmn,' «f > Alshima, « (iatermptini^ > *#«•¥• tbS pitevieak qneeiiMu^ > < / .. i ^ oeMtttiMik «iii tiomliMmaBi, i and Mn &. M« Howknd, purveyor, to' aMiatiteeeaiauMae^^ ^A i^Mtewgrhatf an Iwar -mk HkHn iOum,' aM«Mil»lltttacatt«ttai«i fallowed. Atth» aoond o( the gavel the meetiifgraaMtembled.' «Ml'4lM' ooiMttitUa fapwted^ift> laioai^of MMib. ' (JH f O ^f K ' Per^naoD^ of Kentucky, Lnoien Hennann('oi'laonieiana,,«nd W. Mea<< aiok;^al O c i tita db. » oaadid^tefc! TUmM Mr. Rogeia. of Miaaonri— 'Mr. Preaideiit^ TUanfWtftMng m^mifAf b^foiw^ttie Houae now, I ind*r« ti amebdit by eubetituting fi««. tln{n«be'«f. Mr. fim^flaanit that t>f llr. Iift«i&s SbhiM('oi «fc Loual^ Wbo ia irell and h(mourably known v|ori«a alk' Ido>not.wislv tflPb0^daraKA>d'«i'(baatihg the leaM rafleo- tfaii vpott-thail^li lalMiractiviand standing of the gentleman urom Louisiana — far from it/ I feapaat and .»at*ea»' iifan Iw ihwebas'ikay genUMaa'Ulr»i'phaa«Bt'paaaibly otauVbni none of us oan be blind to the fact thaiht has loat mere flesh duirincr the weektbaitwe have lain here tban any among you-^Haoneof ua can be blind to the faet tbat.the immjt- tee has been derelict in its duty, either through negligence or a graver faolt* in tkua aOmng for onr suffiragca a. gentleman wko, however pore disown motives magr b^ kaa. really leaa nutriment in himi-m' : . TheOhair-^' The gentleman from Miaaonri will take hia seal Hie Chadr oanttol allow the integrity of the Cmnmittee to be qnaa^ tkmed aate by Hm reguhur ooune, under tiie - rnlea. What action wiU the Honae tlaka> upoitt tbe gcntleman'a motion r' J Mr, HWlidiy, pf Virginli^*! motf to fnrtheir iihend the report by ilabstitntihg iir. Hirvey Davis, of ^Ortgon, fttr Mr. Meb- wk. It may be urged bv gentleitten iSM the hwrdships abd privatfona pf a frotttiet- life have rendered Mr. Pavia iotiAi Mt gentlemen,'!a ihi« k time to cA^^ at UMgii- ness? is this a time to b3 fastidioiis concern- ing trifles t istbi^atime to di>»ute ib6iit matters of palt^ signiflcah?% <»^y » boM. -rnof in |(9ah^, 1;^ th« gen%fflv» fron» timnnkd it « apop ,wf , want jiM*«^ ,•!/ iaoUd fuftananoa? .iflia would. dfil|t;4«|iW^^ ahadftWll UM W«uA »of« 9»Jf «W1MP?« wit^ an ^cegonifl^ 4>«o^ t * "iff i*"«>i « *>• oail Ipok wgm t\w awV>op/a*«l!,WW!4JWw, If ha cM).jBua^ipit9,paraad .eyei, ^ be pan Ijstan to,(£e jbatmg (rfonr f^(9^^ and atUl tbniHl huf faminarat^. qponiW? laak J)>m if.^OiKn^l^iik.ot pnr deaplate atat^ ot pp; paai, apRpva jof for darH fntora, andmU unifityinffly^PipJ^ ijyj^o !na thia, w^k, , thia nun, \m» , , , tQ^nng swindle. lM> gnwled and , Mp|eiia y^^iii^^ (Applause.) j.,,.,^ , The ameadmeniwaapntito ivota,' after a ifieiy debate^ and^ loatk. Mr. Hanria was snbatitntedeBithafini aakaadmant. The i.baUoting tban< began., live ballott were iheliiirithoata.alMiea. On. tbt t iixth, Mr. Harria was elected, all votittg .ifPK hini but imyself . It -^im- then^mnved tlMt hia eleotipn iahould be ratified by acclamation* whaoh waa> leai^ in cansefuenoe JdCnIualacai&iVating ^againat^bimself.'': \:i< 'ji \/l■^•t.^'.■Kv i.i ;>r- ,5 ; Miu Baidway nuHved thitti tka> iHcMse now take, upi >tbe jramainiag. j^attdidatea, «nd.jR«j ma one I— han<| [■eve [man- (singul^ Ire MARK TWAIN'S SKETOHES. 97 into an election for breakfast. This was oanied. On the fint ballot there was a tie, half the ■Mmben favouring one candidate on account of his youth, and half favouring the other on account of his superior size. The Presi- dent gave the castine vote for the latter, Mr. Messiok. This decision created con- sidomble dissatisfaction among the friends of Idx. Ferguson, the defeated candidate, And there was some talk of demanding a new bidlot ; but in the midst of it, a motion to adjourn was carried, and the meeting broke up at once. The preparations for supper diverted the attention of the Ferguson faction from the discussion of their grievance for a long time, and then, when they would have taken it up again, the happy announcement that Mr. ^uTis was ready, drove all thought of it to the winds. We improvised tables by propping up the backs of car-seats, and sat down with hearts full of gratitude to the finest supper that had blessed our vision for seven tortur- ing days. How changed we were from what we had been a few short hours before. Hopeless, sap-eyed misery, hunser, feverish anxie^. desperation, then — thankfulness, sereni^, joy too deep for utterance now. That I Know was the cheeriest hour of my eventful life. The wind howled, and blew the snow wildly about onr^ prison-house, but they were powerless to distress us any more. I liked Harris. He might have been better done, perhaps, but I am free to say that no man ever Mreed with me better than Harris, or afforded me so large a degree of satisfaction. Messick was very well, though rather high-flavoured, but for Jenume nutritiousness and delicacv of bre, give me Harris. Messick had his good points — I will not attempt to deny it, nor do I wish to do it — but he was no more fitted for breakfast then a mummy would be. sir — ^nota bit. Lean? — why, bless me ! —and tongh? Ah, he was very tough. You ooula not imagine it, — you could never imagine anything like it. ' Do you mean to tell me that * Do not interrupt me, please. After breakfast we elected a man by the name of Walker, from Detroit, for supper. He was vtry good. I wrote his wile so afterward*. He was worthy of all praise. I shall always remember Walker. He was one of the finest men I ever sat down to —handsome, educated, refined, spoke several Uuignages fluently— « perfect gentle- man—he was a Mrfeot gentleman, and singularly joicy. For aupper we had that 'Oregon patriarol^ and M,, was a fraud. there is no question about it— old, aoraggy, touffh, nobody can picture the realil^. I finaUysaid, 'Oentlemen, youoan do aa yoa like, but I will wait for another eleotioiii.' Grimes, of Illinois, said, ' Gentlemen, I will wait also. When yon elect a man that has something to recommend him, I slu^ be glad to loin you again.' Itsoonbeoama evident that there was general dissatisfaction with Davis, of Oreson, and no, to preserva the good-will that had prevailed to pleasant- ly smoe we had Hiurris, an election waa called, antt the result of it was that Baker of Georgia, was chosen. He was splendid. Well, well— after that we had Doohttle and Hawkins, and MoElroy (there wai complaint about MoElroy, because ha^ uncommonly short and thin), and Peorod and two Smiths and Bailey (Bailey had a wooden leg, whioh was dear loss, but be was otherwise good), and an Indian boy, and an organ-crinder, and a gentleman bj the name of Buckminster — a poor stiok of a vagabond that wasn't any good for company and no account for breakfast. We were glad we got him elected before relief came. 'And BO tha blessed relief did come at last?' ' Yes, it came ' v:-^ brish^ snnnv momiaft just after election. John Murphy was tna choice, and there never was a better, I am vrilline to testify ; but John Murphy oama home wiui us, in the tnun that came to sac- oonr us, an'd lived to many the widow Harris ' 'Belict of- •Beliot of onr fint ohoioOi He mairied her, and is happy and respected and nros* perous yet. An, it was like a novel, air — ^it was like a romance. Thia ia mr stoppins-place, sir; I must bid vongoodf> bye. .^y time that you can nuuce it oon- venient to terry a day or two with me, I shall be glad to have you. I like yon, sir ; I have conceived an affection for yon. I could like you aa well as I liked Harria himself, sir. Good day, sir, and a pleasant journey.' He was gone. I never felt ao atnnned, so distressed, so bewildered in my life. But in my soul I was glad he waa gone. With all his gentleness of manner and his soft voice, I shuddered whenever he turned his hungrv eye upon me ; and when I heard that I had achieved his perilous affection, and that I stood almost with the late Harris in his esteem, my heart fairly stood still. I was bewildered beyond description. I did not doubt his word; I could npt question a aipgle item in a state* rt MARK TWAIN'S ^KETCHES. Utn% w itamped with the earneatneM «f trath M hia; bat its dreadful detaib overpofwered me, and threw ny thoughto into hopeleu oonfnaion. I WW the oondnotor looking at me. I said, ' Who ia that man ?' ' He waa a Member of Consreaa onoe, and a good one. Bat he »>t caa^t in a anow- dnft in the can, wad like to l)een atarved to imXh. He got lo froit-bitten and frozen np generally, and uaed np for want of aomething to eat, that he waa lick and oat of^hia heaa two or three montha afterwarda. ^e ia all right now, only he ia a monomaniac, and when he geta on that old anbiect he never ■jtopa till ne haa eat np the whole carload of people he talks aboat. He would have fln> tthed the crowd by this time, only he had to get out here. He haa got their names aa pat #s A, B^ 0. When he gets them ail eat np bat himself, he always Sys :•»** Then the hour for the osual Bction for breakfast having arrived, and there oeing no opposition, I waa duly elected, after whi sembled a swab for a Columbiad. It is a oruel expedient. When the ohilly rag touches one's warm flesh it makes Um stut with sudden violence and gasp for breath, just as men do in the death agony. It froze the marrow in my bones and stopped the beating of my heart. I thought my tuna had come. Never take a sheet-bath— never. Next to meeting a lady acquaintance, who, for reasons best known to herself, don't see you when she looks at you, and dont know you when she does see yon, it is the most uncomfort- able thing in the world. But, as I was aajring when the sheet-bath failed to cure my cough,a lady friend reoom* mended the application of a mustiurd plastw to my breast. I believe that would haTa cured me effectuallv, if it had not been for young Wilson. When I went to bed, I pnt my mustard plaster — which was a verv gor- geous one, eighteen inches square — wnere I could reach it when I was readv for it. But young Wilson got hungry in the night, and Alter sojourning a week at Lake Tahoa, I went to Steamboat Springs, and beside the steam baths, I took a cargo of the wickedest medicines that were ever concocted. l%ey would have cured me, but I had to go ba^, to Virginia, where, notwitiistanding the variety of new remedies I alworbed eveiv day, i managed to aggravate my disBSSo liy carelessness and undue exposure. I finalhr concluded to visit San FranoiaoOk and the first day I got there, a lady at the Lick House told me to drink a quart of whiskey every twenty-four hours, and ^ friend at the Occidental recommended pre* cisely the same course. Each advised me to teke a quart ; that made half a gallon. I did it, and still live. Now, with the kindest motives in the' world, I offer for the consideration of con- sumptive mtiento, the variegated course of treatment I have lately gone through. I • Waittbd to Know.— Will the new oandicUte for Governor deign to explain to eertain of his fellow-citizens (who are suffer* ing to vote for him i) the little o^rcumstanoe of his cabin*matee in Montana losing small valuables from time to time, ontil at last, these things having been invariablv found on Mr. Twain's person or in bis '* trunk" (newspaper he rolled his traps in), thev felt compelled to give him a friendly ad- monition for his own good, and so tarred and feathwred him and rode him on a rail, sad then advised him to leave a permanent vacuum in the place he nsa- ally oooopled in the eampk Will he do thisr Ooold any thing be mors deliberately mali> dons than ^t ? For I never was in Mon- tana in my life. [After this, this joamal customarily spoke of me as * Twain, the Montana Thief. *[ I got to paoking up pspors apprehensively —much as one woald lift a desired blanket which he had some idea might have a rattle- snake under il One day this met my * TBI Ln Nailid.— By the sworn affida> vits of Miohael O'Flanagan, Bsq.,of the Five I^>ints, and Mr. Kit Bums and Mr. John Allen, of Water Strwit, it is established that Mr. Mark Twalnis vile statement that the laaaanted graudfiather of our noUs standard bearer, JohnT. Hoffman, was hanged for highway robbery, is a brutal and gratoi- tons UK, witiiOttt a single shadow of founda- tion in fiiot. It is disheartening to virtuous ■en to see niohsbamefnl means resorted to lo achieve politioal snooess as the attaoki^g •f th* dead in thsir graves, aad defllinx theii. honoured names with slander. When wt think of the anguish this miserable false< hood must cause the innocent relatives and friends of the deceased, we are almost driven to incite an outrage and in- sulted public to summary and unUwfui vengeance upon the traduoer. But no t let us leave him to the agony of a lacerated conscience (though if passion should get the better of the public, and in its blind fury they should do the traducer bodily injury, it is but too^obvious that no jury uould con- vict and no court punish the perpetrators of the deed).' The ingenious dosing sentence had the efltsot of movins me ont of bed with despatch that night, ana out at the back door also, while the * outraged and insulted public' suraed in the front way, breaking furniture ana windows in their righteous indignation as they came, and taking off such property as they could carry when thev went. And yet I can lay my hand upon the book and say that I never slandered Qovemor Hoffioutn^ grandfather. More : I had never even heard of him or mentioned him up to that day and date. [I will state, in pauino, that the jour- nal above quoted from always referred to me afterwurds as ' Twain, the Body- snatcher.'] The next newspaper article that attrauted my attention was the following i— ' A SwsR Gavdidatb.— Mark Twain, who was to make such a blighting speech at the mass meeting of the Independents last night, didnt come to time. A telegram from his phynoian stated that he had oeen knocked down by a runaway team and his leg broken in two places— sufferer lying in great agony, and so forth, and so forth, and a lot more bosh of tiie sapie sort And the Independents tried hard to swallow the wretched subterfuge, and pretend that they did not know what was the real reason^ of the absenoe of the abandoned oreature-t whom they denominate their standard bear«M er. A eertain man was seen to reel into Mr. Tmdn's hotd last night in a state of beastty intoxication. It istiie imperative duty of the Independents to prove tnat this besotted brute was not Mark Twain himself. We have them at hwt. This is afaotthal admits of no shrinking. The voice of the people demands in thunder-tones, " Who was that man?"' It was incredible^ absolutely icisredible, for a moment, that it was reslly my name .» that was eouple^ with this disgraceful sus- picion. Three lone years had passed over my head sinoe I had tasted ale, beer,, xione, i or liquor of any kind. < >!:!<-// ,^rM ■>f(i-.... 109 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. il'li' ri^ H [It shows what e£feot the times were hav- ing on me when I sav that I saw myself confidently dubbed 'Mr. Delirium Tremens Twain' in the next edition of that Joomal without a pang, — ^nonnthstanding I kne':^ that with monotonoua fidelity the papf;r would go on calling me so to the very end.] !l^ this time anonymous letters were set- ting to be an important part of my mail matter. This form was common—- ' How about that old woman you^oked of your premises which was beggins^ . POIi Fax. And this — 'There is things T.-hioh you have done which is nnbeknowna to anybody but me. Yoo better trot out a few dolls to yours tndy, or yoall hear thro' the papers from HANDY ANDY.' I oonld continue surfeited, if de- Tbat i§ about the idea, them till the reader was sirable. Shortly the j^rinoipal Republican journal 'convioted' me of wholesale briberr, and the leading Demoqpratio paper 'nailed' an aiuiraTated case of blackmailing to me. ^n this wa^ I acquired two additional names: 'Twarn the Filthy Corruptionist,' and ' Twain the Loathsome Embmoer. '] By this time there had grown to be such a elamoorforan 'answer' to all the dreadful ehaiges that were laid to me that the edi- torn and leaders of my party said it would be political ruin for me to remain silent any longen As if to make their appeal the more imperative, the following appeared in one. of thepapors the very iiezt d^ ^— 'Behokl the Man 1— llie Independent candidate still maintains silence. Itecause he dare not speak, Evciy accusation against him has been amply proved, and they have bean endorsed and re-endcHMd by his own •loquettt silence till at this day he stands for «v«r convicted. Look upon your candidate, Independents i ' L6ok upon the Infamous Perjurer I the Montana Thief I the Body- ■nntohtol Contemplate your Inoarnate Delirium "nremens I your Filthy Corruption- krik I your Loatiuinne Smbracer I Oaoe i^ion him-^ponder him well— and th^n'say if yon out gif« your honest votes to a ore%tui« who has earned this dismal array of titles by his hideous crimes, Mid dare not open his mouth in denial of anyone of them !' There was no possible way of getting out of it, and so in deep humili- ation, I set about preparing to 'answer' a masa of baseless chargea jmd mean and wicked falsehoods. But I never finished the task, for the very next morning a paper came out with a new horror, a fresh maligni- ty, and seriously charged me with burning %\ lunatic asylum with aU its inmates becaoiii it obstructed the view from m^ houae,[ This threw me into a sort of panic The«| came the* charge of poisoning my nndtl to get his property, with an imperative d«>{ mand that the grave should be opened. Thm drove me to the verge of distraction. Oil the top of this I was accused of einpl(^ii^| { toothless and incompetent old relatives ti| I prei>are the food for the foundling hospitili when I was warden. I was wavering— wa. f vering. Andatlast^ m a due and fitting j climax to the shameless persecution thalj party rancour had inflicted upon me, ninif little toddling children of all shades uid' colours and degrees of raogednaes wen taught to rush on to the platiwm at a pubUe^ meeting and clasp me around the legs andf call me Pa 1 I gave up. I hauled down my coloaii| and surrenaered. I was not eaual to thi| requirements of a Gubernatorial oampai^| in the State of New York, and so I sent u i my withdrawal from the candidacy, and ia ; bitterness of spirit signed it, ' Once a decent, man. but now Mabk TwAur, L P., M. T., & 8., D. T., F.a, andL. B.' UTERATUBB IN THB DRY DIGOINOa Although a resident of San Fiamciaoo, 1 1 never heard much about this 'ArtUnioai Association' of that city until I got bold Ui some old newspapers during my thce^mfmthf'i stay in the Big Tree region of Calaverai | county. Up there, you Know, they read^ everythiug, because in most of tbose little camps they have no libraries, and ^o booki [ to speakNof, except now and ^ena patent's book report or (b prayer book, or litecatun^ of that kind, in a general way, thatwiU hangj on and last a good while when peyple an i careful with it, tike miners; but asfo^^velt, ' they pass them around and t^ear them out in a week or two. Now there was Coon, i nice, bald-headed man, attherhoteliuAngel'i Camp, I asked him to lend me a book, om rainv day' i he was silent a moment, and t shade of melancholy flitted aoroBSf hia fiat face, and then he said: 'Well, I've aota> mighty responsible old Webster Unabridged, what there is left of it, but they started her \ sloflhing vound and skwhiiag arouqd thi ; camp iMf ore I ever got a chance to read her | myself : and next she went to Murphy's, and! from there she went to Jackast Ouloh, and! now she's eone to. San AndreaSi and I don't ^ expect I'll even see th«t book again, i^ MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 1« >BY DIQOINOa I But what made me mad ia, that for I all there so handy keeping her aaahshaying I around from shanty to shanty and from camp I to camp, none of em's ever sot a good word for her. Kow Coddington had her a week, «nd she was too many for him — ^he couldn't spell the words ; he tackled some of them regular busters, tow'rd the middle, you know, and they throwed him : next. Dyer, he tried her a jolt, but he couldn't pronounce 'em — Pyer can hunt quail or play seven- up as well aa any man, onderstano, but he can't prononndB worth a cuss ; he used to worry along well enough, though, till he'd flush one of them rattlers Mrith a clatter of Bylla>>1es as long as a string of sluice-boxes, and then be a lose his grip and throw up his hand ; «ad so, finally, Dick Stuker harnessed her up tlere at his cabin, and sweated over her and ouBsed over her and rastled with her for as mich as three weeks, nij^t and day, till he £0^ as far as B, and then passed her over to Tibee Piokerell, and said she was the all- fircdtostk dryest reading that ever he struck. WcUi well, if she's come back from San An- drews you can get her, and prospect her, but I dto!t riBokoa there's a good deal left of her by nis time, though time was when she waj^ «■ litttly a book as any in the State, and as hefti and had an amount of general infor- mati^i in her th»t was aetonishmtt, 'f any of tbea^oattle had known enough to get it out of her.'yA^nd ex-corporal Coon proceeded eheer- leMljlto scout with his brush af tet the strag- dingiM^rson the rear of his head, and drum &tm|o the front for insnection and roll-call, as wa^his usual custom oefore turning ia for liis renlar afternoon nap. . . \a mysterious visit. The Vst notice that was taken of me when I 'sett]|i.down ' recently, was by a gentle* nan wh said he was an assessor, and connect- ed withthe 17. S. Internal Revenue Depart* ment. iWd I had never heard of his. branch of businls before, but I was very glad to see him, all he same — ^wouM, he sit down ? He sat down I did not know anything par- ticular t(Wy, and yet I felt that people who had arrival at the dignity of keeping house must beioonvenational, must be .easy and aooiable iioompany. So in default of any- thing elsi to say, I asked him if he was opening h^hop in our neighbourhood. He said|e wae. [I did not wish to ap- pear ignoiat, but I had hoped he would mention wkt be had for sale.] I ventuil tp ask him ' how was trade V And he said* So-so.' v.I.thMtM we would drop in, and if we liked his house as well ae any oth«v we would give him our custom. He said he thought we would like hia es- tablishment well enough to confine oonelyes to it — said he never saw anybody who would go off and hunt up another man in his lias after trading with him once. That sounded pretty complacent^ Vat barrina; that nstiural expression m vii« lainy which we all have^ the man looked honest eftough. I do not know how it same about ezsotly. bat gradually we appeared to melt down ana run together, conversationally speakings and then everything went along as comfOTtsUj* as clockwork. We talked, sad talked, and talkedr-^at least I did. And we laughed, and laughed, and laughed — at least he did. But aU tiis time I aad my presence of mind about me ■ I had my native shrewdness turned on ' fall head,' as the engineers say. I was deter- mined to find out all about his business, in spite of his obscure answers— and I was determined I would have it out of him witii- oat his suspeotina what I was at. I meant to trap him with a deep, deep ruse. | wonld tell him all about my own business, and he would naturally so warm to me dar- ing this seductive burst of confidence that he would forget himself and tell me about his a£Eiairs before he suspected what I was about. I thought to myself, ' My son, yam little know what an old fox yon nf dealing with. ' I said :— * Now you never would guess what I mads lecturing this winter and lut spring!* ' No— don't believe I could, to save msi.' Let me see — let me see. About twothoa^ sand dollars may be? But no— no^ sir, I knew you couldn't have made that mudi. I^y seventeen hundred, maybe V * Ha-ha ! I knew yon couldn't. Mv leo. taring receipts for last spring and this wint^ were fourteen thousand seven hun- dred and fifty dollars — what do yon think of that?* * Why it is amazing— perfectly amaringi I will make a note of it. And you say eve* this wasa't all ?' ' All ? Why bless yon there was my in* come from the Bi^ffah Express for fou? months— about — about — well, what should you say to about eight thousand dollars, for instance ?' 'Say! Why I should say I should like to see myself rolling in just such another ocean of affluence. Eight thousand ! Ill make a note of it. Why man ( — and on top of all this, I am to nndersts^ that you h»d still mors income ?' ' Ha-ha-ha 1 Why you're only in the IM MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. inburiMB of it, so to speak. There's my book, "The Innocenta Abroad"— price $8 SO to $5 00, according to the binding, livten to me. Look me in the eye. During the labt four months and a half, saying noth* ing of lakw before that, but just simply during^ the four months and a naif, weve ■dd nmety-five thousand copiesof thatbook I Ninety-five thousand I Thmk of it. Ave- rage four dollars a oopv, say. It'snearlyfour hundred thousand doilan, my son. I get * llie ■nfferincMoees i 111 set that down. Fonrteen-seven-mty— eight — two hundred. Total, sav — ^well, upon my word, the 8;rand total is about two nundred and thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars. Is that possible ?' * Possible ! If there's any mistake it's the «ther way. Two hundred and fourteen thousand, cash, u mv income for this year, if I know how to cipher. ' ThUii the gentleman gotnp to go. It came •vermemoet uncomfortably that maybe I had my revelations for nothmg besides being flattered into stretohingthem considerably by the stranger's astonishra exclamations. But bo; at the last momentthe gentleman handed me a large envelope and said it contained his advertisement ; and that I wonld find out «U about his business in it ; and that he would be happy to have my custom — wonld, ia fact, be proud to have the custom of a man df sttdt prodigious income ; and that he used to think there were several wealthy men in the city, but when thev came to trade with him, be discovered that they barely had enough to live on ; and thai^ in truth, it had been nioh a weary, weary age ther artist By working on my rani^the stranger had seduced me into dedariigan income of 214,000 dollar*. Bylaw, ;000 dollars of this waa exempt finmt inoont-tax — ^the only relief I could see, and it wai only a dr<^ in the ocean. At the legal flvi per cent., I must pav over to the govemmcitthe appaUing sum of ten thousand aixbiedred and fifty dollars, income-tax. if [I may remark, in this pleoa^ that I did not do it.] I am acquainted with a rtry opuleit maa, whose house is a palace, whose tobli is re* gal, whose ontUys are enormons, yen man who has no income, aa I have often noticed by the revenue returns ; and to hittl went fo/ advice in my distresi Be tok my dtf idfnl exhibition of ret pti^ h« put on his J a ssea, he took his pen, and festo !^ I was a pauper ! It was the nenwt tlnng that ever was. He did it simply l^ deftly manipulating the bill of 'Denotions.' He set down my 'State, natieal, and municipal taxes ' at so much ; my losses by shipwreck, fire, fto.,' at so mcb ; my ' * losses on sales of real estate '*im * live stock sold '—on ' payments for re tjr, of -unimpeaoutble sodal spotlessness — and so I bowed to his example. I went down to the revenue office, and under ihe ac- cusing eyes of toy old visitor I stood up and swore to lie aftw lie, fraud after frauo. Vil- lainy ahat TiUii^yt till my soul was coated inohss and inoheis tidck with perjury and my sell-respect grato for ever and ever. Bat what of it t It is nothing more than ttMosana^of the hijghest, and richest, and proudestk ai&d most respected, honour^ and eoarted men in America , do svery year. And so I don't care. I am not ashamed. I ■hall simp^, for the present, talk little and esdiew^praof gloves, lest I fall .fnto.oer^ tain dfiadful ^Uts irrevocably. . ^^ EZFEBIENCE OF THE MoWILLTAMS- E8 WITH MEMBBANBOUS CROUP. , it wMusno TO ram Airraoa oft «^ ko6K IT m. UCWIVLUMB, ▲ PUUSAHV MW TOBX OUITLCHAH WHOM TRS SAID A0XHOB MR Xt OSAHOI OV A JOVBintT. Well, to go bMk to where I was before I digressed to expl»in to yoa how that fright- fol and Inoursblii disease^ membraneous croup, #as xsginglnt^e town and driving SU mothers mad with terror, I called Mrs. MoWilliam*' attention to little Penelope and said: 'Dsrliuft I wonlditl let that child be dtewing tbkt pine stick if I wer« you.* ' Precious, where is the harm In it f * ssid she, but at the same time preparing to take away the stick — for women caimot receive even the most palpably judicious suggestions without arguing it ; that is, mwied wo> men. >.. I replied * Love, i^ is notorious that pine is the lea^t, nutritious wood that a child can eat.' My wife's hand paused in the act d taking the stick, and returned itself to her lap. She bridled perceptibly, and said : ' Hubby, you know better than that. You. know you do. Doctors all say that the tur- pentine in pine wood is good for weak Wdc and the kidneys.' 'Ah— I was under a misapprehension. I did not know that the child^i kidneys and spine were affiscted, and that the familj physician had recommended—' \ 'Who said the child's spine and kidney! were affected?' ' My love, you intimated it.' * The idea I I never intimated aiqrthihg of the kind.' * Why, my dear, it hasnt been two inin- utes since you said—' ' Bother what I said. I dont care whs* I did ssj. There isnt any barm in the child's diewing a bit of' pine stick if she> wants to, and you knew it perfeotljr wfltli' and she shall ohew it, too. So tlnr»Vk>w^* 'Say no more, my dear. I now setf thief force of your reasoning, and I >Vill '■ go and (nrder two or three cords oi tiie bMt pme wood to-day. No child of mine shall want while I—' ' 0, please go along to year offioe end let me have some peace. A body can never auJce theshnplest remark but yon most tidteit np and go to arguing and argnintf till fMi don't know what yon are talking abont^ Shd you never do.' '•' * ^Vecy well, it shall be as yon say. But there is a want of logic in your last remark which—' However she was gone with a flourish bw> f6re I oould finish, and had ■■ taken tiie Ohild with her. That night at dinner sheeon- frtmted me with a face as white us a sheoL '0, Mortimer, there'b another! Litllo Oeorgie Gordon is taken.' ' Membraneous croapt* . tiUt^X- * Membraneous croup.' '".ik-v *Ta there any hope for hira f'r a^io WftV ' * None in the wide world. Oh, whail fa to become of us f ' By*sad-bye a Aurse brought ia oar Pisao* lope to say good, ni^^t and offer, the eas- tomary prptyer at the mother's knee. In the midst of ' Now ^ lay n^ dovm to ileei^' sh* ffkT9 a slight cough. My wife fell back like IM HARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. iJif striokeo with death. But the next mo- she wm up and brinuning with the •otlvities which terror iuBpires. She commanded that the child's orib be removed from the nnrMiy to onr bedrroom ; and ehe wettt alons to see the order executed. "fihe took me with her, of coarse. We got matters arranged with speed. Aootbed w:as pot up in my wife's dressing-room for the nurse. But now Mrs. MoVnlliams said we were too far away from the other baby, and what if he were to have the symptoms in the might — and she bUmohed again, poor thmg. We then restored the orib andtiiennrse to the nerser^, and put up a bed for ourselves^ in a room adjoining. Presently, however, Mrs. MoWilliams said ' Suppose the baby should catch it from Fenelope ?^ This thought staruck a new panic 1|p her hearty and the tribe of us could not fst the orib out of the nursery again fast enoudi to satisfy my wife, thou^^ she as- flurted in her own person and well-nigh palled tke orib to pieces in her fnmtio hurry. WesMfveddown stairs, but there was no flaoe for the nurse, and Mrs. MoWilliams said the nnne'cezpiBrienoe would be an ines- tiiiiaW» helpk So ve returned, hagaad haggMSb to oar own bed-room oooe more, ^fwT ud*. m great dadnaes; like atorm- fcofttod birds thai fcaT* foand their n«t» Mr*. MeWiHiama qpedto thenars0rvt» aa«t how thinfi were going on there. She vafhaekin antomeftt with a new dread. Shesaid: * Whal OM aak* the babgr sleep sot* , Isaidt.. ' Why* w dMB&ng baby.alwi^ eleqpa like « cmTa» ipiiige.' *I know. I know t bai there's something peealiar about his sleep, now. He seems to > to ■ h > MMBM to brsatbe so reguhudy. 0, lihis it dreadful.* , < But^ my, dear, he always breathes rsgn- haAfi* ... .'Ohtlkooir iV ImU fhereli somethinf bightnl aboal it now. His nurse is to* iwingand inezperieaoed. Maria shall stay Wstv with her, andbeoa |iaad il anything kappens.' *Thatis agoodiiM, btttwho wfflhelp jro«?' *YoaeaaheIpto alllwaat. I wouldn't ■Dow imybody to do anything ' but myself any how, at such a time as this.' ' I toi^ I would f6el mean to Ue abed and sUMni; hkid leave her to w^toh and tOQ o^rer «ar little patient all theireary night. Biit oho.riooooiled me to it. So old Miuria de> judsme Ttten parted and took up her ancient quarters m the nursery. Penelope coughed twice in her sleep. * Oh, why don't that doctor oome I Mo^ timer, this room is too warm. Tom off the renster— quick !' I shut it off, glancing at the thermometer at the same time, and wondering to mVself if 70 degrees was too warm for a sick enild. l^e coachman arrived from down town, now, with the news that odr pl^sidan was ill and coufined to his bed-^rs. McWil. Uams turned a dead eye upon me, and said in a dead voice : ' There is a Providence in it. It is fore- ordained. He never was sick before— never. We have not been living as we ought to Uve, Mortimer. Time and time again I have t(dd you so. Now you see the result Our child will never get welL Be thankful if you can forgive yonnelf ; 1 never can for- give mvsdf.' I said, without intent to hurt but ^ith heedless choice of words, that I could not see that we had been leading sadi an aban- doned life. Mortimer I Do yoa ivaat to bring the ent upon baby, too ?' en she DegaA to ery, bat saddenly ex- claimed: ' Th^ doctor must have sent medldMi t' Isaid: * Certainly. Theijr ar* here. I wMottly waiting for you to give me a chttioe.* •Wdl, do give them to me ! Don^tyoa know that everv moment is predous now? Bat what was the use in sonding medicines, when he knows that the diieess isUicnr- able?* ^ I said that while there was life th'>re wm hope. 'Hope I M remain here and attend to these duties, wbich are in her line and iu>t in mine.' ' Now, Mortimer, I should thinly tiiat yoa would .be ashamed to make a renUlrk like that. It is a pity if yoa cabnot do the few things I ask of vou at siioh an awful time as this child when oar child— * • There, tiiere, I will do anything yoa I ijrant. But I cant raise, anybody with this I bell. Th«y'ke fOl j;one to bed. Where is .the goose l^ease)' . :„ fiiiMv, •:,:! -mili-hHi^ ^y^a^ I 'On the mantel-pteoB is uik norseiy. U I youll step there and speak to Maria—' , *I fetched tiie goose^ffirease and went to [ sleep again. Once more 1 waa called t ' Morthner, I so hate to disturb yon, but r the room is still too «old for me to Iry to [apply this stuff. Wonldyoamind Ughtinr Ithe fil«7 It is all ready to taueh a mateh fto.' I dragged myself ont and lit the ftN^ MmI IIImci Mi down disoonsokllsK-''^'^-',^''-'"''' ' Mortimer, don't sit there and catch your deatii of cold. Come to bed.* ' As I was stei^ug in, she said : -• i»\i ■ * But wait a moment. Please (^t9m th* child some more of the medicine.' Which I did. It was a medicine whiel^ mode a child more or less lively ; so my wife made use of its wakin{| interval to strip it and grease it all over with goose-oil. I waa soon asleep once more, but once more I bad to get up. 'Mortimer, I feel a draught. I feel it dis> tinctly. There is nothing so bad for this disease as a draught. Please move thei crib in front of the fire.' I did it ; and collided with the rug aaaia, which I threw in the fire. Mrs. MoWil'^ liams sprang out of bed and rescued it, and we had some words. I had another trifling interval of sleep, and then got ap, by re>! quests and constructed a flaxseed ponitioe« This was placed upon the child's breast and left there to do its healing work. A '#ood fire is not a permanent thing. ' I got up every twenty minutes' and renewed ours, and tiiis gave Mrs. Mc Williams 1ta» opportunity to shorten the times of givfaig the medicines by ten minutes, which waa a Eeat satisfaction to her. Now, and tiien, tween times, I reorganised the flaXs^ pcnltioes, and ^^plied sinapisma and othet sorts of blisters m^ere unoccupied place* could be l^o^ dpdn the ohiUL^ We&r to« ward morning tbe' wood gave Mt and gasping. As soon as die ootald oommand> her tongue she said : 'It nt all over I AU orerl The ehildli perspiring ! What shall wo do f '"i ■■.'•. it ' Meroyi how yoa terrify bA !<> i < > >> .'. .i)it bed and brought Um.* He kiok^o^tk* ehild and said she 'wae not dying. .p 108 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. i>ii 'fm Jajf anneakabla to ma^ but it made my wife H mM M if he had offered her m penoiuJ •ttronk Then he Mid the child's aoug^ wm eoty caused by lomo trifling irritation or ^wer in ttie, throat. At this I thought my wife had a mind to show him the door. Now the doctor said he would make the child ooogh harder and dislodge the trouble. So he gave her something that sent her into a spasm of coughing, ana presently up came a httle wood splinter or so. 'This child has no membranous croup,' said he. * She has been chewing a bit of pine shingle or something of the kind, and got some little slivers in her throat. They wont do her any hurt. ' •No^'said I, 'I can weU belicTethat Indeed, the turpentine that is in them is ▼eiy good for certain sorts of diseases, that are peculiar to children. My wife wiU tell joase.' But she did not She turned awav in dis< dain and left the room ; and since that time there is one episode in our life which we never refer to. Hence the tide of oar days foini by in deep and untroubled serenity. (Very tern married men hsTc such an ezperl- «toGe as MoWllliamar, and so the author of this book thooflriht that maybe the noTel^ of It weald give it a passing interest to the reader.] SOME LEARNED FABLES FOR GOOD V OLD BOYS AND GIRLS. )uwi In 7%ree ParU, PART FIRST. ▲imuLa cm trb woov uhv oov ▲ arauruna ■zriomov. Once tiM loreatures of the forest held a ^teat osnvention, and appointed a commis* ■on connsting of the most illostrioos scieu' taati among them to go forth, clear bevond the forest and out into the anknown and un> explored world, to verif v the truth of the natters already tan j^t m their schoob and colleges, and siiso to make disooTeries. It waa uie meat imposing enterprise of the kind the nation had erer embarked in. True, tiM aatiMk bad once sent Dr. Bull IVog, with » picked orew, to hunt lot a norUi- weaterltp passage tilironah the swamp to the right-hand comer of the s^vioA^ and had asace sent oat many ezpeditionfl to bnnt for Dr. BoH Fcsg ( bat they nerer eoald find him, and ao theOovomment finally gave him «jp and ennobled hia mother to show its gra- tnada for the services her son had rendered to aeioaoe. And once . Government, sent Mr Grass Hopper to hunt for the sources of the rill that emptied into the swamp ; and afterwards sent out many expeditions to hunt for Sir Grass, and at last they were successful — ^they found his body, but ifhs had discovered the sources meantime, he did not let on. So Government acted^ hand. somely by deceased, and many envied his funeraL But these expeditions were trifles oora> pared with the present one ; for thia one 3omprised among its servants the very great, est among the learned ; and beeidee it was to go to the utterly unvisited regions believed to lie beyond the nushty forest — as ws have remarked before. How the memben wars banqueted, andelorified, and talked about I Everywhere that one of them showed him* self, straightway there was a crowd to gape and stare at him. Finally they set off, and it waa a sight to see the lone procession of dry>land TOTtoises heavily hAva with saviChs, scientific instru> ments. Glow- Worms and Fire-Flies for sig> nal-service, provirions, Ants and Tumble- Bugs to fetch and cany and delve, Spiden to Mrry the surveying diain and do other engineering duty, and so fortii and so on ; ana after the Tortoises came another long train of iron-dads — stately and spacious Mud Turtlee for marine transportation ser- vice ; and from every Tortoise and every Turtie flaunted a flamine gladiolus or o^er splendid banner ; at the head of the ooluma a great band of Bumble-BOes, Moaquitoes, Katy-dida and Orickets disoonrsed martial music ; and the entire train was under the escort and protection of twelve picked regi. mente of the Army Worm. At the end of three weeks the expedition emerged from the forest and looked upon the great Unknown World. Their eyes were greeted with an impressive speotiuile. A vast level plain stretched before tiiem, wa- tered by a sinuous stream ; and beyond there towered up against the sky a long and lofty barrier of some kind, they did not know what The Tumble-Bug said he believed it was simply land tilted up on its edge, be- cause he knew he could see trees on it. But Prof. Snail and Iba others w^d t 'You are hfared to dig, air— tiiat is alL We need your muscles— not your brains! When we want your opinion on seiontifio matters, we will hasten to let yon know. Your coolness is intolerable, too— loafing about here meddling with august mattora of learning, when the other bboaren are pitching camp. Go along and helb handle the baggage.' The Tumble-Bug tamed on hIa heal an> crushed, unabashed, observing to himself, If ARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. UN ' If it isn't land tilted np^ Itt me die tlie death of the uurifithteoiu. F^fesBor Ball Frog (nepheir of the late explorer) said he believed the ridge wa« the wul that enoloeed the earth. fle oon- tinued : — * Oar fathers have left at much learning, bat they had not travelled far, and so we may oount this a noble new discovery. We are safe for renown now, even though onr laboors began and ended with this single achievement. I wonder what this wall is built of * Can it be fungus ? Fungus is an honourable good thing to build a wall of.' Professor Snail adjusted his field>glass and examined the rampart critically. Finally he said ^— ' The fact that it is not diaphanous, con- vinces me that it is a dense vapour formed by the calorification of aacendmg moisture dephlomsticated by refraction. A few endio- metriMU experiments would confirm' this, but it is not necessary. — The thing is obvious.' So he shut up his glass, and went into his ■hell to make a note of the discovery of the world's end, and the nature of it. * Profound mind ! ' said Professor Angle- Worm to Professor Field-Mouse ; 'a profound mind ! nothing can long remain a mystery to that august brain.' Night drew on *PMe> ishe sentinel crickets were posted, the Glow- Worm and Fire-Fly lamps were lishted, and the camp sang to silence and sleep. After breakfast in the morning, the expedition moved on. About noon a great avenue was reached, which had in it two endless parallel bars of some kind of hard black substance, raised the height of the tallest Bull Frog above the general level. The Boieatisti olimMd up on uiese and ex* amined and tested them in various wajrs. They walked along them for a great dis- tance^ bat found no end and no break in them. They could arrive at no decision. There was nothing in the records of science tiiat mentioned anything of this kind. But at last the b-Ud and venerable geographer, Plrofessor Mud Turtle, a person who, bom poor, and of a drndgmg low fomily, had by his own native f orosb raised himself to the headship of the geographers of his generation, said: ' ' My friends, we have indeed made a dis- ! ooveiy here. We have found in a palpable, [compact, and imperishable state what tiie > wisest of our fathers Always regarded as a I mere thing of imaeination. Hiinible your- selvea, my friends. Tor we stand in a majes- itie presence. These are pniallels of lati- f tude I ' Eveiy heart and every head was bowed. so awful, so sablime was tha aagnitadi of the discovery. Many ahed tears. The camp was pitched, and the rest of tlie day giving up to writing vdlaminoaaaooooBts of the marvel, and correcting astronomical tables to fit it^ Toward midnight a demo- nical shriek was heard, then a clattering and rumbling noise, and the next instant a vast terrific eye shot by, with a long tail attaohed, and disappeared in the gloom, still uttering triamphant shrieks. The poor eamp labourers were stricken to the heart with mght, and stampeded for the high grass in a body. But not the soientists. They had no superstitions. They calmly proceeded to exchange theories. The an- cient geographer's opinion was asked. He went into his shell and deliberated long and profoundly. When he came oat at last, they all knew by his worshipping oonnte- nanoe that he had brought light. Said he, * Give thanks for this stupendous tiling which w« have been permitted to witness. It is the Vernal Equinox t ' There were shoutings andsreat Kjoioinn. *Bat,' said the Angle- Worm, ano(«Qing after reflection, * this is a dead summer.* 'Very well, 'said the Turtle, 'weareiw from our reeion ; the season differs with tha difference of time between the two pointiL* ' Ah, true. True enough. But it is night. How should the son pass in tiie nightt' 'In these distant regions he doabtlsas passes always in the night at this hoar. * ' Yes, doubtless that is trae. Bat it ba> ing night, how is ittliat we could see him.' 'It IS a great mystery; I grant that. But I am penuaded that the hnmidity^ of the atmosphere in these remote regions is each that particles of daylight adhere to the diaiv and it was by aid of these that w w«n en- abled to see the san in the dark.* This was deemed satisfaotosy* and dac sntty was made of the decision. But about this moment those dreadfid shriekings were heard again; again the rambling and thondering came speeding up oat of the night ; and once more a flaming great eye flauied by and lost itself in gloom and distance. The oamp labonrers gave themselyes np for lost. The savants w^re sorely perplexed. Here was a marvel hard to account for. They thought and they talked, they talked and they thought.— Finally they tewrned and aged Lord Grand-Daddy-Louglegs, who had been sitting, in deep study, with his slender limbs crossed and his stemmy arms folded, ■aid: 'Deliver your opinion^ brethren, and 110 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ihn I wiU teU my thoaffht^or I think I h«f solved th* problem.^ * So be it^ good your lordahip,' piped th« WMk toebla of the wrinkled and withered Profenor Woodloaea^ 'for we shall hear from yoxtr lordship's lips noaght bat wis- dom. '•— [Here the speaker threw in a mess of trite, threadbare, exasperating quotations from the ancient poets and philosophen^ deliyerina them with unction in the sound- iug grandeurs ol the orisinal tongues, they beug from the Mastodon, the Dodo^ and other dead languages.) Perhaps I ought notto prasnme to mMdle with matters pertdning to astnmMDy at all, in such a presence as 1id% I who haTO made it the business of my life to delTO only among the riches of ILe eztinot languages and unearth the opulence •f tiieir ancient lorn ; but still, as unao* qvainted as I am with .the noble sdenoe of •stnmomy, I bog with deference and huail* H^ to sunest that inasmuch as the last of tasse woiuerfal apparitions prooeeded in ex- actlv the opposite direction from that pm^ sued by the first, which you deddo to be th« Vemal Equinox, and greatly resembled it ia all particulars, is it not poesible, nay oertain, that this Ust is the Autumnal Equi ' '0-o^r '0-0-0 ! go to bed I go to bed r with annoyed derision from everybody. 80 the poor old Woodlouse retreated oal of sight, consumed with shame. Further discusaion followed, and then the vnited voice of the CommiflsicMi begged Lord Longlegs to speak. He said t * Fellow-soientista, it is my belief we havo witnessed a thina which has ooourred in per* feotion- but onoe before in the knowledse of created beia^ It is a phenomenon noticed. He now came reeling forward among the scholars, familiarly slapping first one and then another on the shoulder, say- mg * moe (1c i ) nios ohl boy I ' and smiling a smile ot eUborata oontenl Arrived at a good vosition for spaakinff, ha put his left arm akimbo with his knuckles planted in his hip just onder the edge of his ont-away ooat, bent his ri^t leg^ maeinff his toe on the ground and resting his heel with eaiqr grace against his left shin, puflbd out his luder* manie stomach, opened his lips, leaned his right elbow on Inspector lixard's shoulder^ But the shotdd«r was indignantly with- drawn and the hard-handed son of toil went to earth. He floundered a bit but came up smiling, arranged his attitude with the same oareful detail as before, onlv choosing Pro> fttuor Dogtiok'a shoulder tor * support^ opened his lips and^ Went to earth again. He presently scramUed up onoe more, still smiling, made a loose effort to brush th» dust off his ooat and legs, but a smart pass of his hand missed entirelv, and the foroe of the on- ohecked impuiue slewed him suddenly around, twisted his legs together, and pro* ected him limber apd sprawling, into the pof the Lord Lonslegs. Two or three scholars sprang forward, nung the low crea- ture head over heels into a comer and rein- stated the patrician, smoothing his milled dignity with many soothiiig and regretful speeches. Profesiwr Bull Erog roared out : ' No more of this, sirrah Tumble-Bug. Say your say and then get yon about your business witii speed I— Quick, what is your errand ? Come, move off a trifle ; ywx smell like a stable ; what have yon been at ? ' 'Please (lol)— please your worship, I chanced to light upon a find. But no m— (e-uck !)matter 'bout that. There's b (let) another find whioh— Beg paitl in&u projection, drawing it out dripping, ermitting the struggling multituae «{ ibonrws to suck we end of it, then itraiahtway reinserting it and delivering the fluid to the mobasbeforei Evidently ^ lis liquor had atnogely potent qualities ; ^or all that partook of it were immediately izalted witk great and pleasurable emo* kions, and want staggering about singing ibald songs, embracing, fighting, dancmg. S'ng irruptiona of profanity, and die- authority. Around us steuggled a *. and unoontvolled mob~-nnoonteolled id likewise uncontrollable, for the whole ly, dowB to the very sentinels, were mad le tiie res^ by reason of the drink. We rere seized upon by these reckless creatures,' id within the hour, we^ even we, wero un> listinguisliable from the rest — ^the « tm rali- tation was complete' and universal, hk ^ime fclie camp wore itself oat with its or^^.^a and ank into a stolid and pitiable stupor, in rhoae mysterious bonds raiik was foib }tten, and strange bedfellowa made, one ires, at the resurreotioa, being blasted id our souls petrified with the inorediUe stacle of uist intolnaUs stinking ^ing scavenger, the Tumble Bufi^ and the iUos trions patrician my lord Grand Daddy. Duke of Longlega, lying soundly steeped ^ in sleep, and clasped lovingly in ««oh.' other's arms, the like whereof hath not . been in all the aces that tradition com* passeth, and doubtless none shall ever in tliiB world find faith to master the belief of it save only we that have beheld the damnable and unholy vision. Thus in* sq^uteble be the ways of Qod, whose will bs done. ' This d^, by order, did the Engineer- in-Chief, Herr Spider, rig the necessary teckle for the overturning of the vast re- servoir, and so ite calamitous oonteuto were discharged in a torrent upon l^e thirsty earth, which drank it up, and now there is no more danger, we reserving but a few , drops for experiment and scrutiny, and to exhibit to the king and oonsoquently pre- serve amonff the wonders of the museum. What this liquid is has been determined. It is without question that fierce and most destructive fluid called lightning. It was wrested, in ite container, from ite store- house in the clouds by the resistless might of the flying planet, and hurled at our feet as she aped by. An interesting dis> covery here results, which is, that light- ning, kept to itself, is quiescent ; it is the .. assaulting contact of the thunderbolt thai « releases it from captivity, ignites ite awful fires, and so produces an instantaneous combustion and explosion which spread disaster and desolation fai' and wide in ^ earth.' After another dmj devoted to rest and reooveiy, the expedition proceeded, upon its - way. Some days later it went into camp .; in a very pleasant part of the idain,anai« the savanta sallied f (vth to sos what ikm might find. Their reward was at hanfiUi Professor Bull Frog discovered • strangtii tree, and called his comrades. They ini^ speoted it with profound interest. It was ▼erv tail and straight, and wholly devoid of bark, limbs or fdiage. By trianeulatiatt Lord Ixmglegs determined ite altitadsi.