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1 2 3

32X

THE

£1.000,000 BANK-NOTE

&c.

I, *

THE

;^1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

AND OTHER NEW STORIES

MARK TWAIN

(SAMUEL L. CLEMENS)

TORONTO-

THE MUSSON BOOK CO., LIMITED •

LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS

CONTENTS

The ^,000,000 Bank-notb '

Mental Tblboraphy

. _

A Cube fob the Blues

THEENEM.OoN.nEKKZ>;oB.LoVETHX.MlH.KX.

About all Kinds op Ships .

^liATUJQ COURIEB

The Gebman Ohioaoo . . ^

A Petition to the Queen op England \ \

A Majestic Literary Fossil

PAOI
1

41
77
114
193
. 225
. 253
. 277
' 287

THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

When I was twenty-seven years old, I was a
mining-broker's clerk in San Francisco, and an
expert in all the details of stock traffic. I was alone
in the world, and had nothing to depend upon but
my wits and a clean reputation; but these wer^
setting my feet in the road to eventual fortune, and
I was content with the prospect.

My time was my own after the afternoon
board, Saturdays, and I was accustomed to put it
in on a little sail-boat on the bay. One day I
ventured too far, and was carried out to sea. Just
at nightfall, when hope was about gone, I was
picked up by a small brig which was bound for
London. It was a long and stormy voyage, and
they made me work my passage without pay, as a
common sailor. When I stepped ashore in London
my clothes were ragged and shabby, and I had
only a dollar In my pocket. This money fed and

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

sheltered me twenty-four hours. During the next
twenty-four I went without food and shelter.

About ten o'clock on the following morning,
seedy and hungry, I was dragging myself along
Portland Place, when a child that was passing,
towed by a nursemaid, tossed a luscious big pear —
minus one bite — into the gutter. I stopped, of
course, and fastened my desiring eye on that
muddy treasure. My mouth watered for it, my
stomach craved it, my whole being begged for it.
But every time I made a move to get it some
passing eye detected my purpose, and of course I
straightened up, then, and looked indifferent, and
pretended that I hadn't been thinking about the
pear at all. This same thing kept happening and
happening, and I couldn't get the pear. I was
just getting desperate enough to brave all the
shame, and to seize it, when a window behind me
was raised, and a gentleman spoke out of it,
saying:

* Step in here, please.*

I was admitted by a gorgeous flunkey, and
shown into a sumptuous room where a couple of
elderly gentlemen were sitting. They sent away
the servant, and made me sit down. They had
just finished their breakfast, and the sight of the

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE %

remains of it almost overpowered me. I oonld
hardly keep my wits together in the presence of
that food, but as I was not asked to sample it, I
had to bear my trouble as best I could.

Now, something had been happening there a
little before, which I did not know anything about
until a good many days afterwards, but I will tell
you about it now. Those two old brothers had
been having a pretty hot argument a couple of days
before, and had ended by agreeing to decide it by
a bet, which is the English way of settling every-
thing.

You will remember that the Bank of England
once issued two notes of a million pounds each, to
be used for a special purpose connected with some
public transaction with a foreign country. For
some reason or other only one of these had been
used and cancelled ; the other still lay in the vaults
of the Bank. WeU, the brothers, chatting along,
happened to get to wondering what might be the
fate of a perfectly honest and intelligent stranger
who should be turned adrift in London without a
friend, and with no money but that million-pound
bank-note, and no way to account for his being in
possession of it. Brother A said he would starve
to death ; Brother B said he wouldn't. Brother A

B a

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

» \

said he oonldn't offer it at a bank or anywhere else,
because he would be arrested on the spot. So
they went on disputing till Brother B said he would
bet twenty thousand pounds that the man would
live thirty days, any way, on that million, and keep
out of jail, too. Brother A took him up. Brother
B went down to the Bank and bought that note.
Just like an Englishman, you see; pluck to the
backbone. Then he dictated a letter, which one
of his clerks wrote out in a beautiful round hand,
and then the two brothers sat at the window a
whole day watching for the right man to give it to.
They saw many honest faces go by that were
not intelligent enough ; many that were intelligent
but not honest enough ; many that were both, but
the possessors were not poor enough, or, if poor
enough, were not strangers. There was always a
defect, until I came along ; but they agreed that I
filled the bill all around ; so they elected me unani-
mously, and there I was, now, waiting to know why
I was called in. They began to ask me questions
about myself, and pretty soon they had my story.
Finally they told me I would answer their purpose.
I said I was sincerely glad, and asked what it was.
Then one of them handed me an envelope, wA said
I would find the explanation inside. I was going

THE £1,000,000 BANKNOTE J

to open it, but he said no ; take it to my lodgings,
and look it over carefully, and not be hasty or rash.
I was puzzled, and wanted to discuss the matter a
little further, but they didn't ; so I took my leave,
feeling hurt and insulted to be made the butt of
what was apparently some kind of a practical joke,
and yet obliged to put up with it, not being in cir-
cumstances to resent afEronts from rich and strong
folk.

I would have picked up the pear, now, and eaten
it before all the world, but it was gone ; so I had
lost that by this unlucky business, and the thought
of it did not soften my feeling towards those men.
As soon as I was out of sight of that house I opened
my envelope, and saw that it contained money ! My
opinion of those people changed, I can tell you ! I
lost not a moment, but shoved note and money into
my vest-pocket, and broke for