< Herr Spider measured ite oiroomferenos at ite tc^ by a mathematical demonstration based upon the warrant furnished bT the uniform degree of ite taper upwaro. It was considerad a very extraordinary find ; and since it was a tree of a hitherto unknown species, Professor Woodlouse gavo it a name ol a learned sound, beins noos other than that of Professor Buu IVog translated into the anciant Mastodon language^ for it had always been the onstom with disooverers to perpetuate their names and honour themselves bv f ' ■:'-i 113 MAKK TWAIN S SKKTCHES. I :»] E this aort of connection wiih their di»> €OT«iet. Noir, Profewor Field Moaie luTing Jlaoed hii lenaiiiva ear to the tree, eteoted a rioh hMmonioae loaad issoing from it. This larprisiiig thing was taated and enjoyed by each schoUir in tiun, and oreatwaa the gladness and aatoniflhment formation waa aoughtof theae spiders, bat in vain. They < ware of different national* j ity from those with tha expedition, and their language seamed but a musiod. I meaningless jargcm. They were a timid, gentle race, but ignorant^ and heathenish | worshippers of unknowu gods. The ex- pedition detailed a neat detachment oil missionaries to teach them the true religion, I and in a week's time a precioos work had been wrought among those darkened ores. turea, not three fiamiliaa being by that tiiii«j MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. lil with eAob other or having a settled Bf in any Bystem of relijgion wliatever. lis encouraged the expedition to eatab* colony of miuaiunariea there per- leiitly, that the work of graces might go BO. But let US not outrun our narrative. After examination of the fronts of the ca- and much thinking and exchanging theories, the scientists deterinineutl.e iture of these aingulai- formatioua. They kid that each belon^^ed mainly to the Old ed Sandstone period ; that the cavern ants rose in innumerable and wonderfully Bgular strata high in the air, each atratum Lbout five frog-spans thick, and that in the present disoovety lay an overpowering ref u- ktion of all received geology ; for between bvery two layers of Old Red Sandstone re- ged a thin layer of decomposed liinutitoue ; instead of there bavins been but one Old Sandstone period there had certainly not less than a hundred and seventy* Ive I And by the same token it was plain Ihat there had also been a hundred and Bventy-five floodings uf the earth and de- ositingof limestone strata I The unavoid- |ble deduction from which pair of facts was, ~ie overwolming truth that the world, in* ~ of being only two hundred thousand irs old, was older by .millions upon mil* ions of years I And there was another irious thing: every stratum of Old Red ddstone was pierced and divided at mathe* btically regular intervals by vertical strata limestone. Upshootings of igneous rook tirough fractures in wftter forma^ons were ommon ; but here was the first instance lere water-formed rock had been so pro- oted. It was a great and noble disooverv, ^d its value to science was considered to be iiestimable. A critical examination of some of the lower »ta demonstrated the presence of fossil its and tumble-bugs (the latter accompa- led by their peculiar goods,) and with hish ratification tne fact was enrolled upon the uentific rec ton of the mastodon, the ichthyosaurus, tlu I cave bear, the prodigious elk. Here, also^ | were the charred bones of some of these ex- j tinot animals and of the young of Man's own species, split lengthwise, showing that to] his taste the marrow was a toothsome lux- ury. It was plain that auui had robbed] MARK TWAIM'S SKETCHES. IM those bones of their content «inoe Uo tooth-nwrk of any beast was upun them— albeit the Tumble-1 us intruded the rein;irk that "do beast oould mark a bone with ite teeth, anyway." Here were proofs that Man had vague, grovelling notions of art ; for this faot was conveyed bv certain tbinos nuurked with the untranslatable worcb, *' Flint Hatoheta, Knives, Arrow-Heads, and Bone Ornaments of Primeval Man." Some of these seemed to be rude weapons chipped oat of flint, and in a secret plaoe was fonnd soma mora in tnrooess of oonstmction, with this untranslatable legend on a thiA flimsy material, lying by : ' *' Jones, if you don't want to be dis- [ charged from the Museum, make the next primteval weapons more careful — you I eouldnt tran fool one of these sleepy old sutifflo grannyi from the Ooledge with j tne last ones. And mind you the animilen you carved on soma of the Bone Ornaments 18 a blame sight too good for any prinueval (man that was evar fooled. — Bamum, [Manager." ' Back of the burial plaoe was a mass of lashes, showing that man always had a feast |«t a foneral else why the ashes in such a ^laoe ? and showing also, that he believed in ' and the immortality of the soul— else rhy these solemn ceremonies? ' To sum up. — We believe that Man had a itten language. We know that he existed st one time, and is not a myth ; also, that lie was the companion of the cave bear, the stodon, and other extinct species ; that lie oooked and ate them and likewise the ing of his own kind ; also, that he bore .jide weapons, and knew somethins of art ; kbat he imagined he had a soul, and pleased limself with the fancy that it was immortal, it let us not laugh ; there may be creatures existence to whom wo and our vanitieB td profundities may seem as Indioroaii.' SVD or PART SBOOim. LEARNED FABLES FOR GOOD OLD BOYS AND OIRL& Near tb« margin of the great rircr the ientists presently found • hnge, shapely 1% yritn this inscription : ' In 1847, in the spring, the river over- red its banks and covered the whole hip. The depth was from two to six More than 900 head of cattle were and many houses destroyed. The ftyOTordsndthismenorialto os erected to perpetuate the evenl Ood spare as ths rept-tifcion of it.' >fVith infinite trouble. Professor Wood* louse succeeded ill making a translation of this inscription, which was sent home, and straightway an enormous excitement was created about it It confirmed, in a remaik* able way, certain treasured tradittoos of the ancients. The translation was slightly marred by one or two untranslatable words, but these did not impair the general clearness of the meaning. It is hero pre- sented : ' One thousand eight hundred and forty- seven years ago, the (fires ?) desoendad and oonsumed the whole city. Only some nine hundred souls were saved, aU others de- stroyed. The (king ?) commanded tiiis stone to be set ap • • • • (untranslatable) prevent the repetition of it This was the first successful and satisfac- tory translation that had been made of tlie mysterious character left behind him Ytv ex- tinot man, and it gave Professor Woodlouse such reputation that at once every seat of learning in his native land oonferred a dsgrss of the most illustrious grade upon him, and it was believed that if he had been a soldier, Mid had turned his splendid talents to tho extermination of a remote tribe of reptilea, the kiuff would have ennobled him ana made h^ rich. And this, too^ was the origin of that school of scientists oalled Monolosists, whose specialty is the deciphering of the ancient records of the extinct bird termed Man. (For it is now decided that man was a bird, and not a reptile.) But Professor Woodlouse began and remamed chief of these, for it was sranted that no translatioaa were ever so free from error as his. Others made mistakes — he seemed inoapablo of it. MJany a memorial of the lost race was iftsr* wards found, but none snrer attained to the renown and veneration achieved by the ' Mayoritish Stone '—it being so oalled frouL the word * Mayor ' in it, whioh, being tran*^ - slated ' King,' ' Mayoritish Stone ' wai but another way of saying ' King Stone.' Another time the expedition made a groa« 'find.' It was* a vast round flattish mass, ten fro|Mipans in diameter, and fiv6 or sixi high. Professor Snail put on his spectacles and examined it all round, and then climbed up and inspected the top. He said : ' Tbe result of my pre-lustrations and per- scontation of this isoperimetrical protube* ranee is a belief that it is one of those rsre and wonderful creations left by the Moand Builders. The fact that this one is lamelli* brancluate in its formation, simply adds tt its interest as being possibly ol a 116 MARK TWAIN'S SKBTOHES. Miii '-] kind from any we read of in the records of science, but yet in no manner marring its antbenticity. Let the megalophonous grass- hopper sound a bltist and summon hither the perfunctory and circumferoneous Tumble- Bus, to the end that excavations may be made and learning gather new treasures.' Not a Tumble-Bug could be found on duty, so the Mound was excavated by a working party of ants. Nothing was discovered. This would have been a great disappointment had not the venerable Longlegs explained ttie matter. He said : • It is now plain to me that the mysterious anc forgotten race of Mound Builders did ncc always erect these edifices as mausole- ums, else in this case, as in all previous cases, their skeletons would be found here, along with the rude implements which the weatures used in life. Is not this manifest?' • True ! true 1' from everybody. • Then we have made a discovery of pecu- liar value here ; a discovery which greatly ex- tends our knowledge of this creature in place of diminishing it ; a discovery which will add lustre to tha achievements of this expedition, and win for us the commenda- iionB of scholars everywhere. For the absence of the customary relics here means nothing less than this' : The Mound Builder, instead of being the ignorant, savage nptile we have been taught to consider him, was a creature of cultivation and high intel- ligdnee, capable of not only appreciating worthy achievements of the great and noble of his species, but of commemorating them ! FelloW'Bcholars, this stately Mound is not a sepulchre>-it is a monument 1' A profound impression was prodnoed by thk. Bat it was interrnptod by rude and deri- slve laughter— and the Tumble-Bag ap- peared. *A monument i' quoth he. *A mono- ment set up by a Mound Builder 1 Aye, so it is, indeed, to tiie shrewd keen eye of scisnoe; bat to an ignorant poor devil who- has never seen a cofiege, it is not a monu- ment, strictly speaking, bat is yet a most rich and noble property, 'and with yoar worships' good permission I will proceed t6 manufaoflure it into spheres of exceeding grace and<— ' The Tiunble-Bug was driveik away with •tripes, and the draughtsmen of the expedi- tion were set to making views of the %lona- ment from different stiuadpoints, while Pro- fessor Woodlouse, in a frenzy of scientific zeal, travelled all over it and all around it hoping to find an inscription. But if there haa ever been one it had decayed or been removed by some vandal aa a rSlie. • ' n The views havine been completed, it wai now considered sate to load the precioui Monument itself upon the backs of four of the largest Tortoises, and send it home to the King's Museum, which was done ; and ^hes' it arrived it was received with enormous ecUU and escorted to its future abiding-^ace by thousands of enthusiastic citizens, King Bull Frog XVI. himself attending and con- descending to sit enthroned upon it through- out the progress. The growing rigour of the weather wm now admonishing the scientist to close their labours for the present, so they made pre- parations to journey homeward. But even their last days among the caverns bore fruits; for one of the scholars found in an out-of- the-way comer of the Museum or ' Burial- Place ' a most strange and extraordinaty thing. It was nothing less than a doul^ man-bird lashed together breast to breast by a natural ligament, and labelled with the un- translatable words * Siamese Twins. ' The ofheial report concerning this thing closeu thus : ' Wherefore it appears that there were in olden times two distinct species of thii majestic fowl, the one being single and the other double. Nature has a reason for all things. It is plain to the eye of science that the double-man originally inhabited a region where dangers abounded ; hence he was paired together to the end that while one part slept the other might watoh ; and likewise that danger being discovered, then might always be a double instead of a singk power to oppose it. All honour to the mys- tery-dispelling eye of god-like science ! ' And near the double man- bird was found what was plainly aii ancient record of hii, marked upon numberless sheets of a thin white substance and bound together. Almost the first glance that Professor WoodlouN threw into it revealed this following sent- ence, which he instantly translated and laid before the scientists, in a tremble, and it uplifted every soul there srith exultation and astonishment. 'In truth, it is believed by many that ttl lower animals realson and talk together. When the great official report of the expe- dition appeared, the above sbntenoe bore toil comment : 'Then there are lower animals than Man 1 1 This remarkable passage can mean nothing;^ else. Man himself is extinct, but they msy:| still exist. What can they b« ? Where do they inhabit ? One's entnusiasm bursts all bounds in the contemplation of the brilliant field of discovery and investigation hen thrown open to science. We close ourlabonn' yrith ths humble pri^r that ^our Majest; MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 117 leum or ' Burial- will immediately appoint a oommiasion and command it to reat not nor spare expense until tiie search for this hitherto unsuspected race of the creatures of God shall be crowned with sttcoess.' ' The expedition then jonrne^red homeward after its long absence and faithful endea- vours, and was received with a mighty ova* tion by the whole grateful country. There were vu^;ar, iguorant carpers, of course, as there always are and always will be ; and naturally one of those was the ob- scene Tumble-Bug. He said that all he had learned by his travels was that science only needed a spoonful of supposition to build a mountain of demonstrated fact out of ; and that for the future he meant to be content with the knowledge that nature had made free to idl creatures, and not go prying into ue august secrets of the Deity. NIAQARA. Niagara Falls is a most enjoyable place of iwort. The hotels are excellent, and the eioes not at all exorbitant The oppor- nities for fishing are no*i surpassed in the country ; in fact, they are not even equalled I elsewhere. Because, in other localities, cer- tain places in the streams are much better than others ; but at Niagara one place is [ jn^t as good as another, for the reason that > thcj fiih do not bite anywhere, and >o there if no'^dse in your walkmg five miles to fish, when Tou can depend on being just as suc- cessful nearer home. The advantages of this state of things have never heretofore been I properly placted before the public. '^' ' llie weather ie cool in summer, and the walks and drives are all pleasant and none I of them fatiguing. When you start out to ' do" Uie I^alls yon first drive down about a I mile, and pay a small sum for the i>rivilege of looking down from a precipice into the narrowest part of the Niagara river. A railway "cut" through a hiU would be as comely if it had the anery river tumbling and foaming tlirough its oottom. You can descend a staircase here a hundred and fifty feet down, and stand at the edge of the [water. After you have it, you will won- [derwhy you did it ; but you will then be I too late. The guide will explain to you, in his jblood-curdlins wav, how he saw the little [steamer, Maid of the Mist, desoend the fear- ifnl rapids— how first one paddle-liox was out |«f Bgnt behind the raging billows, and then lie other, and at what point it was that her lokestaok toppled overboard, and where Iker planking bena to break and part asun- ' -and how she did finally live through the trip, after accomplishing the incredible feat of travelling seventeen miles in six minutea, or six miles in seventeen minutes, I have really forgotten which. But it was very extraordinary, anyhow. It is worth the pripe of admission t,o hear the guide tell the story nine times in succession to diffieir- ent parties, and never miss a word or alter a sentence or a gesture. Then you drive over the Suspension Bridge, and divide your misery between the chances of smashing down two hundred feet into the river below, and the chances of having the railway train overhead smashing down on to you. Either possibility is dis- comforting taken by itself, but mixed to- gether, they amount in the aggregate to posi- tive unhappiness. On the Canada side yon drive along the chasm between long ranks of photographers standing behind their cameras, rea^ to make an ostentatious frontispiece of yon and your decaying ambulance, and your solemn crate with a hide on it, which you are ex- pected to regard in the light of a horse, and a diminished and unimportant t«ck* ground of sublime Niagara; and agreai many people have the incredible effironterr or the native depravity to aid and abet thu sort of crime. Any day, in tike hands of these photo- graphers, you may see stately pictures 6f papa -and mamma, Johnny and Bub and Sis, or a couple of country cousins, all smiling vacantly, and all disposed in studied attd uncomfortable attitudes in their carriage, and all looming up in their awe-inspiring imbecility before the snubbed and diminished presentment of that majeiltic presence wh(^e ministering spirits are the rainbows, whosA voice is the thunder, whose awful front is veiled in clouds, who was monarch here dead and forgotten ages before this hackful Of •mall reptiles was deemed temporarily neces'- sary to nil a crack in the world's unnolM myriads, and will still be monarch here ages and decades of ages after they shall have gathered themselves to their blood relations, the ether worms, and been mingled with the unremembering dust. There is no actual harm in making Nins- gara a background whereon to display one's marvellous insignificance in a good strong light, but it requires a sort of superhumM self-complacencv to enable one to do it. When you have examined the stupen- dous 'Horseshoe Fall till you are satisfied you cannot improve on it, you return to America bv the new suspension bridse/ and follow up the bank to where they exnibit the Cave vt the Winds. Here I followed instructions, and di\''e3t«4 'U b. 118 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. myself of all my clothing, and put on a waterproof jacket and overalls. This cos* tume 18 picturesque, but not beautiful. A guide, similarly dressed, led the way down a flight of winding stairs, whicL wound and wound, and still kept on winding long after the tbing ceased to be a novelty, and then terminated long before it had begun to be a pleasure. We were then well down under the precipice, but still considerably above the level of the river. We now began to creep along flimsy bridges of a single plaiik, our persons shield- •d from destruction by a crazy wooden rail- ing, to which I clung with both hands — not because I was afraid, but because I wanted to. Presently the descent became steeper, and the bridge flimsier, and sprays from the American Fall began to rain down on us in fast-increasing sheets that soon became blinding, and after that our progress was moatly in the nature of gropmg. Now a furioaa wind beoan to rush out from behind fhe waterfall, which seemed determined to aweep ua from the bridge, and scatter us on the rooka and among the torrents below. I ranarked that I wanted to go home ; but it was too lata. We were almost under the monBtrons wall of watw thundering down from aboive, and speech wap in vain in the midst of such a pitiless crash of sound. In another moment the guide disappeared behind the deluge, and Mwildered by the thondar, driven helplessly by the wind, and smitten by the arrowy tempest «i rain, I followed. All was darkness. Such a mad storming, roaring and bellowing of warring wind and water never erased my •ars before. I bent my head and seemed to reoeive the Atlantic on my back. The .world seemed going to destruction. I could not see anything, we flood poured down so savaoely. I raised my head, with open Bumth, and most of the American cataract want down my throat. If I had sprunc a leak now, I had been lost. And at this moment I discovered that the bridge had osaaed, and ^e must trust for a f^ioung to the slippery and precipitous rocks. I never was sp scared before and survived it. But we got through at last, and emerged into the open day, where we could stand in front of the lashed and frothy and seething world of descending water, and look at it. When I saw how much of it there was, and how fearfully in earnest it was, I was sprty I had fona behind it. "Dia noble red man has alwajrsbeen a friend and darling of mine. I love to read about him in tales and legends and romances. I lora to read of his inspired sagaoitj^, and his love of the wild free life of mountain and forest, and his general nobility of character, ! and his stately and metaphorical manner of speech, and his chivalrous love for the dusk* maiden, and the picturesque pomp of hu dress and accoutrements. When I found the shops at Niagara Falls full of dainty Indian bead-work, ^d stunning moccasins, and equally stunnina toy figures represent- ing human bciaus who carried their weaponi | in holes bored through their arms and bodies, < and had been shaped like a pie, I was filled ; with emotion. I knew that now, at last, I was going to come face to face with the nobl« Red Man. A lady clerk in a shop told me, indeed, that all her grand array of curiosities were made bv the Indians, and that they were J>Ienty about the Falls, and that they were riendly, and that it would not be dangeroos to speak to them. And sure enough, as I approached the bridge leading over to Lun» Island, I came upon a noble Son of the Forest sitting under a tree, diligently at work on a beira reticule. He wore a slouch hat and brogans, and had a short black pipe in his mouth. Thus does the baneful con- tact with our effeminate civilization dilute the picturesque pomp which is so natural to the Indian when far removed from ns in. hia native haunts. I addressed the relic •• follows : — 'Is the Wawhoo-Wanff-Wang of the Whack-a- Whack happy? Does the Kreat Speckled Thunder sieh for the war path, or is his heart contented with dreaming of tht dusky maiden, the Pride of the Fwestt Does the mi^ty Sachem yearn to drink the blood of his enemies, or is he satisfied to make bead reticules for the papooses of the paleface? Speak, sublime reuc of bygone grandeur — venerable rum, speak I ' The relic said — 'An' is it mesilf, Dennis Hoolieui, that ye'd be takin' for a dirty Injin, ye drawlin', lantern-jawed, spider-legged divil ? By the piper that played before Moses, I'll ate ye 1 ' I went away from there. By-and-bye, in the neighbourhood of the Xerrapin Tower. I came upon a gentle danehter of the aborigines in fringed and beaded buckskin moccasins and leggings, seated on a bench, with her pretty wares about her. She had just carved out • wooden chief that had a strong family le- semblance to a clothes-pin, and was now boring a hole through his abdomen to put his bow through. I hesitated a moment, and then addressed her : " Is the heart of the forest maiden heavy ? Is the Laughing Tadpole lonely ? Does she mourn over the extinguished council-fires ol MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 119 I her noe, and the vaniahed glor^ of her janoMtora ? Or does her sad spint wander lafar towards the huntin^-srounds whither [her brave Oobler-of-the-Liehtnings is gone? jWhT la my daughter suent? Has she |augnt against the paleface stranger ? ' The maiden said— " Faix. an' is it Biddy Malone ye dare ItobecaUin' names? Lave this, or 111 shy /oar lean carcase over the cataract, ye (tnivellin' blaegard ! " I adjourned from there also. "C(mfound these Indians!" I said. I" They told me they were tame; but, if [appearances go for anything, I should say [they were all on the war path." I made one more attempt to fraternize rith them, and only one. I came upon a ip of them gathered in the shade of a at tree, makmg wampum and moccasins, id addressed them in the language of firiend> 'Noble Red Men, Braves, Grand chems, War Chiefs, Squaws, and ffigh [uck-a«Mnck8, the paleface from the land ' the setting sun greets you ! You, bene- Icent Polecat — you, Devourer of Moun- I — you, Roarinc Thundergust — you, ^ully Boy with a Guass Eye — the paleface . beyond the great waters greets you all 1 Tax and pestilence have thinned yourranks, id destroyed your once proud nation, ^oktr'and seven-up, and a vain modem ex- enae for soap, unknown to your glorious iceators, have depleted ^our purses. Ap- ropriatinff, in your simphcity, the property it othlsrs, nas gotten yon into trouble. Mis- epresenting facts, in your siniple iimocenoe, damaged your reputation with the soul- ipcj usurper. Trading for forty-rod whiskey, I enable you to get drunk and happy and omahawk your families, has played the rerlasting mischief with the picturesque [>mp of vonr dress, and here you are, in the light of the nineteenth century, gotten hp like the rag-tag-and-bobtail of the pur- lieus of New York. For shame ! Remem- your ancestors! Recall their miprhty 'eeda ! Remember Uncas ! — and Red Jacket I and Hole in the Dav|— and Whoopde- idledoo ! Simulate their achievements ! nfuHyonrselves under my banner, noble vages, illustrious guttersnipes' — >wn wid him I' ' Scoop the blacgard !' urn himl' 'Hang him I* 'Dhround m!' Itwaithe quickest operation that ever 'as. I simjdy aaw as sudden flash in the ir of clubs, ' wiokbat, fists, bead-baskets, id moooasins — a single flash, and they all peared to hit me at once, and no two of lem in th« same place. In the next instant the entire tribe was upon me. They tore half the clothes off me ; they broke my arms and legs ; they gave me a thump that dented tile top of my head till it would hold ooffee like a saucer ; and, to crown their disgrace- ful proceedings and add insult to injury, they threw me over the Niagara Falls, and I got wet. About ninety or a hundred feet from the top, the remains of my vest caught on a pro- jecting rock, and I waa almost drowned be- fore I could get loose. I finally fell, and brought up in a world of white foam at the foot of the Fall, whose celled and bubbly masses towered up several inches above my head. Of course I got into the eddy. I sailed round and round in it fortr-four times — and just exactly missing it by a hair's- breadth every time. At last a man walked down and sat down dose to that bush, and put a pipe in his mouth, and lit a match, and foUowed me with one eye and kept the other on the match, while he sheltered it in his hands from the wind. Presently a puff of wind blew it out. The next time I swept around he said — ' Got a match ?' * Yea ; in my other vest. Help me cni, please.' •Not for Joe.' When I came round again, I said— *, Excuse the seemingly impertinent eini- osity of a drowning man, but will you ex- plain this singular conduct of yours ?' ' With pleasure. I am the coroner. Don't hvrry on my account. I can wait for yoiu But I wish I had a match.' I said—' Take my place, and III go and get you one.' He declined. This lack of confidence on his part created a coldness between us, ' and from that time forward I avoided him. It was my idea, in case anything happened to me, to so time the occurrence as to tiirow my custom into the hands of the opposition coroner over on the American side. At last a policeman came along, and ar> rested me for disturbing the peace bv yelling at the people on shore for help, l^e judge fined me, but I had the advantage o^f h^m. My money was with my pantaloons, aoad my pantaloons were with we Indians, i Thus I esca]^. I am now lying in a very critical condition. At least I am lying any way — critical or not critical. I am hurt aU over, but I cannot tell the full extent yet, because the doctor is not done taking inven- tory. He will make out my manitest this evening. However, thus far he thinks only sixteen of my wounds are fatal. I don% mind the others. Upon regaining my right mind, I said— 120 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ,"i, ^:t 1. 'It is an awful savage tribe of ludians that do the bead work and moccasins for Niagara Falls, doctor. Where are they from?' ' limeriok, my son.* HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF. Th^ following I find in a Sandwich Island paper which some triend has sent from that tranquil far-off retreat. Thd coincidence be- tween my own experience and that here set down by the late Jdr. Benton is so remark- able that I cannot forbear publishing and ooinmenting upon the paragraph. The Sand* wioh Island paper says : >. * Etow touchinsr is this tribute of the late Hon. T. D. Benton to nis mother's influence :— " My mother asked me never to use tobacco ; I have ■eirer touched it from that time to the present 4aj. She asked me not to gamble, and I have aeyer gamlded. I cannot tiell who is losing in games that are being played. She admonished mftt teo, against liquordrinking, and whatever eapaoity for endurance I have at present, and whatever usefulness I may have attained through Jife, I attribute to having compiled with fier pious and correct wishes. When T was seven years of age, she asked me not to drink, and tofn I made a resolution of total abstin- ence : and that I have adhered to it through all time I owe to my mother." I never saw anything so curious. It is al> BOBt an exact epitome of my own mond flueer— ^after simply substituting a grand- mother for a mother. How well i remember my grandmother's asking me not to use to- Mcoo, good old sonl I She said, * YonVe at it again, are you, you whelp ? Now, don't let m« ever catch yon chewing tobacco be- fore breakfast again, or 111 bUck-snidce you within an inoh<^ your life !' I have never touched it at thai honr of the morning from that hdnr to the present day. 8hm asked me not to gamble. She whis- pered and said, 'Pat np those wicked earda this minute I— two pair and a jack, ion anmakall, and the other fellow's sot a ash!» * InoTsr have c;ambled from that day to thi»— n0vw onoe— without a 'cold deck' in mv pocket. I cannot even tell who is go- ing to loae in games that are being p!ayed unless I dealt myself. When I was two vearsof age she asked me not to drink, and then I miMe a resolu- tion of total abstinence. That I have ad- hered to it, and enjoyed the beneficent ef- fects of it all through time, I owe to my grandmother. I have never drank a drop uouk that day to this of any kind of water. :.iX FIRST INTERVIEW WITH ARTEMU8 WARD. I had never seen him before. He brought ! letters of introduction from mutual friends | m San Francisco, and by invitation I break- fasted with him. It was almost religion, I there in the silver mines, to precede such a meal with whiskey cocktails. Artemua, with the true cosmopolitan instinct^ alwavi defeiTed to the customs of the country h« was in, and so he ordered three of those | abominations. Hingston was present. I' said I would rather not drink a whiskey ^1 cocktaiL I said it would go right to inj: s liead, and confuse me that I would be in » ^ helpless tangle in ten minutes. I did not I want to act like a lunatic before strangen. But Artemus gently insisted, and I di'ank : the treasonable mixture under protest, and \ felt at the time that I was doing a thing I j might be sorry for. In a minute or two 1 1 began to imagine that my ideas were! clouded. I waited in great anxiety for the i conversation to open, with a sort of Taguel hope that my understanding would prove! clear, after lul, and my misgivings ground* less. Artemus dropped an unimportant nmark k or two, and then auumed a look of inper* human earnestness, and made the following I astounding speech. He said: 'Now, there i« one thing I ought to sak ^ vou about before I forget it. Yon nave beeo '■ here in Silverland — here in Nevada— two or] three ^ears, and, of course, your poaition osi the duly press has made it neces^ry for yo« to go down in the mines and examine them! carefully in det<^l, and therefore you knovf all about the silver-mining business. Now, j what I want to get at is — is, well, the wsjr | the deposits of ore are made, you know, I For instance. Now, «s I understaiid it, the'^ vein which contains the silver is sandwiched I in between casings of jg;ranite, and runjil along the ground, and sticks up like a curl)- 1 stone. Well, take a vein forty feet thick, ^ for example, or eighty for that matter, or y even a nundred— say yon go down on it| with a shaft, straight down you know, orf with what you call "incline, " maybe yon gol down five hundred feet, or maybe yon don'if go down but two hundred — any way, you gol^j aown, and all this time this vein grows nu'-m rower, when the casing* come nearar or an-l proach each other, you may say — that imA when they do approach, which of couml they do not always do, particularly in caMl where the nature of the formation is suc*^ that they stand apart wider than they ot.^ wise would, and M'hich geology has failed account for, although everyl^iing iu " MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. 121 TH ABTIIMUS [fdenoe goM to ]^ove that, all thiujis being I equal, it would if it did not, or would not jeertainly H it did, and then of course they \ttn. Bo not you think it is V I aaid to myseli : ' Now I just knew how it would be — that [whiskqr cook-tail has done the business for {me ; I don't understand any more than a I clam.' And I said aloud : ' I — I — that is — if you don't mind, would [you — ^would you say that over again? I ■ought—' ' Oh, certainly, certainly ! Yon see I am [yery unfamiliar with the subject, and per- Ihaps I don't present m^ case clearly, out No, no — ^no, no — you state it plain igh, but that cocktail has muddled me a ittle. But I will— no, I do understand for I matter ; but I would get the hang oi it all the better if you went over it again—' -ud 111 pay better attention this time. Bs said, 'Why, what I was after, * WM [Here he became even more fearfully im- live than ever, and emphasiMd each icular point by checking it off on his iger ends.] 'This vfM^ or lode, or ledge, or what- ei you osU it, runs along oetween two \hj(fn of nanite' just the same as if it were la sandwich. Tery^elL No«^, suppose you 4<^^on that, say a thousand feet, or ly be twelve hundnd (it don't really mat- •I) heiotp you drift, and then you start r drifts, some of tixpm across the lede^, oilers i^Iong the lenstb of it, where the iuVpherets, — I believe tney call them sul- ijberets, though why they should, consider- ng that, so ur as I can see, the main de- ondenoe of a miner does not so lie, as some iippoee, bat in which it cannot te succearfulty maintained, where the same should not oontinne, hile part and parcel of the same or not emitted to either in the sense referred whereas, under different circumstances, most inexperienoad among us could not etect it if it were, or might overlook it if it did, or scorn the very idea of such a thins iven though it irere |Mupably demonstrated such. Am I vpi, right ?' I said, ■orBondnlly— 'I feel ashanrad of self , Mr. WMd. I know I ou^^t to un- itand yon perfectly well, but you Me th«t herons wmskey cocktail has got into my , and now I cannot understand even simplest proposition. I told you how it lid be.' i.i-..-' ' Oh, dont mind it, don't mind it i the 1)6 fault was my own, no doubt — though I did think it clear enough for ' ' Don't sav a word. Clear I Why, you stated it as clear as the sun to anybody but an abjeot idiot, but it's that . confoupded cocktail that has played the mischief.' ' No ; now don't say that. I'll begin it all over again and — ' ' Don't now — ^for goodness sake, don't do anything of the kind, because I tell yon my head is m such a condition that I don't be- lieve I oould understand the most trifling question a man could ask me. ' ' Now, don't be afraid. I'll put it so plaii^ this time that you can't help but get the hang of it. We will besiin at the veiy be* sinning. ' Leaniq g for across the table,. W^ determined impressiveness wrought uptm ^ every feature, and fingers prepared to keep tolly of each point as enumerated ; f^d ( leaniAg fonvard with painful interait, tfr solved to oomprdbend or perish. 'You kaow the vein, the le^ge, the thing that oqptaiiis the metal, whereby it constitutef, th« n/^ dium between all other forces, whethar of Cent orremotn agencies, so, brought fp in favour of tlie former, M;aiii|it tl^a lal> ter, or the latter against the fcmucr, or ajl, or both, or ct^promising tha relative .44r ferenoes existing within tne radius wh{B|ioe culminate the sevfonl degrees of similanty to whioh— '' ) • ' t ■ Oh, haiig fuy wopdeQ bead, it aint any use I— itaj&'t any use to itjr-X can't understand aqy^ung. The plainer Yitf^ get it, the more I can't g^t the hang of it.^ . .< I hewrd a suspipious. noise bAhi^d^iOje, pnd turned il^ time to see Qingston dodmnig behind a newspaper, aitfl aiiakuig vriui » gentle eostaqr of laughter. IIookied*t Wa^ agiun, and he had thrown ffff his dfeii^ solemnity and was laughing alvo. Thefi I saw that I had been sold^-rthpit I had been ■ mad* the victim of a swindle in the way of a string of plausible worded sentences that didn t mean anything under the sun. Artenua Wwd was one oi the best fellows in the world, and one qi the most companionable. It has been said that he was not fluent in conversation, but with the above experienpf in my mind, I differ. HINTS T0BABB&K8. sooawnoNs which will bkvolijtiohii9 ' TBI AKT OF SHAVING. It is safe to say that nine put o| tea of ^ men one meets on the streets in onr oit|«is shave, or rather are shaved. Scam .umve the mopataohe, some shave the ohin, aome the cheeks. Indeed one must go into 1» MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ml i mathematics to the tables of penniitations and oombinations to find out hew many Tsrieties of shavings are possible. Woman is aoonsed of being the party who devotes hertime to appearance and frivolities of the mirror, but, after all, man does his share of itb The reason he escapes the charge is that he blandly seta down his decorative work as being a work of neoessitv. And it is urged that shaving ia a very old raatom, nor have we anything to sav against itk except that it is unnatural, and is, and ihooldbe acknow4edged to be a concession to the looking-slass and to vanity. But the point ia, that old as is the art, it is a singu* tar how few know how to shave. ' Nearly all men shave in the passive voice.' This Aay be taken as the grammatical phrase or as an aoknowledsment of the voice of the barber which they have to endure. Each rig^uflcation is true. And while nearly all dnen consent to refer their shaving to a few who make it a business, only a fraction of those few understand their art There is a financial blunder at the bottom ol it that makes trouble all through. The dogma that a shave is a shave is a mistake. One man with a stiff beard and a full face wdlohooM to have his whole expressive ooonttfoanoe dean shorn ; another wul shave on his upper lip. ToeiMdi it is a 'shave,' and each is charged alike. One may«require tiiirty niinatei' attentiooi the other ten min* atea. The first will dnll a razor, the second not aflfect the edge. To each it is ten cents. Now, a barber's working day, we will as- sume, is ten hours 16hg. If he is occupied three quarters of his time, he must be busier fiian usually appears. Thia sives him seven hours labour, and if he strucK a dajy of half- hour faces, his whole reodpts would be one dollar and forty cents. Even this would not fs,y vr^^e it not for the s^adnctive side issuer — ^the hvr cuts and tiie shampoos oi the trade— that biing in more per hour than the fundaTn<)ntal 'adustry. Now, ab '-tie price and the circumstances of shaving ffo, it is a constant hurry to finish a man, as anhvipg scarcely pays at the best, ■ad it ho is one of the most absorbing sub- ieots — ^full of shave and a stiff beard— it is ia loss to work upon him. To shave him care- fallv takes too much time dind colits the edge of the razor. To skim over his face, cutting of sections of beard here and therO, and leav- ing old oases of hair along the deserts of the cheek, saves the razor and spoils the person who iMtvs for the operation, and who should not be forgotten. The scale of prices ought to be regulated by what one g^, and bar- ben ought to have the oottrage to oharge for what they do. This done, a revolution in the art woal<| j follow. Speed would not be the great ain. I Attention could be given to the removal o( | the beard, which, in old times, it was as im' , portant to remove as the lather, and the mas i who went out of the barber's shop would leave satisfied, instead of hoping that thi [ next time it would be better. We reoom- mend these considerations to the trade with> I out charge for the advice. Shavins iasj eustom at civilization ; playing wiu soap bubbles is a game of childhood. It is now a j matter of lu^ which of these operationi \ fall to the barber's patron to-day. MBS. MoWILLIAMS AND THE LIGHTNING. Well, air—continued Mr. McWilliami for this was not the beginniiig of his talk— j the fear of lightning ia one of the most dit. tressing infiimitiea a human being can be in- flicted with. It ia mostly confined to| women ; but now and then yon find it in a ^ little dog and sometimes in a man. It u ! a particularly distressing inflimitj, iot the reason that it takes the aaad oat of a per- son to an extent which no other fear can, and it cant be reasoned with neither can it be shamed out of a person. A woman who tonld face the very devil himself— or, a mouba — loses her ffrip ai^ goes aU to Jueces in front of a flaah of fightung.. Her . right is something pitiful to sise. Well, as I Was telling you, I woke up witt that smothered and ludooatable eey of! ' Mortimer ! Mortimer !' waiUng in my ears; and as soon as I oould scrape my laoultisi togethes I reached over in the dark and thcu { said : I ' Evangeline is that you calling ? What \ ia the matter ? Where are you ?' ' Shut up in the boot closet. You ought to be ashamed to lie there and sleep so and i such an awful storm going on.' ' Why, how can one be ashamed when he is asleep :' It ^'. ur-^asonable ; a man can't be asnamed wheu he is asleep, Evan- geline.' • You never try, Mortimer— ^you know very well you never try.' I caught the sounds of muffled sobs. That sound smote dead the sharp speech [ that was on my lips, and I changed it to-- ' • I'm sorry my dear^— I'm truly sorry. I never meaht to act m», Cimie back and—' • MOBfnMBK.' ' Heavena ! what is the matter, nor l Ittve?' '' ' Do you mean to aay you are in that bed | yetr MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. timer— yoa know the matter, my ; • Wby, of oouMe.* ' Come ont of it inatantly. I ihould think ron would take some little care of yonr life, por my sake and the children's, if yon will lot for yonr own.' • But, my love' — ' Don't talk to me, Mortimer. You know ^here ia no place so danserous as a bed, m ich a thunderstorm as 3ua — all the booka vy that ; yet there you would lie, and de- liberately uirow away your life — for good* knows what, unless, for the sake of ar- ling and arguins, and' — ' But, confound it, Evangeline, I'm not the bed now. I'm' — [Sentence interrupted by a sudden glare of Ightning, followed oy a terrific little scream tm Mrs. MoWilliams andtoemendous blast thunder.] ' There. You see the result. Oh, Mor« jier, how can yon be so profligate as to rear at such a thing as this r ' I didn't swear. And that watn't a re* lit of it» anyway. And it would have come Bt the same, if I hadn't said a word ; and DU know very well, Evangeline — at least [>u ought to know— that when the atmos- ^ere is charged with electricity' — ' Oh, yes, now argue it^ and argue it, and Irgue it !— I don't see how you can act so, fnen you know there is not a lightning-rod the place, and your poor wife and child- are absolutely at the mercy of Provi- loe. What 'arle of using such language aa that, ron hav« nQ dMure to— Mortimer I ' WeU ! ' lIKd yon say yonr prayers toHiightt * ' I — I meant to, but I got to trying to cipher out how much twelve times thirteen is, and — * [Fizt \—boom-b€room boomi buinbU-miMe bang-aTHASB !] ' Oh, we are lost beyond all help 1 How could you neglect aiuoh a thing at saoh • time as this?' ' But it uKun't " such a time as this." There wasn'ta cloud in the sky. Howeould I know there was going to be all this rumpus and pow-wow about a little slip like that ? And I don't think it's just fair for you to uiake so much out of i^ anyway, seeing it happens so seldom ; I haven't missed berare since I brought on that earthqurkeb ' nant of yoor mind I Where lightning strikes any otMr substance once, it strikes water fifty times. Do turn it off*. Oh, dear, I am sore that.nothing in this world can save us. It does seem to me that — Mortimer, what wasthatr' 'It was a da — ^itwas apioturs. Knocked itdoim.' ' Then you are close to the wall ! I never heard of such imprudenoe ! Don't yon know that there's no better conductor for tiie lightning than a wall? C!ome away from there ! And you came as near as anything to swearing; too. Oh, how can you be so desperately wicked, and your family in such peril ? < Mortimer, did you order a feather Md« as I aaked you to do?' •No. Forgot it.' * Forgot it it It may oost yon your life, tt you had a feather bed, aow, and could spread it in th« middle of file room and lie on it, yon would be perfectly safe. Come in hero— copse quick, before j;rou have a chance to eommit any more frantio indiscretions.' I triedt but the little closet would not hold ns both with the door shut, unless we could be content to smother. I gasped awhile, then forced my way out. Hfy wife called out : 'Mortimer, something muat bo done for war pre8«Tativ : you your ought to have feeC Po please mr middle oavhl to be protected. Won't you buckle on your militia sabre, please ?' I complied. ' Now, Mortimer, gome way to protect put on jrour spurs. ' I did it in silence, and kept my temper at well as I could, ' ' Mortimer, it says, ' Das Oewitter lauten ist sehr gefaherlich, well die Qlooks selbst, BOwie der duroh das Lauten veraulassie Luftzug und die Hohe des Thurmes deu Blitz anziehen konnten." Mortimer, does tliat mean that it is dangerous to ring th« church bells during a thunderstorm ?' ' Yes, it seems to mean that, if that is the past participle of the nominative case singular, and I reckon it is. Yes, I think it means that on account of the height of the church tower and the absence of Lujiiun it would be very dangerous («eAr gefaherlich) not to ring the bells in time of a storm ; and moreover, don't you see, the very word- ing — ' Never mind that, Mortimer don't waste the precious time in talk. Get the large dinner bell ; it is , right there in the hall. Quick, Mortimer dear ; we are almost safe. Oh, dear, I do believe we are going to be saved at last. ' Ow little summer arrangement stands on the top of a high range of hills, over- looking a valley. Several farm houses are in our neighbourhood — the nearest some three or four hundred yards away. When I, mounted on the chair, had been clanging that dreadful bell a matter of seven or eight minutes, our shutters were suddenly torn open from without, and a brilliant bull's-eye lantern was thrust in at the window, followed by a hoarse iu- quiry : — ' What in the nation is the matter here ?' The window was full of men's heads, and the heads were full of eyes that stared wildly at my night-dresa and my warlike accoutrements. 1 dropped the bell, skipped down from the chair in confusion, and said : — ' There is nothing the matter, friends — only a little discomfort on account of the thunderstorm. I was trying to keep off the lightning. ' 'Thunderstorm? Lightning? Why, Mr. Mo Williams, have you lost your mind ? It is a beautiful starlight night; there has been no storm. ' I looked out, and I •was so astonished I could hardly speak for a while. Then I said : — 'I do not understand this. We dis- tinctly saw the glow of the flashes thro' the eurtains and shutters, and heard the than* der.' . . One after another those people laid down on the eround to laugh — and two of them died. One of the survivors remarked t— 'Pity you didn't think to open your blinds and look over the top of the high hill yonder. What you heard was cannon ; what you saw was the flash. You see, the telegraph brought some news, just ht mid- night : Qarfield nominated— and that's what's the matter ?' , , . ' Yes, Mr. Twain, aa I was saying in the beginning,' (said Mr. McWilUams,) 'the rules for preserving people againsi) lightning are so excellent and so innumerable tiiat the most incomprehensible thing in the world to me is how anybody ever manages to gei struck.' So saying, he gathered ap hii satchel and umbrella, and departed ; for the train had reached his town. MARK TWAIN SPEECHLESS. On February 24 the Papyrus Club of Boston Imd its annual * ladier night ' dinner at which Mark Twain was ' struck speeoh- less ' as follows : — "I am perfectly astounded (h|b said) at the way in which history repeats itself. I find myself situated at this moment exactly and precisely as I was once before, years ago to a jot, to a tittle — to a very hair. There isnt a shade of difference. It is the moat astonishing coincidence that ever — but wait. I will tell you the former instance, and then yon will see it for yourself. Years ago I arrived one day at Salamanca, N. Y., east- ward bound. Most change cara there and take the sleeper train. There were crowds of people there and they were swarming into the long sleeper train and packing it full, and it was a perfect purgatory of rust and confusion and gritting of teeth and loft, sweet and low profani^. I asked the young man in the ticket offioe if I could have a sleeping section and he answered 'No,' with a snarl that shrivelled me up like burned leather. I went off, smarting under this insult to my dignity, and asked another local official, supplicatingly, if I couldn't have some poor little comer somewhere in u sleeping car, but he cut me short with a venomous ' No, you can't ; every comer is full. Now, don't bother me any more r* and be turned his back and walked off. My dignity was in a state now which cannot be described. I was so ruffled that — well, I said to my companion, 'If these people knew who I am they — ' but my companion out me short there and aaid, 'Don't talk 126 MARK TWAIN'S SKETCHES. ;' 1 sueh folly. If they did know who you are, do TOO BuppoM it woald help your high migbtiness to a Taoanoy in a train which has no Tacanoiei in itT' This did not improve mj oondition any to apeak of, but just then I obsenred that the coloured porter of a sleeping car had his eve on me. I saw his dark countenance light up. He whispered to the uniformed conductor, punctuating with nods and jerks towards me, and straight- way this conductor came forward, oozing pmiteneM from every pore, and said : — * Oan I b« of any sen ice? Will you have a place in tiM deepwr' 'Yea,' I said, 'and much obHgpd, too. Give me wything, anything will answer.* He said: 'We have nothing left bat the big family state-room with two berths and a couple of armchain in it, but it is entirely at your disposal H«re^ Tom, take these satchels aboard.' He touched his hat and we and the oolouxw ed Tom moved along. I was bursting to drop iost one little remark to my oompanion, but I held in and waited. Tom made us oomf or* table in that sumptuous groat apartment,and then said« with many bows and a perfect affluence of smiles, 'Mow is dey anything yon want, Sah f case vou kin have jes any- thing von wants. It dont make no differ* ence what it is. ' I said, ' Can I have some hot water and a tumbler at to-night^ bias- ing hot ? You know about the right perature for a hot Scotch punch. ' ' Yes, Sah, dat you kin ; you kin pen on it, 111 get it myself. ' ' Oood i now that lamp is hung too high. Can I have a big coach candle fixed up just at the head of my bed, so that I can read comfortably V * Yes, Sah, yon kin, I'll fix her up myself, an' I'll fix her so she'll bo' n all night. Yes, Sah ; an' von can jes call for anything you wants, and dish yer whole railroad '11 be turned wrong end up, an' inside out for to sit it for vou. Dat's sa' And he disappeared. Well, I tilted my head back, hooked my thumbs in my arm-holes, smiled a smil« do my companion, and said gently, ' Well, .v'lat do you say now f 1^ companion m hs not in a humour to respond, and didn't Tb« next moment that smiling black face wu thrust in at .the orack of the door and this spoech followed : — ' Laws bless you, Sah, 1 knowed yon in a minute. I told de conductah so. Laws I I knowed yon de minute I sot eves on yoo.' ' Is that so, my boy ? (Handing him a quad- ruple fee). Who am I r' ' Jeuuel McClellan, ' and he diiixippeared again. My companion said vinenkii.hly, 'Well, well f what do yon sav now f Right there comes in the nuurvel- lous coincidence I mentioned a while a«^ viz., I was— speechless and that is mj oondi- tion now. Porceivf it ?" :| ''i T., ^ . •4it<« b^u •I.I .V-*/ ■i,"U '» •,■ AN IDLE EXCURSION. GHAPTBRL All the iourneyingt I had ever done had been pnrelv in the way of business. The pleasant May weather suggested a novelty, namely, a trip for pure recreation, the bread and buttw element left out The Reverend said he would go, too : a good man, one of the best of men, although a olergyman. By eleven at night we were in New Haven, and on board the New York boat. We bought our tickets, and then went wandering around here and there, in the solid comfort of being free and idle, and of putting distance between ourselves and the mails and tele- graphs. After a while I went to my state-room and undressed, but the night was too enticing for bed. We were moving down the bay now, and it was pleasant to stand at the window and take the oool night-breeze and watch the gliding lights on shore. Presently two elderlv men sat down under that win- dow, and began a conversation. Their talk was properly no business of mine, yet I was feeling n-iendly toward the whole world and wiUing to b« entertained. I soon gathered that they were brothers, that they were from a small Connecticut village, and that tiie matter in hand oonoemed the oemeteiy. Said one — ' Now, John, we talked it all over amongst oorselveSf and this is what we ve done. You see, everybody was a-movin' from the old buryin'-eround, and our folks was most about left theirselves, as yon may ■ay. They were crowded, too, as tou know; lot wa'n't big enoush in the first place ; and last year, when Setn's wife died, we couldnt hardly tuck her in. She sort o' overlaid Deacon Shorb's lot, and he soured both of a ' 187 dae ; nioe oomfortablo room for twenty-six,* — twenty-six full-grown that is ; but you reckon in children and other shorts, and strike an average, and I should say you might lay in thirty, or may be thirty-two or three, pretty genteel — no crowdin' to signify.' •That's a plenty, William. Which one did you buy ?^ ' Well, I'm a comin' to that, John. Ton see No. 8 was thirteen dollars, Na 9 four- teen' — ' I see. So's't yon took No. 8.' ' You wait I took No. 9 ; and 111 tell Sou for why. In the first place. Deacon horb wanted it Well, after the wa^ he'd gone on about Seth's wife overlappm' his Srem'ses, I'd a beat him onto' that No. if I'd 'a' had to stand two dollars extra, let alone one. That's the way I felt about it Says I, what's a dollar, any way T Life's on y a pilgrimage, says I ; we ain t here for eood, and we can't take it with us, says I. So I just dumped it down, knowin' the Lord don't suffer a good deed to go for nothin', and callatin to take it out o' somebody in the course o' trade. There was another reason, John. No. Q's a Ions way th« handiest lot in the simitery, and the likeliest for situation. It lies right on top of a knoll in the dead centre of the buryin' ground ; and you can see Millport from there, and Tracy^s and Hopper Mount and a raft o' farms, and so on. There ain't no better outlook from a buryin'-plot in tho State. Si Hig^ins says so, and I reckon he ought to know. Well, and that ain't aU. Course Shorb had to take No. 8 ; wa'n't no help fort Now, No. 8 joins on to No. 9, but it's on the slope of vie hill, and every time it rains it'll soak risOxt down to the Shorbs. Si Higgins says't when the deacon's time comes, he'd better take oat fire and marine insurance on his remains.' Hare there was the sonnd of a low, pkdd. 128 AN lOLB KXCURSION. ^i.< •Mi'. m dnplio%te ohuckU of Appreciation uid Mtb- fftfition. 'Now, John, here*! a little rough draft of the ground, that I've madu on a piece of paper. Up here, in the kit hand comer, we ve bunched the departed ; took them from the old srave-yanl and stowed them one alonuside a tother, on a firat-come-firat- MTved plan, no partialities, with gran'ther Jones for a starter on'^ because it happened ■o, and windin'upiudisoriminatewithSetb's twins. A little crowded towards the end of the lay-out, may be, but we reckoncd't wa'n't l)etit to sent It r the twine*. Wi-11, next oomes the lit in.' Kere, whore it'u niarkid A, we're guinu to put Mariar and her fdmily, when they're called; B, that's for brother Hosea and his'u; 0, Calvin and tribe. What's left in these two lots here, — just tiie sent of the whole patch for general •tvle and outlook ; thy'r* for me and my folks and you and youm. Which of them would you rather be buried in V 'I swar you've took me mighty nnez- peoted, William! It sort of started the ■hiven. Fact is, I was thinkin' so busy •bout makin' things comfortable for the . others, I hadn'i thought about being buried myself.' ' Life's onV a fleeting show, John, M the sayin' is. We've all got to go. sooner or later. To go with a clean record's the main thing. Fact is, it's the on'y way worth •trivin' for John.' ' Tea, that's so, William, that's so ; there •int no gettin' round it. Which of these lots would you recommend?' ' Well, it depends, John. Are yon parti* onlar about outlook V *I don't say I am, William, I don't say I ain't Beely, I don't know. But mainly, I reckon, I'd lat store by a south exposure.' ' That's eaay fixed, John ; they're both south elpoBUM. Thej tako the van and the Shorb* get the shade.^ * How about sile, William?' ' D's a landy sile, E's mostly loom.* * Yoa. . may gimme E, then William ; % safidy sile oaves in mora or less, and costs for repairs.' ' ^All right: Ml Vov nama down henu John, under ^B. »w. if yov 4oa% mini patib' me your share of the fourteen dollars, Jd^ta, while we're on the business, every- thing's fixed. ' After some higgling and sharp bargaining the money was paid, and Joiin bule his brother gOod-nigfit and took his leave. There was a silence for some niomente, then a soft chuckle Welled up from the lonelv William and he mattered; 'I deolare fori; il I haven't made a mistake I It's D that moatly loam, not E ; and John's booked for a sandy sile aftei' all.' There was another soft chuckle, and Wil> liam departed to his rest also. The next day, in New York, was a hot one ; still we managed to get more or less entertainment out of it Toward the middle of the afternoon we arrived on board the staunch steamship 'Bermuda,' with bag and baggage, and htmtod for a shaily place. It wau blazing summer weather until we were half way down the harbour. Then I but- toned my coat closely ; half-an-hour later J put on a sprins overcoat And buttoned that. As we passed ttie lightship I added an ulster, and tied a handkerchief round the uollar to hold it snug up to my neck. 80 rapidly had the summer |(*im and the winter come again I By nightfall we were far out to sea, with no land in sight No telegrams could come here, 00 letters, no news. It was an uplift- ing tliuu^ht. It was still more uplifting to reflect that the millions of harassed p.ople on shore behind us were suflfering just as usual. The next day brought ua into tha midst of the Atlantic solitudes, — oat of smoke- coloured soundings into fathomless deep blue ; no ships visible anywhere over the wide ocean ; no company but Mother Cary's chicken's, wheeling, darting, skimming the waves in tha sun. There wera «ome sea- faring men among tha passengers, and the conversation driftad into matters eonceming ships and sailors. One said that 'true as a needle to the pol* ' was a bad figure as the f eedle seldom pointed to the pole. He said a ship's eompaaa was not faithful to any particular point but was the moat fickle and treacherous of the aervanta of man. It was forever changing. It changed every day in tha year; consequentlv the amount of tha daily rrvriation had to ba dpbere4 out and allowance made for It else the mariner would go utterly aatray. Another said there Was a vast fortune waiting for the genius who should invent a compass tb^t would not be affected by the local influe&oes of an ' iron ship He said there was only one crea- ture more fickle than a wooden ship's com- faas and that wat tha compass of an iron ship. Then cams reierence to the well- ^qown fact that an experienced ^^ariner can look at tha compass of a new iron vedsel thousands fA miles from h^r birth-place, and tell which way her head was pointing when she was in process of building. Now an ancient whale-ship master fell to] talking about the sort of urews they used to h%ye in eariy dayjL Said he,-<- 'Sometimes we'd have a batch pi ooUegt Upol "Well I«me tea- lengers, and the ittera concerning I that 'trueaaa d figure aa the B pole. He aaid faithful to any e most fickle and of man. It waa pd every day in amount of tha pbere4 <>"* •**" be the tnarmer jiother said there g for the genius [pass tb«»t would influences of an' rasonlypn* crea^ oden ship's com- mpass of an iron ace t(0 the well- meed 'mariner can new iron vessel; ir birth-place, and as pointmg when hip master fell to orews they used to a batch oi ooUqp •tudeuts. Queer lot. Ignorant? Why, tbev didn't ki ow the catheads from the main. But if you took them for fools you'd get bit sure.- They'd learn more in a month than lUiuthcr man would in a year. We had one once in the "Mary Ann, that oame on board with gold spectacles on. And besides be was ngged out from maintruck to keel- •on in the nobbiest clothes that ever saw a fo 'castle. He had a ohest full, too ; cloaks and broadoloth coats and velvet vests ; everything swell, you know ; and didn't the salt water fix them out for himf I giiess not ! Well, coing to sea, the mate told him to go aloft and help shake out tlie fore-to'-^uantl Up he shins to the fore- top, with his speotaolea on, and in a minute down he cornea ajnin, looking insulted. Says the mate, Wnat did you come down for?" Says the chap. "P'raps you didn't notice thut there ain't any ladders above there. " You see we hadn't any shrouds above the furestop. The men bursted out in a laugh such as I guess you never heard the like of. Next night, which was dark and rainy, the mate ordered this chap to set aloft about something, aud I'm dunimed if he didn't start up witii an umbrella and a lantern ! But no matter ; he made a mighty trood sailor before the voyage was done, and we had to hunt up something else to laugh at Years afterwords, when I had forgot all about him, I comes into Boston, mate of a ship, and was loafing about town with the ■econd mate, and it so happened that we stepped into the Revere House, thinking mayoe we would chance the salt-horse in that his dining-room for a flyer, as the boys •av. Some fellows were talking just at our elbow, and one says, '" Yonder 's the new governor of Massachuaetts — at that table over there, with the ladies. " We took a good look, my mate and I, for we hadn't either of ua seen a governor before. I looked and looked at that face, and then all of a sudden it popped on me. But I didu't give any sign. Says I, " Mate, I've a notion to go over and snake hands with him." Says he, " I think I see you doing it, Tom." Says I, " Mate, I'm a-going to do it." Says 1 he, "Oh, yes, I guess so ! Mav be yon Uon't want to bet you will, Tom ?" Says I, " I don't mind goin/r a V on it mate. " Says be, • Put it up." " Up she goes," saya I, [planking the cash. Tliis burprised him. But I he covered it, and says pretty sarcastic, ] " Hadn't yoa better take your grub with the Igovemor and the ladies, Tom ?" Says, I, r' Upon second thoughts, I will." Says he, !«• Vvell, Tom, you are a dam fool. " Says I, I** May be I am, may be I aint ; but the in question ii^ Do yoa want to risk two and a half that I won't do it ?" " Make it a y," HayH he. " Done," says I. I started hitn ii-uiggling and slapping his hand on his tliigh, hu felt ao good. I went over there and leaned mv knuckles on the table a minute and looked the sovemor in the face, and says I, " Mister Gardner, dont you know me ?" He stared, and I stared, and he atared. Then all of a sudden he sings out. " Tom Bowling, by the holy poker ! l^adies, it's old Tom Bowling, that you've heard me talk about, — shipmate of mine in the 'Mar^ Ann.' He rose up and shook hands with me ever so hearty — I sort of glanced around and took a reahxing sense of my mate's saucer eyes,— and then says the governor, " Plant yourself , Tom, plant your- self ; you can't cut vour anchor again till you've had a feel with me and the bdies i" I planted myself alongside the sovemor, and • canted my eye around towards my mate. Well, sir, his dead-lights were bugged out like tompions ; and his mouth stood that wide open that you ooald have laid a ham in it without noticing it. ' There was great applause at the oonoln- ' sion of the olcl captain s story; then after a moment's silence, a grave, pale young man, said, — ' Had von ever met the governor before ?' The old captain looked steadily at this inquirer awhile, and then got up and walked aft without making any reply. One passen- ger after another stole a furtive glance at the inquirer, but failed to make him out, and so gave him up. It took some little work to get the tuk ma- chinery to run smoothly again after this derangement; but at length a conversation sprang up about that important and jealously guarded mstrument, a snip's time-keeper, its exceeding delicate accuracy, and the wreck and destruction that have sometimes re- sulted from its varyins a few seemingly trifling moments from tne true time ; then in due course, my comrade, the Rb/erend, got off on a yam, with a fair wind and everything drawing. It was a true story, too, — about Captain Bounceville's ship- wreck, — true in every detaiL It was to this effect ? — Captain Rounoeville's ressel was lost iu mid-Atlantic and likewise his wife and his two little children. Captain _ Rounceville and seven seamen escaped with life, bat with little else. A small, rudely constructed raft was to be iSeir home for eight days. They had neitner provisions no? water. They had scarcely any clothing ; no oae had a coat but the captain. The coat was changing hands all the time, for the weather «?«s very cold. Whenever a man became ex- m ISO AN IDLE EXCUBSION. i i : 3 ,1 hausted with the cold, they put the coat on him and laid him down taietwe n two ship- mate! until the garment and their bodies had wanned new Ufa into him a&[ain. Among the sailors was a Portugese who knew no English. He seemed to have no thought of his own calamity, but was concerned only about the captain's bitter loss of wife and children. By day, he would look with dumb compassion into the captain's face ; and by night, in the darkness and the driv- ing spray and rain, he would seek out the captain and tar to comfort him with caress- ing pats on we shoulder. One day, when hunger and (birst were making their sure inroads npon tiie men's strength and spirits, a floating barrel was seen at a distance. It seemed a great prize, for doubtless it contained food of some sort. A brave fellow swam to itk and after a long and exhausting effort got It to the raft. It was eagerly opened. It was a harrel of magnesia i On the fifth day an onion was spied. A sailor swam off and Sot it. Although perishing with hunger he rought it in its integrity and pat it into the captain's hand. The history of the sea teaches that among starving, shipwrecked men, selfishness is rare, and a wonder-com> polling magnanimity the rule. The onion was equally divided into eight parts, and eaten with deep thanksgivm^ On the eighth day a distant ship was sighted. At> tempts were made to hoist an oar with CSaptain Rounceville's coat on it for% signal. There were many failures, for the mfin were bat skeletons now, and strengthMas. At last snooess was achieved, but the signal brought no help. By and by another ship appeared, and passed so near that the cast* •ways, every eye eloquent with gratitude, ibade ready to welcome the boat that would be sent to save them. But this ship also drove on, and left these men staring their unutterable surpriSiB and dismay into each other's ashen faces. Late in the dav, still another ship came np out of the distance, but the men noted with a pang that her course was one whioh would not bring her nearer. Tbair remnant of life was nearly spent ; their lips and tongues were' swollen, parched, cracked with eight days' thirst ; their bodies starved ; and here was their last chance gliding relentlessly from them ; they would not be alive when the next sun rope. For a day or two past the men had lost their voices, but now Captain Rounoe- ville whispered, ' Let us pray.' The Portu- Suese patted him on the shoulder in sign of eep approval All knelt at the base of the oar that was waving the signal coat aloft, •nd bowed their heads. The sea was toss- iof ; the son rested, a red, nyless diao, on the 809. -Vne in the west. When the men present';)' raised their heads they would have roared a hallelujah if they had had a voice ; the ship's sails lay wrinkled and flapping against her masts, she was going about I Here was a rescue at last, and in the very last instant of time that was left for it. No, not rescue yet, — only the imminent prospect of it. The red disc sank under the sea and darkness blotted out the ship. By and by came a pleasant sound, — oars moving in a boat's row-locks. Nearer it came, and nearer — within thirty steps, but nothing visible. Then a deep voice : ' Hol-lo !' The castaways oould not answer ; their swollen tongues refused voice. The boat skirted round and round the raft, started away — the agony of it I — returned, rested on the oars, cUmm at hand, listening, no doubt. Thd deep voice again : • Hol-lo ! Where are ye, shipmates ?' Captain Rounceville whispered to his men, saving : * Whisper your best, boys I now — all at once ! So they sent out an eight-fold whisper in hoarse conceit -. ' Here t' There was life in it if it succeeded; death if it failed. After that supreme mo- ment Captain Rounceville was conscious of nothins until he came to himself on board of the saving ship. Said the Reverend, con- cluding : — ' There was one little moment ol «iffle in which that raft could be visible from that ship, and had onljr one little fleetine moment had passed unfruitful, those men^ doomed was sealed. As close as that does God shave events foreordained from the beginning of the world. When the sun reached the water's ed^ that day, the captain of that ship was sittinff on deck reading his prayer- boMC. The bode fell ; he stooped to pick it up, and happened to glance at the sun. In that instant that far-off raft appeared for a second against the red disc, its needle-like oar and diminished signal out sharp and black against the bright surface, and in the next instant was thrust away into the dusk again. But that ship, that captain, and that pregnant instant had had their work appointed for them in the dawn of time and could not fail of the performance !' There was a deep, thoughtful silence for some moments. Then the grave, pale young man said — * What is the chronometer of Godf* CHAPTER n. At dinnet, six o'clock, the same people assembled whom we had talk^ with on deck and seen at luncheon and breakfast this second day out, itnd at dinner the even- ing before. That is to lay, three journey- AN IDLE EXCURSION. 131 en the men would hav« aad a voice ; «d flapping >ing about ! the very last it. No, not t proepect of ^e sea and By and by moviug in a came, and but nothing Hol-lo!' The their swollen \)oat skirted »d away — the I on the oars, doubt. Tha Where are ye, ^ille whispered ler your best, , they sent out arse conceit : if it succeeded; t supreme mo- M conscious of lelf on board of B«verend, con- lent oi -*me in iible from that leeting moment men^ doomed does God shave le beginning of m reached the captain of that ding his prayer- ooped to picU it A the sun. In appeared for a its needle-like cut sharp and face, and in the y into the dusk i,t captain, and lad their work Lwn of time and ance !* Ltful lilence for rave, pale yowig rofGodt' »• same people [talked with on and breakfast fdinner the even- ly tiure* )4thctic some- t Hv^d been a stoo.i inter- oard his storv. to the Me- diterranean, seven times to India, once to the Arctic pole in a discovery ship, and " be- tween times" had visited all the remote eeaa and ooean comers of the globe. But he said that twelve years ago, on account of his fa- mily, he "settled down," and ever since then had ceased to roam. And what do you suppose was this simple-hearted, life-long wanderer's idea of setthng down and ceasing to roam ? Why, the making of two five- month voyages a year between Surinam and Boston for sugar and molasses. AmoBff other talk, to-day, it came out that whale-ships carry no doctor. The cap- tain adds the doctorship to his own duties. He not only gives medicines, but sets broken limbs after notions of his own, or saws them off and sear!" the stump when amputation seems best. The captain is provided with a medicine chest, with the medicines num- bered instead of named. A book of direc- tions goes with this. It describes diseases and symptoms, and says, " Give a teaspoon- ful of No. 9 once an houi," or "Give ten grains of No. 12 every half -hour," etc. One of our sea-oaptaius came across a skipper in the North Pacific who was in a state of great surprise and perplexity. Said he : "There's something rotten about this medicine-chest business. One of my men was sick, — nothing much the matter. I looked in the book : it said, give him a tea- rnfal of No. 16. I went to the medicine- t, and I see I was oat of No. 16. I ind{^ I'd got to get up a combination some- tow that would fill the bill ; so I hove into the fellow hidf a teaspoonfal of No. 8 and half ateaspoonful of No. 7, and 111 be hanged if it didn't kill him in fifteen mmutes ! There's something about this medicine-chest system that's too many for me!" There was a good deal of pleasant gossip about old Oaptain " Hurricane" Jones, of the Pacific Ocean, — peace to his ashes I Two or three of ni present had known him, I, particularly, well, for I had made four sea- voyages with him. iHe was a verv remark- able man. He was horn in a ship ; ne picked up what little education he had among his shipmates ; be began life in the forecasts, ana climbed grade by grade to the captaincy. More than fiftyyears of his sixty-five were spent at sea. He had sailed all ooeans, seen all lands, and borrowed a tint from all cli- mates. When a man has been fifty years at sea, he necessarily knows nothing of men, nothing of the world bnt its surface, noth- ing of the worl4'8 thought, nothing of the world's , learning but its A. B. 0., and that blurred and distorted by the un- feonsed lenses of an untrained mind. Snch a man is opiy a gray and bearded child. This is only what old Hnrricane Jones was, — simply an innocent, lovable old infant. Wlien his spirit was in repose he was as sweet and gentle as a girl ; when his WTath was up he was a hurricane that made his nickname seem tamely descriptive. He was formidable in a fight, for he was of powerful build and dauntless courage. He was fres- coed from head to heel with pictures and mottoes tattooed in red and blue India ink. I was with him one voyage when he got his last vacant space tatooed ; this vacant space was around his left ankle, during three days he stumped about the ship with his ankle bare and swollen, and this legend gleaming red and angry out from a clouding of India ink: "Virtue is its own R'd. " (There was a lack of room.) He was deeply and sin- cerely pious, and swore like a fish-woman. He considered swearing blameless, because sailors would not understand an order unil- lumined by it. He was a profound Biblical scholar, — that is, he thought he was. H^ believed everything in the Bible, but he had his own methods m arriving at his beliefs. He was of the "advanced " school of think- ers, and applied natural laws to the interpre- tation of all miracles, somewhat on the plan of the people who make the six days of crea- tion SIX geological epochs, and so forth. Without b«ing aware of it, he was a rather severe satire on modern scientific religionists. Such a man as I have been describing is rabidly fond of disquisition and argument ; one knows that without being told of it. One trip the captain had a clergyman on board, but did not know he was a clergy >; man, since the passenger list did not betray the fact. He took a great liking to iiu/i Rev. Mr. Peters, and talked wiw him a great deal ; told him yams, gave him tooth- some scraps of personal history, and wove a glittering streak of profanity through his garrulous fabric that was refreshing to a spirit weary of the dull neutralities of an- decorated speech. One day the captain said, "Peters, do you ever read the Bible ?" "Well— yea" "I judM it ain't often, bjr the way you say it. Now, you tackle it in dead earnest once, and youll find it'll pay. Don't you get discouraged, but hang right on. First, yon won't understand it ; but by and by, things will begin to clear up, and then yo« wouldn't lay it down to eat." " Yes, I have heard that said." "And it's so, too. There ainH a book begins with it. It lays over 'em all, Petent. There's some pretty tough things in it,— there ain't any getting around thiAt,~biit you stick to them and think them out, and 134 AN IDLE EXCURSION. li ':' I when once you get on the inside everything*! plain as day." " The miracles, too, oaptaiB?" "Yes, sir! the miracles, too. Every one of thorn. Now, there's that business with the prophets of Baal; like enough that •tumped you?" "Well, I dont know, but "— " Own up, now ; it stumped you. Well, I don't wonder. You hadn't had any , experience in raveling such things out and naturally it was too many for vou. Would you like to have me explain that thing to yon, «nd show you how to get at the meat of these matters 7 " " Indeed, I wonld, captain, if you don't mind." Then the cajptain proceeded as follows : "ill do it with pleasure. First vou see I read and read, and thousht and thought, till I got to understand what sort of people they were in the old Bible times, and then alter that it was all clear and easy. Now, this was the way I put it up, concerning Isaac* and the prophets of Baal. There was some mighty sharp men amongst the public oluuncten of that old ancient £iy, and Isaac was one of them. Isaac had his failings — plenty of them, too ; it aint for me to apo< logize for Isaac ; he played it on the pro- phets of Baal, and like enough he was justifi- able oonsidering the odds that was against him. No^ all I say s, 'twa'n't any miracle, and that 111 show yon so'st yon can see it yourself. " Well, times had been setting roneher •nU rongher for prophets, — mat is, prophets of Imum's denomination. There was foar hundred and fifty prophets of Baal in the community, and only one Presbyterian ; that is, if Isaao was % Fnsbyterian, which I reckon he was, bat it don't say. Naturally, the prophets of Baal took all the trade. Isaac was pretty loW'Spirited, I reckon, but he waa a good deal of a man, and no doubt he went a-nrophesying around, letting on to be doing a land-ofiice business, but 'twa'n't any use ; he couldn't run any opposition to amount to anything. Bv and by thin^ got despe- rate with mm ; he sets his head to work and thinks it all out, and then what does he do ? Why, he begins to throw out hints that the other parties are this and that and t' other — nothing verjr definite, may be, but just kind of nndenuining their reputation in a quiet way. This nude talk, of course, and finally sot to the king. The king asked Isaac ^hat he ineant by his talk. Says Isaac, vOh, nothing particular ; only they pray down ' ' "? It ain't ize fnmi heaven on an altar i much. *Tliia is the captain's own mistake. may be, your majesty, only can they do it ? That's the idea. ' So the king was a good deal disturbed, and he went to the prophets of Baal, and they said, pretty airy, that if he had an altar ready, they were ready, and they intimated that he had better get it in- sured, too. " Next morning all the children of Israel and their parents and the other people gathered themselves together. Well, here M'as that great crowd of prophets of Baal packed together on one side, and Isaac walking up and down all alone on the other putting up his job. When time waa called, Isaac let on to be comfortable and indiffer- j ent ; told the other team to take the first I innings. So they went at it, the whole fonr i hundred and fifty, prajring around the altar, I very hopeful, and doing their level heal They prayed an hour — two hours — tbfee hours — and so on, plump till noon. It waVit any use ; they hadnt took a triek. Of course they felt kind of ashamed before all those people, and well they might. Now, what would a magnanimous man do ? Keep still, wouldn't he? Of course. What did Isaao do ? He gravelled the prophets of Baal every way he could think of. says ha, ' Yon don't speak up loud enough ; yonr god's asleep, like enough, or maybe he's takins a wtjk ; you want to holler, yon know" — or words to that effect ; I dont apoloiriKe for Isaao ; he had his faults. "Well, the prophets of Baal prayed along the best they knew how all the afternoon, and never raised a spark. At last, about sundown, they were all tocke'ed out, and they owned up and quit. " What does Isaac do, now ? He iteps up and says to some friends of his there, ' rour four barrels of water on the altar ! ' Every- body was astonished ; for the other side prayed at it dry, you know, and got white- washed. They poured it on. Says he, 'Heave on four more barrels.' IThen be says, 'Heave on fonr more.' Twelve bar- rels, yon see, altogether: The water ran fUl over the altar, and all down the sides, and filled up a trench around it that would hold a couple of hogsheads, — 'measures,' it says ; I reckon it means about a hogshead. Some of the people were going to put on their things and go, for they allowed he was crazv. They didn't know, Isaao. Isaae knelt down and began to pray; he strung along, about the heathen in distant landi^ and about the sister churches, and about the state and the county at large, and about those that's in authority in the government, and all the usual programme, you know, tiS everybody had got tired and oone to think- ing abont tomething else, andT then all of n AN IDLE DXOURSION. 135 By do it ? u »KOo4 prophets that if be idy, and get it in- y of Imel n _people Vm, here ■a ofBMl md Isaac t the other raa called, id indiffer- :e the firat irhole f o«r 1 the altar, evel heel »ar»— thiee . Itwa-nt triek. Of I before ail {ht. Now, do? Keep Wha*did propheta of ^ Sayaha, Bngh ; year maybe he'a I holler, ymi ;t ; I dtmt kulta. rayed along B aftemooD, iMt, aboat ed out, and He ttepB up wre, 'Four ! ' Every- other side got white- Bays he, Then he VeWe bar- rater ran all e sides, and woiild hold J,' it says; lead. Some at on their -ed he was Isaac be strung istant lands, sd about the s, and abmit government, on know, till De to think- lion all •! * •udden, when nobody was noticing, he outs with a match and rakes it on the under side of bis leg, and puff! up the whole thing blazes like a house afire ! Twelve barrels of water ? Petroleum, Sir, petroleum ! that's wh'! it was ! " ' "Petroleum, captain?" "Yes, Sir; the country was full of it. Isaac knew all about that. You read the Bible. Don't you worry about the tough places. They ain't tough when you come to tiiink them out and throw lieht ou them. There ain't a thing in the Bible but what is true ; all you want is to go prayerfully to work and cipher out how 'twas done. " At eight o'clock on the third morning out from New York, land was sighted. Away across the sunny waves one saw a faint dark stripe stretched along under the horizon — or pretended to see it, for the credit of his eye-Bight. Even the Beverend said he saw it, a thing which was manifestly not so. But I never have seen any one who was morally strong enough to confess that he could not see land when others claimed that ih^ ooold. By ana by the Bermuda Islands easily visible. The principal one lay the water, in the distance, a long, coloured body, scalloped with slight and valleys. ' We could not go straight at it, but had to travel all way aronud it, six- teen miles from shore, because it is fenced with an invisible coral reef. At last we sighted buoys, bobbing here and there, and then we glided into a narrow channel Among them, "raised tiie reef," and came upon shoaling blue water that soon farther shoaled into pale green, with a surface scarcely rippled. Now came the resurrection hour : tho berths gave ui> their dead. Who are those pale spectres in plug hats and silken flounces tiiat file up the companion-way in melancholy procession and step upon the deck? These are they which took ttie pre- infallible preventive of sea-sickness in New York harbour and then disappeared and were forgotten. Also theru came two or three faces not before seen until tbis moment. One's impuhM is to ask, " Where did you come aboard?' We followed the narrow channel a long ti'iie, with land on both sides — low hills that might have been green and grassy, but had a faded look instead. However, the land- locked water waa lovely, at any rate, with its elitteiing belts of blue and sreen where mooerata soundinss were, and its broad splotohes of rich orown where the rooks lay near the surface. Everybody was feel- ing so wall thtft even the mve, pale yonhg mm ^wImb^ bgr * iKWt of kindly common con- were upon dull- hills sent, had come latterly to be referred to as "The Ass") received frequent and friendly notice — which was right enough, for there was no harm in him. At last we steamed between two island points whose rocky jaws allowed only just enough room for the vessel's body, ana now before us loomed Hamilton on her clustered hill-sides and summits, the whitest mass of terraced architecture that exists in the world perhaps. It was Sunday afternoon, and on the pier were gathered one or two hundred Bennu- dians, half of them black, half of them white, and all of them nobbily dressed, as the poet say*. Several boats came off to the ship, bring- ing citizens. One of these citizens 'waa a faded, diminutive old gentleman, who ap- proached our most ancient passeneer with a childlike joy in his twinkling eves, baited be- fore him, folded his arms, ana said, smiling with all his might and with all the simple delight that was in him, 'You don't know me, John! Come, out with it, now; you know yon don't!' The ancient passenger scanned hiapar- plexedly, scanned the napless, threadbare costume of venerable fashion that had dono Sunday-service no man knows how many years, contemplated the marvellous stove- pipe hat of still more ancient and venerable pattern, with its poor ^theiic old stiff brim canted up " gallusly" m the wrong plaoea and said, with a hesitation that indicated strong internal effort to "place** the gentU old apparition, "Why . . . let me sea . . . plague on it . . . tliere's som*> thing about you that . . . er . . . er . . . but I've been gone from Ber- muda for twenty-seven years, and . . . hum, hum ... I d6n't seem to get at it, somehow, - but there's something about you that is just as familiar to me as" — "Likely it might be his hat," murmured the Ass, with sympathetic interests CHAPTER in. So the Reverend and I had at last arrived at IJamilton, the principal town in the Ber- muda Islands. A wonderfully^ white town ; white as snow itself. White as marble; white aa flour. Yet lookins like none of these, exactly. Never mind, we said ; we shall hit upon a figure by and by that will describe this peculiar white. It was a town that was oompJMSted to- gether upon the sides and tops of a duster of small hills. Its outlying borders fringed off and thinned away among the cedar for- ests, and there was no woody distanotof \ 196 AX IDLE EXCURSION. I: i I! 1 In ti carving coast, or leafy islet sleepiue upon tho dimpled, painted sea, but was necked with shining white points — half-conoealed houses peeping out of the foliage. The architecture of the town was mainly Spanish, inherited from the colonists of two hnndred and fifty years ago. Some ragged- topped cocoa-palms, glimpsed here and were, gave the land a tropical aspecl There was an ample pier, of heavy mason* rv; upon this, under shelter, were some thousands of barrels containing that product which has carried the fame of Bermuda to many lands — the potato. Witn here and there an onion. That last sentence is face- tious ; for they grow at least two onions in Bermuda to one potato. The onion is the pride and joy of Bermuda. It is her jewel, ner ^m of gems. In her conversation, her pulpit, her literature, it is her most fre- quent and eloquent 6gure. In Bermndian metaphor it stands for perfection— perfection absolute. The Bermudian weeping over the departed, exbaosts praise when he says, ' He was an onion !' The Bermudian extolling the liv- iiie hero, bankrupts applause when he sa^s, * He is an onion !' The Bermudian setting his son upon the stage of life to dare and do for himself, climaxes all counsel, supplica- tion, admonition, comprehends all ambition, when he says, 'Be an onion !' When parallel with the pier, and ten or fifteen steps outside it, we anchored. It was Sunday, bright and sunny. The groups «pon the pier, men, youths, and boys, were wiiitee and blackfi in about equal proportion. All were well and neatly dressed, many of tiiem nattily, a few of them very stylishlv. One would nave to travel far before he would tind another town of twelve thousand inha- bitants that could represent itself so res- pectably, in the matter of clothes, on a freight-pifr, without premeditation or effort. The women and young girls, black and white, who occasionally passed by, were nicely clad, and many were elegantly and fashionably so. The men did not affect summer elothiue much, but the girls and women did, and their white garments were i:ood to look at, after so many months of amiliarity with sombre colours. Around one isolated potato barrel stood four young ^ntlemen, two black, two white, becomingly dressed, each with the head of a slender cane pressed against his teeth, and each with a foot propped up on the barrel. Another youns genlMman came up, looked longinglv at the barrel but saw no rest for nk foot there. He wan- dered here and there, but without temlk Nobody Mt upon a burel. aa is the custom of the idle in other lands, yet all the isolated barrels were humanly occupied. Whosoever bad a foot to spare put it on a barrel if all the places on it were not already taken. The habits of all peoples are determined by their circumstances. The Bermudians lean upon barrels because of the scarcity of lamp-posts. Many citizens came on board and spoke eagerly to the officers — inquiring about the Turco-Russian war news, I supposed. How- ever, by listening judiciously, I found that this was not so. They said, " What is the price of onions ?" or, " how is onions ?" Na- turally enough this was their first interest ; but they dropped into the war the moment it was {satisfied. We went ashore and found a novelty of » pleasing nature ; there were no hackmen,. hacks, or omnibuses on the pier or about it anywhere, and nobody offered his services to us, or molested us in any way. I said it was like being in heaven. The Reverend rebukingly and rather pointedly advised me to make the most of it, then. We knew of a boarding-house, and what we needed now was somebody to pilot us to it. Pre- sently a little barefooted coloured boy oame along, whose ragi^dness was conspiononsly un-Bermudian. His rear was so marvellously be-patched with coloured squares and triangles that one was half peirsuaded he had^tit out of anatlaa. When the sun struck him riffht.. he was as gpod to follow as a lightning-bug. We hired him and dropped into his wake. He piloted us through one piotoreeque street after another, and in due conree de- posited us where we belonged. He charged, us nothing for his map, and but a trifle for his services ; so the Reverend doubled it. The little chap received the money with a beamingapplause in his eye which plainly said, "This man's an onion !" We had brought no letter of introduction. Our names had oeen misspelt in the psMen* ger list ; nobody knew whether we were honest folks or otherwise, so we were expecting to have a good private time in case there was nothing in our general aspect to dose boarding-house doors against oa. We had no trouble. Bermuda has had but little experience of rascals, and is not suspicious. We got bu-ge, cool, well-lighted rooms on a. second floor, overlooking a bloomy display of flowers and flowering shrubs— calla and annunciation lilies, lantanas, heliotavpe, jessamine, roses, double geraniums, oleand- ers, pomegranates, blue morning-glories of a great size, and many plants that were un- known to me. Wo took a long afternoon walk, and soon fooBdontthftt that oMsedingly white tewa j AN IDLE exc;;:r.sion. 137 was bnilt of blocks of white coral. Bermuda is ft ooral isUiid, with a six-inch crust of soil so top of it, and every man has a quarry on his own premises. Everywhere you go you see squarn recesses cut into the hill-sides, with perpendicular walls unmarred by crack or orevice, and perhaps you fancy that a house grew out of the ground there, and has been removed in a single piece from the mould. If ^ou do, you err. But the ma- terial for a noose has been quarried there. They cut right down through the coral, to any depth tmtt is convenient^ten to twenty feet — and take it ont in great square blocks. This cutting is done with a chisel that has a handle twelv* or fifteen feet long, and is used a* one nsea a crowbar when he is drill- ing a hole, or a dasher when he is ehuming. Thus soft is this stone. Then with a common handsaw they hhw the great blocks into handsome, huge bricks that are two feet long, a foot wide, and about six inf^hes thick. These stand loosely pile dur- ing a month to harden, then the work of building bej^ns. The house is built of these blocks ; it IS roofed with broad ooral slabs an inoh thick, whose edses lap upon each ether, so that the roof looks like ainooession ol shiillow steps or terrace ; the ohimneys ■re built of the coral blocks and sawed into graceful and picturesque patterns ; the Sound-floor veranda is paved with coral ooks — ^built in massive panels, with broad eap-stones and^ heavy sate-posts, and the whole trimmed into easy lines and comely diape with the saw. Then they put a hard ooat of whitewash, as thick as your thumb- nail, en the fence and all over the house, roof, chimneys, and all ; the sun comes out and shines on this spectacle, and it is time for yon to shut your unaccu.stomed eyes, lest the) be put out. It is the whitest white yon can conceive of, and the blindingest. A Bermuda house does not look like marble ; it is a mnoh intenser white than that ; and besides, there is a dainty, indefinable some- thing else about its look that is not maible- like. We put in a great deal of solid talk and reflection over this matter of tryin|[ to find a fisure that would describe the unique white 01 a Bermuda house, and ve contrived la hit upon it at last. It is exactly the whit« ef the icing of a cake, and has the same un- emphasized and scarcely perceptible polish. The white of marble is modest and retiring ewnpared with il After the houM ii eased in its hard scale ef whitewash, not a crack, or sign of a seam, er Joining of the Mocks, is detectible, from base-atone to ohimney-top : the building leoks as if it had been carved from a single y«ck •( atoMb and the doors and windows sawed out afterwtads. A white marble house has a cold, tomb-like, unsociable look, and takes the conversation out of a body and depresses him. Not so with a Benniida house. ^ There is something exhilerating, even hilarious, about its vivid whiteness when the sun plays upon it. If it bo of picturesque shape and graceful contour — and many of the Be rmud-an dwellings aro — it will 80 fascinate you that you will keep your eves upon it until they ache. One of those clean-cut fanciful chimneys — too pure and white for this world — with one side glowing in the sun and the other touched with a son shadow, is an object that will charm one's gaze by the hour. I know of no other country that has ciiiinneys worthy to be gazed at and gloated over. One of those snowy houses, half-concealed and half- glimpsed through green foliage, is a pretty thing to see ; and if it takes one by surprise and suddenly, as ho turns a sharp corner of a country road, it will wring an exclamation from him, sure. Wherever you go, in town or country, you find those snowy honses, and always with masses of bright-coloured flowers about them, but with no vines climbing their walls ; vines cannot take hold of the alnooth hard whitewash. Wherever you go, in the town or along the country roads, amonglittle potato farms and patches or expensive coun- try-seats, these stainless white dwellings, gleaming out from flowers and foliage, meet you at every turn. The least little bit of a cottage is as white and blemishless as the stateliest mansion. Nowhere is HMf dirt or stenoh, puddle, or hog-wal- low, neglect, disorder, or lack of trim* ness and neatness. The roads, the'streets» the dwellings, the people, the clothes, this neatness extends to everything that falls under the eye. It is the tidiest country ia tiie world. And very much the tidiest, too. Considering these things, the Question came up. Where do the poor live? No an- swer was arrived at. Therefore, we agreed to leave this conundrum for hrtare states- men to wrangle over. What a bright and startling spectacle one of those blazing white oountiy palaces, with its brown-tinted window caps and ledgea, and green idiutteis, and its wealth of caress- ing flowers and foliage, would be in black London! And what a gleaming: surprise it would be in nearly any American city one could mention I Bermuda roads are made bv enttine dowi> a few inches into the solid white coral— or a good many feet, where a hill intrudes itself —and smoothing off the surface of the road- bed. It is a simpk and easy prooSM. The 188 AN IDLE EXCURSION. gnin of the coral is coarse and porous ; the road-bed has the look of being niuilc of coarse irhite sugar. Its excessive cleanness and whiteness are a trouble in one way : the sun is reflected into your eyes with such energy M you walk along that you want to sneeze «I1 the time. Old Captain Tom Bowling found another difficulty. He joined us in our walk, but kept wandering unrestfully to the road'Side. Finally he explained. Said he, 'Well, I chew, you know, and the road's •o plaguy clean. ' We walked several miles that afternoon inthe bewildering glare of the sun, the white roads, and the white buildings. Our eyes got to paining us a good deal. By-and-by a soothing, blessed twilight spread its cool balm around. We looked up in pleased sur- prise, and saw that it proceeded from an in- ieosely black ne^pro who was goine by. We answered his military salute in the grateful gloom of his near presence, and then passed Icwy masses of oleander that seem to float out from behind distaiit projections like the pink cloud-banks of sunset; sudden plunges among cottaoes and gardens, life and activ- ity, followed by as sudden plunges into the •ombre twilight and stillness of the woods ; flittering visions of white fortresses and bea- oon towers pictured against the sky on re- mote hill-tops; (rlimpses of shining green •ea cauffht for a moment through openini; headlands then lost again ; more woods and solitude ; and by-and-by another turn lays bare, without wamine, the full sweep of the inland ocean, enrichea with its bars of soft colour, and graced with its wandering sails. Take »ay road you please, you may de- pend upon it you will not stay in it half a mile. Your road is everything that a road ought to be; it is I )rdere aant and sociable. Rural, too ; for there was a pig and a small donkey and a hen anchored out, close at hand, by cords to their legs, on a spot that purported to be grassy. Presently a woman passed along, and although she coldly said nothing, she changed th-3 drift of our talk. Said Smith : " She didn't look this way, you noticed? Well, she is our next neighbour on one sidu, and there's another family that's our next oeishbours on the other side ; but there's a general coolness now, and we don't speak. Yet these three famiUes, one (feneration and another, have lived there side by side and been as friendly as weavers for a hundred and fifty years, till almut a year ago. ** " Why, what calamity could have been powerful enough to break up so old a friend- ship ?" "Well, it was too bad, but it couldn't be helped. It happened like this : About a year or more aeo, the rats got to pestering my place a good deal, and I set up a steel- trap in the biM^k yard. Both of these neigh- boars run considerable to cats, and so I warned them about the trap, because their cats were pretty sociable around here nights, and they might get into trouble without my intending it. Well, they shut up their cats for a whue, but you know how it is with people ; they got careless, and sure enough one night the trap took Mrs. Jones's princi- pal tom-cat into camp, and finished him up. In the morning Mrs. Jones comes here with the corpse in her arms, and cries and takes on the same as if it was a child. It was a cat by the name of Yelverton — Hector O. Yelverton — a troublesome old rip, with no more principle than an Injun, thoujgh you conldn t make her believe it. I said all a man could to comfort her, but no, nothing would do but I must pay for him. Finally, I saidl wam't investing in cats now as much as I was, and with that she walked off in a huff, carrying the remains with her. That closed our intercourse with the Joneses. Mrs. Jones joined another church and took her tribe with her. She said she would not hold fellowship with assassins. Well, by and by comes Mrs. Brown's turn — she that [went by here a minute aso. She had a dis- m old vellow cat wat she thought as inch of as if he was twins, and one night i« tried that trap on his neck, and it fitted BO^ and was so sort of satisfactory, that le laid down and curled up and stayed with 1 Such was the end of Sir John Baldwin." " Was that tha name of the oat ?" " The same. There's oats around here ith namea that would surprise you. Ma* to hie wif«-^'whatwaefeb«t oat's name that eat a keg of ratsbane by mistake over at Hooper's, and started home and got struck by liuhtning and took the blind staggers and fell in the well and was most drowned before they could fish him out ?' "That was that coloured Deacon Jackson's cat. I only remember the last end of its name, which was To-be or-not-to-be-that-is- the-question- Jackson. " ' Sho, that ain't the one. That's the one that eat up anentire box of Seidlitz powders, and then nadn't any more judgment than to go and take a drink. He was considered to e a great loss, but I never could see it Well, no matter about the names. Mrs. Brown wanted to be reasonable, but Mrs. Jones wouldn't let her. She put her up to going to law for damages. So to law she went, and had the face to claim seven shil* linus and sixpence. It made a great stir. All the neighbours went tocourt ; everybody took sides. It got hotter and hotter, and broke up all the friendships for three hun- dred yards around — friendships that had lasted for generations and generations. ' Well, I proved by eleven witnesses that the cat was of a low character and very or- nery, and wam't worth a cancelled postage- stamp, any way, taking the average of cata here ; but I lost the case. What could I ex- pect ? The system is all wrong here, and is bound to make revolution and bloodshed some day. You see, they give the magistrate a poor little starvation salary, and then turn him loose on the public to gouge for fees and costs to live on. What is the natural result? Why, he never loots into the justice of a case — never once. All he looks at is which client has got the money. So this one piled the fees and costs and every- thing on to me. I could pay specie, don't vou see ? and he knew migh^ well that if he put the verdict on to Mrs. Brown, where it belonged, he'd have to take his swag in currency." " Currency ? Why, has Bermuda a cur- rency i" " Yes — onions. And they were forty per cent, discount, too, then, because the sea- son had been over as much as three mouths. So I lost my case. I had to pay for that cat But the general trouble the case made was the worst thins about it. Broke up so much good feeling. Two neigh- bours don't speak to each other now. l&a. ]^own had named a child after me. So she changed its name right away. She is a Baptist. Well, in the course ol baptising it over again, it got drowned. I was hoping we might get to be friendly again some tinie or other, but of course this drowning th^ child knocked that all «nt are the reader's sympathy for the asking. Many people have never had the headache or toothache, and I am one of those mvself ; but everybody bus worn tight shoes for two or three noura, and kno«' tiM luxury of taking them off in a retiretl place and seeing his feet swell up and obscure the firmament. Few of us will ever forget the exquisite hoar we were married. Once when I was a callow, bashful cub, I took a plain, anaentimental country girl to a comedy one night I had known her a day ; she seemed divine ; I wore my new boots. At the end of the first half*hour she said, "Why do you fidget so with your feet?" I said, •* Die; I !" Then I put my attention there and kept still. At the end of another half hour she said, *• Why do you say ' yes, oh, yes 1* and ' Ha, ha, oh, oertainlv 1 very true !' to everything I say, when half the time those are entirely irrelevantanswers?" I blushed and explained that I had been a little absent-minded. At the end of another half hour she said, ' Please why do you grin •0 steadfastly at vacancy, and yet look so sad?" I explained that I always did that whcA I was reflecting. An hour passed, atid then she turned and contemplated me with her earnest eyes and said, "Why do you cry all the time?" I explained that very fnnny comedies always made me cry. At last human nature surrendered, and I secretly slipped my boots off. This was a mistake. I was not able to get them on any more. It was a rainy night ; there were no omnibuses ^oing our way ; and as I walked home, burning up with shame, with the girl on one arm and my boots onder the other, I was an object worthy of some compassion, — especially in those moments of martyrdom when I had to pass through the glare that fell upon the pavement from street lampe. Finimy, this child of the forest said, "Where are your boots?" and beine taken unprepared, I put a fitting finish to the fol- lies of the evening with the stupid remark, "The higher olaiaee do not wear them to the theatre.'^ The Reverend had been an army chaplain dnring the war, and while we were hunting for a road that would lead to Hamilton he told a story about two dying soldiers which inivraeted me in spite of my feet. He said that in the Potomac hospitals roogh pine coffins were furnished by government, but that it was not always possible to keep up with the demand; so, when a man died, if there was no coffin at hand he was buried without one. One night late, two soldiers lay dying in a ward. A man eame in with a coffin on his shoulder, and stood trying to make np his mind which of these two poor fellows would be likely to need it first. Both of them begged for it with their fading eves, — they were past talking. 'Hten one of them protruded a wasted hand from iiis blankets and made a feeble beckoning Hisn with the fingers, to signify, " Be u cooil fellow ; put it under my bed, please. " The man did it, and left. The lucky soldier painfully turned himself in his bed until be faced the other warrior, raised himself partly on his ellww, and began to work up a mys- tcnous expression of some kind in his fa«e. (Tradually, irksomelv, but rarely and Htoailily, it developed, and at last it took definite form as a pretty sncoessful wink. The sufferer fell back exhausted with his labour, but bathed in glory. Now entered a personal friend of No. 2, the dee- spoilcd soldier. No. 2 pleaded with hint with eloquent eyes, till presently he under- stood, and removed the coffin from under No. I's bed and put it under No. 2's. No. 2 indicated his joy,and made some more signs ; the friend undertitood again, and put his arm under No. 2's shoulders and lifted him partly up. Then the dying hero turned the dim exultation of his eye upon No. I, and besan a slow and laboured work with his hands ; gradually he lifted one hand up toward hia face ; it grew weak and dropped back again ; once more he made the effort, but failed again. He took a rest ; he mthered all the remnant of his strength, ana this time he slowly but surely carried his thumb to the side of his nose, spread the gannt finffers wide in triumph, and dropped biock dead. That picture sticks by me yet. xha " situation " IS unique. The next momins, at what seemed a very early hour, the little white table- waiter appeared suddenly in my room and shot a single word out of himself : "Breakfast I" This was a remarkable boy in many ways. He was about eleven yean old; he Aiad alert, intent black eyes ; he was quicil'^ of mrvement; there was no hesitaticm, no uncertainty about him anywhere ■ there wa» a miUtary decision in his lip, 1 is manner, his speech, that was an astonishing thing to. see in a little chap like him; he wasted uO words ; his answers always oamo M anick and brief that they semed to be pert of the question tiiat had been asked inttead of a reply to it. When he stood at the tab1« with his fly-hnuh, rigid, erect, his face set 149 AM IDLB EXCURSION. i I in • oast-iron eravity, h« was m itatae till h« detiiuted a Jawninu want in somebodjr's vy ; then he pouucoa down, supplied it, und was instantly a statue again. When lie was sent to the kitchen for anything, he marched upright tiU he got to the door ; ho turned hand-springs the rest of the way. "Breakfast I" I thought I would make one more effort lo get some conversation out of this being. "Have yon called the B«verend, or "Yes, sV.** "Isitearly, orli^-f* "Eight-five !" ** Do you have to do all the ' choree,' or is there somebody to give you a 1 — f " •• Coloured girl 1''— '* Is then only one parish in the island, or are there— f" " Eight r *' Is the big ohnroh on th« hill a parish church, or is n— t" "Chapel-of-easel" " Is taxation here clasiiified into poll, pA> rish, towu, and— f " •• Don't know l" Before I could cudgel another question oni of my head he was below, hand-springing across the ba<^k-yard. He had slid auwn the balusters, head first. I oave up trying to provoke a discussion with Dim. The essen- tial element of discussion had been left out of him ; his answers were so final and exact, that they did not leave a doubt to han|( con- versation on. I suspect that there is the making of a mighty man or a mighty rascal in this boy, — according to circumstances, — but they ar^ ^ing to apprentice him to a carpenter. It is the way tae world uses its op^rtunlties. Dunng this day and the next wa took carriage drives about the island and over to the town of St. Oeorce's fifteen or twenty miles away. Such hard, excellent roads to drive over are not to be found elsewhere out of Europe. An intelligent young coloured man drove us, and acted as guide-book. In the ed^ of the town we saw five or six monntam-oabbage palms (atrocioos names t) standing in a straight row, and eonidistant from each other. These were not tne largest or the tallest trees 1 have ever seen, but uiey were the stateliest, the most majestia That row of them must be the nearest that nature has ever come to counterfeiting a colonnade. ISiese trees are all the same height, say six* ty feet ; the trunks as grav as granite, wiUi a very igradual and perfect taper, without si^ of branch ot knot or flaw ; the surfaoe not looking like bark, bat like granite that has been dressed and not polished. Thus all th4 way up the diminishing shaft for fifty feet ; tlien it begins to take the appearance of being olosely wrapped, spuol-faahion, with guy cord, or of having be«i tamed in % the. Above this point there is an out- ward swell, and thence upwards for six feet or more, the cylinder is a oright, ireshgreeu, and is formed of wrappings like those of aa ear of green Indian corn. Then comes th* great spraying palm plume, us , rjen. Ctliur palnitreos always lean out ot tiie perpendi- cular, or have a curve in them. But the plumbline could not detect a dci^ection in any individual of this stately row Thev stand as straight as the colonnade of Baal- bee ; they have ite great height, they have ite gracefulness, they have ite dignity ; in moonlight or twilight, and shorn of their plumes, they would duplicate it. The birds we came across in the country were smgularly tome. Even that wild creat- ure, the quail, would pick around in the grass at ease while we inspected it and talked about it at leisure. A small bird of the can- ary speciee had to be stirred up with the butt-end of the whip before it would move, and then it moved only a couple of feet. It is said that even the suspicious flea is teni* and sociable in Bermuda, and will allow him- self to be oau^t and caressed without mis- givings. This should be teken with allow- ance, for doubtless there is more or less brag about it. In San Francisco they used to claim that their native flea could kick a child over, as if it were a merit in a flea to be able to do that ; as if the know- led^ of it trumpted abroad ought to entioe emigration. Such a thing in nme cases out of ten would be almost sure to deter a thiok* ingman from coming. We saw no bu^ or reptiles to speak of, and so I was thinkmg of saying in print, in a general way, that there were none at all ; but one night after I had gone to bed, the Beverend came into my room carrying some- thing, and asked, " Is this your boot T" I said it was, and he said be had met a spider ffoin^ off with it. Next morning he stated that just at dawn the same spider raised hit window, and was o(Hning in to get a shirt, but saw him and fled. I inquired, " Did he get the shirt ?" "No." " How did yoa know it was a shirt he was after ?" " I could see it in his eye.** We inquired round, but could hear of ne Bermudlan spider capable of doing these things. Citizens said that their larsest spiders oould not more than spread their Tegs over an ordinary saaoer, and that they hwd always been oonsidered honeet. Hen was AN IDLE DXCURSION. { ihftft for fifty the appnarance )l-fMkOion, with len tamed in & ier« m an out- rdi for ux {«et ht, irwh grueu, ike thoM of aa hen comoa th* ■ , roeu. Ctliur it the perpeudi- hem. But tba a dek^ection in ely roMi . The* >iiuade of Baai- light, they have iU dignity ; in thorn of their B it in the country that wild creat- luudintho graM 1 it and talked bird of the can- red ap with the I it would move, ipleof feet It ion* flea is tame i will allow hint- ed without mia- kken with allow- aore or leas brag > they used to luld kick a child ,t in a flea to if the know- ought to entioe nine cases out deter a think* |leeto ipeakof, ring in print, in »re none at all ; )ue to bed, the carrying MWM- [your boot ?" I id met a spider ^ing he stated Ipider raified hii to get a shirt, lie shirt ?" I a shirt he was lid hear of n» doing these their Ursest i their Tegs that they had H«M was testimony of a clergyman against the tvsti- muny of mora worldliiigD —mtort^Hted ones, too. On the whole I judged it bust to lock up my things. Here and there on the country roads we found lemon, papaia, orange, lime, and fig- trees ; also several sorts of palms, among them the cocoa, the date, and the palmetto. We saw some bamboos forty feet high, with stems as thick as a man's arm. Jungles of the mangrove-tree stood up out of swamps, propped on their interlacined roots as upon a tangle of stilts. In dr^er places the noble tamarind sent down its grateful cloud of shade. Here and there tpe bios- somy tamarao adorned the roadside. There was a curious gnarled and twisted black tree, without a single leaf on it. It might have passed itself off for a dead apple-tree, but for tho fact that it had a star-like, re hot flower sprinkled sparsely over it poniun. It had the scattery red glow that a constel- lation might have when glimpsed through smoked glass. It is possible that our con- Htellations have been so constructed as to be invisible through smoked glass ; if this is so it is a great mistake. We saw a tree that bears grapes, and just as calmly and unostentatiously as a vine would do it We saw an India-rubber tree, but out of season, possibly, so there were no ■hoes on it, nor suspenders, nor anything that a person would properly expect to find there. This gave it an impressively fraudu- lent look. There was exactly one mahog- any-tree on the island. I know this to he reliable, because I saw a man who 9aid he bad counted ii many a time, and could not be mistaken. He was a man with a hair lip and a pure heart, and everybody said he was as true as steel. Such men are all too few. Oae's eye caught near and far the pink cloud of the oleander and the blaze of the pomegranate blossom. In one piece of wild wood the morning-glory vines had wrapped the trees to their very tops, and decorated them all over with couples and clusters of great blue-bells — a fine and striking specta- cle at a little distance. But the dull cedar ii everywhere, and it's the prevailing foliaee. One does not ap- preciate how dull it is mntil the varnished, oright green attire of the infrequent lemon tree pleasantly intrudes its contrast In one thine BermntM was eminentl>[ tropical, — was in May, at least, — the unbrilliant slightly faded, unrejoicing look of the landscape. For forests arrayed in a blemishless magni- ficence of glowing green foliage that seems to exult in its o#n existence, and can move the beholder to an enthusiasm that will make him either shout or cry, one must go to countries that have lualignniit winters. We saw scores of coloured farmers dig- ging their crops of potatoes and onions, tlieir wives and children helping, entirely contented and comfortable, if looks go for anything. We never met a man or woman or child anvwhere in this sunny island, who seemed to oe uuprosporous, or discontented, or sorry about anything. This sort of mono- tony became very tiresome presently, and even something worse. The spectre of aa entire nation grovelling in contentment is an infuriating thing. We felt the Uiok of something in this community, — a vague, aa undefinable, an elusive something, and yet » lack. But after considerable thought we made out what it was, — tramps. Let them go there, right now, in a body. It is utterly irgin soil. Passage is cheap. Every true patriot in America will help buy tickets. Whole armies of these excellent beings oaa be spared from our midst and our polls ; they will find a delicious climate, and a green, kind hearted people. There are pota« toes and onions for all, and a generous wel- come for the first batch and elegant graves for the second. It was the Early Rose potato the peoplo were digging. Later in the year they havo another crop, which they call the Garnet We buy their potatoes (retail) at fifteen' dollars a barrel ; and those coloured farmers buy ours for a scng, and live on them. Havana might exchange cigars with Con- necticut in tne same advantageous way if she thought of it. We passed a roadside grocery with a siga up, "Potatoes Wanted." An ignorant stranger doubtless. He oould not have gone thirty steps from his place without finding plenty of them. In several fields, the arrowroot crop WM already sprouting. Bermuda used to make a vast annual profit out of this staple beforo fire-arms came into_ such general use. The island is not large. Somewhere ia. the interior a man ahead of us had a very slow horse. I suggested that we had better go by him ; but the driver said the man had but a little way to go. I waited to seo. wondering how he could know. Presently the man did turn down another road. I asked, " How did you know he would f" "^cause I knew the man, and where h* Uved." I asked him satirically, if he knew everybody in the island ; he answered very simply, that he did. This gives a boy's mind a good substantial grip on the dimen- sions of the place. At the principal hotel ia St Oeorse'a^ • yonng prl, with » sweet serious faoe. 144 AN IDLE EXCURSION. wud we could not be furnished with dimer, because we had not been expected, and no preparation had been made. Yec it was still an hour before dinner time. We argued ; •he yielded not ; we supplicated, she was serene. The hotel had not been expecting an inundation of two people, and so it seem- ed that we should have to go home diimer- less. I said we were not very hungry, a fish would do. My little maid answered, it was not the market day for fish. Things befi:an to look serious : but presently the boarder who sustained the hotel came in, and when the case was laid before him he was cheer- fully willing to divide. So we had much pleasant chat at table about St. Georee'ei chief industry, the repairing of damased ships ; and in between we had a soup that bad something in it that seemed to taste like the hereal'ter, but it proved to be only pep- per of a particularly vivacious kind. And we had an iron-clad chicken that was delici- ously cooked, but not in the right way. Bak- inn was not the thing to convince his sort. He ought to have been put through a quartz mill until the "tuck" was i»^en out oi him, and then boiled till we came again. We got a good deal of sport out of him, but not enough sustenance to leave the victory on our side. No matter ; we had potatoes and a' pie and a sociable good time. Then a ramble throufl;h the town, which is a quaint one, with interesting crooked streets, and narrow crooked lanes, with here and there a ffrain of dust Here, as in Hamilton, tiie dwellings had Venetian blinds of a very sen- sible pattern. They were not double shat- ters, hinged at the sides, but a single broad shutter hinged at the top ; yon push it out- ward, from the bottom, and fasten it at any angle required by the sun or desired by your* All about the island one sees great white scars on the hill-slopes. These are dished spaces where the soil haa been scraped off and the coral exposed and 'glazed vrith hard whitev7ash. Some of these ar<- a quarter- acre in size. They catch and carry we rain- fall to reservoirs ; for the wells are few and poor, and there are no natural springs and BO brooks. They say that the Bermuda cHmate is mild and equitable, with never any snow or ,ice, and that one may be very comfortable in spring clothing the year round, there. We had (telightful and decided summer weather in May, with a flaming sun that permitted ~ the thinnest of raiment, and yet there was a eonstant breeze ; consequently we were never discomfited by heat. At four or five in the afternoon the mercury began to go down, and then it became necessary to change to thick garments. I went to St. George's in the morning clothed in the thinnest of linen, and reachM home at five in the afternoon with two overcoats on. The nights are said to be always cool and bracing. We had mosquito nets, and the Reverend said tiie mosquitoes persecuted hiib a sood deaL I often heard him slapping and banging at these imaginaiT creatures with as much zeal as if thej nad been reaL There are no taoa- quitoes in the Bermudas in May. The poet Thomas Moore spent several months in Bermuda more than seventy years ago. He was sent out to be registrar of the admiralty I am not quite OMar as to the function of a registrar ot the admiralty of Bermuda, but 1 think it is his duty to keep a record of all the admirals bom there. I will inquire into this. There was not much doing in admirals, and Moore got tired and went away. A reverently preserved souve- nir of him is still one oi the treasures of the islands. I gathered the idea vaguely, that it was a jug, but was persist- ently thwarted in the twenty-two efforts I made to visit it. However, it was no mat- ter, for I found afterwards that it was only a choir. There are several " sights" in the Bermu- das, of course, but they are easily avoided. This is a great advantage— one cannot have it in Europe. Bermuda is the right country for a jaded man to "loaf" in. There are no harassments ; the deep peace and quiet of the country sink into one's body and bones, and give his conscience a test, and chloroform the legion of invisible small devib that ore always trying to whitewash his hair. A good many Americans go there about the first of March and remam until the early spring weelu have finished their villainies at home. The Bermudas are hoping soon to have telegraphic communication with the world. But even after they shall have acquired this curse it will still be a good country to go to for a vacation, for there are charming Tittle islets scattered about the inclosed sea where one could live secure from interruption. The telegraph boy would have to come in a boat^ and one could easily kill him while he was making his landing. We had spent four days in Bermuda — three bright ones out of doors and one rainy one in the house, we being disappointed about getting a yacht for a tail ; and now our fnrlouj;h was ended. We nuMle the run home to New York quarantine in three days and five hours, and could have gone ri|^t along up to the citv if we had haid a health permit But healu permits are not granted after seven in the AN IDLI BXOURSION. George's io est of linen, le afternoon rhts are said , We hatl nd said the KtddesL I banging at ts much zeal arenoiAOS- • pent Mveral Bventy years ristrar of the bar as to the admiralty of duty to keep rn there. I ras not much got tired and served Boave- he treasures id the idea 1 waspersist- two efforts I was no mat- t it was only in the Bermn- Asily avoided. ) cannot have [right country There are «e and quiet '■ body and te a test, and visible small to whitewash icaus g,o there remain until ished their lioon to have ith the world. acquired this mtry to go to larming Tittle sea where .aption. The j>me in a boi^t, [while he was Bermuda- land one rainy disappoints ' ; and now NewYork Ire hours, and Ip to the city ■ But health I seven in the Itf •▼eniiig. parilT baoaiiM » ship oumot b* in^peotod ana oyerhauled with ezhanatiyt Ihoronghnsss except in the dayliffht, and partly beoaose kealth officials are liable to tatoh cold if th^ Mpose themselves to the sight air. Still, joa ean bay a permit after hours for five doUan extra, ana tha officer will do the iupooting noxt weak. Owship and DMsengert lay vnder expeuN and in hmnuiating oaptiyity all nignt, vndor the very bom of the little offloial reptilo who is •oppoMdto proteot Now York from pestil- woe by his Tigilaat ''inraoctiona." This imposing rigour gavo ororjrDody a solemn anaawral idea clthe benMfloant watchfal- Bsas «f onr gofWUMBl and thara were some whowondand ifaajthiag flaw oonld be found in othar ooutnaa. Intha morning wawara aUa^tiptoa co witaeaa the intricate caramony of inspecting Iba dup. But it waa a disappointing thing. The health offioer'a tug ranged alongside for a moment, oar parser handed the lawful Ihraa-dollar permit fee to the health officer's boot-black, who passed us a folded paper on a forked stick, and away we went. The antira " insyaatfaa* did not oaoagy thirteen The health officer^ plaoa ia worth a han- drad thousand dollara a year to him. Hia system of inspection is pwfectt and therefore cannot be improved on ; but it seems to me that his system of oollecting. hia fees might be amended. For a great slup to lie idle all night is a most ooatly loaa of time ; for her passengers to have to do the same thing works to them the same damage, with tha addition of an amount of exasperation and bitterness of sonl that tha apeotada of that health offi * ooald hardly sweeten. Now, why woold it not ba batter I and aimpler to let the ahipa pasa in unmo- lested, and tha parmita ba axohangad onoa a yearbypoatt ' * When thaproofs of tUs artlde eama to ma I saw that "The AtUntto" had condemned the words which oooupied the place where Is now a vacancy. I can invent no figure worthy to I stand in the shoes of the lurid colossus which a too deep respect for the opinions of mankind has thus ruthlessly banished from his due and rightful pedestal in the world's literature. Let the blanK remain a blank; and let it suggest co the reader that he has sustained a preoious losa whiohaaaaaTarbemadegoodtomni. ILT. p ROBERTSON'S CHEAP SERIES. POPULAR HEADING AT POPULAR PRICES. sq*-,"' THE PRINCE AND PAUPER NON -COPYKIGHT EDITION. This Amprican rr/yrhit in im^yortcd from the United State*, and is told in < anaila iimlfr the /rnrUiotM of the IinpericiL Act, 10 and 11 Tic, eh. 95, anil Lht dnit nliixn Ar.l, 31 V itr.. tk. 58. vj'uc'i prooitlM that American and Forcl/ii rci)rin'ii of British copyright books can b4 latqJ'uUy imported and aold in Canada. By MABK TWAIN. COMPLETE TORONTO: J. Ross Robertson, 55 King Street, West, Cor. Bay. 1882. In the tain aut the sixte poor fani not wan Knglish the nani< All Engl; so longed prayed G really co for joy. kissed" et took a ho poor, leas very inel days and was a sigli from everi did pagej it was ag; bonfires ai revellers ii was no ta] baby, Edw lay lapped of all this i lords and h ingover hi there was Tom Canty amonct the I just come t Let us fiki London w j was a great Ihtindrod the Nouble ^s ir Inarrow, and |Ij' in the pai Iwaa not fm »:■•. -'■■;'^''^■' ■:"i*''.^:'^'^i5?'-?j THE PRINCE AND PAUPER, CEEJ^i.IPI'ElDEl I. THE BIETH OF THE TRINCE AND THE rAUPER. In the ancient city of Lonilon, on a cer- tain autiunn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the name of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another English cliild was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, wlio did want him. All England wanted him too. England had 80 longed for him, and hoped for him, and prayed God for him, that, now tliat he was really come, the people went nearly mad for joy. Mere acquaintances hugged and kissed' each other and cried. Everybody took a holiday, and high and low, rich and poor, feasted and danced and saiii;, and got very mellow ; and they kept this up for days and nights together. By day, London was a sight to see, with gay banners waving from every balcony and housetop, and splen- did pageants marching along. By inght, it was again a sight to see, with its great bonfires at every corner, and its troops of revellers making merry around them. There was no talk in all England but of the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales, who lay lapped in silks and satins, unconscious of all this fuss, and not knowing that great lords and ladies were tending him and watch- ing over him — and not caring, either. But there was no talk about the other baby, Tom Canty, lapped in his poor rags, except amoniT the family of paupers whom he had just come to trouble with his presence. CHAPTER II. TOM 'a EARLY LIFE. Let UB skip a number of years. London was fifteen hundred years old, and I was a great town — for that day. It had a I hundred thousand inhabitants — some think idouble fis many. The streets were very [narrow, and crooked, and dirtv, especial- llj' in the part where Tom Canty lived,which Iwaa not far from London Bridj^e. The houses were of wood, with the second story projecting over the first, and the third sticking its elbows out beyond the second. The higher the houses grew, -the broader they grew. They were SKeletons of strong «:riss-cro8s beams, with solid material be- tween, coated with plaster. The beams were painted red or blue or black, according to the owner's taste, and this gave the house a very picturesque look. The windows were small, glazed with little diamond- shaped panes, and they opened outward, on hniges, like doors. The house which Tom's father lived in was up a foul little pocket called Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane. It was small, decayed, and rickety, but it was packed full of wretchedly poor families. Canty's tribe occupied a room on the third floor. The mother and father had a sort of bedstead in the corner ; but Tom, his grandmother, and his two sisters, Bet and Nan, were not re- stricted — they had all the floor to them- selves, and might sleep where they chose. There were the remains of a blanket or two, and some bundles of ancient and dirty straw, but these could not rightly be called beds, for they were not organized : they were kicked into a general pile, mornings, and selections made from the mass at night, , for service. Bet and Nan werp fifteen years old — twins. They were good-hearted girls, un* clean, clotb-il in rags, and profoundly ignor- ant. Their mothew was like them. But the father and the grandmother were a couple of fiends. .They got drunk whenever they could ; then they fougl^t each ■ other or anybody else who came in the way ; they cursed and swore always, drunk or sober ; John Canty was a thief, and his mother a beggar. They made beggars of the child- ren, but failed to make thieves of them. Among, but not of, the dreadful rabble that inhabited the house, was a good ohl priest whom the King bad turned oat of house and ir-)' home with a pension of a fow farthings, and he used to got the cliildron aside i\nd teach them right ways !sei.rclly. Father Andrew also taught Tom a little Latin, and how to road and write ; and would have done the Baino with the girls, but they wore afraid of tlie jeers of their friends, who could not have endured such a queer accomplishment iu them. All Offal Court was just such another hive aa Canty 's house. Drunkenness, riot and brawlin<4 were the order there every night and nearly all night long. Broken heads were as conunon as hunger in that place. Yet little Tom was not unhappy. He had a hard time of it, but did not know it. It waa the sort of time that all the OQ'al Court boys had, therefore ho supposed it waa the correct and comfortable thing. When he came liome empty-handed at night, h6 knew his father would curse him and thrash him first, and that when he was done the awful grandmotlier would do it all over a;;ain and improve on it ; and that in the night his starving mother would slip to him stealthily with any miserable scrap or crust she had been able to save for him by going hungry herself, notwithstanding she was often caught in that sort of treason and soundly beaten for it by her husband. No, Tom's life went along well enough, especially in summer. He only begged juat enough to save himself, for the laws against mendicancy were stringent, and the penal- ties heavy ; so he put iu a good deal of his time listening to good Father Andrew's charming old tales and legends about giants and fairies, dwarfs and genii, and enchanted castle*?, and gorgeous kings and princes. His head grew to be full of these wonderful things, and many a night as he lay on his scant and offensive straw, tilled, hungry, and smarting from a thrashing, he unleash- ed his imagination and soon forgot his aches and paina in delicious picturings to him^">1f ot the charmed life of a petted prince ii. _ regal palace. One desire came in time ti haunt him day and night : it was to see real prince, with his own eyes. He spoke .^ it once to some of his 0&,1 Court comrad j ; but they jeered bim ana scoffed him so .m- mercifully that he was glad to keep his dream to himself after thaC He often read the T^riest'a old booka and Sot him to explain and enlarge upon them, [is dreamings and reading? worked certain changes in him, by and by. His dream - peopio were so fine that ho grew to lament his shabby clothine and his dirt, and to wish to be clean and better clad. He went on playing in the mud just the same, and •njofing it| too ; but instead of splashing around in the Thames sol^ ly fur the fun of it, he began to had an added vaUie in it be cause of the washings and oleansings it ai forded. Tom could always find something going on around tho ilnypoio in Cheapside, and at the fairs ; and now and then he and the rest of London had achamo to sec a military parade wJien some famoua unfortiin.itc was carried pri.soiier to tlio Tuwer, by land or boat. One Bummer'a day ho saw poor Anne Askew and three men burned at the stake in Smithfield, and heard an ex-iJisliop preach a sermon to them which did not interest hi*.'. JTes, Tom's life was varied and pleasant enough, on the whole. By and by Tom's reading and dreaming about princely life wrought such a strong effect upon him that he "began to act the prince, unconsciously. His speech and man- ners became curiously ceremonious and courtly, to the vast admiration and amuse- ment of his intimates. But Tom's influence among these young people began to grow, now, (iay by day ; and in time he came to be looked up to, by them, with a sort of wondering awe, as a superior being. He seemed to know so much ! and he could do and say such marvellous things ! and withal he was so deep and wise ! Tom's remarks, and Tom's performances, were reported by the boys to their elders ; and these, also, presently began to diacusa Tom Canty, and to regard him as a most gifted and extraor- dinary creature. Full-grown people brought their perplexities to Tom for solution, and were often astonished at the wit and wis- dom of his decisions. In fact-he was become a hero to all Mho knew him except hia own family — these, only, saw nothing in him. Privately, after a while, Tom organized a royal court 1 He was the prince ; his special comradea were guards, chamberlains, equer- riea, lords and ladiea in waiting, and the royal family. Daily the mock prince was received with elaborate ceremonials borrowed jy Tom from his romantic readings ; daily •^he great affairs of the mimic kingdom were uiscussed in the royal council, and daily his mimic highness issued decrees to his iraagiu- ary armies, navies, and viceroyaltiea. After which, lie would go forth in hia rags and beg a few farthings, eat hia poor crust, take his customary cuffs and abuse, and then stretch himself upon his handful of j foiil straw, and rbsume his empty grandoun in his dreams. And still his desire to look just once npon j a real prince, in the flesh, grew upon him, , day by day, and week by week, until at last it absorbed all other desires, and becam« his halberd to a pre- sent-arms and said mockingly, — ' I salute your gracious Highness. ' Then angrily, ' Be off, thou crazy rubbish 1' Here the jeering crowd closed around the poor little prince, and hustled him far down the road, hooting him, and shouting, ' Way for his royal Highness ! way for the Prince of Wales I' CHAPTER TV. THE fringe's TBOtJBLES BEGHT. After hours of persistent pursuit and per* secution, the little prince was at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself. As long M he had been able to rage against the mob^ and threaten it royally, and royally uttor comiMands) that were ^ood stiilF to ljiiip;li at, h« was very entertaining; Lut when weari- ness Onally forced him to be silent, ho was no longer of use to liia tornientora, and tliey Bought amusement elaewiiere. Hj looked about him now, but eould not rrcognizi; tlie locality. He was within tho city of Lon- don — that was all he know, llo moved on, aimlessly, and in a little while the houses thinned, and the passers-by were infrequent. He bathed his bleeding feet in tiiu brook which (lowed thou where Farrin;:don street now is ; rested a few moments, then passed on, and presently came upon a great apace with only a few scattered houses in it, and a prod gious church. He recognized this church. Scaifoldiiigs were about every- where, and swaiMiis of workmen ; for it was undergoing elaborate re))airs. Tlio prince took heart at once— he felt that hi.j troubles were at an end, now. He said to himaelf, *It is tho ancient Grey Friar's church, which the king my fathur iiath taken from tho monks and given for a home forever for poor and foraaken cliililron, and new- named it Christ's Church. Right gladly will they serve the son of him wlio hath duno so generously by them — and tlie more that that son is himself as poor and r.s forlorn as any that be sheltered here this day, or over shall ,be.' - He was soon in the midst of a crowd of boys who were running, jumping, pitying at ball and leap-frog and otherwise disporting themselves, and right noisily, too. They were all dressed alike, and in the fashion which in that day prevailed among serving- men and 'prentices— (See Note 1, at end of the volume.) — that is to say, each had on the crown of his head a flat black cap about the size of a saucer, which was not useful as a covering, it being of such scanty dimen- sions, neither was it ornamental ; from be- neath it tho hair fell, unparted, to tho middle of the forehead, and m-.h cropped straight around ; a clerical band at the neck; a blue gown that fitted closely and hung as low as the knees or lower ; full sleevts ; a broad red belt ; bright yellow stockings, f gartered above the knees ; low shoes witli arge metal bucklcst It was a sufficiently ugly costume. The boys stopped their play and flocked about the prince, who said with native dig- nity — 'Good lads, say to your master that Ed- ward Prince of Wales desireth speech with him.' A great shout went up at rude fellow said — this, and one 'Marry, art tliou his grace's messenger, bcgtfar ?' The princf'H faco llii:)hf>d with anger, and his ready liand flfw to lii i hip, but there was nothing there. There was a, storm of laugh- ter, and one boy said — ' Didut mark that? Ho fancied be had a sword — belike ho is tho prince him- self.' This sally brought more laughter. Poor Edward drew himself up proudly and said — ' 1 aintlio princo ; and it ill bcsocmoth you that let d iipon the king my father's bounty to n-?e nie so. ' 'I'iiis was vastly enjoyed, as tho laughter testilied. The youth who had first spoken, shouted to his comrades — ' Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace's princely father, where be your man- ners ? Down on your marrow bones, all of ye. anil do reverence to his kingly port and roy.tl rags.' With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their linocs in a body and aid mock homage to their prey. The princo spurned the nearest boy witli hi.i foot, and said fiercely — ' ' Tulic thou that, till the morrow come and I build l!iee \ gibbet !* Ah, liut tlii3 was not a. joke — this was going beyond fun. The laughter ceased en the instant, and fury took its place. A dozen shouted — ' Hale him forth ! To the horse-pond, to the iiorf?e-pond ! Whern be the dogs ? Ho, there, Lion ! he Fang?» !' Then followed «uch a th'ng as England had nt;ver seen befoio— the sacred person of tlif heir to the thror. rudely buffeted by plebeian hands, and sot upon and torn by dogs. As night drew to a close that day, the prince found himself far down in tho close-built portion of tho oity. His body was bruised, his hands wi m bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud. He wandered on and on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired and faint ha could hardly drag one foot after tho other. Ho had ceased to ask questions of any one, since they I)rought him only insult instead f information. Ho kept muttering to him- self, • Ofl'al Court— that is tho name ; if I can but find it before my strength is wholly spent and I drop, then am I saved— for hig people will take me to the palace and provs that I am none of theirs, but the true prince, and I shall have mine own again. And now and then his mind reverted to hit treatment by those rude Christ's Hospital boys, and ho said, ' When T am king, thoy shall not lure bread and shelter only, but row come and also teachings out cif books ; for n full belly is liUlu \vui til wlu'i'o tlifj iiiiml i-j starveil, ;vn(l tlio lioiirt. 1 will kcop tiiin liili^ciitly in my rominiibiaiico, tli;it tiiii diiy'j Icmsoii 1)0 not lost tipuii me, and n\y ixiuplo sull'er thi'ivby ; for learning aoftonctli the heart iintl lii-eodefch gnntloiio.sfi ;uul eliarity. ' (Soo Nolo 2, at cinl of tlio volume.) Tlio lights began to twin' '. , it came onto rain, the wiml roHc, and a .ay aiul gusty jiiglit set in. The housele.s3 prinoo, tlio home les.i iieir to the tlironf) of England, still moved on, drifting deeper into the maze of stjualid alleys where the swarming hives of poverty and misery wore massed together. Suddetdy a great drunken rutliau collared him and said — 'Out to this time of night again, and hast not brought a farthing home, I warrant mo ! If it be so, an' I do not break all the bones in thy lean body, then am I not John Canty, but some other. ' The prineo twisted himself loose, uucon- seiously hruslied hia profaned shoulder, and eagerly sad — ' O, art his father, truly ? Sweet heaven grant it be so — then wilt thou fetch him away and re.store ma ! ' •Ilia father? 1 know not what thou moan'st ; I but know I am thy father, as thou shalt soon have eauso to' — * O, jest not, palter not, delay not ! — I am worn, I am Avounded, I can bear no more. Take me to the king my father, and ho will make thee rieh beyond thy wildei-t dreams. Believe me, man, lieliove me ! — I speak no lie, but only tiio truth I — put forth thy hand and savo iiie 1 I am indeed tho Prince of Wales ! ' Tho man stared down, stupefied, upon tho lad, then shook his head orA muttered — 'Gone stark mad as any Tom o' Bedlam !' — then collared him once more, and said with a coarse laugh and an oath, ' But mad or no mad, I and thy Gammer Canty will tho glass. Next ho drew tho bonutiful nword, and bowed, kissing the blade, and l.'i\ ing it_ aernsa lila breast, as ho had seen a nobh; knight do, by way of salute to tho lieu- tenant of the Tosvor,livo or six weeks before, when iljlivering the great lords of Norfolk jiiul Surrey into hia haud.i for captivity. Tom played with the jowellod dagger that hung upon his thigh; he exavuinod tho eoytly and exquisite ornaments of tho room ; ho tried each of tho sumptuoua chairs, and tlionght Uow proud ho would bo if the Offal Court herd could only jieep in and sco him in his grandeur. He woi.ilered if they would believetlio marvellous talehe shouhltellwhen he got ho ne, or if they would shako their heads and say his overtaxed imaginatiou had at last upset his reason. At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred to him that tho prineo was gone a long time ; then right away he began to feel lonely , vc-y soon he fell to listening and longing, ami ceased to toy with the pretty things about him ; ho grew uneasy, then restless, then distressed, i^uppose some one r.hould coiuo and catch him lu the prince's elotlips, and the prince not thero to explain. Miglit they not hang him at once, and in- quire into iiis ease afterward? Ho had heard that the gre.it were prompt about small matters. His fears rose higher and higher ; and trembling he softly opened the door to tho antechamber, resolved to fly and seek' . tho prince, and through him, protection and release Six gorgeous gentlemen -servants and two young pages of high degree, clothed like butterflies, sprung to their feet, and bowed low before him. Ho stepped quickly back and shut tlio door. Ho said : j ' Oh, they mock at me ! They will go and tell. Oh ! why came I here to cast away my life ? ' Ho walked up and down tho floor, filled with nameless fears, listening, startled at every trifling sound. Tresently the door soDii find where tho soft places iu thy bones j swung open, and a silken page said, lie, or I'm no true man 1' | ' Tho Lady Jane Grey. ' The door closed, and a sweet young girl, richly clad, bounded toward him. But she stopped suddenly, and said in a distressed voice, • Oh, what aileth thee, my lord?* With this he dragged the frantic and struggling prince away, and disappeared up a front court followed by a delighted and noisy swarm of liuma-i vermin. CHAPTER V. TOM AS A PATEICIAN. Tom Canty, left alone in the prince's cabinet, made good use of his opportunity. He turned himself this way and that before tho great mirror, admiring his finery ; then walked away, imitating the prince's high- bred carriaa©, aird still observing results in Tom's breath was nearly failing him ; but he made shift to stammer out. ' Ah, bo merciful, thou ! In sooth I am no lord, but only poor Tom Canty of Offal Court in the city. Prithee let me see the prince, and he will of his grace restore to me my rags, and let me hence unhurt. Oh, be thou merciful, and save me ! ' By this time the boy was on his knees, and supplicating with his eyes and up- 10 lifted hands aa well as with his totiKiie. The yuuiiji! girl seemed horror-stricken. Hhe cried out^ — ' my lord, on thy knees ?— and to me !' Then she fled away in fright ; and Tom, Hniittcn with despair, sank down, munnur- lun — * There iH no help, there is no hope. Now will they come and take me.' Whilst lio lay there henumlnid with ter- ror, (hvttdfnl tidings were spreading through the palace. The whisper, for it was wliis- pered always, flew from menial to menial, from lord to lady, down all tiie long corri- dors, from story to story, from snloon to •aloon, ' The prince hath gone iTIad, the prince hath gone mad 1' Soon every saloon, every marble hall, had its groups of glitter- ing lords and ladies, and other groups of daz- zling lesser folk, talking earnestly together in whispers, and every face had in it dis- may, f'rcsently a splendid oflicial came marching by these groups, making solemn "proclamation, — • In the Name of the King ! same, of the Let none list to this lalsu and fonlisli matter, upon pain uf deatli, nor discuss tlie nor cairy it abroad, lu the name King!' " . The whisperings ceased as suddeidy as if ' the whispora had been stricken dumb. Soon there w.as a general buzz ;ilong the corridors, of ' The prince ! See, the prince con)es !' Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, trying to bow in return, and meekly gazing upon his strange sur- roundings with bewildered and pathetic eyes. Great nobles walked upon each side of him, making him lean upon them, and so ateady bis steps. Behind him followed the court-physicians and some servants. Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment of the palace, and heard the door close behind him. Around him stood those who had come with him. Before bun, at a little distance, reclit.ed a very large and very fat man, with a wide, pulpy face, and a stern expression. His large head was very gray ; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his face, like a frame, were gray also. His clothing was of rich stuff, but old, and slightly frayed in places. One of bis swollen le^ had a pillow under it, and was wrapped in bandages. There was sil- ence now ; and there was no head there but was bent in reverence, except this man's. This stem-countenanced invalid was the dread Henry VIIL He said, — and his face /pew gentle aa he began to speak, — •How now, mv Lord Kdward, my prince? Hast iteen minc when his memory doth lapse— it will grieve you to note how it doth stick at every triilu. ' Arf'Mitiiiiu lord St. John was yaying in Tom's ear^ i'.c.no yuii sir, keep diligently in mind ids majesty's dcbire. Remember all tiiou canst — seem to remember all else. Let them u-it perceive that thou art much changed trom thy wont, for tiiuu knoweat how tender- ly th> old play-fellows boo" thee in their hearts and how 'twouid grieve them. Art wdbng, sir, that I remain ? — and thine uncle?' Tom signified assent with a gesture .«\nd a murmureil word, for he w;i3 already lc:iru- ing, and in liis simi)le heart was resolved to acq .lit himself as best ho might according to the king's command. In spite of every precaution, the conversa- tion beciinie a little embarrassing, at times. More than once, in truth, Tom was near to breaking down and confessing himself un- equal to his tremendous part ; but the tact of the princess Elizabeth saved him, or a ; word from one or the other of the vigilant j lords, thr"vo palms, respectfully but caressingly ; ' trouble not thyself as to that. The fault is none of thine, but thy dis- temper's.' * Thou'rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady,' said Tom, gratefully, ' and my heart moveth me to thank thee for't an' I may be- 80 bold. ' Once the giddy little lady Jane fired s simple (Jieek phrase at Tom. The princess Elizabeth's (piick eye saw by the serene blackness of the target's front that the shaft was overshot ; so she tranquilly delivered ^ return volley of sounding Greek on Tom's behalf, and then straightway changed the talk to other matters. Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly, on the whole. Snags and sand- bars grew less and less fre(iuent, and Tom grew more and more at ease, seeing that all were so lovingly bent on lielping him and overlooking his mistakes. When it came^? out that the little ladies were to accompany him to the Lord Mayor's banquet in the evening, his heart gave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt that he should not be friendless, now, among the multitude of strangers, whereas, an hour earlier, the idea of their going witli him would have been an insup> portable teri'or to him. Tom's guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort in the interview than the other parties to it. They felt much as if they were piloting a great ship through » dangerous chamiel ; they were on the alert constantly, and found their office no child's play. Therefore, at last, when the ladies' visit was drawing to a close and the lord Guilford Dudley was announced, they not only felt that their charge had been suffici- ently taxed ior the present, but also that they themselves were not in the best con- dition to tke their ship back and make their anxious voyage all over ag.ain. So they respectfully advised Tom to excuse himself, which he was very ^lad to do, al- though a slight shade of disappointment migiit have been obsevved upon my lady- Jane's face when she heard the splendid stripling denied admittance. te^^^^'4*-i-^^- ,^*j-. 14 N^ There was a pause, now, a sort of waiting silence which Tom could not understand. He glanced at lord Hertford, wlio gave Jiim a sign — but he failed to understand that, also. The ready Elizabeth came to the rescue with her usual easy grace. She made reverence and said — ' Have we leave of the prince's tjracc my brother to go ? ' Tom said — * Indeed your ladyships can have what- soever of me they will, for the asking ; yet would I rather give them any other thint; that in my power lieth, than leave to take the liglit and blessing of their presence hence. Give ye good den, and God be with ye ! ' Then he smiled inwardly at the thought, ' ' tis not for nought I liave dwelt but among princes in my reading, and taught my tongue some slight trick of their broider- ed and gracious speech withal ! ' Wlien the illustrious maidens were gone, Tom turned wearily to his keepers and said — ' May it please your lordships to grant me leave to go into some corner and rest me?' Lord Hertford said — ' So please your highness, it is for you to command, it is for us to obey. That thou shouldst rest is indeed a needful thing, since thou must journey to the city pre- ,sently.' He touched a bell, and a page appeared, who was ordered to desire the i)resence of Sir William Herbert. This gentleman came straightway, and conducted Tom to an inner apartment, Tom's first movenient, there, was to reach for a oup of water ; but a silk-and-velvet servitor seized it, dropped upon one knee, and offered it to him on a golden salver. Next, the tired captive sat down and was Eing to take off his buskins, timidly asking ive with his eye, but another silk-and- velvet discomfovter went down upon his knees and took the office from him. He made two or three further etlbrts to help himself, but being promptlj' forestalled each time, he finally gave up, with a sigh of resignation and a murmured * Beshrew me ■ but I marvel they do not require to breathe for me also ! ' Slippered, and wrapped in a sumptuous robe, he laid himself down at last to rest, but not to sleep, for his head was too full of tiioughts and the room too full of people. He could not dismiss the former, so they staid ; he did not know enough to dismiss the latter, so they staid also, to his vast regret, — and theirs. Tom's departure had left his two noble guardians alone. They mused awhile, with much head-shading and walking the floor, then lord St. John said — ' I'lainlj', what dost thou think ? ' ' Plaiidy, then, this. The king is near his end, my nephew is mad, mad will mount the throne, and mad remain. God protect Eng- land, since she will need it ! ' ' Verily it promiseth so indeed. But . . . have you no misgivings as to . . . as to' . . The speaker hesitated, and finally stopped. He evidently felt that he was upon delicate groimd. Lord Hertford stopped before him, looked into his face with a clear, frank eye, and said — ' Speak on — there is none to hear but me. Misgiving';- as to what? ' ' 1 am fill! loath to word the thing that is in my mind, and thou so near to him in blood, my lord. But ciitving pardon if I do offend, seenieth it not strange that madness could so change his port and manner ? — not but that his port and sj)eech are princely ■ still, but that they differ in one unweighty trifle or another, from what his custom was aforetime. Secn:eth it not strange that madness should filch from his memory his father's very lineaments ; the customs and observances that are his due from such as be about him ; and, leaving him his Latin, strip him of his Greek and French ? My lord, be not offended, but ease my mind of its disquiet and receive my grateful thanks. It haunteth me his saying he was not the prince, and so'— ' Peace-, my lord ; thou utterest treason 1 Hast forgot the king's command ? Remem- ber I am party to the crime, if I but listen.' St. Joh'i paled, and hastened to say — ' I was in fault, I do confess it. Betray me not, grant me this gnice out of thy court- esy, and I will neither think nor speak of this thing more. Deal not hardly with me, sir, else am I ruined. ' ' I am content, my lord. So tliou offend not again, here or in the ears of others, it shall be as thou hadnt not spoken. But thou needst not have misgivings. He is my sister's son ; are not his voice, his face, his form, familiar to me from his cradle ? Mad- ness can do all tlie odd conflicting things thou seest in him, and more. Dost not re- call how that the old Baron Marley, being mad, forgot the favour of his own counten- ance that ho had known for sixty years, and hold it was nother's ; nay, even claimed he was the son of Mary Magdalene, and that his head was made of .Spanish glass ; and sooth to say, he suffered none to touch It, lest by mischance some heedless hand might shiver it. Give thy misgivings easement, good my lord. This is tl»o very prince, I know him well— and soon will be tnv kine : lo he floor, I near his lountthe tect Eng- But . . . as to* . . stopped, n delicate ifore him, 'rank eye, ir but me. ng that is to him in on if I do b madness \er ? — not o princely ■ unweighty ustom was ■ange that lemory his stems and such as be Latin, strip ]y loi-d, bo its disquiet t haunteth rince, and st treason I Reniem- Ibnt listen.' say- Betray thy court- |r speak oi with me. it may advantage thee to bear this in mind and more dwell upon it than the other.' After some furtlvjr talk, in which the lord St. Jolin covered up his mistake as well as he could by repeated protests that iiis faith was thoroughly grounded now, and could not be assailed by doubts again, the lord Hertford relieved his fellow keeper, and sat down to keep watch and ward alone. He was soon deep in meditation. And evident- ly the longer he thought, the more he was bothered. J3y and by he bo^,'an to pace the floor and mutter. 'Tush, he must be the prince ! Will any he in all the land maintain tliere can be two, not of one blood and birth, so marvel- lously twinned ? And even were it so, 'twere yet a stranger miracle that chance east the one into the other's place. Nay. 'tis folly, folly, folly !' I'resently ha said — ' Now were he impobior and called him- self prince, look you that would be natural ; that would hii reasonable. But lived ever an impostor yet, who, being called prmce by the king, prince by the court, prince by ali, denied his dignity and pleaded against his exaltation 7 No ! By the soul of St. Swithin, uo ! This is the true prince, gone mad I' CHAPTER VII. tom's first royal dinxeb. Somewhat after one in the afternoon, Tom resignedly underwent the ordeal of being dressed for dinner. He found himself aw finely clothed as before, but every thing dif- ferent, every thing changed, from his rull to his stockings. He was presently conducted with much st ite to a spacious and ornate apartment, where a table was already set for one. Its furniture was all of massive gold, andbcautilii'd with designs which well-nigh made it priceless, since they were the work ofBenvenuto. Tiie room was half filled with noble servitors. A chaplain said grace, and Tom was about to fall to, for hunger had long been constitutional with him, but was interrupted by my lord the Earl of-Berkeley, who fastened a napkin about his n^ck ; for the great post of Diaperers to the Princes of Wales was hereditary in this nobleman's family. Tom's cup-bcanr was present, and forestalled all his attenipts to help himself to wine. The Taster to his iiighness tlie Prince of Wales was there also, prepared to taste any suspinious dish upjn reiiuirenient, and run the risk of being poisoned. He was only an ornamental appendage at this time, and was seldom called upon to exercise his func- tion ; but there had been times, not many generations past, when the office of taster had its perils, and was not a grandeur to be desired. Why they did not use a dog or a plumber se mus strange ; My lord d'Arcy.First Groom of theChamW, was there to do goodness knows what ; but there he was— let that suffice. The Lord Chief Butler was there, and stood behind Tom's chair, overseeing the solemnities, • under command of the Lord Great Steward and the Lord Head Cook, who stood near. Tom had three hundred and eighty-four servants beside these ; but they were not all in that room, of course, nor the quarter of them ; neither was Tom aware yet that they existed. All those that were present bad been well drilled within the hour to remember that the prince was temporarily out of his head, and to be careful to show no surprise at his vagaries. These ' vagaries ' were soon on exhibition before them ; but they only moved their compassion and their sorrow, not tlieir mirth. It was a heavy affliction to them to see the Iieloved prince so stricken. Poor Tom ate with his fingers mainly ; but no one smiled at it, or even seemed to observe it. He inspected his napkin curiously, and with deep interest, for it was of a very dainty and beautiful fabric, then said with simidicity, 'Prithee take it away, lest in mine un- heedfulness it be soiled.' The Hereditary Diaperer took it away with reverent manner, and witliout word or protest of any sort. Tom examined the turnips and the lettuce with interest, and asltnd what thoy were, and if they were to be eaten ; for it was only recently that men had begun to raise these things in England in place of import- ing them as luxuries from Holland. (See note 4, at end of volume.) His question was answered with grave respect, and no surprise manifcoted. When he had finished his dessert, he filled his pockets with nuts : but nobody appeared to be aware of it, or dis- turbed by it. But the next moment he was himself disturbed by it, and showed discom- posure ; for this was the only service he waa permitted to do with his own hands during the meal, and he did not doubt that he had done a mo<'t improper and unprincely thing. At that moment the muscles of his face began to twitch, and the end of that organ to lift and Nvrinkle. This continued, and Tom began to evince a growing distress. Ha looked appealingly, first at one and then another of the lords about him, and tears came into his eyes. They sprang forward with dismay in their faces, and begged to ''MS ■■'■ i5.:, % 16 know his trouble. Tom said witli genuine | anguish, ' I cnvve your iiululgenco ; my none itcheth cruelly. What is tlie custom aiul iisat^'o in this emergency ? Prithee speed, foi' 'tis but a little time tliat I can bear it.' None smiled ; but all were sore perplexed, and looked one to tlie other in deep tribula- tion for counsel. Hut behold, liere was a dead waU, and nothinp; in English history to tell how to get over it. The Master of Cere- monies was not present : there was not one who felt safe to venture on this u'lchartercd sea, or risk the attempt to solve this solenni problem. Alas ! there was no Hereditary Scrafccher. Meantime the tears had overfloM-ed their banks, and began to trickle down Tom's cheeks. Hia twitching nose was pleading more urgently than ever for rehef. At last nature broke dcwn the barriers of etiquette : Tom lifted up an inward prayer for pardon if he was doing wrong, and 'rouglit relief to the bur- dened hearts oi his court by scratching his nose himself. His meal being ended, a lord came and held before him a broatl, shallow, golden dish with fragrant rosewatcr in it, to cleanse his nioutii and fingers with ; and my lord the Hereditary Diapcrer stood by with a napkin for his me. Tom gazed at the dish a puzzled nioineiit or two, tlien ho returned it to the waiting lord, and said — ' Nav, it likes me not, my lord ; it hath a pietty flavour, but it wanteth strength.' This new eccentricity of the prince's ruined mind made all the hearts about him ache ; but the sad sight moved none to mer- riment. Tom's next unconscious bluTuler was to get up and leave the table just when tlie chaplain had taken his stand behind his chair, and with uplifted hands, and closed, uplifted eyes, was in the act of beginning the blessing. Still nobody seemed to perceive tdat till! prince had done a thing unusual. By his own requei^t, our small friend was now conducted to his private cabinet, and left there alftne to his own devices. Hang- ing upon hooks in the oaken wainscotitig were the several pieces of a suit of shinin^ Kteel armour, covered all over with beautifu designs exquisitely inlaid in gold. This martial panoply belonged to the true prince — a recent present from Madam Parr the Queen. Tom put on the greaves, the gaunt- lets, the plumed helmet, and such other pieces as he could don without assistance, and for a while was minded to call for help and complete the matter, but bethought him of the nuts he had brought away from din- ner and the joy it would be to eat them with no crowd to eye him, and no Gr*nd Heredi- taries to pest^jr him with undesired services ; so ho restored the protty things to their several places, and soon w;is cracking nuts, and feeling almost naturally happy for the first time since God for his sins had made him a prince. When the nuts were all gone, he stumbled upon some inviting books in a closet, among them one about tlio etiquette of the P]ngli.sh court. This was a prize. He lay down upon a sumptuous divan, and pro- cced.,d to ins.ruot himself with honest zeaL Lot us leave him there for the present, CHAPTER VIII. "■ THE QUESTION OF THE SEAL. About five o'clock Heni-y VIII. awoke out of an unrefroshing nap, and muttered to himself, ' Troublous dreams, troublous dreams ! Mine en I is now at hand : s>-> say these waruingri, and my failing pulses do confirm it.' Presently a wicked light flamed up in his eye, and he muttered, ' Yet will not I die till ho go before.' His attendants porcciving that he was awake, one of them asked his pleasure con- cerning the Ijord Chancellor, who was wait- ing without. 'Admit him, admit him !' exclaimed the King eagerly. The Lord Chancellor entered, and knelt by the King's couch, saying, — • I have given order, and, accordmg to the King's command, tlie peers of the realm, in their robes, do now stand at the bar of the House, wliere, having confirmed the Duke of Norfolk's doom, they humbly wait hip majesty's further pleasure in the matter. ' The King's face lit up with a fierce joy. Said he, — 'Litt me up I In mine own person will I go before my Parliament, and with mine own hand will I seal the warrant that rids me of ' — His voice failed ; an ashen pallor swept the Hush from hia cheeks ; and the attend- ants ea^od him back upon hia pillows, and hurriedly' assisted him with restoratives. Presently he said sorrowfully, — ' Alack, how have I longed for this sweet hour I and lo, too late it cometh, and I am robbed of this so ^veted clianco. But speed ye, apeed ye ! let others do this happy office sitii 'tis denied to me. I put my great seal in commission : choose thou the lords that shall compose it, and get yo to your work. Speed ye, man I Before the aun shall rise and set again, bring me his head that I may see it. ' "?*;. md Heredi- ed services ; if;9 to their luking nuts, ppy tor the 3 had made ere all gone, ; books in a ho etiquette a prize. He an, aud pro- honest zeal, •resent, [I. awoke out muttered to 3, troublous [»and : s,t say II g pulses do d light flamed sd, 'Yet will that he was pleasure con- IV ho was wait- exclaimed the d, and knelt accordmc to of the realm, at the bar of confirmed the "they humbly leasure in the la fierce joy. In person will Id with mine rrant that ridi pallor swept the attend- pillows, and restoratives. Ifor this Bweet Ith, and I am 1 chance. But Ido this happy 1 put my great Du the lords It ye to your lore the sun 1 me his head 17 ■ ^T-':^. ' According to the King's command, so shall it be. Wil 't please your majesty to order that the Seal be now restoked to me, so that I may forth upon the busi- ness ?* ' The Seal ? Who keepeth the Seal but thou?' ' Please your majesty, you did take it from me two days since, saying it should no more do its office till your own royal hand should use it upon the Duke of Norfolk's warrant. * 'Why, so in sooth I did : I do remember it. . . . What did I with it ? . . . I am very feeble. ... So oft these days dost my memory play the traitor with me. ... . Tis stratifiie, strange ' — The Kingdroppedintoinarticulate mumbl- ings, shaking his gray head weakly from time to time, and gropingly trying to re- collect what ho had done with the Seal. At last my lord Hertford ventured to kneel and offer information, — ' Sire, if that I may be so bold, here be several that do remember with me how that you gave the Great Seal into the hands of his highness the Prince of Wales to keep against the day that ' — • True, most true ! ' interrupted the King. •Fetch it? Go : time fliotU^ I ' Lord Hertford flew to Tom, but returned to the King before very long, troubled and empty-handed. He delivered himself to this effect, — • It grieveth me, my lord the King, to bear so heavy and unwelcome tidings ; but it is th^ Will of God that the prince's aiHic- tion abideth still, and he cannot recall to mind that he received the Seal. So came I quickly to report, thinking it were waste of precious time, and littlo worth withal, that any should attempt to search the long array of chambers and saloons that bclon&r unto his royal high ' — A groan from the King interrupted my lord at this point. After a little while his majesty caid, with a deep sadness in his tone, — • Trouble him no more, poor child. The hand of God lieth heavy upon hiin, and my heart goeth out in loving compassion for him, and sorrow that I may not bear his bur- den on mine own old trouble-weighted ihoulders, and so bring him peace.' Ho closed his eyes, fell to mumbling, and presently was silent. After a time he : opened his eyes again, and gazed vacantly Around until his glance rested upon the kneelinf; Lord Chancellor. Instantly his [&ce flushed with wrath, — ' What, thou hero y«t I By the ulory of [Ck>d, an' thou gettMt not about that traitor's business, thy mitre bhall have holiday th« morrow for luck of a head to grace -withal I ' The trembling Chancellor answered; — ' Good your majesty, I cry you meroy ! 1 but waited for the Seal.' •Man, bast lost thy wits? The sm&U Seal which aforetime I was wont to takd with me abroad lieth in my treasury. And, since the (ireat Seal hath flown away, shall not it suffice? Hast lost thy wits? Be- gone ! And hark ye,~come no more till thou do bring his head.' The poor Chancellor was not long in re- moving himself fr. in this dangerous vicinity; nor did the commission waste time in giving; the royal assent to the work of the slavisa Parliament, and appointing the morrow for the beheading of the premier peer of £ng« land, the luckless Duke of Norfolk. — (See Note 5, at the end of volume). CHAPTER IX. THE KIVER PAGEANT. At nine in the evening the whole vust river-front of the palace was blazing with light. The river itself, as far as the eye could reach citywards, was so thickly cover- ed with watermen's boats and with pleasure- barges, all fringed with coloured lanterns, and gently agitated by the waves, that it resembled a glowing and limitless garden of flowers stirred to soft motion by summer winds. The grand terrace of stone steps leading down to the water, spacious enough to mass the army of a German principality upon, was a picture to see, with its ranks 01 royal halberdiers in polished armoQr, and its troops of brilliantly costumed serviton flitting up and down, and to and fro, in the hurry of preparation. Presently a command was given, and im- mediately all living creatures vanished from the steps. Now the air was heavy with the hush of suspense and expectancy. As far as one's vision could carry, ho might see the myriads of people in the boats rise up, and shade their eyes from the glare of lanterns and torches, and gaze toward the palace. A file of forty or fifty state barges drew up to the steps. They were richly gilt, and their lofty prowa and sterns were elaborately carved. Some of them were decorated with banners and streamcra ; some with cloth-of-gold and arras embroider* ed with coats-of-arms ; others with silken flags that had numberless little silver bells fastened to then?, which^ shook out tany showers of joyous music whenever the breezes fluttered them ; others of yet biiHier preteusiouB, since they belonged to uralefr 18 it in the prince's immediate service, had their sirles picturesquely fenced with shiihls gorgeously emblazoueil with armori;)! l)car- lugs. Each state barge was towed by a tender. Besid'ea the rowers, these tenders carried each a uuinber of meu-atsvrms in jfloasy helmet and breastplate, and a com- pany of musicians. The advance-guard of the expected pro- cession now appeared in tlio great gateway, a troop of halberdiers. ' They were dressed in striped hose of black and tawny, velvet caps graced at the sidtts with silver roses, and doublets of murrey a'.d blue cloth, em- broidered on the front and back with the three feathers, the prince's blazon, woven in gold. Their halberd staves were covered with crimson velvet, fastened with gilt nails and ornamented with gold tas.sels. Filing oflfon the light and left, tb.cy formed two long lines, extending from the gateway of the palace to the water's edge. A thick, rayed cloth or carpet was then unfolded, and laid down between them by attendants in the gold-and-crimson liveries of the prince. This done, a fiourisli of trunipols resounded from within. A lively prelude arose from the musicians on the water ; and two u-shers with white wands marched with a slow and stately pace from the portal. They were followed by an officer bearing the civic mace, after wliom came an- other carrying the city's sword : then several sergeants of the city guard, in their full accoutrements, and witli badges on their sleeves, then the garter king-at-.'xrma, in his tabard ; then several knights of the bath, each with a while lace on liis sleeve ; then tlieir esquires ; then the judges, in their lobes of scarlet and coifs; then the lord high chancellor of England, in a robe of scni'lot, open before, and pur fled with min- ever; then a deputation of aldermen, in their scarlet cloaks ; and then the lieaas of the different civic conipaiiies, in their robes of state. Now ca.ne twelve Frencli gentle- men, in splendid habiliment?, consisting of pourpuints of white damask barred witli gold, sliort mantles of ciimson velvet lined %vith violet taffeta, and carnation-coloured hauts-dc-chamses, and took their v/ay down the steps. They were of the suite of the French ambassador, and were followed by twelve cavaliers of the suite of tlio Spanish ambassador, clothed in black velvet, unre- lieved by any ornament. Following these came several gi'eat English liobles with their •ttendants. ' There was a flourish of trumpets within ; and the prince's uncle, the future great Duke of Somerset, emerged from the gate- way, arrayed in a ' doublet of black cloth-of- gold, and a cloak of crimson satin (lowered with gold, and ribanded with nets of silver.' He turned, doO'ud his pluuied cap, bent his body in a low reverence, and liegan to step backward, bowing at each stop. A pro- longed trnnipot-lilast followed, and a pro- clamation, ' Way for the iiigli and mighty, the Lord Edward, Prince of Wales !' High aloft on tlie palace walls a long lino of red tongues of llartie leaped forth with a thun- der-crash : tiie massed world on the river burst into a migiity roar of welcome ; and Tom Canty, the cause and hrro of it all, stepped into view, and slightly bowed hia princely head. Ho was ' magnificently habited in a doub- let of white satin, with a front-piece of pur- ple clotli-of-tissuc, powdered with diamonds, and edged with ermine. Over this he wore a mantle of white cloth-of-gold, pounced with the triple-feather crest, lined with blue satin, set with 7ieails and precious stones, and fastened with a clasp of brilli- antH. About his neck hung the order of the Garter, and several princely foreign orders ;' and wlierever liglit fell upon him jewels re- sponded with a blinding flash. Tom Canty, born in a hovel, bred in the gutteri of London, familiar with rags and dirt and misery, \yhat a spectacle is this I CHAPTER X. THK PRINCE IN THE TOILS. We left John Canty dragging the riglitful prince into Offal Court, with a noisy and delighted mob at ins heels. There was but one person in it who ofiercd a pleading word for the captive, and lie was not heeded ; he was hardly even heard, so great was tht turmoil. The prince continued to struggle for freedom, ami to rage against the treat- ment lie was suffering, until John Canty lost what little patience was left in him, and raised his oaken cudgel in a sudden fury over the prince's head. The single pleadei for the lad sprang to stop the man's arm,and the blow descended upon his own wrist. Canty roared out, — ' Tliou'lt meddle, wilt thou ? Then have thy reward.* His cudgel crashed down upon the med- dler' head : there was a groan, a dim form sank to the ground among the feet of the j crowd, and the next moment it lay there, in the dark alone. Tlje mob pressed on,| their enjoyment nothing disturbed by thil| episode. Presently the prince fOund himself in Johi Canty's abode, with the door closed agains the outsiders. By the vague light of a taM 19 T Then have ow Ciiiidle which was thrust into a bottle, :iti nude out the main features of the luiith- iomc den, and also the occupants of it. Two [rowsy girls and a middle-aged woman cow- jred againat the wall iu one corner, with the ispect of animals haliituated to harah usage, ind expecting and dreading it now. From mother corner stole a withered hag with jtreaming uray hair and malignant eyes. John Canty paid to this one, — ' Tarry 1 There's line munimcrios here. Mar them not till thou'st enjoyed thcni ; Stand forth, lud. Now say tiiy foolery igaiu, an' thou'at not forgot it. Name thy name. Who art thou ?' The insulted blood mounted to the little prince's cheok once more, and ho lifted a Bteady and indignant gaze to the man's face, and said, — * 'Tis but ill-breeding in such as thou to command mo to speak. I tell thee now, as I to!^ thee before, I am Edward, Prince of Wales, and none other.' The stunning surprise of this reply nailed the hag's feet to the lloor where slie stood, and almost took her breath. She stared at the prince in stupid amazement, which so amused her ruffianly son, that ho burst into a roar of laughter. But the ellect upon Tom Canty's mother ami sisters was difler- ent. Their dread of bodily injury gave way at once to diss'ioss oi a dirtercut sort. They ran forwanl with woe and dismay in their facet, exclaiming,— ♦ O poor Tom, poor lad !' The mother fell on her knees before the prince, put her I;.^nds upon his shoulders, and gazed yearningly into his face tbrough her rising tears. Then alio said, — ' my poor boj' ! thy foolish reading hath wrought ita woeful work at last, and ta'en thy wit away. Ah ! why didst thou cleave to it when I so warned tlieo 'gainst it? Thou'st broke thy mother's heart. Tiie prince looked into her face, and said gently,— • Thy son is well, and bath nut lost his wits, good dame. Comfort thee : let me to the palace where he is, and str.iightway will the King my father restore him to thee.' • The King thy father 1 my child 1 unsay these words that be freighted with death for thee, and ruin for all that bo near thee. Shake off this grewsomo dream. Call back thy poor wandering memory. Look upon me. Am not I thy mother that bore thee, and loveth thee ? ' The prince shook his head, and reluctant- ly said, — ' God knoweth I am loath to grieve thy heart ; but ti uly hare I tterer looked upon tiij face before.' The woman sank back to a sitting poaturo on the lloor, and covering her eyes with her haiid.<, gave way to heartbroken sobs and wailiiigs. , ' Lot the show go on ! ' shouted Canty. ' What, Nan 1 what. Bet 1 Mannerksa wench(.8 ! M'ill ye stand in the prince's pre- sence ? Upon your knees, ye pauper scum, and do him reverence !' Ho followed this with another horse-laugh. The girls began to plead timidly for their brother ; and Nan said, — ' All' thou wilt but let him to bed, father, rest and sleep will heal his madness : prithee, do.' ' Do, father,' said Bet ; • he is more worn than he is wont. To-morrow will he be himself again, and will beg with diligence, and come not empty home again.* This remark sobered the father's joviality, and brouglit his mind to business. He tui'iied angrily upon the prince, and saiJ, — ' The morrow must we pay two pennies to him that owns this hole ; two pennies, mark ye. — all this money for a half-year's rent.else out of ihis we go. Show what thou'st gather- ed with thy lazy begging.' The prince said, — .• Ort'eud me not with thy sordid matters. I tell thee again I am the King's son.' A sounding blow on tlie prince's shoulder from Canty's broad palm sent him stagger- ing into goodwifo Canty's arms who clasped him to her brenst, and sheltered him from a pelting rain of cutfs and slaps by interposing her own person. The frightened girls re- treated to their corner ; but the grandmother stepped eagerly forward to assist hor son. Tiie prince sprang away from Mrs. Canty, exclaiming, — ' Tliou shalt not suffer for me, madam. Let these swine do their will upon me alone. ' This speech infuriated the swine to such a degree that they set about their work with- out waste of time. Between them they be- laboured the boy right soundly, and then gave the girls and their mother a beating for showing sympathy for the victim. •Now,' said Canty, 'to bed, all of ye. The entertainment has tired me.' The light was put out, and the family re- tired. As soon as the suorings of the head of the house and his mother showed that they were asleep, the young girls crept to where the prince lay, and covered him ten- derly from the cold with straw and rags ; and their mother crept to him also, and stroked his hair, and cried o .'er him, whisper- ing broken words of comfort and compas- sion in his ear the while. She had saved a morsel for him to eat, also ; but the boy'a 20 f tains had swept away all appetite, — at least or black ami tastelcbs crusts. Ho was touched by her brave and costly dofcnee of him, and by her comiuisi^ration ; and he thanked lier in vory noblo and princely words, and begj^cd her to go to her sleep and try to forget her sorrows. And he add- ed that the King liisi father would not let iicr loyal kindness go unrewarded. This return to his 'niudnea.s ' broke her heart anew, and she strained him to her breast again und again and then went back, drowned in tcarH, to her bod. As she lay thinking and mourning, the •uggestioii began to creep into her mind that there was an undeHnablo something about this boy that was lacking in Tom Canty, mad or sane. She could not describe it, sho oould not tell juat what it was, and yet her riiarp mother instinct scorned to detect it and perceive it. What if the boy were really not her son, after all? O, absurd t She al- most smiled at the idea, spite of her griefs and troubles. No matter, she found that it was an idea that would not 'dov/n,' but per- tisted in haunting her. It pursued her, it harassed her, it clung to her, and refused to be put away or ignored. At last she per- ceived that there was not going to be any peflce for her until she should devise a tost ih&t should prove, clearly and without ques- tion, whether this lad was her son or not, and so hanish these wearing and worrying doubts. Ah yes, this was plainly the right way out of the difficulty; therefore she set her wits to work at once to contrive that test. But it was an easier thing to propose than to accomplish. She turned over in her mind one promising test after another, but was obliged to relinquish them all— none of them were absolutely sure, absolutely per- fect ; and an imperfect ono could not satisfy her. Evidently she was racking her head in vain — it seemed manifest that she must give the matter up. While this depressing thought was passing through iier mind, htr ear caught the regular breathing of tiie boy, and she knew he had fallen asleep. And while she listened, the measured breathing was broken by a soft, startled cry, such as one utters in a troubled dream. This chance occurrence furnished her with a plan worth all her laboured teats combined. She at onoe set herself feverishly, but noiselessly, to work, to religiit her candle, muttering to herself, ' Had 1 but seen him then, I should have known 1 Since that day, when he was I" little, that the powder burst in his face, he H hath never baen startled of a sudden out of ' his dreams or out of his thinkings, but he rliath cast his hand before his eyes, oven as ^Jjie did that day ; and not as others would do ' it, with tho palm inward, but always with the palm turned outward — I have seen it a bundled times, and it hath never varied nor ever failed. Ves, I sliall soon know, now !' By this time she had crept to the slum- boring boy'a sidt!, with tho candle, shaded, in her hand. She l)ent Iniedfully nnd war' ly over him. scarcely breathing, in her sup- pressed exeitonicnt, and suddoidy flashed tlie light in his face and struck tho floor by his ear with hor knuckles. Tiio sleeper s eyes sprung wide open, and ho cast a startled stare about him — but he made no special movement with his hands. Tho poor woman was smitten almost helpless with surprise nnd grief; but she contrived to hide her emotions, and to soothe the boy to sleep again ; then she crept apart and communed miserably with herself upon tiie disastrous result of her cxperin)cnt. She tried to believe that her Tom's madness had banished this habitual gesture of his ; but sho could not do it. ' No, ' she said, ' his hands are not mad, they could not unlearn so old a habit in so brief a time. O, this is a heavv day for me 1' Still, hope was as stubborn, now, as doubt had been before ; she could not bring herself to accept the verdict of the test ; she must try the thing again — the failure must have been only an accident ; so she startled the boy out of his sleep a scond and a third time, at intervals — with the same result which had marked the first test— then she dragged herself to bed, and fell sorrowfully asleep saying, ' But I cannot give him up— 0, no, I cannot, I cannot — he must be my boy !' The poor mother's interruptions having ceased, and the x)rince's priins having gradu- ally lost their power to uisturb him, utter weariness at last sealed ids eyes in a pro- found and restful sleep. Hour after hour slipped aw.iy, and still lio slept like tho dead. Thus four or five hours passed. Then his stupor began to lighten. Presently whilo half asleep and half awake, he mur- mured — • Sir William !' After a moment — ' Ho, Sir William Herbert ! Hie theo hither, and list to tho strangest dream that ever . . . Sir William dost hear? Man, I did think me changed to a pauper, and . . . Ho there 1 Guards ! Sir William! What ! 13 there no groom of the chamber in waiting ? Alack it shall go hard with ' — ' What aileth thee ?' asked a whisper near him. ' Who art thou calling ?' • Sir William Herbert. W ho art thon f* ;gaise ! ' ' 'Ware thy tongue, friend, beliko he i>! dangerous ! ' ' Marry, ho looketh .it — mark his eye ! ' Pluck the lad from him — to the horse-pond wi* tho cub I ' Instantly a band was laid upon the prince, under tho impulse of this haj)py thought; as instantly the stranger's long sword was out and the meddler went to the earth under a sounding thump witii tho flat sideof it. Thcnext moment ascorc of voices shouted ' Kill the dog ! kill him ! kUi him ! ' and the mob closed in on the w:U'rior, who backed liimself again?-.t a w.ill and bcLran to . Uy about him with hia long weapon like a madman. His victims sprawled this way ami that, but tho m')b-tido pouroil over thoir prostrate furms and daslicd itself against the champion witii undinuiiiahcd fury. His monii 'ts aconicd numbereil, iii'j destruction certai , when suddenly a trumpetdjlaut sounded, a Voice shouted, • Way for the king's messenger ! ' and a troop of liorscm«n came charging down upon the mob, who lied out of h uin's re:ich as fast as their legs could carry them. Tho bold stranger caught up the prince in Ids arms, and was soon far away from danger and tho multitude. lleturnwo witliiu the (iuildhall. Suddenly high above the jubilant roar and thumler of the revel, brol;o tiio clear peal of a bugle- note. There was instant silence, — a deep liusih ; then a single voice rose — that of the mesi'onger from the palace — and began to l)ipe fortii a proclamation, the whole multi- tude s'lnding, li-tening. Tho closing words, solcmidy pronounced, were— ' Tile king i:i deait ! ' Tiio great assend)lago bent their heads upon their bi'casts with ono accord ; re- mained so, in profound silence, a few mo- ments ; tiion all sunk upon their knees m a botly, strctc!)ed out their hands toward Tom, and a mighty siioufc burst forth that seemed to shake tho building — * Long live the king 1 ' Poor Tom's (hizod eyes wandered abroad over this stupefying spectacle, and finally rested dreamily upon the kneeling princesses beside him, a moment, then upon tho earl of Hertford. A suddou purpose dawiuul in hia fai;o. He saiil, in a low tone, at lord Hert- ford's ear — ' /Vuswer mo truly, on thy faith and honour ! Uttered I here a command, the which none but a king might iiold privilcgo and prerogative to utter, wouhl such co-m- maniimcut bo obeyed, and none rise up to say me nay ? ' ' None, my liege, in alJithcse realms. la thy person bides the majc sty of England. Thou art the king — tny word is law.' Tom responded, in a strong, earnest voice, and with groat animation — ' Then shall the king's law be law of mercy, from tliis day, and never more be law of blood 1 Up from thy knees and away ! To the Tow-er and say the king de- crees tho duke of Norfolk shall not die I * (See Note 7, at end of volume.) Tiie words were caught up and carried engerly from lip to lip far and wide over the hall, and as Hertford hurried from the pi'cscnce, another prodigious shout burst forth — ' 'i'lie vcign of blood is ended ! Long live F^dward, king of England ! ' •v;'".,l fy^'i^'^' .-JTJ 24 ■C' K. CHAPTER XII. THS PBINCB ANO BI8 DBLIVKRKR. As aoon as Miles Hendon and tho little prince were clear of the mub, tliey Htruok down tbrougl) back lanos nnd nllo3'a toward the river. Thoir way was iinobatructed un- til thoy npproacliod London Biid>{0 ; then they plouj^lied into tho mnltitiido nguin, Uendon keeping a fast crip upon tho prin'jo's — no, tho king s — wrist. Tl»e tremondoua news was alread\' abroad, and tiio boy learned it from a thousand voices at onco — ' Tho king ia dead ! ' Tlio tidings struck a chill to tho iicart of tho poor littlo waif, and sent a shudder through lii» fraino. lie realized tho greatness of liia loss, and was tilled with a bitter grief ; for thegrim tyrant who had been sucli a terror to othui-s had always been gontlo with liini. Tlio teard sprung to his eyes and blurred all objocta. For an instant he felt himself the most for* lorn, outcast, and forsaken of God's crea- tures—then another cry shook the night with its far-reaching thunders : 'Long live King Edward the Sixth ! * and this made his eyes kindle, and thrilled him with prido to his tingers' ends. 'Ah,' ho thought, •how grand and strango it seems — Jam Ktifa I • Our friends threaded their way slowly through the throngs upon tho Bridge. This structure, Aviiich htid stood for six hundred years, and had been a noisy and populous thoroughfare all that tune, was a curious affair, for a closely packed rank of stories and shops, with faiiiily quarters over- head, stretched along both siifes of it, from one bank of the river to the other. 'J'he Bridge was a sort of town to itself ; it had its inn, its beer-houses, its bakeries, its ha- berdasheries, its food markets, its manufac- turing industries, and even its church. It looked upon the two neighbours which it linked together — liondon and Southwark — as being well enough, as suburbs, but not otherwise particularly important. It was a close corporation, so to speak ; it was a nar- row to', n, of a single street a fifth of a mile long. Its population was but a vdlago popula- tion, and everybody in it knew all hij fellow townsmen intimately, an \ had known their fathers and mothers before them — and all their little family affairs into the bargain. It had its aristocracy, of course — its line old families of butchers, and bakers, and what- nots, who had occupied the same old premises for five or six hundred years, and knew the great history of tho Bridge from beginning to-end, and all its strange legends ; and M'ho always talked bridgy talk, and thought bridgy thoughts, nnd lied in a long, level, direct, substanti.'! bridgy way. It was just the sort of population to be narrow and igno- rant and Bclf-concuiteJ. Children were I orn on tho Bridge, were roared there, grow to old ago and finally died without ever having sot a foot upon any part of the world but London Bridgo' alone. Such people would naturally ininL'ino that the mighty and in- tormuiablc procfssion which moved through its street night and day, with its confused roar of shouts nnd cries, its neiirhings and bellowinga and ble.itings and its mullled thunder-tran)p, was the ono great thing in this world, nnd themselves somehow tho proprietors of it. And so they wore, in cirect — .it least th«y could exhibit it from their windows, and did— for a consideration — whenever a returning king or hero gave it a fieoting .splondcntr, for there was no place liko it for affording a long, straight uninter- rupted view of marching columnp. Men born and reared upon the Bridge found life uncndurably dull and insane, else- where. History tells of one of theso who left tho Bridge at tho ago of seventy-one and retired to tho country. But ho could only fret and loss in hifi bed ; he could not go to 8leep,the deep stillness was so painful, so awful, so oppressive. When ho was worn out with it, at last, ho fled b.tckto his home, a lean and haggard spectre, and fell peace- fnlly to rest and pleasant dreams under tho lulling music of the lashing waters and the boom and crash and thunder of London Bridge. In the times of which wc are writing, the Bridge furnished ' object lessons ' n English history, for its children— namely, the livid and rot too fast, friend. Thou art need- lessly rough, methinks. What is tho lad to thee"?' ' If it be any business of thine to make and meddle in others' affairs, he is my son.* • 'Tis a lie !' cried tho little king, hotly. ' Boldly said, and I believe thee, whether thy small head-piece bo sound or cracked, my boy. But whether this scurvy ruffian y'rv't.Ji^ ^r*s^ S5 lie thy fothur or m, 'tis all oin?, he slia'l not havM tlicu tu bunt tlico iiiul nhiiHc, ho oiiiing to his threat, bo thou prefer tu l>iil<: w ith ■no.' 'I do, I do— I know liiui not, I loitl o liim, and will dio before 1 will ^'o witli him.' 'Then 'tis Bottled, iiiul tliero is nuuylit more to say. ' •We will Hco, as to timt !' exclainied ilolin Canty, stritling past Hemlpii to get .it the hoy ; • hy force hhiill lio '-- • If thou do hut tou.^li hiin, tliou iiiiiniitel ottal, 1 will 8pit tl;ec like ii goose I' nuid llcndon, lurriiig tiie way and laying his hand upon his aworu iiilt. Ciinty drew back. * Now niarli ye, ■ ooT\leiided lleiidoii, 'I took this lad under my priHoclion when a mob such ns thou wouUl have mi.shandled him, mayhap killed him ; dost iniafjino 1 will desert him now to a woracr fate? — for whether thou nrt hia father or no,— ami Hooth to say, I liiinic it is a lie— a decent swift death were bettor for such a lad tlian life in such brute hands as thine. So eo thy ways, aud set ijuicU about it, for I like not much bandyin^j; ot words, being not over- patient in my nature' John Canty moved off, muttering throats and curses, and was swallowed from si;;ht in the crowd, lleiidon ascended three (lights ot stairs to hia ro()Ui, with his ciiargo, after ordering a meal to be utuit hitlier. It was a poor apartment with a sliabby bed and some odds and ends of old furniture in it, and was vaguely lighted by a couple of sickly candles. The little king dragged himself to tho bed and lay down upon it, almost ex- hau.sted witn hunger and fatigue. He iiad been on his feet a good part of a day and a night, for it was now two or three o'clock in in the morning, and had eaten nothing meantime. Ho murmurred drowsily — ' Prithee call me when tho ibahle is spread,' and sunk into a deep sleep immedi- ately. A smile twinkled in Hcndon's eye, and he said to himself — • By the mass, the little l>ej,gar takes to one's bed with as natural and easy a grace as If ho owned it — with never a by-your- leave or so-please-it-you, or anything of the sort. In his diseased ravings lie called liim- .self the prince of Wales, and bravely doth he keep up the character. Poor little friendless rat, doubtless his mind has been disordered with ill usage. Well, I will be his friend ; I have saved him, and it draw- eth mo strongly to him ; already I love the bohl-tongued little rascal. How sold er- tike he faced the smutty rabble .and flung back his defiance ! And what a comely, Bwoet aud ttentlo face he hatb. uow that ttleep liatli conjured away it* troubles and its griefs. I will teach liim, I will cure hia niiJady ; yea, 1 will be hix elder brother, aiiil care for him and watch over bira ; aod w lioso would hhami! him (rr do him hurt, mny order his siiroud, for ttiouyli 1 be burnt for it he shall nceil it !' He bent ov( r the boy and contemplated him with kind anil pitying interest, t.i|ipii>«,' tho yi.ung elaeU t*>ndei'ly and smoothing back tho taii;^led curls with his great brown hand. A .slit'ht shiver pasHed over the buy's fornj. Hendon mut- tered — ' See, now, how lil.e a man it was to let him lie hiMe uncovered .-ind till his br)dv with deadly rlu urns. Xow what fihall 1 do? 'twill wake him to take lim up and put him within the bed, and ho sorely needeth sleep. ' H'C looked about for extra covering, but finding none dolled bin doublet and wrajiped tho lad in it. saying, 'I am used to nipping air and scant apparel, 'tis little I shall mind tho Cold ' — then walked up and down the room to keep his blood in motion, aoliloquiz- ifig .as before. 'His injured mind persuades him he is piiice of Wales; 'twill be odd to have a prince of Wales still with us, now that ho that w.as the prince is prince no more, bi,t king, — for this poor mind is sot upon the O-ic fantasy, and will not reason out that now it should cast by the prince aud call itself the king If my father liveth still, alter those seven years that I have hearil nouglit from homo in my foreign dungeon, be w ill welcome the poor lad And give liiin generous slielter for my sake ; so will my good elder brother, Arthur ; my other brother, Hugh— but I will crack his crowo, an' he interfere, the fox-hearted, ill-conditioned i.nimal ! Yes, thither will we fare — and straightway, too.' A servant entered with a smoking meal, disposed it upon a small deal table, placed the cliaii's, and took his departure, leaving such cheap lodgers iw those to wait upott themselves. The door slanimc;d after him, and the noise woke the boy, who sprung to a sitting posture, and shot a glad glance about him ; then a grieved look came into his face and he murmured, to hiuiwlf, with a deep sigh, ' Alack, it was but a dream, woe is me.' Next he noticed Miles Hendon 's doub- let — glanced from that to Hendon, compre- hended the sacrifice that had been made for him, and said, gently — ' Thou art good to me ; yes, thou art very good to me. Take if. and put it on— I shall not need it more. ' Then he got up iuid walkr.d to the wash- tm 20 life itand in tho comer, end stood their, waiting. HciidiMi said iii a clioeiy voice — ' We'll have » ii;,'iit lioarty .sup and hito, now, for every thing is savory and smoking hoty and tluit and tliy nap togetlier will make thee a little inaii atraiu, never fear !' Tiio hoy made no answer, but bent a steady look, tiiat was idled with grave sur- prise, and also suuiewhat touched with im- patieuoo, upon the tall knight of the sword. Hondon was puz/.lcd, and taid — ' \Vhal;";;a;ni.ss?' 'Co;id sir, I would wash nie.' * 0, It that all ! Ask no permis^on of Miles Hendon for aught thou cr.ivest. Make tliyselr' perfectly fr;;e here, and welcome, witii all that ai'e liia belongings.' Still the l)oy stood, and nio\ cd'not ; more, ho tapped the floor once or twice with iiis small impatient foot, lleudou was wiiolly perplexed. Said he — •Jih-ss us, what is it ?' * Prithee. p(nir the water, and make not so many w(n'dsi !' Hendon, anppre sing a horse-laugh, y all tho si-.ints, but this iH admirable!' stepped briakly forward and did the small in.solvnt'o bidding ; then stood by, in a smt of sfcupefacfion, until the counnand, 'Cunio — the towel!' woke him sharply up. lie took up a towel, from under tho boy's nose, and handed it to liim, with- out comment, lie now proceeded to comfort his own face with a wa;;!), and wliilc lie was at it his adopted child .seated liinijjelf at tho table and prepared to fall tu. Hendoa de- spatched ids ablutions with aJMority, then drew back the other chair and was ai)0ut to placi; hiniiclf at tal Ic, when the boy said, in- dignantly — ' F(n'l);.ir ! Wouklst sit in tlic presence of the kuig'r' Thij iilo'.v .'■jtiggcred Hendon to his found- ations. lie muttered to hnn.solf, ' Lo, the Eoor t!img';i niadness is up with the time ! it ath clianged with tlie great cliange tliat is come to tlie realm, and now in fancy heisking! Good lack, I mu.st humour the conceit, too — there is no other way — faith, he would order uio to t!ie Tower, else ! ' And phu'ei with this je^t.ho removed tho chair Ironi the table, touk l.is &tand b. hind tlie king, ami pro.;ceded to wait upon iiiniia the courtliest way he was capable of. While tlie king ate, tho rigor of his royal dignity v«-l;ixed a little, and with hi.i grow- ing contcntnio it camo a desire to talk. He Baid — * 1 tliin'i thou eallcit thyself ^Miles Hendon, if I heard tliee aright 1' ' Yes, sirv\' Miles replied; then observed to hii'n.self, ' if I um,it huinunr the poor lad's madness, I must pire him, I must majesty him, I must not go liy liulves, I nni.^t stick at noth-'ig that belonijelh to the part I play, else shall 1 piny it ill and work evil to this charitable and kindly cause. ' The king warmed his liearfc with a second glass of wine, and said — ' 1 would know thee — tell mo thy story. Thou liat^t a gallant way with thee, ami a noble — art nobly born ? ' ' We are of tho tail of the nobility, good your m;ijcf ly. My father is a l);ironet— one of the sin.dlcr lordy, by knight service.'* — Sir Ivichard Ji<>ndon, of Hendon Hall, by Monk's Holm in Kent. ' 'Tiie name has escaped my memory. Go on — fell me tiiy story.' * 'Tis not much, your majesty, yet per- chance it may beguile a short half hour for wirt'it of a bjtter. My father. Sir Richard, was very rich, and of a most generous nature, ^ly father died whilst I was yet a boy. I have two brothers : Artlnu', my older, wit.h a soul like his father'.s; and Hugh, j-ouniier than I, a mean spirit, covetous, treacherous, vicious, uiidcrhanded — a reptile. Such was he from the cradle ; m\A\ was he ten years past, when I last saw him — a ripe rascal at nineteen, 1 bring twenty, then, ar.d Attluir twenty-two. There is none otlier of us but the lady Kdith, my cousin — she was -sixteen, then — beautiful, gentle, good, the ilaughler • of an carl, the last of her race, hf'irc;s,s of a great fortune and a lapsed title. My father was her guardian, 1 lovo'd her and she loved me ; but she was liotrothed to Arthur from the cradle, and Sir lih-imrd wDu'd not snlij^r the contract to 1)0 broken. Arthur loved an(;ti;cr maid, and bade nn Id of good cheer and hold fa.-it to the liO])e tivxt delay and luck togetiier would Fonie day give success' to our several causes. Hu.«;h loved tho lady Judith's fortune, though in truth ho gi*' 1 it was herself he loved — but then 'twas his way, alway, to say tlio one thing and mean the btiier. L5nt he lost his arts upon the girl; he coujd deceive my fatlier, but none else. My father loved him best of us all, .-in d trusted and believed liim ; for he was the youngest child, and tlie others hated him — tlies-e qualities being in all ages .snfli- oient to win a parent's dearest lov(! ; and he had a smooth per.i', it is thine.' This fantastic suggestion startled Hendoa out of his reverie. He was about to thark tlic king nd put the matter aside with say- ing he had only done his duty and desired no reward, but a Miser thought came into his head, and he .nskcd leave to be silent a few moments and consider the gracious offer — an idea which the king gravely approved remarking that it was bust to be not too hasty with a thing of such great import. Miles reflected during some moments, then said to himself, 'Yes, that is the thing to do— by any oti:er means it were impos- sililc to get at it — and certes, tliis hour's experience li.".s taught me 'twould be most v.earing and iuonvenieat to continue it as it is. Yes, I will pi(>pose it ; 'twas a happy accident t'lat I did not throw the chance away.' Then he dropped upon one knee and said — ' ]My poor service went not beyond the limit of a subject's simple duty, and there- fore hat!) no merit ; Init since your majesty is pleased to hold it worthy some reward, I take heart of grace to make petition to this efVect, Near four hundred years ago, as your grace knoweth, • there heing ill Wood betwixt Joht), King of England, and the King of Franco, it was decreed that two champions should fight tosether in the lists, and so settle the dispute bv what is called the arbitrament of Cod. These two kings, and the Spanish king, being assembled to witness and judge the conflict, th.e French chara]iion appeared ; but so redoubtable was he, tliat our I'Tndish knii.dit3 refused to measure M-eapons M'ith him. So the matter, which was a weighty one, v,-as like to go agaitist the English nioiuxrch by default. Now in the Tower lay the lord de Coircy, the mightiest arm ;n ICngland, stripped of his honours and poa.sessions, .Tud wastingwith long captivity. Appeal was made to him; he lave assent, and came forth airaycil fot battle ; but no sooner did the Frenchman glimpsKi his huge frame and hear his famous name but he fled away, and the French kin'.f's cause was lost. King John restored de (jourcy's titles and possessions, antl said. '"Namt ihy wisii and thou rhalt have it-, tboUgh it cost mo halt mykingdop^ ;" where- at de Conrcy, kneoMng, as I do now, made '.iS' ragamufTin, but T saw whab was in him, and answer, '• This, then, I ask, my b( go ; that I said his nan.e would be heard some day — ; I and my successors may have and In Id jho behold him, observe him— was I right I" ' i privilege of remaining covered in the prcs; 28 r ■ u n ..■"^ sfe ence of the kings of England, henceforth while the throne shall last. " The boon was granted, as your majesty knoweth ; and there hath been no time, these four hundred 3 ars, that that line has failed of an htiir ; and so, even unto this day, the head of that ancient house still weareth his hat or helra before the kir ~'-; majesty, without let or hindrance, and this none other may do.* Invoking this precedent in aid of my prayer. I beseech the kina; to grant to me but this ono grace and privilege — to my more than enlficient reward — and none other, to wit : tliat I and my heirs, forever, may sit in the pr.;seuce of the majesty of England !' 'Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, Knight,* said the king, gravely — giving the aceolado with Hendon's sword — ' rise, and seat thyself. Tiiy petition i? granted. Whilst Enclatid remains, and the crown continues, the privilege shall not lapse.' His majesty walked apart, musing, and Hendon dropped into a chair at table, observ- ing to himself, ' 'Twas a bravo thought, and hath wrought me a mighty deliverance ; my legs are grievously wearied. An' I had not thought of that, I must have had to stand for weeks, till my poor lad's wits are cured.' After a little, he went on, ' And so I am be- come a knight of the Kingdom of Dreams «nd Shadows ! A most odd and strange fosition, truly, for one so matter-of-fact as . I will not laugh — no, God forbid, for this thing which is so substimceless to me is real to him. i\nd to me, also, in one way, it is not a falsity, for it reilocts with ti-uth the sweet and generous spirit that is in hiin.' After a pause : 'Ah, what if he sliould call me by my fine title before folk ! — there'd be a merry contraFt betwixt my glory and my raiment ! But no matter : let hiiri call me w hat he will, so it please him ; I shall be content." CHAPTER XIIT. THK DTHAPPEAKANCE Oil THE PlilNOB. A heavy Jiowsiness presently fell upo*^ the two comrades. The king said — ' Remove these tags ' — meaning his cloth- ing. Hendon disapparelled tho boy without di sent or remark, tucked him up in bed, then glanced about the room, saying to him- «elf, ruefully, ' He liath taken my bed again, as before — mnrry, what shall 1 do*' The little king observed his perplexity," and ,' of the Bridge, a ruffianly- looking man plunged out fron^ some near place ; and just as he was joining them ' — 'What then? — out with it i' thundered the impntjent Hendon, interrupting. ' Just thru the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and 1st.' no more, being called by my master, who was in a rage be- cause a joint that the Rcrivi;i)er had orllered was forjrot, though I take all the saints to witness that to blame me for that miscar- riage weie like holding tiio anborn babe to judgment for sii;s com ' — ' Out of my sight, idiot I Thy yrating drives me mad ! Hold ! whither art flying? Canst not bide still an instant ? Went they toward Southwark ?' ' Evci' so, your worship — for. as I said be- fore, as to that detestable joint, tlie babe unborn is no whit more blamelesr' than ' — ' Art here yet 1 And prating still ? Van- ish, lest I throttle thee 1' The servitor van- ished. Hendon followed after him, passed him, and plunged down the stairs two stepa at a stride, muttering, ' Tia that scurvy vil- m f i-*i 90 ^m > ip iain that claimed ho was his son. I have lost thee, my poor little, mad master — it is a bitter thought — and I had come to We thee so ! No 1 by book and bell, not lost 1 Not lost, for I will ransack the laud till I find thee again. Poor child, yonder is his breakfast — and mine, but I have no hun^fer now — so, let the rats liave it — speed, speed 1 that is the word !' As ho wormed his swift way through tlie noisy multitude-s upon the bridge, he several times said to himself — clinging to the thought as if it were a par- ticularly pleasing one — ' He grumbled, but ho went, yes, because he thought Miles Hendon asked il, sweet lad — he would ne'er have done it for another, I know it well.' CHAPTER XIV. ' LE EOI EST MORT— VIVK LE ROI.' Toward dayligiit of the same morning, Tom Canty stirred out of a heavy sleep and opened his eyes in tlie dark. ii>-,; .'lOur, to the peerage, and like- wise Hertfonra son to an caridom, together with similar aggrandizements to other great aervauts of thu crown, Jie Council had re- Bolved to hold a sitting on ttio 10th of Feb- ruary for the delivering and conferring of these honours ; and that meantime, the late king not having granted, in writing, estates suitable to the support of tlieae dignities, the Council, knowing his private wishes in that regard, had thought proper to grant to Seymour '£500 lands,' an(> to Hertford's sou '800 pound lands, and "^tJO pound of the next bishop's land which should fall vacant,' — his present majesty b* ing willing. Tom was about t'^ iilurt out something about the proprie;; of paying the late king's debts first, b''.foro squandering all this money ; but a t'mely touch upon ^;i^ arm from the thoughtful Hertford g.-ved him this indiscretion ; wherefore he gave the royal assent, v it'aout spoken comment, but with much in.vard discomfort. While he sat reflecting a mo- ment, ever the ease with which he was doing ytrange and gl'ttering miracles, a happy thought shot into his mind : why not make his mother Duchess of Olfal Court and give her an estate? But a sorrowful thought swept it instantly away : he w.is only a knig in lifj. 10, th3se grave veU^rans aud great nobiei, were his masters ; to them his mother was jnly tho creature of a distant mind ; they would sirnply listen to his project with unb'^lieving ears, then send for the doctor. The dull work went tediously on. Peti- tions were read, and proclamations, patents, bXkd all manner of wordy, repetitious unci Wearisome papers relating to the public business ; and at last Tom sighed patheti- cally and niurnuued to himself, *Ia what have I oifeuded, that the good Qod should 32 • take mo away from the fields and the free I air and the sunshine, to shut me up here and make me a king and afflict me so ?' Then his poor muddled head nodded a while, and presently dropped to his shoulder ; and the business of tl'e empire came to a stand-still for want of thi't august factor, the ratifying power. Silence ensued around the slumber- " ing child, and the sages of the realm ceased from their delilieratiuns. During the forenoon, Tom had an enjoy- able liour, by permis^' ra of his keepera,Hert- ford and St. John. ,iith the lady Elizubcth and the lii,*-lo Im] ^ Jane Crev ; though the spirit's of the princesses were ni.tl"ir subdued by tlie mighty sti'oko that had iallen ujhmi the royal I ous>3 and at tiie end of the visit his 'elder sifter ' — afterwards the 'JJlof.ly Mary' of history — chilled iiim with a soUsmn int*.. view which liad 'nit one merit in his ey.js, u< brevity. He liad a few moments to l.iinself, ^nd then a slim lad of about twelve years of niffi was admitted to his presence, whoa? clotiiing, except his snowy ruff aiul the lace about his wrists, was of black, — doublet, hose and all. He bore no badj,e of mourning but a knot of purple ribbon on his shoulder. He advanced heuitatingly, with head bowed and bare, and dropped upon one knee in the Iront of Tom. Tom sat still and contemplated his soberly a moment. Then he said — 'Rise, lad. Who art thou? What wouldst have ? ' The boy rose, and stood at gracefcl ease, but with an aspect of concern in his face. He said — ' Of a surety thou must remember ine, ray lord. I am thy whipping-boy.' ' Mj whipping-boy ? ' ' The r>.\m'.\ your grace. I am Humphrey — Humpiii y Marlow.' Tom perceived that here was someone whom his keepers ought to have pnsteil liim about. The situation was delicate. Wiiat should he do ? — pretend ho knew this lad, and then betray by his every utterance, that he had never heard of him before ? No, that would not do. An idea camo to his relief : accidents like this might be likely to happen with some irequeno}', now th.at business ur- gencies would often call Jlcvtford and St. John from his al'lo, they b iiig members of the council of excutore ; therefore perhaps it would be well to strike a plan himself to meet the requirements of such emergencies. Yes, that would be a Aviso course — lie would practife or th? boy, and see what sort of success na might achieve. So he stroked his brow, perplexedly, a moment or two, and presently saiii. — ' Now I seem to remembeT thee sonjo- ^#S 33 I the fi«;« } here and Then his vliile, and ■ ; anil the stau In Humphrey vas someone posted him oate. Wliat this lad, and Incc, that he , V No, that his relief : lly to happen 1 business ur- lord and St. 1 members of |re perhaps it himself to emergencies, course — he Ld see what leva. So he , moment or thee some- what — but my wit is clogged and dim with (uflciin^' — 'Alack, my poor master!' ejamilatcd the wliipping-boy, witl) fceliny ; adilinj.', to hini- self, ' In truth 'tis as tlxiy b.iiU — his mind is, gone — alas, poor soul! Lut uiistoituno catch me, how am I forgeltiug ! they said one must not scorn to oljservc tiiat au^dit is wrong witii liim.' ' 'Tis strange how my memorj' doth wan- ton with me tlicse days,' said Tom. ' ]Jiit mi.id it not — I mend apaco — a little clew doth often servo to liriii;^' mc bade a^^ain the things and names whioii had escaped me. [And not th(}', only, forwootli, but e'. c ruc'> as I ne'er heard before — as this lad fhall see.] Give thy business sjjeech.' ' 'Tis matter of small wei;rht, my liege, yet will I touch up'on it an' it please your tjraco. Two days gona by, when your majesty faulted thrice in j'our Greek — in tlic morning Icppons, — dost rcmendier it?' ' V-o-s— me thinks I do. [It is not much of a lie — an' I liad meddied with tl-.e Greek at all, Iliad not faulted simply thrice, but forty times. 1 Yes, I do recall it, n iw — oo on.' 'The master, being wroth with what he termecd thanks for the change.' rhe» ht ^jaiif? ./.I'fttd— ' And hast thou beeaheaten, poor friend, according to the promi.se ?' . ' Xo. good yC'Ur majifity, my punishment y/ab njij'irinteii fdr the day, audporadventure it niay be annulled, as nnbclitting the season of miKirn ng that is come uinn uy ; I know not, and so have made bold to come hither and remind your grace about your gracious promise to iiitcrei'ik; in my beludt' — With tht liij^ping ?' master? To save thee thy Ah, thou dost remember!' '!My_ memory mendeth, thou scest. Set tl:v mind at ca.-^c— thv l,;iek ?hall go un- sc i.thod — I will see to it,' ' 0, thanks, my g(jfjd .ord !' cried the boy, dropping upon his knee again. 'Mayhap I have ventured far enow ; and yet "... Seeing .\fa6ter Ilumpliroy licKitate, Tom. encouraged him t) go on, saying he was 'in the granting mood.' 'Then will T speak it out, for it lieth near my heart. Sith thou art no more prince of > ales,, but King, thou canst order matters as thou wilt, with none to say thee nay; wherefore it is not in reason that thou wi' • longer vex thyself Mith dreary studies, bat wilt burn tliy books and turn thy mind to things leas irkstme. Then am I ruined, and mine orphan sisters with me 1' 'Ruined? Prithee h.ow ?' 'My back is my bread, my gracious liego ! if it go idle, I starve. An' thou cease from Etudy, mine office is gone, thou'lt need no wlupj.iinjj-L'oy. Do not turn me away !' Tom was touched with this pathetic dia- tre.it Humphrey to the royal closet whenever he might come, provided the majesty of Eng- land was not engaged with other petiplo. Humphrey had liariily been dismissed when my lord Hertford arrived with more trouble for Tom. He said that tiic lords of the Council, fearing tliat some os'crwrouglit report of tlie king's damaged lu'aHh might have leaked Outliud got abn a ', t'u y deemed it wise and best that his maj -i^iy shouUl begin to dine in public after a day or two— his w'.ioji'^omo complexion and vigorous step, assisted by carefully guarchni rcpo.-e ui manner and ease and craco of demeanour, would more Biirely quiet the general pulse — in caj^o any any evil rumours had g' ne about — than any other bchenio tliat could be devised. Then the earl proceeded, deli- C'ltely, to instruct Tom as to the observances prcpcr to the stately occa- sion, under the rather tliin disguise of ' re- minding ' him concerning things already known to iiiin ; but to his vast gratification it turned out that Tom needed very little help in this, line— he had been making use of Humphrey in thab direction, for Huniplirey had mentioned that within a few ole my lord was greatly pleased and encouraged. So encouraged was he, indeed, that he spoke up and said in a quite hoiieful voice — 'Now am I pemiadcd that if your ma- jesty will but tax your memory yet a liLUe further, it will resolve the puzzle of the Great .Seal— a loss which was of moment yesterday, although of none to-day, since its term of service ended witli our late lord's life. May it please your grace to make the trial?' Tom was at sea— a Great Seal ir&a a some- thing which iip was totally unacquamted with. After a moment's Iiesitation he looked up innocently and asked — ' What was it like, my lord ?' Tiie earl started, almost imperceptibly muttering to hinisell, 'Alack, his wits are t!own again 1 — it was ill "Wisdom to lead him on to stram tlicm ' — then ho deftly turned the talk to other matters, witli tlic purpose of swLcping the unlucky Seal out of Tom 'a tliouglits — a purpose which easily buo- cecded. CHAPTl'Ml XV. TOM A;^ KINO. The next day the foreign ambassador! came, with their gorgeous trains : and 'Pom, t]Hone\ eariuf!-R and liomesicknefig by atid by. Tom said the Wi rds which Hertford put into his moutii from time to time, and tried liard to acquit hinisell" satisfactorily, but he was loo new to sncli things, and too ill at ea.se to accomplish morn than a to] rabie success. He looked sufiiciently like a King, luit he was ill able to feel like one. lie was cordially glad when the ceremony vl^.^ ended. The largor part of his day was 'wasted ' — as he termed it, in his own mind — in labours pertiuniiig to his royal office. Even the two htjurs devoted to certain princely pas- times and recreaiiona were rather a burden to him, than otherwise, they were so fettered by restrictions and ceremonious ub ,ervances. However he had a private hour with his whipping-boy .vhich ho counted clear gain, since he got both entertainment and needful information out of it. Tiie third day of Tom Canty's Kingship came and went much as the otliersMiaddonc, but thvrc was a lifting of his cloud in one way — he felt less uncomfortable tlian at first ; lie was getting a little used to his circnmatances and surroundings ; his chains still gailefl, but not all the time , he found the presence and homage of the great af- flicted and embarrassed bim less and less sharply with every hour that drifted over his head. tTut for one single dread, he could hare seen the fourth day approach without serious distress — the dining in public ; it was to begin that day. There were greater mat* 33 caa ft some- acquainted .1 he looked perceptibly if) wits are to lead Viim eftly tnrncd the purpose ,ut of Toui'b easily "tto- ftmh.issadori IS : and 'l\>m, ,1 llieiu. The ht.'d his eye fust, l>ut the ami 80 were foio what l)c- M oiiriuf !-a and Tom said tho jito lii3 nioutii jliard to acquit •as loo new to to ivi'compUsh |3. lie looked . was ill abt® ordially glr-d as • wasted' — ,^^l__in laboura ;e. ICvcn tho princely pas- hcr a burden lore so fettered is ubocrvanccs. lour with His led clear Rain, lit and needful y'a Kingship icrsHiaddonc, cloud in one able than at naed to his his chains he found great af- ic p 5 |me the less and less drifted over he could bare Without serious ; it was to I greater mat- ters in tho propramme— for on that day he would havo to presitlo at a couiieil which would take his views and coniinniida eon- corning the policy to bo pursued towards various foreign nations scatteied far ar d near over tho great globe ; on that daj', too, lord Herbert would he foruiallj' ciionen to tlu' grand ofHoo of Lowl Protector ; other thingsi of note were appointed for that fourth d.iy, also ; but to Tom they were all lusignificaut compared with the ordeal of dming all by himself with a multitude of curious eyes fastened upon him and a niultitutle of mouths whispering conuueuts upon his per- fornianco — and. upon liis niistal;es, if he should bo so uulu'jky as to make any. Still, nothing coulil stop tliat fourth day, and so it came. It fiiuml ])oor Tom low- spirit'd and absout-uuiidud, and this mood continued; ho coiiM not fihako it oIT. The ordinary duties of the moniing dragged upon his hands and wearied him. Once more lie felt the sense of captivity heavy ujjon him. Late in the afternoon ho wa* in a large audience chandjcr, ooiivcrsing with the JCiirl of Hirtford, and dully awaiting the striking of the hour appointed for n visit of cercnioiiy from a considerable number of great olTicials and courtiers. After a little while, be had v.andcred to the window and hocome interested in t!io life and movement of tiio great highway beyond tho palaco gate.ri — ,ind not idly interested, but longing with all his heart to take part in person iu its stir and fre(>dum — he saw tho van of a lii;oting and slioating mob of diKor- derly men, women and children of the low- est and poorest degree apj)roaching from up tho road. ' I would I know what 'tis about !' he ex- claimed, with all a boy's curiosity in such happenings. 'Thou art the kin.- !' solemnly responded tho earl, with a reverence. 'Havel j'our grace's leave to act ?' • O, blithely, yea 1 0; glndly, yes 1' ex- claimed Tom. excitedly, adding to himself with a lively aen.so of satisfaction, ' In truth, being a king is not all dreariness — it hath its compensations and conveni- ences. ' Tho earl called a pasxo, and sent him to the captain of the guard with the onler — •Let the mob be halted, and inquiry made concerning the occasion of its movement. By the king's connnand !' A few seconds later a long rank of the royal guards, cased in fiasliing steel, filed out at the gates and formed across the highway iu front of the multitude. A messenger re- turned, to report that the crowd were fol- lowing a mail, a woman and a young girl to execution for crimes committed against the peace and dignity of tho realm. Death — and a violent death — for these poor unfortunates 1 The thought wrung Tom's heart-strings. Tho spirit of compas- sion took Control of him, to the exclusion of all other considerations ; ho never thought of the oiTended laws, or of tho grief or loss which tin so tiuxo criminals had inflicted upon their victinis.he could think of nothing but the seaflbld and the gri/zly fate hanging over the heads of the condemned, liis con- cern made hijn even forget, for the moment, tliat he was but the false shadow of a king, not the substance ; and before he know it ho had blurted out the command — ' Bring them here 1 ' Then he blushed scarlet, and a sort of apology sprung to his lips ; but observing that his order had wrought no sort of sur- prise in the carl or tho waiting page, he sup- pressed the words ho was al)out to utter. Tiin page, in the most manner-of-course way, mad'' a profound obeisance and retired back- wards out of the room to deliver the com- mand. Tom experienced a glow of pride and a renewed sense of the cjmpensating ad- vaniagos of the kingly oflico. He said to himself, 'Truly it is what I was used to feel wheti I r.aiJ the old priest's tales, and iinogine mine own self a prince, giving law and ccnmand to all, saying, " i)o this, do that,' w hilstnone durst offer ictor hindrance to my will.' Now tho doors swung open ; one high- sounding title after another was announced, the personages owning them followed, and the place was quickly half-filled with noble fold and finery. But Tom was hardly con- Lcious of the presence of these people, so wrought up was ho and so intens dy absorbed in tli.at other and more interesting matter. He seated himself, absently, in his chair of state, and turned his eyes upon the door with manifestations of impatient expectancy, feeing which, the company foreboi'e to trouble him, and fell to chatting a mixture of public business and court gossip one with another. In a little while the measured tread of militai-y men was heard approaching, and the culprits entered the presence in charge of an under-sheriff and escorted by a detail of the king's guard. Tho civil officer knelt before Tom, "then stood aside; tho guard took position behind Tom's chair. Tom scanned the prisoners curiously. Something about the dress or appearance of the man had stirred a vague memorj' in him. • Me- thinks I have seen this man ere now . . . but when or the where fail me ' — such wa« Tom's thought. Just then tb a mau glanced i ■I a ■v 3fl quickly up, and quickly dropped his face again, not being abla tt' ctuUirc tlie awful port of Bovercienty; but he one full rrlimpsc of the face, wliioh Tonri got was sufliciuiit. H« BKi . to himself : 'How is the matter clear; this is tl»o stranger that plucked (tiles Witt out of the Thames, aiul saved iiis Ufa, that windy, hitter, lirstilay of the Now Year — a hrave good deed — pity he hath been doing baser onc^i and got him.self in tliis sad aso. ... I have not forgot that day, iifcii tier tho hour : by reason that an hour ivftji', upon the stroke uf eleven, I did got a hiding by tho hand of (Jammer (Janty which was of so goodly and admired severity that all that wont before or followed after it were but fondlings and caresses by tompariaon.' Tom now ordered that the woman and the girl be removed from the presence for a little ♦imo ; then addressed himself to the uuJer- shtrirF, saying — 'Goofi "'r, what is this man's offence?' Tho olJicer knelt, and answered — • So please yoi r majesty, he hath taken the life of a subject ->y poison ' Tom's compaaaion i<<: tlio T)nsonfr and ad- miration of him asi the J;u'ing rcncuer of a dro"?fning boy, expf;rionced a moot damag- ing shock. 'The thing was proven upon him 7' h« asked. 'Most clearly, sire ' Tom sighed, and said — 'Take him away — he hath earned his death. 'Tia a pity, for he was a bravo heart — na — na, I mean he hath the luuk of it !' The prisoner clasped his bauds tugetiier with sudden energy, and wiung thuiii des- pairingly, alt the same time appealing im- ploringly to the ' king ' in broken and terri- lied phrases — *0 my lord the kir)g, an' thou canst pity the lost, have pity upon me ! I am inno- cent — neither hath t!iat wherewith I am charged been more than but lamely proved — yet I speak not of that ; the judgment is gone forth Rjainat mo and may not sutf r alteration ; yet in mine extremity I beg a boon, for my doom is more than 1 can bear. A grace, a grace, my lord the king I in thy royal compassion grant my prayer— give commandment that I be hanged I' Tom was amazed. This -v/as net the out- come he had looked for. ' Odds ray life, a strange boon I Was it not the fate intended thee 7* ' good my liege, not so 7 It is ordered that I be boiled alive T The hideous surprise of those words almost made Tom spring from his chrir. As soon M he could recover his wits he cried oat — ' Hare thy wish, poor soul 1 aa' thoa had poisoned a hundred men thou ahouldtt not sulTcr so miBorable a death.' Tho prisoner bowed his face to tho ground and bur:dt into pansionate expressions of gratitude^-endinc with — ' If over tliou shouldst know misfortune — which (Jod forefcnd I — may thy goodness to mo thin day be remembered and requited I' Tom turned to the Earl of Hertford and said — ' My lord, is it believable that there was warrant for this man's ferocious doom 7' ' It is tho law, your grace — for prisoners. In (jermany coiners be boiled to death in oil — not ca-it m of a sudden, but by a rope let ee the poison given 7 Was poison found ?' ' Marry, no, my liege.' 'Then how doth one know there was poison given at all ?' ' Please your majesty, the doctors testi- fied tiiat none dia with such symptoms but by poi ion. ' We.glity ev -f, this— in that simple age. Tom n od its formidable nature, and ;.aid : 'The doctor knoweth his trade — beliks they were right. The matter hath an ill look for this poor man.' 'Yvt was not this all, yonr majesty; thtre 87 liouldBt not the ground )ic»8ion» of lisfortuno — y goodncM il roquitoil I' Lertford and ,t there WM doom ?' )r prifloners. » deatlj in oil )y u ropo let aud slowly ; rd, I cannot lis eyes with turc. * I ^»o- rder be taken no more poor rtures.' luid gratifica- fill anil geuer- vcry common B. He said— e words have remember it IllBO.' to remove hit \ga to wait; Ito the matter deed was but iiouknowebt." it did not ap- man entered it of Isliug- Iree witnesses id two «ay it ick man being ,pf—and pres- in, and went [l within the and retch- given? W»« Lw there was I doctors testi- jrmpton«8 but , that simple [dablc nature, Itrade— behke hath an m najestj; there is more and worse. Mnny tostilitMl thnt a witch, ainco gone from the villago, none know whither, did foretell, and spciU it privately in their ears, tliat tlio sick man would die by poison — and nioro, that a stranger would give it— a «traii>,'(T with brown hair and clothed in a worn and common garb ; and snrely this prisoner doth answer woundily to the bill. I'lciise youi- majesty to give the ciroiuuStadco that solemn weight which is its due, seeing it wai {oro> told.' This was anarcnmentof tremendous force, in tliat superstitious day. Toni lolt that tho thing was J^ettled if evidence was worth anything, this poorfoUow'sgiiilt was proved, Still he otfered tho prisoner a change, say- ing: 'If thou canst say aught in thy behalf, spin!;.' ' Nought that will avail, nj^ king. I am innotent, yet cannot I make it appear. I have no friends, else might I show that I was not in Islington that day; so ahso mi^'ht I show that at the honrthcy name I was ai)ovo A lt>n;,'ue away, seeing I was at Wapping Olil Stairs ; yea, more, my king, for I could show that while they were taking life, I was saviii'j; it. A drowning boy—' ' I'eace I SherifF, name the day tho deed was done 1' ' At ten in the morning or some minutes later, tho first day of the new year, most il- lustrious — * ' Let the prisoner go free— it is the king's will !' Another blush followed this unreg.al out- burst, and he covered his indecorum as well as he could by saying : ' It enrageth mo that a man should he hanged upon such idle, hair-brained evi- dence 1' A low buzz of admiration swept through the assemblage. It was not admiration 0? the decree that had been delivered by Tom, for tho propriety or expediency of pardon- ing a convicted poisoner was a thing which few there would have felt justified in either admitting or admiring — no, the admiration was for the intelligcnoo and spirit which Tom had displayed. Some of tl;o low-voiced re- marks were to thi'3 cffcot : 'This is no mad king— he hath his wits ■ounl.' ' How sanely lie put his qucwtions — liow liko his former natural self was this abrupt, imperious disposal of the matter !' 'God be thanked his infirmity is spent ! This is no weakling, but a king, lie hath borne himself like to his own father.' IMio air being filled with applause, Tom's ear necessarily caught a little of it. The efTect which this had upon him was to put Iiini greatly at his eawii, and aluo to charge hii system with very tnatifying sensations. However, hisjuvenilo curiosity soon rose superior to tluae pleasant tlidtights and feel- ings ; ho was eager to know what sort of lit'adly mischief tiie woman and the little ' (Muihl have born about ; so, by bis com- ' ' lio two terrilied and sobbing creatures i/Ught before him. \Vhat is it that these have done ? ' he in- quired of tho sherilF. ♦Please your majesty, a black crime ii charged upon them, and clearly proven ; wherefore the judges have decreed, accord- ing to the law, that they be hanged. They sold themselves to the devil — such is their crime.' Tom shuddered. Ho iiad i)een taught to abhor people who^did this wicked thing. Still ho was not going to deny himself the pleasure of feeding hU curiosity, for all that) BO he asked — ' Where was this done ? — and when ? ' 'On a midnight, in December — in a ruined church, your majesty.' Tom shudderoil again. 'Who was there present? ' ' Only those two, your grace — and th»l other. ' ' Have these confessed ? ' ' Nay, not so, sire— they do deny it.' ' Then prithee, how was it known ?' 'Certain witnesses did see them wending thither, good your majesty ; this bred the suspicion, and v \\ ^9> V \ Cb^ '^ "^ * o^ 38 •*> kjDoweth not what nhe dotli, therefore%in- neth not.' Tho elderly heads nodded recognition of Tom's wisdom once more, and one individual Saarmnrcd, • An' the king be mad himself, according to the report, then is it a miulnoss of a sort that would improve the sanity of some I wot of, if by the gentle providence of God they could but catch it.' • What age hath the child ?' asked Tom. * Nine years, please your majesty.' ' By the law of England may a child enter into covenant and sell itself, my lord ?' asked Tom, turning to a learned judge. * The law doth not permit a child to make or meddle in any weighty matter, good my liege, holding that its callow wit uniitteth it to cope with the riper wit and evil schem- intra of them that are its elders. The devil inav buy a child, if he so choose, and the child agree thereto, but^otan Englishman — ^in this latter case the contract would be null and void. ' . ' It seemeth a rude, unchristian thing, and ill-contrived, that English law denieth pri- ▼ileges to Englishmen, to waste them on the devil I' cried Tom, with honest heat. This novel view of the matter excited many «tiules, and was stored away in many heads to be repeated about the court as evidence of-Tom's originality as well as progress to- wards mental health. The elder culprit had ceased from sobbing ind was hanging upon Tom's words with an eoccited interest and a growing hope. Tom noticed this, and it strongly inclined his ^^mpathies toward her in lier perilous and Utfriendly situation. Presently he asked — ' How wrought they to bring the storm ?' ' By pulling off their stockings, sire.' This aatonialied Tom, and also fired his curiosity to fever heat. He said, eagerly — ' It is wonderful I Hath it always this dread effect ?' • Always, my liege — at least if the woman desire it, and'utter the needful M'ords, either in her mind_or with her tongue.' Tom turned to the woman, and said with Impetuous zeal — ' Exert thy power — I would see a storm !' There was a sudden paling of cheeks in the superstitious assemblage, and a general .though unexpressed desire to get out of the ,^'j^ce — all of which was lost upon Tom, who ' was dead to everything but tho proposed cataclysm. Seeing a puzzled and astonished ,}0(>k in the woman's face, ho added, ex> •itedly— ' Kever fear — thoa ahalt be blameless, -thoa shalt go free— none shall touch Exert t^y powe<*.' ' 0, ray lord the king, I have it not — I have been falsely accused. ' ^ • Thy fears stay tiiee. Be ot good heart, thou shalt suffer no harm. Make a storm — it mattereth not how small a one — F require nought great or harmful, but indeed prefer the opposite— do this and thy life is spared — thou shijll go out free, with thy child, bearing the king'^ pardon, and safe from hurt or malice from any in the realm.* The woman prostrated herself, and pro- tested, with tears that she had no power to do the miracle, else she would gladly win her child's lifa, alone, and be content to lose her own, if by obedience to the king's demand so precious a grace might be acquired. Tom urged — the woman still adhered to her declarations. Finally he said — ' I think the woman hath said trnc^ An' my mother were in her place and giftea with the devil's functions, she had not stayed a moment to call her storms and lay the whole land in ruins, if the saving of my forfeit life were 1^ price she got ! It is argument that other mothers are made in like mould.' Thou art free, goodwife — thou and thy child — for I do think thee innocent. Now thou'st nought to fear, being pardoned — pull off thy stockings I — an' thou canst make me a storm, thou shalt be rich I' The redeemed creature was loud in her gratitude, and proceeded to obey, whUst Tom looked on with eager expectancy, a little marred by apprehension ; the courtiers at the same time manifesting decided dis- comfort and uneasiness. The woman stripped her own feet and her little girl's al.'jo, and plainly did her best to reward the king's generosity with an earthquake, bnt it was all a failure and a disappointment. Tom sighed and said — • ' There, good soul, trouble thyself no further, thy power is departed out of thfie. Go thy way in peace ; and if it return to thee at any time, forget me Uv^t, but fetch mo a storm.' (Bee notes to Chapters at the end 01 the volume). CHAPTER XVI. THB flTATK DINNER. The dinner hour drew near — yet strangely enough, the thought brought but slight dia* comfort to Tom, and hardly any terror. The morning's experiences had wonderfully built up his confidence ; the poor little ash- cat was already wonted to hissU'ange o^arret^ after four days' habit than a nuiture neraoa could have become in a full month. A ohtld'a facility in accommodating itself to gear aro« fl 39 ciroumstanceB was never more strikingly illustrated. I Let us privileged ones hurry to the great banqueting room and have a glance at mat- j ters there whilst Tom is being made ready for the imposing occasion. It is a spacious apartment, with gilded pillars and pilasters, and pictured walls and oeilines. At the door stand tall guards, as rigid as statues, dressed in rich and picturesque costumes, and bearing halberds. In a high gallery which runs all around the place is a Viand of musicians and a packed company of citizens ' of both sexes, in brilliant attire. In tlie centre of the room, upon a raised platform, is Tom's table. Now let the ancient chroni- cler speak : ' ' A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod, apd along with him another bearing u j taule-clotb, which, after they have both kneeled three times ' with the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table, and after kneeling again they both re- tire ; then come two others, one with the rod Again, the other with a salt-cellar, plate and bread ; when they have kneeled as the others had done, and placed what was brought upon the table, they too retire with the same ceremonies performed by the first ; at last come too nobles, richly clothed, one bearing a tasting-knife, who, after prostrat- ing themselves three times in the most graceful manner, approach and rub the table with bread and salt, with as much ^ aw« as if the king had been present.' * So end the solemn preliminaries. Now, far down the echoing corridors we hear a bugle- blast, and the indistinct cry, • Place for the king ! way for the king's most excellent majesty 1 These sounds are m; mently re- peated — they grow nearer and nearer — and presently, almost in our faces, the nn-tial note peals and the cry rings oi\t, ' Way for the king !' At this instant the shini.i^ pa- geant appears, and files in at the door, with a measured march. Lei the chronicler speak again : 'Fiist come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all richly dressed and bare-Jjeaded ; next comes the Chancellor, be- tween two, one of which carries the royal sceptre, the other the Golden Sword of State in a red scabbard, studded with golden fleur-deJis, the point upwards ; next comes fche King himself — whom, upon his appcar- Injf, twelve trumpets and many drums salute with a great burst ot welcome, whilst all in the galleries rise in their places, crying, "God save the King !" After him come nobles Attached to his person, and on -his * Leigh Hunt's " The Town." quotation from an earljr tourist. right and left march his guard of honour, his fifty Gentlemen Pensioners, with gilt battle- axes. ' This was all very fine and pleasant. Tom's pulse beat high and a g^d light was in his eye. He bore himself right gracefully, and all the more so bectiuse lie was not thinking of liow lie was doing, his mind being charm- ed and occupied witli the blithe sights and sounds about liim — besides, nobody can be ungraceful iu nicely-fitting beautiful clothes after he had grown a little used to them, — especially if he is for a moment uncon- scious of them. Tom remembered his in- structions, and ackno'.vleged his greeting with a slight inclination of his plumed head, and a courteous ' I thank you, my good peo- ple.' He seated himself at the table, without re- moving his cap ; and did it without the least embarrassment ; for to eat with one's cap on was the one solitary royal custom npon which the kings and the Cantys met upon common ground, neither party having any advantage over the other in the matter of old familiarity with it. The pageant broke up and grouped itself pic- turesquely, and remained bareheaded. Now, to the sound of gay music, the Yeo- men of the Guard entered — ' the tallest and mightiest men in England, they being care- fully selected in this regard * — but we will let the chronicler tell about it : * The Yeomen of the Guard entered, bare- headed, clothed in scarlet, with golden roses upon their backs ;, and these went and came, bringing in each turn a course ol dishes, served in plate. These dishes were received by a gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed apon the table, while the taster gave • to each guard a mouthful to eat of the parM* cular dish ho had brought, for fear of any poison. ' Tom made a good dinner, notwithstand- ing ho was conscious that hundreds of eyes followed each morsel to his mouth and watched him eat it with an interest which could not have been more intense if it had ' been a deadly explosive and was expected to blow him up and scatter him all abont ihe place. He was careful not to huily, anud equally careful not to do anything whatevw for himself, but wait till the proper official knelt ilown and did it for him. He got through without a mistake — Hawleas and precious triumph. When the meal was over at last and ho marched away in the midst of the bright pageant, with the happy noises in bis ears or blaring bugles, rolling drums and thnndering * acclamations, he felt that if he had seen tiw ' 40 I worst of dining in public, it was an ordeal I which he would be glad to endure several times a day if by that means ho. could buy , himself free from some of the more forraiJ- ible requirements of his royal office. CHAPTER XVII. FOO-FOO THE FIKST. Miles Hendon hurried along toward the Southwark end of the bridge, keepin;^ a shairp lookout for the persons ho sought, aud hoping and expecting to overtake tliem pre- sently. He Mras disappointed in this, how- ever. ' By asking questions, he M'as enabled to track them part of the way through Sonthwark ; then all traces ceased, and he was perplexed as to how to proceed. Still, he continued his efforts aa best he could during the rest of the day. Nightfall found him leg-weary, half famished, and his desire as far from accomplishment as ever ; so he Bupped at the Tabard inn, and went to bpd, reXMved to mike an early start in the morn- ing, aud give the town an exhaustive search. As he lay thinking and'planning, he present- ly began to reason thus : The boy would sscape'from the ruffian, his reputed father, if possible ; would he go back to London and seek his former haunts ? no, he would not do that, he would avoid recapture. What, then, would he do ? Never having had a friend in the world, or a protector, until he met Miles Hendon, he would natu- nUly try to find t]int friend again pro- vided the ett'ort did mt require him to go toward Ijondon aud danger. He would strike ior He4i>V.>n Hall, that i'4 what he would do, for he ki ew Hendon was homeward bound i\iid tliere he might expect to find h'm. Yes, the case was plain to Hendfn — he Blast lose no more time in Soutliwark, but move at once through Kent, toward Monk's Holm, searching the wood and inquiring as he went. Let us return to the vanished little king, now. The mffian whom the waiter at the inn on the bridge saw ' about to join ' the youth and the king, did not exactly join them, but fell in close behind them and followed their steps. He said nothing. His left arm was in a sling, and.he wore a large green patoli over his left eye ; ho limped slightly, and used an oakcu staff as a 8up]>ort. The .youth led the king a crooked course through Jgonthwark, and by and by struck into the 'high rpad beyond. The king was irritattd, ij^tiow, and said ho would stop Iiere-it wa.s Jjieudon's place to come to him, not his to i» to Hendon. He would not endure SHch Slence ; he would stop where he was. said— , ' . ■ ' Thoult tarry here, and thy friend lying wounded in the wood yonder? So bo it, then.' The king's manner changed at once. He cried out — ' Wounded? And who hath dared to do it ? But that is apart ; lead on, lead on 1 Faster, sirrah ! art snod with lead ? Wound- ed, is ho ? Now though the doer of it be a duke's son, he shall riie it !' It was some distauce to the wood, but the space was speedily traversed. The youtli looked about lum, discovered a bough stick- ing in the ground, with a small bit of rag tied to it, tnen led the way into the forest, watching lor similar boughs and finding them at intervals ; they were evidently guides to the point he was aimiti at. By and by an open pace was reacheil, where were the charred remains of a farm house, and near them a barn which was falling to ruin and decay. There was no sign of hfe anywhere, and utter silence prevailed. The youth en- tered the barn, the king following eagerly upon his heels. No one there ! The king shot a surprised and suspicious glance at the youth, and asked — * Where is he ?' A mocking laugh was his answer. The king was in a rage in a moment ; he seized a billet of wood and was in the act of charg- ing upon the }-outh when another mocking laugh fell upon his ear. It was from the lame ruffian, who had been following at a distance. The king turned and said angrily— ' Who art thou 1 What i% thy business herel' •Leave thy foolery,' said the man, 'and quiet thyself. My disguise is none so good that thou canst pretend thou knowest not thy father through it, ' ' Thou are not my father. I know thee not. I am the king. If thou hast hid my servant, find him for me, or thou shalt sup sorrow for what thou has done,* John Canty replied, in a stern and mea- sured voice — * It is plain thou art mad, and I am loath to punish thee : but if thou provoke me, I must. Tliy prating doth 'no harm here, where there are no ears that need to miud thy follies, yet' it is well to practise thy tongue to wary speech, that it may do no Imrt when our quarters change. I hava done a murder, and maj' not tarry at homo — neither shatt thou, seeing I need thy ser- vice. My name is changed, for wise leasons: it is Hobbs— John Hobbs ; thine is Jack— change thy memory accordingly, Now, then, speak. Where is tliy mother? WberearetJIty sisters? They came not to '>?v>,'; ."■?. L^U 41 the place appointed— knowest thou whitlier they went?' Tlie king answered sullenly — •Trouble me not wjfti these rjdillcs. My mother is dead ; my sistcra arc in the palace.' The youth near by burst into a dcrisiA'e laugh, and the king would ha\e abisiui'.t<.d > him, but Canty — or Hobbs, as he now called ' himself- prevented, and said — ] •Peace, Hugo, vex him not; his mind is > astray, aad thy ways fret him. Sit thee ] down, Jack, ai\d quiet thyself ; thou shalt I have a morsel to eat, anon. ' { Hobbs and Hugo fell to talking together.in ' low voices, and the king removed himself as far as he could from their disagreeable company. He witiidrew into the twilight if the farther end of the barn, whete ho foxtnd the earthern f.oor bed Conversation followed : not in the thieves' dialect of the song, for that was only used in talk when unfriendly ears might be list- ening. In the course of it it appeared that ; ' ,) ohn Hobbs ' was not altogether a now re- , emit, but had trained in the gang at some '' former tune. His later history was called : for. and when he said he had ' accidentally' ; killed a man, c );isiderable satisfaction was ! expressed ; when he added that the man I was a priest, he wa* roundly applauded, : and had to take a drink with everybody. , Old acquaintances welcomed him joyously, ' and now ones were proud to shake him by tlie baud. He was asked why he had 42 was a ■ tarried away so many monthi.' He ans- wered — • London is better tiian the country, and Kivfei- these latu years, the laws be so bitter 11 id ao diligently enforced. An' I had not had that accident, I had Rtaid there. I had ivsolved to stay, and never more venture couutry-wards— but the aocidoiit has ended that.' He enquired how many persons the gang numbered now. The'RulIler,' or chief, answered — ' Five and twenty sturdy budges, bulks, fil^s, clapperdogeons and luaundors. counting the dells and doxies and other morts* Most are here, the rest are wander- ing eastward, along the winter lay. We follow at dawn.' ' I do not see the Wen among the honest folk about me. Where may he be ? ' • Poor lad, his diet is brimstone, now, and over hot for a delicate taste. He was killed in a brawl, somewhere about midsummer.' ' I sorrow to hear that ; tlie Wen capable man, and brave. ' 'That was he, truly. Blaok Bess,hi8 dell, ?s of us yet, but absent on the eastward tramp ; a fine lass, of nice ways and orderly conduct, none ever seeing her drunk above fonr days in the seven.' • She was ever strict — I remember it well — a goodly wench and worthy all commen- dation. Her mother was more free and less particular ; a troublesome au gracious to us, 0, sweet king I ' ' Tra^iple not upon thy beaeechiug worms, noble majesty 1 * Pity thy slave?), ana comfort them Avith a royal kick ! ' ' Ciicer us and warm U3 with thy gracious rays, (> Ihiming sun of sovereignty ! ' Sanctity the ground with the touch of thy foot, that we may eat the dirt and be ennobled 1 ' ♦ Deign to spit upon us, sire, that our children's children may tell of thy princely condescension, and be proud and happy for- ever 1 ' , ., But the humorous tin'icr made the * hit' 44 of the evening and carried off the honours. Kneeling, he pretended to kias the kir j;'8 foot, and was indignantly spurned ; where- iipou ho went about begging fur a rag to rtfte over the place upon his fauo which had been touched by tho foot, saying it must be preserved from contact with the vulgar air and tliat he should make his fortune by going on the highway and exposing it to riew at the rate of a hundred sliilliiigs a Bight. He made himself so killiiigly funny that he was the envy and admiration of the whole mangy rabble. Tears of shame and indignation stood in the little monarch's eyes ; and the thought in his heart was, ' Had I offered them a deep wrong they could not be more cruel— yet have I protrered nought but to them a kind- Bess— and it is thus tliey use me for it I ' CHAPTER XVIIL THS PRINCE WITH THE TKAMP3. The troop of vagabonds turned out at •arly da^n, and s<^t forward on their march. There was a lowering sky overhead, sloppy nound underfoot, and a winter chill in tlie tav. All gayaty was gone from the company ; some were sullen and silent, some were irri- table and petulant, none were gentle- humoured, all were thirsty. The Rutfler put ' Jack 'in Hugo's charge, with some brief instructions and commanded John Canty to keep away from him and let him alone ; bo also warned Hugo not to be too rough with the lad. After a while the weather grew milder, and the clouila lifted somewhat. The troop eeased to shiver, and their spirits began to improve, Tliey grew more and more cheer- ful, and finally began to chaff each other and insult passengers along tlie highway. This showed that they were awaking to an appreciation of life and its joys once more. The dread in which their sort was heM was apparent in the fact that every! o«ly gave them the road, and took their ribald inso- lences meekly, without veiitiuing to talk back. They snatched linen from the hedges, occasionally in full view of tho owners, who made no pi-otest, but only seemed grateful that they did not take the hedges too. By and by they invaded a small farm house and made themselves at home while the trembling farmer and his people awept the larder clean to furnish a breakfast for them. They ohucke I the housewife nnd her I daughters under the chin wliilst receiving l^lood from their hands, arid made cotu'so jests about them, aoooropanied with Insult- ing epithets and bursts of borseu hast begged all thy days. Mayhap he lied. Peradventure you will even make so bold as to say he lied,' scoffed Huge. ' Him you call my father ? Yes, he lied.' • Come, play not thy merry game of mad- man so far, mate ; use it for thy amusement, not thy hurt. An' I tell him this, he will scorch thee finely for it. ' 'Save thyself the trouble. I will tell him.' 'Hike thy spirit, I do in truth ; but I do not admire thy judgment. Bone-rack* ings and bastings be plenty enow in this life, without going out of one's way to invite them. But a truce to these matters ; I be- lieve your father. I doubt not he can lie ; I doul)t not he doth lie, upon occasion, for the best of us do that ; but there is no occasion here. A wise man does not waste so good a commodity as lying for nought. But come ; sith it is thy humour to give over begging, wherewithal shall we busy our- selves ? With robbing kitchens ?' The king said, impatiently — ' Have done with this folly— yott ireary me I* 46 Hugo replied, with temper — • Now harkeo, mate ; you will not bop, you will not rob : bo be it. But Twill tell yon what you will do. You will play decoy whilst I beg. Refuse, an' you tlunk you may venture I' The king was about to reply contemptu- ously, when Hugo said, interrupting— • Peace 1 Here oomes one with a kindly face. Now will I fall Mown in a fit. When the stranger runs to me, set you up a wail, and fall upon your kneba, seeming to weep : then cry out as all the devils of r.iiaery were in your boUy, and say, "0, sir, it is my poor afflicted brother, and we are friendless; o' God's nam3 cwt through your merciful eyes one pitiful look upon a sick, forsaken and moat miserable wretch ; bestow one little penny out of thy riches upon one smitten of God and ready to perish !"— and mind vou, keep you on wailing, and abate not till we bilk him of his penny, else shall you rue it. ' Then immediately Hugo began to moan* and groan, and roll his eyes, and reel and totter about ; and when the stranger was close at hand, down he sprawled before him, with a shriek, and began to writhe and wallow in the dirt, iu seeming agony. *Odear, O dear 1' cried the benevolent Btranger, * poor soul, poor soul, how he Aoth suffer 1 There — let me help thee up. ' • O, aoble sir, forbear, and God love you for a princely gentleman— but it giveth me cruel pain to touch me when I am taken so. My brother there will tell your worship how lam racked with anguish when theie fits be upon me. A penny, dear sir, a penny, to buy a little food ; then leava me to my sorrows.' • A penny I thou shalt have three, thoa hapless creature ' and he fumbled in his pocket with nervous haste and got them out. ' There, poor lad, take them, and most wel- come. Now come hither, my boy, and help me carry thy stricken brother to yon house, where ' — ' I am not his brother,' laid the kinf, in- terrupting. • What ! not his brothelr ?' ' O hear him I'groaned Hugo, thenprivately ground his teeth. ' He denies his own brother~aud he with one foot in the grave I " " Boy thou arV Indeed hard of heart, if thii is thy brother. For shame !— and he scarce able to move hand or foot. If he is not thy brother who is he then ?" " A beggar and a thief I He ^ ot your mei^ ana has picked your pocket hkewise. Aa* SKWirsdldel de * ke^lmg miracle, lay thy Btaft over his shoulders and trust Provi- dence for the rest." But Hugo did not tarry for the miracle. In a moment he was upand off liknthe wind, the gentleman following afterand raising the hue and cry lustily as he went. The king, breathing deep gratitude to Heaven for hie own release, fled in the opposite direction and did not slacken hispnce until he was out of harth's reach. He took the fii-it road that offered, and soon put the village behind him. He hiirried along as briskly as he could, during' several hours, keeping a nervous M'atch over his shoulder for pursuit ; but his fears left him at last, and a grateful 8«>nsc of security took their place. He recognized now that he washungry; and also very tired. So he halted at a farm-house ; but when he M-as about to Bp«ak, he was cut short and driven rudely away. Hisclothes were against him. He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and was resolved to put himself iu the way of like treatment no more. But hunger ia pride's master ; so is evening drew near, he made an attempt at another farm-house ; but here he fared worse than before , for he was called hard names and was promised arrest as a vagrant except he moved on promptly. The night can'" on, chilly and overcast ; and still the foe '■.-■'. monarch laboured slow* ly on. He was ob! fjcd to keep moving, for every time he sat down to rest he was soon Eenetrated to the skin with the colcl. ,All is sensations and experiences, as he moved through the aoleniu gloom and the empty vastness of the night, were new and strange to him. At intervals he heard voices ap- proachv pass by, and fade into silence : and as he saw nothing more of the bodies they belonged to than a sort of formless driftin|^ blur, there was something spectral and un- canny about it all that made him shudder. Occasionally he caught the twinkle of a light — always far away, apparently — almost in another world ; if he heard the tinkle of a sheep's bell, it wasvague, distant, indistinct'; the muffled lowing of the herds floated to him on the night wind in vanishing cadences, a mournful sound ; now and then came the complaining howlof a dog over viewless ex- panses of field and forest ; all sounds \rere remote ; thoy made the little king feel that all life and activity were far removed from him, and that he stood solitary, companion- less, in the centre of a measureless sohtude. He stumbled along, through tiie grewsome fascinations of this new experience, startled occasionally by the soft rustling ^ of the dry leaves overhead, se like human whispers they seemed to sound ; and by and by he came suddenly upon the freckled light ef a tin !•■• 46 tern near at Imnd. He stepped back into the shadow and waited. The lantern stood by the open door of a barn. TJie king wait- ed some time — there was no sound, and no- body stirring. Uo got so cold standing; still, and the hospitablo barn looked so enticing, that at last he resolved to risk everything and enter. He started swiftly and stealthily, and just as he was crossing the thrtsliold he heard a voice behind him. He darted beliind a oask,*with- in a barn, and stooped down. Two farm la- bonrors came in, bringing the lantern with them, and fell to work, talking meanwhile. Whilst they mnvetl about with the light, tho king made good iiiio of his eyes and took the bearings of what seemed to be a good sized stall at tho further end of the place, purpos- ing to grope Ilia way to it whcm he should be left to himself. He also noted the posi- tion of a pile of horse blankets, midway of the route, with the Intent to levy upon tliem for the service of the crown of England for one night. By and by the men finished and went away, fastening tlie door behind them and taking the lantern with them. Tlie shiver- ing king made for the blankets, witli as good speed as tiie darkness would allow; gathered them np an^ then groped his way sately to the stall. Of two of the blankets h3 made a bed, then covered himself with ' the remain- ing two. He wjtS a glad monarch, now, though the blankets were old and thin, and not quite warm enough ; and besides gave data pungent horsy odour that was almost suffocatingly powerful. Although the king was hnngry and chilly, he was also so tired and so drowsy that these latter influences soon began to get the ad- vantage of the former, and he presently dozed off into a state of semi-consciousness. Then, just as he was on the point of losing himself wholly, he distinctly felt something touch him 1 Ho was broad awake in a mo- ment, and gasping for breath. The cold hor- ror of that mysterious touch in the dark al- most made bis heart stand still. He lay mo- tionless, and listened, scarcely breathing. But nothing stirred, and there was no sound. He continued to listen, and wait, during what seemed a long time, but still nothing stirred, and there was no sound. So he be- gan to drop into a (irowse once more, at last; - (Uid all at once be felt tliat mysterious touch again I It was a grisly thing, this light touch from this noiseless and invisible pre- sence ; it made the boy sick with ghostly lears. What should he do? That was the question ; bat he did not know how to «nswer it. Should he leave these reasonably vOdinfortable quarters and fly from this in< Boru table horror? But fly whither? He could not get out of the bar; and the idea of scurrying blindly hither and thither in the dark, within the captivity of the four walls, with this phantom gliding after him, and visiting him with that soft hideous touch upon cheek or shoulder at every turn, was in tol Table. But to stay where he was, and endure this living death all night ? — was that better ? No. What, then, was there left to do ? Ah, there was but one course; he knew it well — ho must put out his hand and find that thing 1 It was easy to think this; but it was hard for him to. brace himself up to try it. Three times he stretched his hand a little way out into the dark, gingerly; and snatched it sud- denly back, with a gasp— not because it had encountered any thing, but because he had felt 60 sure it was just going to. But the fourth time, he groped a little further, and his hand lightly swept against something soft and warm. This petriiied him, nearly, with friglit — his mind was in such a state that he ooul i imagine the thing to be noth- ing else than a corpse, newly dead and still warm. He thought ho would rather die than touch it again. But he thought this false tliought because he did not know the immor- tal strength of human curiosity. In no long time his hand was tremblingly groping again — against his judgment, and without his consent — but groping persistently on, just the same. It encountered a bunch of long hair ; he shuddered, but followed up the hair and found what seemed to be a warm rope ; followed up the rope and found an innocent calf ! — for the ropo was not a rope at all, but a calf's tail. The king was cordially ashamed of him- self for having gotten all that fright and misery out of so paltry a matter as a slumbering calf ; but he need not have felt 80 about it, for it was not the calf that frightened him but a dreadful non-existent something which the calf stood for ; and any other boy in those old superstitious times, would have acted and suffered just as he bad done. The king was not only delighted to find that the creature was only a calf, but de- lighted to have the calf's company ; for be had been feeling so lonesome and friendless that the company and comradeship of even this humble animal was welcome. And he had been so buffeted, so rudely treated by his own kind, that it was a real comfort to him to feel that h^ was at last in the socie^ of a fellow-creature that had at lauit a soft heart and a eentle spirit, whatever loftier attribute* might be lacking. So he resolved 47 ^M to waive rank and nmkc friends with the calf. While stroking its sleek wArm back — for it lay near liim and within easy reach —it occnrred to him that tliia cult n\iulit be utilized in more waya than one. VVhore- upon he re-arranged his bed, spreadimr it dgwn close to tlio calf ; then ho cuddled himself up to the calf's back, drew the covers up over himself and hiy friend, nnd in a minute or two was as warm and comfortable M he had ever been in tlie duwny couches of the regal palace of Wostniinster. Pleasant thoughts came, at once; life took on a checrfuller seeming. He was free of the bonds of servitude and crime, free of the companionship of base and brutal outlaws ; he was warm, he was sheltered ; in a word, he was happy. The night wind was rising ; it swept by in fitful gusts that made tlie olil barn quake and rattle, then its forces died down at iuteival)^, and went moaning and wailing around corners and projections — but it was all music to the king, now that ho was snug and comfortable : let it blow and rage, let it batter and bang, let it moan and wail, he minded it not, he only enjoyed it. He merely snuggled the cloaur to hia friend, in a luxury of warm contentment, and drifted blissfully out of consciousness into a deep and dreamless sleep that was full of serenity and peace. The distant dogs bowled, the melancholy kine complained, and the winds went utcly from all points, as if he were some etrange new kind of animal ; but warilv and watuhfuUv the while, as if they half feared he might bo some kind of animal that would bite upon occasion. Finally, tiiey halted before him, holding each other's hands for protection, and took a good satisfying stare with their innocent eyes ; then one of them plucked up all her courage and inquired with honest directness : — • Who art thou, boy T' ' I am the king,' was the grave answer. The children gave a little start, and their eyes spread then.sclvea wide open and re- mained 60 during a speechless half minute. Then curiosity broke the silence : — 'The king? What king?' •The king of England?' The children looked at each other— then at him- -then at each other again — wonder- ingly, perplexedly — then one said : — • Didst hear him, Mary? — he saith he is the king. Can that be true ?' ' How can it be else but true. Prissy T Would he say a lie? For look you. Prissy, an' it were not true, it would be a lie. It surely would be. Now think on't. For all things that be not true, be lies — thou canst make nought else of it.' It was a good tight argument, without a leak in it anywhere ; and it left Prissy'a half-doubts not a leg to stand on. She con* eidered a moment, then put the king upon hia honour with the simple remark : ' If thou art truly the king, then I believe thee.' ' I am truly the kins'.* This settled the matter. Hia aiajesty's royalty was accepted without furthur ques- tion or discussion, and the two little girls began at once to inquire into how he came to be where he was, and how he came to be so nnroyally clad, and whither he' WAS bound, and all about his affairs. It was a , mighty relief to him to potir out his troublei where they would not be scoffed at or doubted ; so he told his tale with ftlBaf^ •I'X 48 forgetting even his hunger for the timo ; nnd it was received with the docpust niul tendorust sympathy by the geiitlo littlo maids. But wubn he got down to iiin latest exporienucB and they learned bow long lio had been witliout food, they cut him hlaiit and hurried him away to the farm liouso to find a breakfast for him. The king waa cheerful and happy, now, and said to himself, * When I nm come to mine own again, 1 will always honour littlo children, reniombering how that thcso trusted me and believed in me in my tinio of trouble ; whihfc they that wor« older, and thought themselves wiser, mocked at me and held mo for a liar.' The children's mother received the king kindly, and was full of pity : for his forlorn condition and apparently crazed intellect touched her womanly heart. Hho was a widow, and rather pour : consequently she had seen trouble enough to enable her to feel for the unfortunate. She imagined that the demented boy had wandered away from his friends or keepers ; so she tried to find ont whence he had come, in order that she might take measures to return him ; but all her references to neighbouring towns and villages, and all her inquiries in the same line, went for nothing— the boy's face, and his ftUBwers, too, showed that the things she was talking of were not familiar to him. He spoke earnestly and simply about conrt matters ; and broke down, more than once, when speaking of the late king ' his father ;' bat whenever the conversation changed to baser topics, he lost interest and became silent. The woman was mightily puzzled ; but she did not give up. As she procriedcd with her cooking, she set herself to contriving devices to surprise the boy into betr.-.ying his real secret. She talked about ci^ttle — he showed no concern ; then about sheep — the same result — so her guess that he had been a shepherd boy was an error; she tsdked abont mills ; and about weavers, tinkers, smiths, trades and tr. desmen of all sorts; and about Bedlam, and jails, and oharitable retreats ; but no matter, she was balHed at all points. Not altogether, either ; for she argued that she bad narrowed the thing down to domestic ser* ice. Yes, ihe was sure she was on the right tr.ick, now — he must have been a house servant 80 she led up to that But the result was Aiseouraging. The labject of sweeping . jqpipeared to weary him ; nre-bnilding failed ^H^ttirhim; scrubbing and scouring awoke ^^•nthaaiaith. Then the goodwife touc'ied, " '^itfa a perishing hope, and rather as a m form, mp«n the snbjeet %S oookiag. To her surprise, and her va^t delight, the king'n face lighted at onto I Ah, siio hud hunted him down nt last, she tlioauht ; and she WIS right proud too, of the devious shrewdness and tact which had accom- plished it. Her tired tongue got a chance to rest, now: for the king's, iiiapircd Ity gnawing hunger and the fragrant bind Is that came from the sputtering pots and pans, turned it- self anddclivcred ilaelfup tosuchaneloquont ditt.sertation upon certain toothsonio dishes, that within three miiiutos the woman said to herself, * Of a truth I was riglit — he hath holpcn in a kitchen I ' Then he broadened his bill of fare, and discussed it with such appreciation and animation, that the good wife saitl to herself, ' Cood lack 1 how can he know so many dishes, and so fine ones withal ? For these only belong upon the tables of tlio rich and great. Ah, now I see I rairged outcast as lie is, he must have served in the palace before his reason went astray, yeg, lie must have helped in the very kit< tien of the king himHelt I I will test him.' Full of eagerness to prove her flagacity,she told the king to mind the cooking a moment — hinting that he might tnanntacture and add a dish or two, if he chose — then she went out of the room and gave her children a sign to follow her. The king muttered — 'Another English king had a commission like to this, in a bygone time — it is rotlnng against my dignity to 'budertake an ofQce which the great Alfred stooped to assume. But I will try to bttter serve luy trust than he ; for he let the calies burn.' The intent waa good, but the performanoa was not .answeralde to it ; for this king, like the other one, soon fell into deep thinkings concerning his vast afl'airs, and the same calamity resulted — the cookery got burned. The woman returned in time to save the breakf.ist from entire destruction ; and she promptly brought the king out of his drcarai with a brisk anil cordial tongue-lashing. Then, seeing how troubled he was, over his violated trust, she softened at once and was all goodness and gentleness toward him. The boy made a hearty and satistying meal, and was greatly refreshed and gladdened ^y it. It was a meal which was distinguished by this curious feature, that— rank was waived on both sides; yet the recipient of the favour was aware that it had hetHi extended. The good wife ^ had intended to feed this young tramp with broken victuals in a oor> ner, like any other tramp, or like a dog ; but she wai 10 remorseful for the scolding sha had given him, that she did what she coaH to atOBt lor it by allowiug him to dt at tike '41 40 fomily table and cat with liis buttors, on OBtousiblo terniH nf equnlity witli tlioiu ; ami tlie kiii^i on liis Hidi;, wiia so remoiveful for having broken his trust, after tlio funiily had been bu kind to Iiini, tliat hu forced himself to atuno for it by bumbling liinisolf to the family level, instead of requiring the woman and her children to stand and wait upon him while he occupied their tabic in the Bolitary state duo his birth and dignity. It does us all good to unbend somctinicH, This good woman waa made happy all the day long by the applauses wliicli she got < nt of lierBclffor her magnaniniouacondusccnsion to a tramp ; and the kin^ van juntas sclf- complaccnt over his gracious humility to- ward ft Immble peasant woman. When breakfuat was over, the housewife told the king to wash up the dii^hcs.Tliis com- njand was a staggerer, for a moment, and the king camo near roij«dliiig ; but tlicn ho s.iid to himself, • Alfred the Great watched the cakes ; doubtless he would iiave waahcd the diHlies, too — therefore will I cri«ay it.* Ho made a sufficiently poor job cf it : and to hia surprise, too, for llic ctloaning of wooden Rpuons and trenchers bad slciikmI an easy thing to do. It was a tedious and troublesome piece of work, but he linishcd it at last. He was be- coming impatient to get iway on his journey now ; however, he was not to lose the tiirifty dame's society so easily. Slie furnished him some little odds and ends of employment, which ho got through with after a fair fashion and w itb some credit. Then she set him and the little girls to par- ing some winter apples ; but ho was so awkward at this service, that she retired him and gave him a butcher knifo to grind. Afterward she kept liim carding wool until he began to think he had laid the good King Alfred about far enough in the shade for the E resent, in the matter of ghowy menial eroiema that would read picturesquely in story-looks and histories, and so he was half-minded to resign. And when, just after the noonday dinner, the goodwifo gave him. a basket of kittens to drown, he did re- sign. At least ho was just going to resign — for he felt that ho must draw the line some- where, and it seemed to him that to draw it at kitten-drowning was about tho right; thing — when there was an interruption. The interruption was John Canty — with a peddlar's pack on his back— and Hugo ! . The king discovered these rascals ap- proaching tno front jjate before they had had a chance to see him ; so he said nothing about drawing the ]ine,*bnt took up his basket of kittens and stepped qnietly out the iMok way; without a word. He left the creatures in an outhouse, and hurried on, into a narrow lane at tiie rear. CHArTKRXX. THK PRINCE AND THE UERMIT. The high hedge hid him from tho house, now ; and so, under tho impidne of a deadly fright, he let out all his fori.es and sped to* ward a wood in tho distance. He u«iv:r looked back until he had alnicf^t gained the siielter of tlie forest ; then ho turned and descried two figures in tlu) distance. That was Buflicient ; lie did not wait to scan them critically, but hurried on, and never abated his pace till ho was far witliin tho twilight deptlis of tho wood. Then ho stopped ; being persuaded that ho was now tolerably safe. He listened intently, but tho stillness Mas profound and solemn— awful, even, and depressing to tho spiri 8. At wide intcrvab his straining ear did delfct sounds, -but they were so removed, and hollow.and mysterious, that they setmcd not to bo real sounds, but (iiiy the moaning and complaining ghosts of d('Y)arted ones. So tho sounds were yet more dreary than the silence which they in- terrupted. It was his purpc !^t', in the beginning, to stay where he was tlio rest of the day } but a chill soon invaded his perspiring body, and he was at last obliged to resume movement in order to get warm. Ho struck straight tiirough the forest, hoping to pierce to a road presently, but ho was disappointed in this. He travelled on and on ; but the farther he went, the denser the wood became, appar- ently. Tlie gloom began to thicken, by and by, and the king realized that the night was coming on. It made him shudder to think of spending it in such an uncanny place ; so he tried to hurry faster, but he could not now see well enough to cliroso his steps judiciously ; consequently he kept tripping over roots and tangling himself in vines and briers. And how glad he was when at last he caught tho glimmer of a light ! He ap- proached it warily, stopping often to look about him and listen. It came from an un- glazed window-opening ia a shabby .Httle hut. He heard a voice, now, and felt a »?i8» position to run - and hide ; lut he chaogod his mind at once, for vhis voice was prayin^j, evidently. He glided to the one window of the hut, raised himself on tiptoe, tend stole l^ glance within. The room was small ; it» floor was the natural earth, beaten hard by use ; in a comer wan a. bed of rushes and » ragged blanket or two ; near it was a pail,, a, oup, a bMin, and two or three pots, and "^1 60 f>atis ; there was a'sliort bench and a three- egged stool ; on the hearth the remains of a fagot fire were amouldtiring , before a shrine, which was lighted by a single can- dle, knelt an affcd man, and pn an old wood- en box at his side, lay an open book and a human skull. The man was of large, bony frame ; his hair and whiskers were very long and snowy white ; ho was clothed in a robe of sheepskins which hung from his neck to his heels. ' A holy hermit !' said the kins to him- self ; ' now am I indeed fortunate.^ The hermit rose from his knees ; the king knocked. A deep voice re jponded : ' Enter 1 but leave sin behind, for* the ground whereon thou shalt stand is holy 1' The King entered, and paused. The her- mit turned a pair of gleaming, unrestful eyes upon him, and said : — * Who art thou ?' 'I am the king,' came the answer, with placid simplicity. * Welcome, king !' cried the hermit, with enthusiasm. Then, bustling about with feverish activity, and constantly saying, • Welcome, welcome,' he arranged his bench, seated the king on it, by the hearth, threw some fagots on the fire, and finally fell to pacing the floor, with a nervous stride. * Welcome I Many have sought sanctuary here, but they were not worthy, and were turned away. But a king who casts his orown away,andde8pise3 the vain splendours of his office, and clothes his body in raga, to devote his life to holiness and the mortifica- tion of the flesli — he is worthy, he is wel- come ! — here shall he abide all his days till dcatli come. ' The king iiastoned to inter- rupt and explain, but the hermit paid no attention to him— did not even hear him, apparently, but went right on with his talk, with a raised voice and a growing energy. ' And thou shalt be at peace. None shall find out thy refuge to disquiet thee with supplications to return to that empty and foolish life which God hath moved thee to abandon. Thou shalt pray, here ; ' thou ahalt study the Book ; thou shalt meditate upon the follies and delusions of this world, and upon the sublimities of the world to oome : thou shalt feed upon crusts apd herbs, and scourge thy body with whips, daily, to the purifying of thjr soul. Thou shalt w«ar a hair ihirt next thy fikin ; thou ahalt drink water, only ; and thou shalt be at peace ; yes, wholly at peace ; for whbio comes to •eek thee shall go his way again, baffled ; ha •hall not find thee, he shall not molest.' The oldman,stillpacingbackaiid forth, oeaa* •dto speak aloud, and b^gaa to Anttcr. lib* king seized this opportunity to state his case; and he did it with an eloquence inspired by ' nneaeiness and apprehension. But the her- mit Vv'.t on muttering, and gave no hoed. And still muttering, he approached the king and said, impressively — * Sh I I will tell you a secret 1 ' He bent down to impart it, but r^hecked himself, and assumed a listening r.ttitude. After a mo- ment he went on tifcoe to the window-open- ing, put his head out and peered around in the gloaming, thon came tiptoeing back agaiu, put his face close down to the king's, and whispered — 'I am an archangel I ' The kins started violently, and said to himself, • Would God I were with the out- laws again ; for lo, now' am I the prisoner of a madman ! ' His apprehensions were heightened, and they showed plainly in his face. In a low, excited voice, the hermit continued — ' I see you feel my atmosphere ! There's awe in your face ! None may be in this at- mosphere and not be thus affected ; for it is the very atmosphere of heaven. I go thither and return in tne twinkling of an eye. I was made an archangel on this very spot, it is five yenrs ago, by angels sent from heaven to confer that awful dignity. Their presence filled this place with an intolerable bright- ness. And they knelt to me, king I yes, they knelt to me ! for I was greater than they. I have walked in the courts of heaven, and held speech with the patriarchs. Touch my hand — be not afraid — touch it. There — now thou hast touched a hand which has been clasped by Abraham, and Isaac and Jacob ! For I have valked in the golden courts, I have seen the Deity face to face I ' He paused, to cive his speech effect ; then his face suddenly changed, and he started to his feet again, saying with angry energy, " Yea, I am an archangel ; a mere archangel! — I that might have been pope'! It is verily ti'ue. I was told it from heaven in a dream, tw^enty years aco ; ah, yes, I was to b« pope ! — and I suould have been pope, for Heaven hath said it — but the king dissolved my religious house, and I, poor obscure un- friended monk, was cast homeless upon the world, robbed of my mighty destiny I ' Here he began to mumble again, and beat his fore- head in futile rage, with bis fist ; now and then articulating a venomous curse, and now and then a pathetic 'Wherefore I am nought butana'changel— Ithatshonld have been pope r * So he \7ent on, for an hour, whilst the poor little kins 'sat aad saffiored. Then all at ODoe the old manls freney departed, and h« beoaoM all g«ntl«iMM. SUiiTOiM i^tened, 61 lis case; lired by bhe her- heed, he king He bent ielf, and r a mo- tw-open- ound in sk again, g». and aaid to the out- ■isoner of ms were iy in his e hermit There's n this at- [ for it is gro thither a eye. I y spot, it >m heaven E' presence e bright- jng I ves, ftter than of heaven, 8. Touch nch it. ind which Isaac and le golden |to face 1 ' jct ; then {started to •y energy, .rchangel! [t is verily a dream, las to be )ope, for lissolved icare nn- upon the ly I ' Here [t his fore- now and I, and now bm nought Iftve been rfailst the I Then all Lrted, and IwlteMd, .X ha came down out of his clouds, and fell to praJttling along so simply and so humanely, that he soon won the king's heart complete- ly. The old devotee moved the boy n( aier to the lire and made him comfortable ; doctored his bruises and abrasions with a deft and tender hand : and then set about preparing and cooking a supper — chattint; pleasantly^ all the time, and occasionally stroking; the lad's cheek or patting his heiul, in such a gently caressing way that in a littlo while all the fear and repulsion inspired by the archangel were changed to reverence and afTection for the man. This happy state of things continued while the two ate the supper ; then, after a prayer before the shrine, the hermit put the boy to bed. iu a small adjoining room, tucking him in as snugly and lovingly as a mother might ; ana so, with a parting caress, left him aud sat down by the fire, and began to poke the brands about in an absent aud aimless way. Presently he paused ; then tapped his forehead several times witli his Anders, as if trying to recall some thought which had escaped from his mind. Appa- rently he was unsuccessful. Now he started quickly up, and entered his guest's room, and said — •Thou art king?' •Yes,* was tlie response, drowsily ut- tered. What king?' •Of England.' • Of England I ' Alack, it is so. Then Henry is gone 1' I am his son. ' A black frown settled down upon the hermit's face, and he clenched his bony hands with a xnndictive energy. He stood a few moments, breathing fast and swallow- ing repeatedly, then said in a husky voice — • Dost know it was he that turned us out Into the world houseless and homeless ?' There was no response. The old man bent down and scanned the boy's reposeful face and listened to his placid breathing. • Ha sleeps — sleeps soundly ;' and the frown vanished away and gave place to an expres- sion of evil satisfaction. A smile flitted acroia the dreaming boy's features. The hermit muttered, 'So — his heart is happy ;' and ha turned away. He went stealthily about the place, seeking here and there for lomatbing ; now and then halting to listen, now and then jerking his her.d around and catting a quick glance toward thu bed ; and always muttering, always mumbling to hhn- ■eU. At last he found what ha seemed to want—* roaty old butcher knife and a whet- •t(HM. Than ha crept to his plaoabytha firik Mt hSafW daira, and b«gan fo whet the knife softly on the stone, still mutter- ing, mumbling, ejaculating. The winds sighed around the lonely place, the mys- terious voices of the niglit floated by out of t!ie distances. The shining eyes of venture- some mice and rats peered out at the old man from cracks and coverts, but he went on with his work, rapt, absorbed, and noted none nf these things. At long intervals he drew his thumb alonjj the edge of his knife, and nodded his head with satisfaction. 'It grows sharper,' he said ; * jes, it grows sharper.' He took no note of the flight of time, bnt worked tranquilly on, entertaining him- self with his thought', wliich broke out occc* sionally in articulate speech : ' His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us— and is gone down into the eternal fires I Yes, down into the eternal fires ! He es- caped us— but it was God's will, yes it waa God's will, we must not repine. But he hath not escaped the fires ! no, he hath not escaped the fires, the consuming, unpitying, remorseless fires — and they are everlast- ing l- . And bO he wrought ; and still wrought ; mumbling — chuckling a low rasping chnrale, at times — and at times breaking again into words : ' It was his father that did it all. I am but an archangel — but for him, I should ba pope !' The king stirred. The hermit fiprang noiselessly to the bedside, and went down upon his knees, bending over the prostrata form with his knife uplifted. The boy stirred again ; his eyes came open for an in- stant, but there was no speculation in them, they saw nothing ; the next moment his tranquil breathing showed that his sleep was sound once more. The hermit watched and listened, for a time, keeping his position and scarcely breathing ; then he slowly lowered his arm, and presently crept away, saying — * It is long past midnight — it ^s not best that he should cry out, lest by accident soma one be passing. ' He glided about his hovel, gathering a rag here, a thong there, and another yonder ; then he returned, and by careful ani zentla handling, he managed to tie tha king's ankles together without waking him. Next he essayed to tie the wrists ; he made several attempts to cross them, but the boy ^Iways drew one hand or the other away, jusi as tha cord was ready to be applied ; but at last, when the archangel was almost ready to des« pair, the boy crossed his hands himself, and the next moment they were bound. Now * bandaga was passed njodar tha sleapar'a dhia m .'^ 62 and brought up over his head and tied fast — and so softly, so gradually, and so deftly were the knots drawn together and compact- ed, that the boy slept peacefully through it all without stirring. CHAPTER XXL HENDON TO THE BESC17B. Tlio old man glided away, stooping, stealthy, cat-like and brought the low bench. He seated hiraaelf upon it, half his body in l'> the dim, flickering light, and the other in the shadow ; and so, with his craving eyes bent upon the slumbering bny, ho kept his vigil there, heedless of the drift of time, and softly whetted his knife, and mumbled ami chuckled ; and.in aspect and attitude ho re- sembled nothing so much as a grizzly, mon- strous spider, gloating over somo hapless in- sect that lay boui d and helpless in his web. After a long while, the old man, who was still gazing — yet not seeing, liis mind having settled into a dreamy abstraction — observed on a sudden, that the boy's eyes were open — wide open and staring ! staring up in frozen horror at the knife. The smile of a gratified devil crept over the old man's face, and he said, without changing his attitude or his occupation — • Son of Henry the Eighth, hast thou prayed ?' The boy struggled helplessly in his bonds ; and at the same time forced a smothered sound through his closed jaws, which the hermit chose to interpret as an affirmative answer to his question. ' Then pray again. Pray the prayer for the dying !' A shudder shook the boy's frame, and his face blanched. Then he struggled again to free himself — turning and twisting himself this way and that ; tngcing frantically, fiercely, desperately — but uselessly — to burst his fetters ; and all the while tlie old ogre smiled down upon him, and. nodded his head and placidly whetted his knife ; mum- bling from time to time. • The moments are precious, they are few and precious— pray the prayer for the dying 1' The boy uttered a despairing groan, and ceased from his struggles, panting. The tears came then, and trickled one after the othw down his face ; but this piteous sight wro!%ht Qo softening effect upon the savage old man. The dawn was coming, now ; the hermit ' observed it, and spoke up sharply, with a loach of nervoas appreheusion in iiis voice : *I may not indtilge this ecstasy longer t , XhH nigttt if fOrMMigr fone. It Menu but a moment — only a moment ; would it had en- dured a year I Seed of the Ohurch's spoiler," close thy perishing eyes, an' thou feareat to look upon ' . . . The rest was lost in inarticulate mutter- ings. The old man sank upon his knees, his knife in his hand, and bent himself over the moaning boy — Hark I There was a sound of voices near the cabin— the knife <'ropped from the hermit's hand ; he cast a sheepskin over the boy and started up, trembling. The sounds increased, and presently the voices became rougli and angry ; then camo blows, and cries for help ; then a clatter of swift footsteps retreating. Immediately came a succession of thundering knocks upon the cabin door, followed .i)y : — ' Ilullo-o-o ! Open I And despatch, in • the name of all the devils I' O, this was the blcssedcst sound that had over made music in the king's ears ; for it was Miles Heudon's voice I The hermit, grinding his teeth in impotent rage, moved swiftly out of the bedchamber, closing the door behind him ; and straight- way the king heard a talk, to this effect, proceeding from the chapel : — ' Homage and greeting, reverend sir I Where is the boy — my boy ?' • What boy, friend ?' ' What boy ! Lie mo no lie, air priest, play me no deceptions ! — I am not in the humour for it. Near to this place I caught the scoundrels whom I judged did steal him from me, and I made them confess ; they said he was at large again, and they had tracked Iiim to your door. Thoy showed me hi:3 very footprints. Now palter no more; for look vou, lioly sir, an' thou produce him not — Whore is the boy ?' ' O, good sir, per'ad venture you mean the ragged regal vaerant that tarrie' here the night. Ii such as you take inters in such a3 he, knc .V, then, that I have st. . him of an errand. I^o will be back anon. ' * How soon ? How soon ? Come, waste not tiie time — cannot I overtake him ? How soon will he be back ?' ' Thou needst not stir ; he will return quickly.' * So ha it, then. I will try to wait But stop ! — you sent him on an errand ? — you. Verily, "this ia a lie — he would not go. He would pull thy old beard, an' thou didst offer him such an insolence. Thou has lied, friend ; thou has surely lied 1 He would not go for thee nor for any man.' ' For any maa— no ; haply not But I am not a man.' • What ! Now o' Qod't lutm* wh«« art thou, tb«B V ^?^53 tiad en- spoiler, iareat to mntter- 3 knees, self over f voices from the over the ntly the lion camo clatter of nediately )ck8 upon mtcli, in ' that had •8 ; for it 1 impotent ichamber, 1 straight' ihis ett'cct, rend sir I lir priest, aot in the [e I eanght steal him [ess ; they they had jhowed ma no more ; sduoe him mean the here the in such c him of Ime, waste Tim? HoMT ^ill return ^ait But Ind ?— you. ]>t go. He [thou didst , has lied, I He would bt But I whftt ait ' It is a secret— mark thou reveal it not. I am an archangel l' There was a tremendous ejaculation from Miles Hendon — not altogctlier unprofane— followed by — * This doth well and truly account for his complaisance 1 Right well I knew he would budge nor hand nor foot in the menial service of any mortal ; but lord, even a king must obey when an archangel gives the word o' command ! Let me — 'ah ! What noise waa that?' All this while the little king had been yonder, alternately quaking with terror and trembling with hope ; and all the while, too, he had thrown all the strength he could into his anguished moanings, constantly expect- ing them to reach Hendon 's ear, but always realizing, with bitterness, that they faihd, or at least made no impression. So this last remark of his servant came as comes a reviv- ing breath from fresh fields to the dying ; and he exerted himself once more, and with all his energy, just as the hermit was say- ing— • Noise ? I heard only the wind.* • Mayhap it was. Yes, doubtless that was it. I have been hearing it faintly all the —there it is again ! It la not the wind ! What an odd sound ! Come, we will hunt it out 1' Now the king's joy was nearly insup- portable. His tired lungs did their utmost — and hopefully, too — but the sealed jaws and the muffling sheepskin aadly crippled the effort. Then the poor fellow's heart bank, to hear the hermit say — ' Ah, it comes from witliout— I think from the copse yonder. Come, I will lead the way.' The king heard the two pass out, talk- ing ; heard their footsteps die quickly away — then he was alone with a boding, brood- ing, awful silence. It seemed an age till he heard the steps and voices approaching again— and this time he beard an added sound — the tramping of hoofs, apparently. Then he heard Heudon say— • I will not wait longer. I cannot wait longer. He has lost his way iu this thick wood. What direction took ho ? Quick- point it out to me. ' He— but wait; I will go with thee.' ' Good— Good ! Why, truly thou art bet- ter than thy looks. Marry I do think there's not another archang<»l witli so right a lieart as thine. Wilt ride ? Wilt take the M'ce donkey that's for my bo^, or wilt tliou fork thy^^kily legs qver this ill-cf)nditioiied slave of a mnle that I have provided for myself?— and had IxMtn cheated in. too. had he cost month's usury tinker out ot but t!ie indifferent sum of a on a brass farthing let to a work.* ' No— ride thy mule and, and lead thine ass ; I am surer on mine own feet, and will walk.' • Then prithee mind the little beast for rae while I take my life iu my hands and make what success 1 may toward mounting the big one.* Then followed a confusion of kicks, cuffs, tramplings and plungings, accompanied by a thumlerous interminghug of volleyed curses and finally a bitter apostrophe to he mule, which must have broken its spirit, for hostilities seemed to cease from that mo- ment. With unutterable misery the fettered little king heard the voices and footsteps fade away and die out. All hope forsook him; now,/br the moment, and a dull despair settled down upon his heart. ' My only friend is deceived and got rid of,' he said ; ' the hermit will re- turn and' — He finished with a gasp and ai once fell to struggling so frantically with his bonds again, that he shook off the smothering sheepskin. And now he heard the door open 1 The sound chilled him to the marrow — already he seemed to feel the knife at his throat. Horror made him close his eyes ; horror made him open them again — and before him stood John Canty and Hugo 1 He would have said ' Thank God ! ' if hia jaws had been free. A moment or two later his limbs were at liberty, and his captors, each gripping him hy an arm, were hurrying hun with all speed through the forest. CHAPTER XXIL A VICTIM OF TREACHEBT. Once more ' King Foo-Foo the First' was roving with the tramps and outlaws, a butt for their coarse jests and dull-witted ijail- leries, and sometimes the victim of small spitefulnesscs at the hands of Canty and Hugo when the Rufller's back was turned. None Init Canty and Hugo really dishked him. Some of the others liked him, and all admired his pluck and spirit. During two or three days, Hugo, iu whose ward and charge the king was, did what he covertly could to make the boy uncomfortable; and at night, during the customary oraies, he amused the company by putting small indig- nities upon him— always as if by accident. Twice he stepped upon the king's toes— acci- dentally— and the king, as became his rovaltv. was contemotuouslv unconscioaB of 54 p it and indifferent to it ; bat tlie third time Hugoentorfcaioed himself in that way, the king felled him to the ground with a cudgel, to the prodigious delight of the tribe. Hugo,' consumed with anger and shame, sprang up, seized a cudgel, and came at his small ad- versary in a fury. Instantly a ring was forrasd aiound the gladiators, and the betting and cheering began. Bat poor Hugo stood no chance whatever. His frantic and lubberly * prentice-work found but a poor market for itself when pitted against an arm which had been trained by the first master^of Europe in single-stick, quarter-staff, and every art and trick of swordmanship. The little king stood, alert but at graceful ease, and caught and turned aside the thick rain of blows with a facility and precision which set the motley on-lookers wild with admira- tion ; and every now and then, when his Sractiaed eye detected an opening, and a ghtning-swift rap upon Hugo's head follow- ed as a result, the storm of cheers and laughter that swept the place was something wonderful to hear. At the end of fifteen minutes, Hug\ all battered, bruised, and the target for a pitiless bombardment of vidiculo, slunk from the field ; and the unscathed hero of the fight was seized and borne aloft upon th» shoulders of the joyous rabble to the place of honour beside the Ruf- fler, where with vast ceremony he was crowned King of the Game-Cocks ; his meaner title being at the same time solemnly cancelled and annulled, and a decree of banishment from the gang pronounced against any who should thenceforth utter it. All attempts to make the king servicea^ile to the troop had failed. He had stubbornly refused to act ; moreover he was .ihvays try- ing to escape. He had been thrust into an uttwatched kitchen, the first day of hia retum ; \ie not only came forth empty hand- ed, but tried to rouse the housemates. He was sent out with a tinker to help him at hia work ; he would not work ; moreover he threatened the tinker with his own soldering- ing-iron ; and finally both Hugo and the tinker found their hands full with the mere matter of keeping him away. He delivered the thunders of his royalty upon the heads of all who hampered his liberties or tried to force him to servici. He was tent out, in Hugo's charge, in company with a slatternly woman and a diseased baby, to bog ; but the result was not encouraging — he declined to plead for the mendicants, or be a party to th^ir cause in any way,. Thus several days went by ; and the miseries of this tramping life, and the weariness and sordidnesa and meanness aad voloaritv of it, became ({radaally aad Bteadtly | so intolerable to the captive that he began at last to feel that his release from the hermit's knife must prove only a temporary respite from death, at beat. But at night, in hia dreams, theae things were forgotten, and he was on his throne, and mister again. This, of course, intensified the sufferings of the awakening — so the mortifications of each succeeding morning of the few that passed between hia return to bondage and the combat with Hugo, grew bitter and bitterer and bitterer, and harder and harder to bear. The morning after the combat, Hugo got up with a heart filled with vengeful purposes against the king. He had two plans, in par- ticular. One was to inflict upon the lad what would be, to hia proad spirit and •imagined 'royalty, a peculiar humiliation ; and if he failed to accomplish this, hia other plan was to put a crime of some kind upon the king and then betray him into the implacable clutches of the law. In pursuance of the first plan, ho purposed to put a ' clime ' upon the king's leg ; rightly judgingthat that would mortify him to the last and perfect degree ; and as soon as the clime should operate, he meant to get Canty'a help, and force the king to expose his leg in the highway and beg for alms. •Clime' was the cant term for a sore, artificially created. To make a clime, the operator made a paste or poultice of unslaked lime, soap, and the rust of old iron, and spread it upon a piece of leather, which was then bound tightly upon the leg. This would presently fret off the skin, and make the flesh raw and angry-looking ; blood was then rubbed upon the limb, which, being fully dried, took on a dark and repjilsive colour. Then a bandage of soiled rags was put on in a cleverly careless way which would allow the hideous nicer to be seen and move the compassion of the passer- by*. Hugo got the help of the tinker whom the king had cowed with the soldering-iron ; they took the boy out on a tinkering tramp, and as soon as they were out of sight of the camp they threw him down and the tinker held^him while Hugo bound the poultice tight and fast upon his leg. The king raged and stormed, and promised to hang the two the moment the sceptre wa« in his hand again ; but they kept their grip upon him and cnjpycd his impotent strug- gling and jeered at his threats. This con- tinued until the poultice began to bite ; and in no long time its work would have been perfected, if there had been no interruption. *From 'Tho Bofflish Bofgw ;* Londor. 1(163. ...-.*-, <:^fi, /t: 50 gantkt irmit'a respite things throne, insified so the ning of lurn to ), grew . harder ugo got lurposes , inpar- the lad irit and liation ; tia other nd upon into the purposed ; rightly m to the on as the t Canty'a liis leg 'm r alms, for a ,ake a poultice it of old leather, I the leg. in, and ooking ; lie limh, lark and if soiled (less way cer to be ke passer* pom the jng-iron ; Ig tramp, tbt of the tinker poultice )romiBed [ptre wa« Iheir grip lit Strug- ^his con- |tc ; and ire been [•ruption. 1065. r L But there was ; for aJjout this time the • slave' who had made the speech denouncing England's laws, appeared on the scene and put an end to the enterprise, and stripped off the poultice and bandage. The king wanted to borrow his deliverer's cudgel and warm the jackets of the two ras- cals on the spot ; but the man snid no, it would bring trouble — leave the matter till night ; the whole tribe being together, then, the outside world would not venture to in- terfere or interrupt. He marched the party laack to camp and reported the affair to the Euffler, who listened, pondered, and then decided that the king should not be again detailed to beg, since it was plain lie was worthy of something higher and better — •wherefore, on the spot he promoted him from the mendicant rank and appointed him to steall Hugo was overjoyed. He had already tried to make the king steal, and failed ; but there would be no more trouble cl that sort, now, for of course tlie king would not dream of defying a distinct tommand de- livered directly from headquarters. So he planned a raid for that vciy afternoon, pur- posing to get the king in the law's grip in the course of it ; and to do it, too, with such ingenious strategy, that it should seem to bo accidental .ind unintentional ; for the Kinsr of the Game-Cocks waa popular, now, and the gang might not deal over-gently with an unpopular member who played so serious a treachery upon him as the deliver- inghim over to the common enemy, the law. , very well. AH in good time Hugo strolled off to a neighbouring village with his prey ; antl the two drifted slowly up and down one street after another, the one watching sharply for a sure chance to dart away and get free of his infamous captivity lor ever. Both threw away some tolerably fair- looking opportunities ; for both, in their secret hearts, were resolved to nake absolute- ly sure work this time, and neither meant to allow his fevered desires to seduce him into any venture that had much uncertainty about it. Hugo's chance cane first. For at last a woman approached who carried a fat p'ack- age of some sort in a basket. Hugo's eyes sparkled with sinful pleas'-.re as ho said to himself, ' Breath o' my life, an' I can but put that upon him, 'tis good -den and God keep thee. King of the Game-Cocks !' He waited and watched— outwardly patient, but inwardly consuming with excitement — till the ■woman had passed bv, and the time was ripe ; then he said, in a low voice— * Tarry here till I come again,' and darted itaalthily alter th« pr«y. The king's heart was filled with joy— he could make his escape now, if Hugo's quest only carried him far enough awey. P'Ut lie was to have no such luck. Huso crept beiiind the woman, snatched the pack- age, and came ruimiiig back, wrapping it in an old piece of blanket which he earned on his arm. Tlic hue and cry was raised in a moment, by the woman, who knew her loss by the lightening of her burden, although she had not se<:n the pilfering done. Hugo , thrust the bundle into the king's hands with- out halting, saying — ' Now speed ye after me with the rest, and cry ''Stop thief 1" but mind ye lead them astray !' The next moment Hugo turned a comer and darted down a crooked alley — and in another nuimcnt or two he lounged into view again, looking innocent and indifferent, and took up a position behind a post to watch results. The insulted king threw the bundle on the ground ; and the blanket fell away from it just as tlie woman arrived, with anliugment- ing crowd at her heels ; she seized the king's wrist with one hand, snatched up her bundle with the other, and began to pour «ut a tirade of abuse upon tlie boy while he struggled, without success, to free himself from her grip. Hugo had seen enough— his enemy was captured and the law would get him, now — so he slipped away, jubilant and chnckling, and wended camp\vards,forming a judicious vei-sion of the matter to give to the Ruffler's crew as he strode along. The king continued to struggle in the wo- man's strong grasp, and now and then cried out, in vexation — ' Unhand me. thou foolish creature } it \^as not I that bereaved thee of thy paltry goods.' The crowd closed around, threatening the king and calling him names ; a brawny blacksmith in leather apron, and sleeves rolled to the elljovs, made a reach for him, saying he would trounce him well, for a lesson ; but just then a long sword flashed in the air and fell with convincing force upon the man's arm, flat-side down, the fan- tastic owner of it remarking pleasantly at the same time — ' Many, good soula, let us proceed gently, not with lU-blood and uncharitable words. This id matter for the law's consideration, not private and unafHcial handling. Iaoss thy lold from the boy, proodwife.' The blacksmith averaged the stalwart lol* dier with a glance, then went mntterias away, rubbing his arm ; the woman released the boy's wrist reluctantly ; tjie crowd eyed Sf*3t^^;; fc-felftJaiS 56 pv the stranger unlovingly, but prudently closed their mouths. The king iiprang to his deliverer's side, with flushed chfeks and sparkling eyes, exclaiming : — • Thou hast laggered sorely, but thou comest in good season, now, Sir Miles. Carve me this rabble to rags !' CHAPTER XXIII. THE PBIKCE A PRISOXEB. Hendon forced back a smile, and bont down and whispered in the king's oar — • Softly, softly, my prince wag tliy ton- |{ue warily — nay, suffer it not to wac at all. Trust in me — all shall go well in the end.' Thon he added, to himself : • Sir Miles ! Bless me, I had totally forgot I was a knight! Lord,how marvellous a thing it is, the grip his memory doth take upon his quaint and crazy fancies I . . An empty and foolish title is mine, and yet it is something to have deserved it, for I think it is more honour to be held WOTthy to be a spectre-knight in bis Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows, than to be held base enough to be an earl in some of the real kingdoms of this world. * The crowd fell apart to admit a constable, who approached and was about to lay his hand upon the king's shoulder, when Hen- don said — ' Gently, good friend, withhold your hand — he shall go peaceably ; I am responsible for that. Lead on, we will follow. ' The officer led, with the woman and her bundle ; Miles and the king followed after, M'ith the crowd at their heels. The king was inclined to rebel ; but Hendon said to him in a low voice — • Reflect, sire— your laws are the whole- some breath of your own royalty ; shall their source resist them, yet require the branches to respect them ? Apparently one of these laws has been broken ; when the king is on his throne again, can it ever grieve him to remember that when he was seemingly apri- vate person h<' loyally sunk the king in the citizen and submitted to its authority ? ' •Thou art right; sn,y no more ; thou shalt see that wliatsoever the kiuc of Eng- land requires a subject to sufTer under the law, he will himself suffer while he hokloth the station of a subject.' ' When the woman was called upon to testi- fy before the justice of the peace, she swore that the small prisoner at the bar was the person who had committed the theft ; there Hiras none able to show the contrary, so the . Iting stood convicted. The bundle was now ^^liroUed, and when the contents proved to ^beaplump little dressed pig, the judge looked troubled, whilst Hendon turned pale, and his body was thrilled with an electric shiver of dismay : but the kincr remained un- moved, protccteil by hii ignorance. The judge meditated, during an onnnous pause, then turned to the woman, with the ques- tion — ' What dost thou hold this property to bo worth ? ' The woman courtesied and replied — ' Tln-ee shillings and eightpence, your worship — I could not abate a penny and set fortli the value honestly.* The JHstici! glanced around uncomfortably upon tue crowd, then nodded to the con- stable and said — ' Clear t!ie court and close the doors.' It was done. Non^ remained but the two officials, the accused, the accuser, and Miles Hendon. This latter was rigid and colourless, and on his forehead big drops of cold sweat gathered, broke and blended together, and trickled down his face. The judge turned to the woman again, and said, in a compassionate voice — ' 'Tis a poor ignorant lad, and mayhap was driven hard by hunger, for these grie- vous times for the unfortunate ; mark you, he hath an evil face — but when ' bungei driveth — Good woman I dost know that when one steals a thing above the value of thirteen pence ha'penny the law saith he shall hang for it !' Tlw little king started, wide-eyed with consternation, but controlled himself and held his peace ; but not so the woman. She sprang to her feet, shaking with fright, and cried out — ' good lack, what have I done I God-a- mercy, I would not hang the poor thing for the whole world I Ah, save me from this, your worship — what shall I do, what can I do?' The justice maintained his judicial com- posure, and simply tsaid — ' Doubtless it is allowable to revise the value since it is not yet writ upon the re- cord. ' • Then m God's name call the pig eight- pence, and heaven bless the day that freed my coitseionce of this awesome thing !' Miles Hondon forgot all decorum in hia deliyht ; snd surprised the king and wounded his dicnity, by throwing his arms around him and hucrginghim. The woman made her grateful adicux and started away with her pig ; and when the constable opened the door for her, he followed her out into the narrow hall. The justice proceeded to write in his record book. Hendon, always alert, thought he would like to know why the 67 the woman out ; so ho tho dusky ball and lis- eonversation to this ef- nse the the re- eight- it freed in his Qunded around made y with ed tho ito the ) write alert, by the officer followed slipped softly into teued. He beard a feet — ' It Is a fat pig, and promises good eating ; I will buy it of thee ; here is the eightpencc' 'Eightpence, indeed ! Tin.u'lt cIo no such thing. It cost me three shillings and eight- pence, good honest coin of the last reign, that old Harry that's just dead ne'er touched nor tampered with. A fig for thy eight- pence I' ' Stands the wind in that quarter? Thou wast under oath, and so swore falsoly when thou saidst the value was but eightpence. Come straightway back with me before his worship, and answer for the crime ! — and then the lad will hang. ' * There, there, dear heart, say no more, I am content. Give me the eightpence, and hold thy peace about the matter. ' The woman went off crying ; Hendon slipped back into the Court-room, and the constable presently followed, after hiding his prize in some convenient place. The justice wrote a while longer, then read the king a wise and kindly lecture, and sen- tenced him to a short imprisonment in the common jail, to be followed by a public fl6gging. The astounded king opened his mouth and was probably going to order the good judge to be oeheaded on the spot ; but he caught a warning sign from Hendon, and succeeded in closing his mouth again before he lost anything out of it. Hendon took him by the hand, now, made reverence to the justice, and the two departed in the wake of the constable toward the jail. The moment the streot was reached the inflamed monarch halted, snatched away his hand, and exclaimed — ' Idiot, dost imagine I will enter a common jail alive ? ' Hendon bent down and said, somewhat sharply — ' Will you trust in me? Peace! and for- bear to worsen our chances with dangerous spiBech. What God wills will happen ; thou canst not huiry it, thou canst not alter it; therefore wait, and be patient— 'twill be time enow to rail or rejoice when what is to happen lias happened.^ (See notes to Chap- ter xxiii, at end of volume.) CHAPTER XXIV. THE ESCAPE." were only anxious to accomplish their errands as quickly as possible and then snugly house themselves from the rising wind and the gathering twilight. They looked neither to the right nor to the left ; they paid no attention to our party, they did not even seem to see them. Edward the Sixth wondered if the spectacle of a king on his wiiy to jail had ever encountered such „ r marvellons indifference before. By-and-bye' ■" the constable arrived at a deserted market- square and proceeded to cross it. When he had reached the middle of it, Hendon laid his hand upon his arm, and said in a low voice — "Bide a moment, good sir, there is none in hearing, and I would say a word to thee.' * My duty forbids it, sir : prithee hinder me not, the night comes on.' "^ ' Stay, nevertheless, for the matter con- cerns thee' nearly. Turn thy back a moment' and seem not to see ; let this poor lad es- cape.' ' This to me, sir 1 I arrest thee in ' — 'Nay, be not too hasty. See thou be careful and commit no foolish error ' — then he shut his voice down to a whisper, and said in the man's ear — ' the pie thou hast ' purchased for eigtitpence may cost thee thy neck, man !' The poor constable, taken by surprise, was' speechless, at first, then found his tongue and fell to blustering and threatening ; but Hendon was tranquil, and waited with pa- tience till his breath was spent ; then said— i- • I have a liking to thee, friend, and would not willingly see thee come to harm. Ob- serve, I heard it all— every word. I will prove it to thee.' Then he repeated the conversation which the officer and the woman had had together in the hall, word for word, and ended with— •There— have I set it forth correctly? Should not I be able to set it forth correct- ly before the judge if occasion required ?' The man was dumb with fear and dis- tress for a moment ; then he rallied and said wnth forced lightness — ' 'Tis making a mighty matter indeed out of a jest ; I l>ut plagued the woman for mine amusement. ' ' Kept you the woman's pig for amuse • nieut?' Tlie man answered sharply — ' Nought else, good air — I tell thee 'twas " but a jest.' ' I do begin to believe thee,' said Hendon, with a perplexing mixture of mockery and Tho short winter day was nearly ended, half-conviction in his tone : 'but tarry thou The streets were deserted, save for a few here a moment whilst I run and ask his wor- random stmgglerB,and these hurried straight ship— for nathless, he being a man . expttd* . along, with the intent look o" people who enced in law, in jest, m— ■■ : S8 He was moving away, still talking ; the constable hesitatod, firtgetted, spat out an oath or two, then oriod out — •Hold, holdj^good sir- prithee wait a lit- tle— the judge ! why man ho hr.tli no more Bympathy with a jest tlum hntli a dead corpse? — come, and wo will siieiik further. Odds body I I seem to be in evil case — and all for an innocent and thouglitlesa plea- santry. I am a man of family ; and my wife and little ones — List to reason, good your worsliip ; what wouldht thou of mo ?' ' Only that thou be blind and dumb and paralytic whilst one may count a hundred thousand — counting slowly,' sr.id Hen- don, with the expression of a man who asks but a reasonable favour, and that a very lit- tle one. 'It is mv destruction,' said the constable despairingly. * Ah, be reasonable, good sir ; only look at this matter, on nil its sides, and eee how mc>re a jest it is — how manifestly and how plainly it is so. And even if one granted it were not a jest, it is a fault so email that e'en the griinmost penalty it could call forth would be but a rebuke and warn- ing from the judge's lips.' . Hendon replied with a solemnity which chilled the air about him — ' This jest of tnine hath a name, in law, —wot you what it is ?' • I know it not ! Peradventure I have been unwise. I never dreamed it had a name — ah, sweet heaven, I thougiit it was original. ' • Yes, it hath a name. In tlie law this crime is called Non compos mentis lex talhnis $ic txansif (jfnrin Mundi, ' ♦Ah, my God !' • And tlie penalty is death !' ' God bo merciful to me, a sinner !' 'By advantage taken of one in fault, in dire peril, and" at thy mercy, thou hast seized goods worth above thirteen pence ha'penny, paying but a trifle for the same ; and this, in the eye of the law, is construc- tive barratry, misprison of treason, mal- feasance in office, ad hominem expurffatis in etatu quo — and the penalty is death by the halter, vrithout ransom, commutation, or benefit of clergy.' • Bear me up, bear me up, sweet sir, my legs do fail me ! Be thou merciful — spare me this doom, and I will turn my baek and see nought that shall happen. ' 'Good 1 now thou'rt wise and reasonable. And thou'lt restore the pig ?' ' I will, I will indeed — nor ever touch an- JOther, though heaven send it and an arch- ; iMel fetch it. Go— I am blind for thy sake ••-laoe nothing. I will say thou didst break f |li«ad wrest the prisooet' from my hand^ by force. It is but a cra7y, ancient door — I will batter it down myself betwixt midnight and the morning.' ' Do it good soul, no harm will come of it; the jud^'c hath a loving charity for this^oor lad, and will siird no tears .and breaic uo jailer's bones for his escape.' CHAPTER XXV. HENDON HALL. As soon as Hendon and the king were out of sight of the constable, his majesty wa« instructed to hurry to a certain place out- side the town, and wait tlicre, whilst Hendon should go to the inn and settle his account. Half an hour later the two friends were blithely jogging eastward on Hendon's sorry steedfl. The king was warm and comfort- able, now, for he had cast his rags and clothed himself in the second-hand suit which Hendon bad bought on London Bridge. Hendon wished to gnard against over- fatiguing the boy ; ho judged that hard journeys, irregular meals, and illiberal mea- sures of sleep would be bad for his crazed mind ; whilst rest, regularity, and moderate exercise would be pretty sure to hasten iti cure ; he longed to see the stricken intellect made well again and its diseased visioni driven out of the tormented little head j therefore he resolved to move by easy stages toward the home whence he had so long been banished, instead of obeying the impulse oi his impatience and huri'ying along night and I When he • and the king had journeyed j about ten miles, they reached a considerabU village, and halted there for the night, at a good inn. The former relations were re- sumed; Hendon stood behind the king's chair, while he dined, and waited upon him ; un- dressed him when he was ready for bed ; then took the floor for his own quarters, and slept athwart the door, rolled up in a blanket. The next day, and the day after, they jogged lazily alone talking over the adveu- ! tures they had met since their separation, and mightily enjoyed each other's narrative?. Hendon detailed all liis wide wanderings in search of the king, and described how the archangel had led him a fool's journey all over the forest, and taken him back to the hut, finally, when he found he Could not get rid of him. Then— he said— the old man went into the bedroom and came staggering back looking bfoken-heattcd, and saying he bad expected to find that the boy had re- turaed »nd lain dotvn iir there to rest, but it fi» uo was not 80. Hendon liad waited at the hut »Uday ; hope of the king's return died out, th in, and he departed upon the quest again. * And ohl Sanctum Sunctorum was truly ■orry your highncsa camo not back,' said Hendon; 'I saw it in Ida face.' * Marry I will never doubt that? ' said the kin;? — and then told his own story ; after w".iioh, Hendon was sorry he had not dc- it;'oyed the archangel. During the last day of the trip, Hendon'a ■pirita wore soaring. His tongue ran cou- •fc intly. He talked about his old fatluT, and his brother Arthur, and told of many things which illustrated their high and general characters ; he went into lovins; frenzies over his Edith, and was so glad- hsarted that he was even aide to say some rjmtlftand brotherly thintis about Hugh. He dwelt a deal on the coming meeting o,t Hendon Hall ; whilPa surprise it would be to everybody, and what an outburst of thanksgiving there would be. It was a fair region, dotted with cottages and orchards, and the road led through broad pasture lands whose receding expanses marked with gentle elevations and depres- sions, suggested the swelling and subsiding andulations of tno sea. In the afternoon the returning prodigal made constant de- flections from his course to see if bj' ascend- ing some hillock he might not pierce the distance and catch a glimpse of his home. At last he was successful, and cried out ex> oitedly, •There is the village, my prince, and there is the Hall close by ! You may see the towers from here ; and that wood there — that is my father's park. Ah, now thou 'It know what state and grandeur be ! A house with seventy rooms — think of that ! — and seven and twenty servants 1 A brave lodg- ing for such as we, is it not so ? Conic, let ns speed — my impatience will not brook de- lay/ All possible hurry was made ; still, it was after tiiree o'clock before the village was nsaohed. The travellers scampered through it, Hendon 's tongue going all the time. ' Here is the church — covered with the same ivy — none gone, none added.' 'Yonder is the inn, the old Red Lion, and yonder is the marketplace.' *Here is the Maypole, and here the pump — nothing is altered ; nothing but the people, at any rate ; ten years make a change in people ; some of these I seem to know out none know me.' So his chat ran . on. The end of the village vvbs soon reached ; then the travellers struck into a crooked, narrow iroad, walled in with tall hedjjes, and haitie^ briskly along it for a half mile, then paaied into Ji vast flower garden thl■oug^ an imposing gateway whoso huge stone pil- lars bore sculptured armorial dovioes. A njblc nianbion was before tiiem. ' WoU omo to Hendon Hall, my king I' ' exclanied Mllea. 'Ah. 'tis a gi'ent day t ]\'v fatlior and my brother, and the la3y E.ith will be so mad with joy that thoy will have eyes and tonfiuo foi' none but mo in the first transports of the meeting, and so thou'It seem but coldly welcomed — but mind it not} 'twill soon seem otherwise ; for when I sav thou art my ward, and tell them how costly is my love for thee, thou'It see them take thcc to their breasts for Miles Hendon's sake^ and make their house and hearts thy home forover after !' The next moment Hendon sprang to the ground before the great (loor, helped the king down, then took him by the hand and ruyhcd within. A few steps brought him to a spacious apartment : he entered, seated- the king with more hurry than ceremony, then ran toward a young man who sat at m writing tab^o in front of a generous fire of logs. ' Embrace me, Hugh,' ho cried, ' and say thou'rt glad I am come again ! and call our father, for home is not home till I shall touch his hand, and see his face, and hear, his voice once more !' But Hugh only drew back, after betrayii^^ a momentary surprise, and bent a grave stare upon the intruder — a stare which indicated somewhat of offended dignity, at first, then changed, i^i response to some inward thought or purpose, to an expression of marvelling curiosity, mixed with a real or assumed com- passion. Presently he said, in a mild voice — ' Thy wits seem tonoiied, poor stranger j doubtless thou hast suffered privations and rude bulVetings at the world's hands; thy looks and dress betoken it. Whom doii thou take me to be ?' ' Take thee ? Prithee for whom else than whom thou art ? I take thee to be Hugh Hendon,' said Miles, sharply. ^ The other continued, in the same iiof* tone — • And whom dost thou imagine thvself to be?' ' Imac;ination hatli nought to do with it t Dost thou pretend thou knowest me uot f(^ thy brother Miles Hendon ?' . • ' An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Hugh's face, and he exclaimed— ' What 1 thou art not jesting? can th* dead come to life ? God ba praised if it b* so 1 Our poor lost boy restored to our arm* after all these cruel years I Ah, it seeiB* too good to he *rue, it is too good to be true -I charge thee, have pity, do not trifle with ■'^^MJ^^^i ■■.rf-'"''''^<&""'Mi4«i''r ' CO me I Quick — come to the light — lot nie scan thee well !* He seized Miles by the arm, dragged him , 40 the window, and began to devour him ^Mrom head to foot with liia oyoa, turuiiiR him this way and that, and stopping ))riskly Around him and about him to piovo him from all points of view ; whilst the returned Erodigal, all aglow with gladness, smiled, mghed, and kept nodding his head and say- ing— , , • Go on, brother, go on, and fear not ; ihou'lt find nor limb nor feature that cannot bide the teat. Scour and scan mo to thy content, my good old Hugh — I am indeed thy old Miles, thy same old Miles, thy lost brother, is't not so ? Ah, 'tis a great day — I said 'twas a great day I Give me thy hand, give me thy cheek— lord, I am like to 4ie of very ioy !' He was about to throtv himself upon his brother ; but Hush put up his hand in dis- 4ient, then dropped his chin mournfully upon his'breast, saying with emotion — 'Ah, God of his mercy give m^ strength iff bear this grievous disappointment 1 ' Milesl amazed, could not speak, for a ' moment ; thon he found his tongue and cried ■out-- ' What disappointment ? Am I not thy brother ? ' Hugh shook his head sadly, and said — ' I pray heaven it may prove so, and that Other eyes may find the resemblances that 'Are hid from mine. Alack, I fear me the letter spoke but too truly. ' ' What letter ? ' 'One that came from over the sea, some »ix or seven years ago. It said my brother -died in battle.' ' It was a lie ! Call thy father— he will ' Icnow roe. ' ' One may not call the dead. ' • Dead ? ' Miles' voice was subdued and |^',bislips trembled. 'My father dead !— 0, ^sthis is heavy news. Half my new joy is withered now. Prithee lot mo see my brother Artiiur — he will know me ; ho will Jsuow me and console mo. ' ' He, also, is dead. ' • God be merciful to me, a stricken man ! ^Crone — both gone — the worthy taken and tlio worthless spared, in me ! Ah ! I crave your ^^laeroy !— do not say the lady Edith ' — ' ■ * Is dead ? ' No, she lives. ' 'Then, God. be praised, my joy is whole kin ! Speed thee, brother — let her coino we ! An' she say I am not myself — but will not ; no, no, she will know me, I re a fool to doubt it. Buing her — bring i'iOld seryaats ; they, too, will know me, ' 'sh. 'All are gone but five — Peter, Haliey, David, Bernard and Margaret. ' Si) saying, Hugh loft tito room. Miles stood musing, a while, thon began to walk the floor, nmttoring — ' Tlie five arch villains have survived the two-andtwonty leal and honest — 'tis an odd thing.' He continued walking baok and forth, muttering to himself ; ho had forgotten the king entirely. By and by his majesty said g;avely, and with a touch of genuine com- p saion, though the words themselves were .pablo of being interpreted ironically — * Mind not thy misjliance, good man ; there be others in the M-orld whose identity is denied, and whose claims are derided. Thou hast company. ' *Ah, my king,' cried Hondon, colouring slightly, ' do not thou condemn — wait, and thou siialt see. I am no ^poster — she will say it ; you shall hoar it from the sweetest lips in England. I an imposter? Why I know this old hall, these pictures of my an- cestors and all these things that are about us as a child kqoweth its own nursery. Here was I born and bred, my lord ; I speak the truth : I would not deceive thee ; and shoald none else believe, I pray thee do not tiiou doubt me — I could not bear it.' ' I do not doubt thee,' said the king, with a child-like simplicity and faith. ' I thank tlice out of my heart 1 ' exlaimed Hjudou, witli a fervency which showed he was touched. The king added, with the same gentle simplicity — ' Dost thou doubt me ? ' A guilty confusion seized upon Hendon, and he was grateful that the door opened to admit Hugh, at that moment, and saved him the necessity of replying. A beautiful lady, richly clothed, followed Hugh, and after her came several liveried servants. The lady walked slowly, with her head bowed and her eyes fixed upon the floor. The face was unspeakably sad. Miles Hendon sprang forward, crying out — • O, my Editli, my darting ' — But Hugli waved Ivim back gravely, and svd to tho laJy — " Look upon him. Do you know him f • At the sound of Miles' voice the woman had started shghtly, and her cheeks had flushed; she was trembling now. She stood still, diirijig the impressive pause of several moments : then slowly lifted up her head "Und looked into Hendon 's eyes with a stony and frightened gaze ; the blood sank out of her face, drop.by drop, till nothing remain- ed but the gray pallor of death : then she said, in a voice as dead as the face, " I kuoAv him not ' aiid turned, with a^ moon hii 61 and a stifled sob, and tottered out of the .room. ' Milea Hendon sank into a cliair and covered his face with his Imiids. After a panse, hia hrothor Btiid to the servants — • You have observed liini. Do you know him ? • They shook their heads ; then the master ■aid — " The servants know you not, sir. I fear there is some mistalie. You have seen that my wife knew you not. ' •Thy wife! In nn instant Hugh wae Sinned to tlio wall, with an iron grip about is throat. * O, tliou fox-lieartod bIjivc, I ■ee it all I Thou'st writ the lyinfj letter thyself, and iiiy stolon bride and goods are its fruit. There— now got thee pone, but I shame mine honourable solilicrship with the ■laying of so pitiful a manikin !' Hugh, rod-faced, and almost suffocated, reeled to the nearcBt chair, and commanded the servants to seize and bind the murderous stranger. They hesitated, and one of them ■aid — ' Ho is nrmed. Sir Hugh, and we are vreaponleEfs, ' • Armed ? What of it, and ye so many ? Upon him, I say ! ' But Miles warn«d them to be careful what they did, and added — • Yo know mc of old — I have not chang- ed ; come on, an' it like you.' This reminder did not hearten the servants much ; they still held back. ' They go, yo paltry cowards, and arm yoursclvea and guard the doors, whilst I ■end one to fetch the Avreteh ; ' said Hiigli, Ha. turned, at the threshold, and said to Miles, • Y'ou'U fmd it to your advantage to offend not with useless efforts endeavours to escape. * ' Escape ? Spare thyself discomfort, an' that is all that troubles thee. For Miles Hendon is master of Hendon Hall and all its belongings. Ho will remain — doubt it not.' iiac led CHAP rER XXVI. f DISOWNED. The king s fc musing a few moments, then looked up and said — * 'Tis strange— most strange. I cannot account for it. •No, it is not strange, my liege. I know him, and hia conduct is but natural. He was a rascal from his birth.' • 0, I spake not of him. Sir Miles.' ' ISiot of him ? Then of what ? What is it that is strange?' 'Tbat the kias is not missecu' ' How 7 Which T I doubt I do not undeiv stand.' ' Indeed ? Dotit it not strike you as beiia| passing strange that the lantl is not (ilU with couriers and proclamations describing my person and making search for me f Is it no matter for commotion and distress that. the head of the State is gone ?— that I anv vanished away and lost ?' ' Most true, my king, I liad forgot.' Then Hendon sighed, and muttered to himself, • Poor ruined mind— still busy with ita pathetic dream.' 'But I have a plan that shall right as both. I will write a paper, in three tongues — Latin, < I reek and Enijlish — and thou shalt haste away with it to Loudon in the iiiorning. Give it to none but my uncle, the lord Heitford ; when he shall see it, he Avill know and say I wrote it. Then he will send forme.' ' Might it not be best, my prince, that w#. wait here, until I prove myself and make my rights seoure to my domains ? I should be so much the better able then to ' — The king interrupted him imperionsly — 'Peace! What are thy paltry domains, thy trivial interests, contrasted with matters which concern the weal of a nation and the integrity of a throne !' Then ho added, in a, gentle voice, as if he were sorry for his severity, ' Obey, and have no fear ; I will right tlice, I will make thee whole — yes, more than whole. I shall remember, and requite.' So saying, betook the pen, and set him* self to work. Hendon contemplated hinir lovingly, a while, then said to himself — ' An' it were dark, I should think it WOSlki king that spoke ; there's no denying it,wh^^ tilt humour's upon him he doth thnndsf 4 and lighten like your true kinff-^now wbef got ho that trick? See him scribble at scratch away contentedly at his meaning"'- less pot-hooks, fancying them to bo Latin and Greek — and except my wit shall server me with a lucky device for diverting hita > from his purpose, I shall be forced to pre- . teufi to post away to-morrow on this wild: errand he hath invented for me. ' The next moment Sir Miles' thoughts, had gone back to the recent episode. So absorbed was he in his mnsings, - that when the king presently handed- him the paper which he had been writing" he received it and pocketed it without being'^ conscious of the act. * How marvek i lous strange she acted," he nlnttered. ''*'^| think she knew me— and I think sho did^ '" know me. These opinions do conflict, T'^ ceive it plainly ; I cannot reconcile tbtii neither do I, by (irgnment, dismitti eitbii^ •<>; 63 th« two, or even porsuaile one to outweigh the other. The matter Btnndoth simply rfiui : she muat liave kuown my face, my Hgnre, my voice, for how coiilil it bo other- wiief yet the said she knew mo not, and that 1.1 proof perfect, for she cannot lie. But stop — I thiuK I bocin to see. Peradvonture ho hath influenced he —commanded her — com« polled her, to lie. That is the solution I The fiddle is unriddled. She seemed dead with fear— yes, she was under his compulsion. I will seek her ; I will find her ; now that ho is away, she will speak her true mind, ijhe will remember the old times when we were little phiyfoUows together, and this will soften her iieart, and slie will no more betray me, but will confess me. There is no teacherous blood in her— no, sht was always h mest and true. She has loved me, in those wildering unexpectedness of it, made him begin to question, for a moment, if ho was the person he was pretending to be, after all. The lady Edith said— • Sir, I have come to warn you. The mad cannot be persuaded out of their delusions, perchance ; but doubtless they may be per- suaded to avoid peribi. I think this dream of yours hath the seeming of honest truth to Vpu, and therefore is not criminal — but do not tarry Itere with it ; for here it is danger- ous.' She looked steadily into Miles' face, a moment, then added, impressively, ' It is the more dangerous for youtliatyou are much tike what our lost lad must have grown to be, if be had lived.' ' Heavens, madam, but I am he t' ' 1 truly think yon think it, sir. I qnes- tion not your honesty in that— I but warn you, that is all. My hnsband is master in tbia region ; his power hath hardly any limit ; the people prosper or starve, as he wills. If you resembled not the man whom a on vjpipofcM to . be, my hnsband might bid you l^^tMWnre yoarself wi;h ^oor dream in peace ; l^jMt trut me, I know him well, I know what ''Vftwiil do I h» will say to «U» that yon an but a mad impostor, and itraightwav all will eohn him.' She bont upon Miles that same steady look once more, and added : ' If yon wore iViiles Ilondon, and he knew it and all tho region know it — consider what I am say- ing, weigh it well— you would atand in tne same peril, your punishment would b« no less sure ; he would deny you and denounce you, and none would be bold enough to give you countenance.' ' Most truly I believe it,' said Miles, bit- terly. ' The power that can command one life-long friend to betray and disown another, and be obeyed, may well look to be obeyed in quarters where bread and life are on tho stake and no cobweb ties of loyidty and honour are concerned.' A faint tinge appeared for » moment in the lady's cheek, ana she dropp«d her eyes to the floor; but her voice oetrayed no emotion when she proceeded — 'I have warned yon, I must still warn yon, to go hence. This man will destroy yoo^ else. He is a tyrant who knows no pity. I, who am his fettered slave, know this. Poor Miles, and Arthur, and my dear guardian, Sir Richard, arc free of him, and at rest — better that you were with them than that you bide here in the clutchei of this mis- creant. Your pretensions are a menace to his title and possessions ; you have assaulted him in his own houte — you are ruined if yon stay. Go— do not hesitate. If you lack money, take this purse, I beg, of you, and bribe the servants to let you pass. be warned, poor soul, and escape while you may.' Miles declined tho purse with a gesture, and rose up and stood before her. 'Grant me ono th'ng,' ho said. 'Let your eyes rest upon mine, so that I m&y see if they be steady. There— now answer me. Am I Miles Hendon 7' • No. I know yon not. ' • Swear it 1' The answer was low, but distinct— • I swear. ' '0, this passes belief 1' ' Fly ! Why will you waste tho precious time? Fly, and save yourself.' At that moment the officers burst into the room and a violent struggle began ; but Hendon was soon overpowered and dragged away. The king was taken, also, and both were bound, and led to prison. CHAPTER XXVn. or nosojr. The eolla were aU erowdod ^ so tho two friends wort oiuuned io a largo room whsro 63 Utw« penoni ohargoil with trifling ofTencea wuro oommonly kept. Thoy had coinp:uiy, for there were iioine twenty luauuolcd rvnd fettered prisoners hero, of both soxu.^ nud of varying ages, — an olMcetio and noiuy ^ang. The king cTiafcd bitterly over thestiipoudoui indiffnity thus put upon his royalty, but Heuuon was moody and taciturn. I to was pretty thoroughly bewiUlered. Ho h.ad coruo home A iubilant prodigal, expecting to find everybody wild with joy over his return ; and instead had got the cold shoulder nnd a jail. The nromise and tlie fulfilment differed so widely, that the ofTect was stunning : ho could not decide whether it was most tragic or most grotesque. He felt much as a man might who bad danced blithely out to enjoy A rainbow and got struck by lightning. But gradually his confused and tormenting thoughts settled down into some sort of order, and then his mind centered itself upon Edith. He turned hur conduct over, nnd ex- Mnined it in all lights, but he could not make Any thing satisfactory out of it. Did she know him ? — or didn't she know him 7 It was a perplexing puzzle, and occupied him a long time; but tie ended finally with the con- viction that she did know him, and liad re- pudiated him for interested reasons. He wanted to load hei name with curses now ; but this uane had so long been sacred to him that he found be rould not bring his tongue to profane it. ^ Wrapped in prison blankets of a soiled and tattered condition, Hendon And the king passed a troubled night. For a bribe the jailer had furnished liquor to tome of the pri- sonert', andsiigngof ribald songs, fighting', shouting, and carousing, were the natural oousequences. At lust, a while after mid- night, A man attacked a woman and nearly killed her by beating hsr over the head with bis manacles before the jailer could cone to the vescue. The jailer restored peace by giv- ing the man a sound clubbing over the head and shoulders — then the carousing ceased and All bad An opportunity to sleep who did not mind the Annoyance of the moaning of the two wounded people. During the ensuing week, the days and nights were of a monotonous sameness, as to events ; men whose faces Hendon remember- ed more or less distinctly, came by day to ffAM At the "impostor " And insult him ; and by ni^^t the oarousins went on with sym- metrioAl regalarity. However, there was a chADge of incident at last. The jailer brought in An old mAn and said to him — **ThA TillAin is in this room — cast thy old eyM About »nd see if thou canst asy which iAhv." Umdan i^muoui up, And experienced a pleasant sensation for the first tinxi since he had boon in the jail. He said, himself; ''Tliia is Blake Andiews, a kervan' all hia life in my fatlur's family — aBood,boi.- est soul, witii a risht heart in his breast That is, formerly. But none are true, now; all are liara. This man will know me— ami will deny mc, too, like the rest.' The olwed by the king, the crowd opening with quiet respectfulness to let them pass, and then dispersing when they were gone. Hendon was soon absorbed in thought. There were questions of high import to be answered. What should he do ? Whither should he go ? Powerful help must be found, somewhere, or he must relinquish his inheritance and remain under the unputa- tion of being an imposter besides. Where could he hope to find this powerful help ? Where, indeed I It was a knotty question. By and bv a thought occurred to him which pointed to a possibriity — the slenderest of ■lender possibilities, certainly, but still worth considermg, for lack of any other that pro- mised any thing at all. He remembered what old Andrews had eaid about the young king's goodness and his generous championship of Ihe wronged and unfortunate. Why not go and try to get speech of him and beg for jus- tice ? Ah, yes, but could so fantastic a pauper fit admuMion to th« august presence of a monarch? Never mind— let that matter take care of itself ; it was a bridge that would not need to be crossed till he should come to it. He was an old campaigner, and used to inventing shifts and expedients ; no doubt he would be able to find a way. Yes, he would strike for the capital. Maybe his father's old friend Sir Hum'phrey Marlow would help him — * good old Sir Humphrey, head lieutenant of the late king's kitchen, or stables, or something ' — Miles could not re- member which. Now that he had something to turn his energies to, a distinctly defined object to accuinplish, the fog of humiliation and depression which had settled down upon his spirits lifted and blew away, and he raised his head and looked about him. He Avas surprised to see how far he had come ; the village was away behind him. The king was jogging along in his wake, with his head bowed ; for he, too, was deep in plans and thinkings. A sorrowful mis- giving clouded Hendon 's new-born cheerful- . ness — would the boy be willing to go again to a city where, during all his brtef life, he had never known anything but ill-usage and pinching want ? But the question must be asked ; it could not be avoided j so Hendon reined up, and called out — ' I had forgotten to enquire whither w» are bound. Thy commands, my liege ! ' ♦ To London ! ' Hendon moved on again, miglitily con- tented with the answer--but astonished at it too. The whole journey was made without an adventure of importance. But it ended with one. About ten o'clock on the night of the 19th of February, they stepped upon London Bridge, in the midst of a writhing, struggling jam of howling and hurrahing people, whose beer-jolly faces stood out strongly in the glare from manifold torches — and at that instant the decaying head of some former duke or other grandee tumbled down between them, striking Hendon on the elbow, and then bounding otf among the hurrying confusion of feet. So evanescent and unstable are mon's works in this worhl I — the late good king is but three weeks dead, and three days in his grave, and al- ready the adornments which he took such pains to select from prominent people for his noble bridge are falling. A citizen stumbled over that liead, and drove his own hesid into the back of somebody in front of him, who turned and knocked down the first person that came handy, and was promptly laid out himself by that person's friend. It was the right ripe time for a free fight, for the fes- tivities of the moroow — Coronation Day— - wero alreadj bsgiuning ; ovorybodj waa 69 faUefotrong drink and patriotism ; within fiye minutes the free fight was occupying a good deal of ground ; within ten or twelve it covered an acre or ho, and was becomo a riot. By this time Hendon and the king were hopelessly separated from each other and lost in the rush and turmoil of the roar- ing masses of humanity. And so we leave them. CHAPTER XXX. tom's progress. Whilst the true king wandered ahont the land poorly clad.p oorly fed, cuffed and de- rided by tramps one while, herding with thieves and murderers in a jail another, and called idiot and imposter by all impartially, the mock King Tom Canty enjoyed quite a diHerent experience. When we saw him last, royalty was just beginning to have a bright side for him. This bright side went on briglitening more and more every day ; in a very little while it was become almost all sunshine and de- lightfulness He lost his fears ; ins misgiv- ings fttded out and died; his embarrassments departed, and gave place to an easy and confident bearing. He worked the whip- ping-boy mine to evcr-increasinz profit. He ordered my lady Elizabetli and my lady Jane Grey into hia presence when he wanted to play or talk, and dismissed them when he was done with them, v.ith the air of one familiarly accustomed to such per- formances. It no longer confused liim to have the lofty personages kiss his hand at parting. Ho came to enjoy being conducted to bed in stato at night, and dressed with intricate and solemn ceremony in the morning. It came to be a proud pleasure to march to dinner attended by a glittering procession of officers of state and gentlemen-at-arms ; in- somuch, indeed, that he doubled his guard of gentlemen-at arms, and made them a hun- dred. He liked to hear the bugles sounding down the long corridors, and the distant voices responding, 'Way for the King* He even learned to enjoy sitting in throned state in council, and to be something more than the Lord Protector'^ mouth-piece. He liked to receive great ambassadors and their gorgeous trains, and listen to the affectionate messages they brought from illustrious monarchs, who called him 'brother.' O, happy Tom Canty, late of Offal Court ! He enjoyed hia splendid clothes, and or- derfld more : he found bis four hundred ser- vants k)o few for his proper grandeur, and trebled them. The adulation of salaaming courtiers came to be sweet music in bis ears. He remained kind and gentle, and a sturdy and determined champion of all that were oppressed, and he made tireless war upon unjust laws ; yet upon occasion, being of- fended, he. could turn upon an earl, or even a duke, and give him a look that would uHake him tremble. Once, when his royal 'sister,' the grimly, holy lady Mary, set herself to reason with him against the wis- dom of his course in pardoning so many peo- ple who would otherwise be jailed, or hanged, or burned, and reminded him that their late august father's prisons had some- times contained as high as sixty thousand convicts at one time, and that during his ad* mirable reign ho had delivered seventy-two thousand thieves and robbers over to death by the executioner,* the boy was filled withgen- erous indignation, and commanded her to go to her closet, and beseech. God to take away thj^ stone that was in her Breast, and give her a human heart. Did Tom Canty never feel troubled about the poor little rightful prince who had treat- ed him so kindly, and flown out with such hot zeal to avenge him upon the insdlent sentinel at the palace gate ? Yes ; hia first royal days and nights were pretty well sprinkled with painful thoughts about the lost pnnce, and with sincere longings for his return, and happy restoration to his native rights and splendours. But as time wore on, and the prince did noc come, Tom's mind became more and more occupied with his new and enchanting experiences, and by little and little the vanished monarch faded almost out of his thoughts ; and finally, when be did intrude upon them at intervals, he was become an unwelcome spectre, for he made Tom feel guilty and ashamed. Tom's poor mother and sisters travelled the same road out of hia mind. At first he . pined for them, longed to see them; butlater the thought of their coming some day in their rags and dirt, and betraying him with their kisses, and pulling him down from his lofty place, and dragging him back to penury and degradation and the slums, made him shudder. At last they ceased to trouble his thoughts almost wholly. And he was content, even glad : for, whenever their mournful and accusing faces did rise before him now, they made him feel more despic- able than th^e worms that crawl. At midnight of the 19th of February, Tom Canty was sinking to sleep in his rich bed in the palace, guarded by his roy al'vaaaals and I " •Hume's Sosland. Jit i IB 70 Buvroiinded by the pomp of royalty, a happy ; boy ; for to-morrow was the day appointed ' for his solemn crowning as King of England. At that same hour, Edward, the true king, ' hungry and thirsty, soiled and draggled, woi-n with travel, and clothed in rags and shreda — his share of the results of the riot — was wedged in among a crowd of people who were watching with deep interest certain hurrying gangs of workmen who streiinied in and out of Westminster Ablxiy, busy as ants ; they were making the last prepara- tion for the royal coronation. CHAPTER XXXI. THE RECOGNITION PKOCKSSION. ' I When Tom Canty awoke the next morn- ing, the air was heav-y Avith a thunderous murmur : all the distances were charged with it. It was music to him ; for it meant that tiie English T/orld was out in its strength to give loyal wolctune to the great day. ' Presently Tom found himself once more the chief figure in a wonderful floating page- ant on the Thames ; for by ancient custom the ' reco.frnition procession ' througli London must start from the Tower, and ho was bound tliither. When lie arrived there, the sides of the venerable fortress seemed siiddoiily rent in a thousand places, and from every rent leaped a red tongue of flanio and a white gush of smoke ; a deafening expkwion followed, which drowned the shoutings of the; multi- tude, juid made the gnuiiul tiendilo ; the flame-jets, the smoke, and tiie cxpiosions, werd repeated over aiul ovei- again with marvellous celerity, so that in r, few u'omeiits the old Tower Jisappeareii in the vast fog of its own smoke, all but tin. very top of the tall pile called the White Tu.ver : this, with its banners, scood out ;ibovo the dense bank of vapour ns a mountain-peak pi'ojeots above a clou I r \ck. Tom Canty, splendidly arrayed, mounted a praneing war-8teed, wliose rich trappings almost reached to tlic ground ; his ' undo,' the Lord Protector Somerset, similarly mounted, took place in his rear ; the King's Guard formed in single ranks on eitlicr side, olad in burnishtil armour ; after the Protec- tor followed a seemingly interminable pi'o- cession of resplendent nobles attended by their vassals ; after these came the lord mayor and tiie aldermanic body, in ci imson velvet robes, and with their gold cliains icross their breasts ; and after tlieae the jflBcers and members of all the guiMs of London, in rich raiment, and hearing the showy banners of several corporations. Also in the procession, as a special guard of honour through the oity, was the Ancient and Honourable Artillery Company — an or- ganization' already three hundred years old at that time, and the only military l)ody in Entrland possessing the privilege (which it stjU possesses in our day) of holdiner itself independent of the commands of Parliament. It was a brilliant spectacle, and was iiailed with acclamations all along the line, as it took its stately way through the packed multitudes of citizens. The chronicler says, * The king, as ho entered the city, was re- ceived by the people with prayers, welcom- ings, cries and tender words, and all signs which argue an earnest love of subjects to- ward their sovereign ; and the King, by holding up his glad countenance to such as- stood afar oiY, and most tender language to those that stood nigh, his Crace showed him- self no loss thankful to receive the people's good -will than thny to offer it. To all that wished him well, he gave thanks. To such as bade ' God save his Grace,' he said in re- turn, 'God save you all !' and added that ' he thanked them with all his heart. ' Won- dcriuUy transported were the people with loving answers and gestures of their king.' In Fenchuich-stieet a 'fair child, in costly ap])arcl,' stood on a stage to welcf mo his Maje^'-ty lo tiie city. The last verse of his greeting was in these words : — 'Welcome, O King! as much as hearts can think : Welio'.iiO aprain, as inneh us ton!j;uo can tell— Wclconif to .ioy(;Us longiies, and hearts tliat will not slirink ; Cod tl)ce preaervc, we pray, and wish thee ever well.' The people burst forth in a glad shout, re- peating with one voice what tiie child had said. Tom Canty gazed abroad over tlie surging sea of eager faces, an. I hi.« heart swelled with exultation ; and h" tcl; that tiie one thing worth living for in this world was to lie a king, and a nation's idol. Pre- sently he caught sight, at a distance, of a couple of his ragged Olial Court comrades — one of them the lord higli adnural in hix late mimic court, the other the first lord of the bedchamber in the same pretentious fiction ; anfl liis priile swelled higher than ever. Oh, if they could only recognize him now ! What unspenkabie glory it would be, if they could recognize him, and realize that the derided mock king of the slums and back alleys was liecome a real king, with illustrious dukes and princes for his humble menials, and tito Ent',liah world at his feet ! But he had to deny himself, and choke doAvn his desire, for such a recognition might cost more than out, re- 1 liad cr tho luavt ; that world Prc- e, of a •iulcs — hU late (if the iction ; Oh, ! What con Id derided )ys was didics and tho had to desire, e than ir, 71 it would come to ; so he turned away hia lead, and left the two soiled If da to go on wit!) their shoutings and glad adiihitions, unsuspicious of whom it was they were lavishing them upon. Every now and then rose the ciy, ' A largess I a largess !' anfl Tom respond-d by scattering a liaiidful of brigiit new coins aljroaU for the multitude to stitiuride for. The chronicler says : ' At the upper "end of Gracechurch-street, ])efore tiie sign of the Eai.de, tho city had erected a corgcions arch, beneatli which was a stag-, wliieh stretched froin one side of tlie street to tiie otlier. Tliig was a iiistovieal pageant, representing tlio king's imiiudiate pi'ogenitor.-;. Tlievo sat Klizal)etli of York in the midst of an im- mense wliitc rose. whcsepetaLi formed ela- borate furbelows anmiid her ; by her sule was Hoary VII. issuing out of a vast red rose, disposed in the same manner ; tho hands of tlie royal pair were locked to^'ctlicr and the wedding-rin;,' ostenlatiously dis- played. From the reil and wliito roses pro- ceeedcd a stem, whieli rcajhed up to a second stige, occupied by Henry VI il. is.-.iiii)g from a red-aiid-white rose, with tlie clligy of the uvAV lung's motiier, Jane Soyniour, re- presented Ijy ids side. One brancli sprang Irom thij pair, which mounted to a tliird stage where sat tlio_ effigy of Edward VI. iiim e!f. enthroned in royal tiinjeaty ; and tho whole pageant was framed with wte.ith? of rosv'y, red ami white. This qn lint and gaudy tipectacle so wrought upon tlie r(j;)ieintt people th.it their acclamations utterly smothered the small voice of the cliild whose bnsinesa it was to explain tlie tiling in eub'gistie rhyme. i3iit Tom Canty was not sorry ; for this loyal uproar was sweder mi!t«ic to him than any poetry, no matter wh .t its quality miglit be. Wiiitiicrsoever Turn turned iiis happy you:ig face, he recognized tlte cxactaes;,) of Ins eiTii'v's likeness to himiJe'.f,the flesh and bluod countei'iiart ; and new whirlwinds of ap- plause burst forth. The great pageant moved on, and still on, under one triumplial areli after auotlier, and past a bcwddering succession of spectacular and symbolical tableaux; each of wiiich typified and oxalti'il some virtue, or tab nt, or merit, of the little king's, * Tiiioughont the whole C)f Cheapoide, from every pent- house and ■window,hniig bumiers and stream- ers ; and the richest carpets, stuffs, and cloth-of-gold tapesfrieil tho streets, — speci- mens of tho great wealth of the stores with- in ; and tho splendour of this thoroughfare was equalled in the other streets, and ia some even surpassed. ' ' And all these wonders and these marvels are to welcome me—me I ' murmured Tom Canty. The mock king's cheeks were flushed with excitement, his eyes were flashing, hissens-es swarmed in a delirium of pleasure. At tli's point, just as he was raising hia hand to fling another rich largess, he caught sight of a pale, astounded face wliich was stfained forward out (.f the second rank of the crowil, its intense eyes riveted upon him. A sicken- ing consternation struck through him ; ho recognized his iiTotlicr ! and up flew his hand, palm outward, before his eyes, — that old involuntary gesture, born of a tor ottea episode, and peri)etuated by habit. In an instant more she h;,d torn her way out of tlie press, and past the guards, and was at his side. She embraced his leg, she covered it with kisses, she cried, ' iny child, my darling ! 'lifting toward him a fa^o that was tvansrigured w.th yty and love. Die same instant an officer of the King's (Juard snatch- ed her away with a curse, and seuc her iK^el- ing back whence! she came with a vigorous im))ul.'e fiom his strong arm. The words ' I do not know you, woman ! ' were falling from Tom Canty's lips when this piteous thing occurred ; but it smote him to the heart to se(f her treated so ; and aa she turnevod, no (jie spoke ; iudee>o only result was that he wan tolerably tired, rather hungry, and very sleepy. He wanted some breakfast, but there was noway to get it. To beg for it did not occur to him, as to pawning hia sword, ho would as soon have thought pf parting with his honour ; he could spare some of hia clothes — yea, but one ooulcl as easily tiutl a customer for a disease as for such clothes. At noon ho was still tramping — among the rabble which followed after the procession, now ; for ho argued that this regal display would attract his little lunatic powerfully. He followed tho pageant through all its devious windings to Westminster Abbey. He drifted hero and there amongst the mul- titudes that were massed in the vicinity for a weary long time, baffled and perplexed, and finally wandered off, thinking, and try- ing to contrive some way to better his plan ot campaign. By-and.bye,wlien he came to himself out of hia musings, he discovered that the town was far behind him and that the day was growing old. Ho was near the river, and in the country ; it was a region of fine rural seats — not the sort of district to welcome clothes like his. It was not at all cold ; so he stretched himself on the ground in the lee of a hedge to rest and think. Drowsiness presently began to settle upon is senses ; the faint and far-off boom of cannon wa» wafted to hia ear, and he said to himself ' The new kingif crowned,' and straightway fell -asleep. He had not slept or rested before for more than thirty hours. He did not wake again until near the middle of the next morning. He got up, limp and stiff, and half famished, washed himelf in the river, stayed his stonH ach with a pint or two of irater,«nd tradged I I 7S oflf toward Westminster, grumbling at him- self for having wasted so inunh time. Hun- ger helped him to a plan now ; he would try to get speech with old Sir llunipliroy Mar- low and borrow a fow nuirks, and — but tluit was enough of a plan for the prosent ; it would be time enough to enlui^e it vviieii tills first stagu shoiihl 1)0 aoconipii -lied. Toward eleven o'cb^ck he ajiproat-Inid the p.ilaco, and althou'^li a host of showy people wtre about him, moving in the sunn; diroc- tiun, he was incoininoiious — his costume took care of that. He watched tiie,-»e peo- ple's faces narrowly, hoping to find a chari- table one vtlu>so j)osKessor niighc be willing to carry his name to the old licuti'nant— as to trying to cot into the palace himself, tiiat was simjtiy out of the ([uestion. Presentlv oar whi|iping-boy passed him, then \Mi?eled abont a:id scanned his figure well, saying to hinistlf, ' An' that is not ■the very vagabond iii.s majesty is in such a worry about, then 1 am an ass — though belike .1 was that before, fie an- sweretii the dcscri}>t.ju to a rag — tliat ()(jd should make two aii^'h, would be to cheapen miracles, by wasteful rcpotition.* 1 wonhl I could contrive an excuse to speak witii him. ' Milei Hondon savedhim thotrouble ; for ha turned aiiout, then, us a man genei'iilly will whe 1 s.miobody mesmerizes him by ga.'.ing bird at him fr an behind; and observing a etro ig interest in the boy's eyes, he stepp;al toward him and naid — ' You have just come out from the palace ; do you belong there?' 'Yes, your worsliip. ' ' Know you Sir Hnmphery Marlow ?' Tile b ly started, and said to himself, * Lord ! mine old dejiarted father !' Then he answered, aloud, ' I'.ight well, your wor- 8bip. ' ' Good — is he within ?' 'Yes,' said the l)()y ; and added, to him- self, ' within Ins grave. ' * Might I crave your favour to cany my name to him, and say I beg to say a word in his ear?' ' I will despatch the business right willing- ly, fair sir. ' 'Then say Miles Hendon, son of Sir Richard, is here without — I shall be greatly bounded to you, my good lad. ' The boy looked disappointed — 'the king did not name him 80,' he said to himself — * bat it mattereth not, this is hia twin ^brother, and can give his majesty newia of *tother Sir-Odda-and-Ends, I warrant. ' So he said to Miles, ' Step in there a moment, j(Oqd air^ and wait till I bring you word. ' lEcindon retired to the place indioated-4t was a recess stnik in the palace wall, with a stone bench in it — a shelter for sentinels iu bad weather. lie had hardly seated himself wlien some halberdiers, in chargtj of an oflioer, passed by. The oflieers saw him, halted his men, and commanded Ilendon to come forth. Ko obeyed, and was promptly arrested as a suspicions clianicter prowling within the precincts of the palace. Things began to look ugly. Poor .Miles was going to explain, b.it the olHjcr roughly silenced him, and (u'dered his men to disarm hint and search him. ' God of his mercy grant that they find somewhat, ' said poor Miles ; ' I have search- ed enow, and failed, yet is my need greater than theirs.' Xothing was found but a doenmont. Th-s officer tore it open, and Hendon smiled when he recognixed the ' p 't-hooks ' made by his lost little friend that black flay at Hendon Hall. Tjie olli::er's face grew dark as he road the Knglish paragiaph, and Miles blenched to the opposite colour as he listened. 'Aiiotiier new claimant of the crown!' cried the olli'-er. ' Veiily they breed like rabbits, to-day. Seize the rascal, men, and see ye keep him fast whilst I convey this precious paper within and scud it to the king.' He hurried away, leaving the prisoner iu the ijfiip of the hall)crdiers. ' Now is my evil luck ended at last,' mut- tereil Hendon, ' for I shall dangle at a lope'a end for a certainty, by reason of that bit of writing. And what will become of my poor lad ! — ah. only the good God knoweth.' i;y aiul by he saw the oilicersconungagain, in a great hurry ; so he plucked his courage together, purposing to meet his trouble as became a man. The officer ordered the men to loose the prisoner and return liia sword to him ; then bowed re.specttully, and said — ' Please you sir, to follow me.' Hendon followed, saying to himself, ' An' I were not travelling to death and judgment, and 80 must needs economize in sin, I would tluottlo this knave for his mock courtesy.' The two travei'sed a populous court, and arrived at the grand entrance of the palace, ■where the officer, with another bow, deliv- ered Hendon into the hands of a gorgeous official, who received him with profound respect and led him forward through a great hall, lined on both sides with rows of splen- did flunkies (who made reverential obeis- ance as the two passed along, but fell into death-throes of silent laughter at our stately ' scare-crow the moment his back was turned,) and up a broad staircase, among flocka of fine folx, ind finally condaoted bim ,!:iJti!k:-; 79 into a vast room, clove a passage for Inm through the nssunihled noliility ot ICngland, then made a how, rciniiidod hiiii to take liis hat oH", and left him stan*! — He stood gn/ing at the fair young face like one trahsllxed ; then pre- sently ejaculated — 'Lo, tlie lord of the Kingdom of Dreams and Sliadows on his throne ! ' He muttered some broken sentences, still gazing and marvelling ; then turned hi? eyes around and about, scanliing the gorgeous throng and the splendid .saloon, murmuring, ' But these arc, real — verily these are real — surely it is not a dream.' | He stared at tiie kingagain — and thought, I ' /.s it a dreaui ? . . . oris lie the veritable j sovereign of Kiiglaiul, and not the friendless ' poor Tom o' Bedlam I took him f' r — who | shall solve me this riddle? ' '. A sudden idea Hashed in his eye, ar.d he strode to the wall, gathered up a cliair, | brought it back, planted it on the floor, and sat down in it ! i A buzz of indignation broke out, a rough ; hand was lai«l upon him, and a voice ex- | claimed, — * Up, thou mannerless clown !— wouldst sit in the presence of the king ? ' The disturbance attracted his majesty's attention, who stretched forth his hand and cried out — ' Touch him not, it is his right ! ' The throng fell back, stupefied. The king went on — 'Learn ye all, ladies, lords and gentlemen, that this is my trusty and well beloved servant, Miles Hendon, who interposed his ffood sword and saved his prin e from bodily harm and possible death — and for this he is knight, by the king's voice. Also learn, that for a higher service, in that he saved his sovereign stripes and shame, taking these upon himself, he is a peer of and lands meet for the dignity. More — the privilege which he has just exercised is his by royal grant ; for we have ordained that the chiefs of his line shall have and hold the right to sit in the presence of the majesty of England henceforth, age after age, so long as the crown shall endure. Molest him net. ■ Two persons, -who, through delay, had only arrived from the country during this morning, and had now been in this room only five minutes, stood listening to these words and looking at the king, then at the scare-crow, then at the king again, in a sort of torpid liewiliierment. These were Sir Hugh and the Lady Pklith. But the new l'';irl did not see them. He was still star- ing at the monarch, in a dazed way, and inutteriuEC — ' 0, body o' mc ! This my pauper ! This my lunatic ! This is he whom I would show what grandeur was, in my jiouse of seventy rooms and seven and twenty servants ! This is he who had never known aught but rags for raiment, kicks for comfort, and offal for diet ! This is he wlioni I adopted and would make respcct;dde ! Would God I had a ba«»,. to hide my head in !' "i:. Then his nianncrs suddenly came l)ack to I him, and he dropped upon his knees, with I his hands bctwe n the king's, and swore al- i le^riance and did homage for his lands and ] titloH. Tlicn he rose and stocd respectfully j aside, a mark still for all eyes — ard much envy, too." Kow the king discovered Sir Hugh, and spoke out, with wrathful voice and kindling eye— ' Strip this robber of his false show and stolen estates, and ))ut him under lock i\\d key till T iiavc; need of liini. ' 'I'lio late Sir Hugh w^as led away. There was a stir at the other end of the ij'oom, now ; the assenddage fell apart, and I Tom Canty, quaintly but richly clothed, ' marched down, between these living walls, preceded l)y an usher. He knelt before the ! king, who said—* i ' 1 have learned the story of these past few I weeks, and am well pleased with thee. Thou hast goveriied the realm with right ' regal gentleness and mercy. Thou hast found thy mother and thy ' sisters again ? Good ; they shall be cared for — and thj' father shall hang, if thou desire it and the law consent. Know, all ye that hear my voice, that from this day, they that abide in the shelter of Christ's Hospital and share the king's bounty, shall have their minds and hearts fed, as well as their baser parts ; and this bo^ shall dwell there, and hold th6 England, Earl of Kent, and shall have gold chief place m its honourable body bf gov- 80 eruors, during life. And for that he hath been a kina, it 13 not meet that other than cotnnion observance shall be his 'wiK,i< fuii bii/, ttii, ■ •\ ur.,,* I, '^.Mt^ •■■■ •','■'■ y .'H«J i'«nu") '^il aiioi y if»7'-.ii)lj., ; , ,, , ;lf A CURIOUS EXPERliNCE. 4 •'tjid *?,tiA-.'.'ll % Iff V yiMjj -tj Thti to Che Stoiy which the Major told me. ab nearly m I oan recall it : Ib the winter of 1862-3, 1 wu eonunand- •nt of Fort Tmtnball, at New London, Conn. May be oar life there waa not so brisk aa life at **the front ;" still it waa brisk enoa^^, in ita tra^— one's brains didn't cake together there for want of something to keep them irtirriog. For one thin^ all the Morthem atmcephere at that time was thick with mys- terioaa mmors — mmors to the effect that rebel apies were flitting everywhere, and ■ettfaig ready to blew up our Northern forts, tun e«r hotela, send infected clothing into ete towns, and all that sort of thing. Yon raaMuber it. All that had a tendency to katovaMrakt, and knock the traditional dalmeai'oat of otar nrrison life. Besidee, «iti« waa ft' rectuitina station— which is the MMueaa saying webadn'tanv time to waste in doidng, or dreaming, or tooling aroond. Why, with all onr watol^lnesa, fifty per eiMtt of » day's recruits would leak oat «f •MP hsaOs and give ns the slip the saau Sight The bcranties were so prodigiooa tllat a reemit oonld pay a sentinel three or fbarhnndbed dollars to let him escape, and MIU have enough of his hoonty-money left ts ooMtitute a for'Ane for a poor saan. Yea, m I said' befote, onr life was not drowsy. , Well, one day I was in my quarters alone, datog sows writing, when a pate, ragged lad of fsoiHAsn or fifteen entered, sude a oaat bow, and said : •I Mieire WMraitB«N fsoehred haMf •Yes.'* • Wfll 700 irtease enlist me, sirf* *DiMr me, ae ! ' You are too yomif, ssjr iMy, Md too smalL' A disappointed look eame into lito fsoe, Md quickly deepened into an expression of desjrandency. He tuned slowly away, as if to go ; hesitated, then faced me again, aad Ihdd, ia a tone which went to my heart : *Ihikveaohoaaek not a frisstd in the ««rld. If fOtt oould only eaUst^ssa 1 ' Bai e( eoarse the thiag wss out of thh imatma. inil T iaidseas gbntly as I <"} : ■ >altfv.: Then I told him to sit down by tta and warm himself, and added : * Yon shall have something to eat pssasbt- ly. Yon are hungry ? ' He did not answer ; he did not noei to ; the gratitude in his big soft eyes was mbn eloquent than any wonls could h*v^ beaa. He sat down by the stove, and I went on writing. Ocourionally I took a fuitivc glance at him. Inotioed that his dothlse and shoee, altiiovgh soiled aad< damaged, were of good style and materiaL This ' fact was suggestive., To this I added the facts that hiajvoice iwas low and musical ; hisqwi deep and melaticholy ; bis carriage aad ' ad> dress gentlemanly ; evideatiy the pee* du» waa in trodble. As arttrolt, I was inte r es l aa. HoweVer, I became absoibed in my wosli, by and by, and forgot all about the -bof/ I dent hnoilrl how long this Isstsd^ hat^ at langthi' i' happened to look up. . ^ Th^' fengr^ back wta to-vrard me, tat hie ttsa ' Siaa tunud in such a waf that I cosdd' aba ane of Us cheeks-aad dowit that oiieel^ a^iU^ noiseless tears wak flowing^- I * * God bless my soul ! ' iL ssid' te ta^sslfv; * I lorccot the wxnr rat wiaa staring.' fMm i made aSiends for my bratUitar by '■**p*k to htm : 'Come alodj^ asy lad ; jfo* waM dinewith mfa; lam alone to«day.''> ^ He gave me another iabsdHis4>i|| immtihofktttaoi 9Kmiiii[ifWtiHk- iaM i A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE. ;he details. He had a aimple frankneu, too, which won upon me. He talked main- ly about himself, and I had no difficulty in getting hii histovy out of him. When he spoke of his having been born and reared in Lonisiana, I warmed to him decidedlv, for I had sjitint some time down there, i knew all the 'coast 'region of, the Mississippi, Mid. loved it, and .had not been lon« enough away from it for my interest in it to begin to pale. The very names that fell from his lipe sounded eood to me — so good that I steered the talk in directions that would faring thorn out. Baton Rouge, Plaquemine, Donaldsonville, Sixty^mile Point, Bonnet- Carre, the Stock-Landing, Carrollton, the Steam-ship Landing, the Steam-boat Land- ing, New Orleans', Tchonpitoulas street, the Esplanade, Rue dee Bons Enfants, the St. Charles Hotel, the Trivoli Circle, the Shell fioad. Lake Pontehartrain ; and it was par- tionlarly deli|ditful to me to hear once more ofthe' R. E. Lee,' the 'Natchez,' the 'Bolipee, ' the ' General Quitman, * the ' Dun- can F. Kenner, 'and other old fainiliar ateam- boats. It was almost aa |;ood as b^ing back there, these namea so vividly vvprodnced in my. mind the look of things they atood for. Briefly, this was little Wickloir'a hiatorr : ' ! i When the war broke out, he aad hia in- talki annt and his father were living near Batea Ronge, on a great nob plantation whiok had Imcii in the family for nfty yeank The iaiher was a Union man. He was per^ ■ea rt ei !• all aorta of ways, bntoIOBg to hia prinoiplw. At last, » >xm and I itrange i chanM M uncle hebegaa noreover, elked of it mow— ne two.' — did not nxved »t nolo had (one-way ttwaanot u Htdid )dhe kad Aole. He landing ; hitpoeket , Uoweiver, ion ;ao he Bgtotraat la to travel A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE. now iw London bite and a lake. Bnl utd kont at, nobody lid not gat dfnninier* ItopleMa, ingdataila. da, nmill agoin' there jupt simply ain't any let-up to him. He startain with the band-master, and he prays for him ; next, he takes the head bugler, and he prays for him ; next, the bass drum, and he scoops him in ; and ao an, right straight through the band, givin' them all a ahow, and taun' that amount of iniereat in it wluoh would make yon think he thon^^t be weien'tbut a little while for thia wond, and believed he couldn't be hap- pv in heaven withont he had a brass band awng, and wanted to pick 'em oat for him* self, ao ko oould depend on 'em to do up the national tonea in a style suitin' to the plaooi Well, air, heavin' bootaat him don't have no eflbot ; it'a dark in there ; and, beaides, he don't pray fair ; anyway, but kneels down behina the big dram ; so it don't make no difference if they rain boota at him, he don't give a dem— warblea right along, same as if it waa applause. They sing out, "0, dry up i" "Give us a rest! " " Shoot him 1^' " Oh, take a walk i " and all sorts of snek things. But what of itt It don't phaze him. He don't mind it.' After a pause: ' Kind of a good little fool, too ; gits up in the momin' and carts all the stock of boots back, and sorts 'em out and sets each man's pair where they belong. And they've been throwed at him so much now that he knows every boot in the band— can sort 'em ont with bif* eyes *kat' After another pause— whtek I forbore to interrupt t • But the rou^est thins about it is, that when he's done pray in,— when he ever does get done, — he pipes up and begins t« sing. Well, you know what a honey kiml of voice he's got when he talks ; you know how it would persuade a cast-iron dog to come down off a door-stop and lick his hand. Now, if you'll take my M-oj-d for it air, it ain't a circumstance to his singin' ! Blute music is harsh to that boy's smgin'. Oh, he juat gurgles it out so soft and sweet and low, there m the dark, that it makes you think you are in heaven. ' ' What is there rough about that ? 'Ah, that's just it, sir. You hear him sing ' "Just ae I am— poor, wretched, blind" — ^just you hear him sing that, once, and see if you don't melt all up and the water come into your eyes I I don't care what he sings, it goes plum straight home to you — it goea deep down to where you live — and it fetohee you every time ? Just you hear him sing t ' ' Obild of sin and sorrow, filled with dlamay. Wait not till to-morrow, yield thee to-day ; Orleve not that love Which from above"— and so on. Itmakesabody feel like the wickedest, ungratefulest brute that walks. And when he sings them songs of his about home, and mother, and ohildhood and old memories, and things that's vanished, and old friendia dead and gone, it fetohea every- thing before your face that you 'vis eter lost in your life — and it's just beautiful, it'a just diviue to listen to, sir— but Lord, Lord, the heart-lnreak of it ! The band — well, they all cry — ev(»'-- rascal of them blubbers, and don't try I iu.it, either ; and first yon know, tlliat very gang tfant's been alammin' boots at that boy will skip out of their bunks all of a sudden, and rush over in the dark and bug him 1 Yes, they do— and slobber all over him, and call him petnames, and beg him to forgive them. And just at that time, if a regiment waa to offer to hurt a hair of that cub's head, they'd go for that rogiment, if it waa a whole army corpa 1' Another pause. •la that aUt' said L •Yea, air.' ' Well, dear me, what ia the oomphdnt f What do tkey want done ?' 'Done ? Why, bless you, sir, they want yon to stop him from singin'. ' ' What an idea I You said hi* music waa divine.' ' That's Jnat it. ' It's too divine. Mortal man can't stand it It stirs a body upao; it taraa a body inside out ; it racks his |bo1*^ in's all to rags ; it makea him feel bad a^ii' wicked, and not tit tor any plaue but perdl- A CURIOUS RXPERIRNOfi. vioo. It keeps a body in suoh an everlaat- iii' «tete of repentin' that nothing don't taste jijood and there aiu 't no comfort in life. And then, the oryin', you sue — every mornin' ''ev'ro ashamed to look one another in the ' tV ell, this is an odd cose and a singular ■ complaint. So they really want the sing- .ng stopped ? ' ' Yes, sir, that is the idea. The . don't wish to hsk too much ; they would like powerful well to have the pray in' shut down on, or leastways trimmed otf around the edges ; but the main thin^^'a the singin'. If they t an only get the singin' choked off, they think tliey can stand the pi-ayiu', rough as it is to b« bullyragged so much that way. ' I told the sereeant I would take the mat- ter nnder consii^ration. That night I crept into the musicians' quarters and listened. The sergeant had not overstated the case. I beard the praying voice pleading in the dark. I heard the execrations of the har- assed men ; I heard the rain of boots whiz through the air, and baagand thump ar6und the big drum. The thing touched me, but it amused me, too. By and by, after an impresiiive silence, cadie the singing. Lonl, the pathos of it, the enchantment of it ! Nothing in the world was ever so sweet, so gracious, so tender, so holy, so moving. I made ihy stay very brief ; I was beginning to exp^ience emotions of a sort not proper to the oommahdant of a fortress. Next day I issued orders which stopped tlie praying and singing. Then followed three or tour days which were so full of bounty-jumping excitements and irritations that I never once thought of my druromer- boy. But now comes Sergeant Kayburn, I had my. self oallM' at two yk the morning ; and pretty ao6ii after, l^jt» in the mnaiciaas' quarters, crawl.ng a^.mg the flooi;' on my stomach among the snorers. I rea<^hed mj slumbering waif's bunk at last, without di» tdrbing anybody, captured his clothes and kit, and crawled stealthily back again! When I gbt to my owh quarters, I found Webb there, waitin^^ and eageir to knidw the result. ' We made aiearch immediately.' The clothes were a disappdintment. In the pockets we found blank paper and a pencil ; nothing else, except a jackknife and sucli queer odds and ends and useless trifles txn boys hoard and value. We turned to the kit hopefully. Nothing there but a rebuke for ua ! A little Bible with this w,ritten on the fly-leaf : ' Stranjjer, be kind to my boy for his mother's sake. ' I looked at Webb— he dropped his eyes ; he looked at me — I dropped mine. Neither spoke. I j^nt the book reverently back in its place. Presently Webb sot up and went away, witholtit remark. After a little I ifi^rved myself up to my unpalatable job, and took the plunder back to where it be- longed, crawling' on my stoinacli as before. It seemed th? peculiarly appropriate attitude for the business I was in. I was most hon- estly glad when it waa over and done with. We thing And would reptile 'Yei And w «pirato A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE. am tt- Bucoeas. always ir when- ity. H« stable in nro, and ooh-pooh look. I kt I wai private in com- nd iudg- n Webk Ve h»da le to the while to tnitied to had my* ing ; and nniicians' t on my uihed my (Hoot dia jthea and ik attain. I found kpbw the tely. The In the a pencil ; and such trifles Hi led to the a rebuke written on to iny boy his eyes ; ' Neither back iu IP and went la little I latable job, ■ere it be- ] as befere. late attitude J most lioii- Idone witti. a Aboat noon next day, Ray burn came, aa naoal, to report. I rat him ihort I said t ' JM this konsenKd be dropped. We are making a bugaboo out of a poor little cub who has got no mor« barm in him than a hymn-book.' The sergeant looked inrprised, and said : • Well, yon know it was your orders, Bir, and I've got some of the writing.' ' And what does it amount to f How did yott get it f ' I peeped throagh the key-hole, and seen him writing. So when I judged he was about done, I made a sort of a Uttle cough, aud I see him crumble it up and throw it in the ire, and look all around to see if any. body was coming. Then he settled back as comfortable and careless as anything. Then I oomea in, and passes the time of day pleas- antly, and sends him of an errand. Hu never looked uv.^osy, but went right along. It was a coal fire and new-built ; the writing had gone over behind a chunk, out of sight ; bat I got it out ; there it is ; it ain't hardly ■corohed, you see.' I glanced at the paper and took in a sen- tonoe or twQ. Then I dismissed the sergeant and told Inin to send Webb to me. Here is the |)*p«r in full : 'Fo&T Trumbull, the 8th. ' CoLomL : I was mistaken aa to the «alibr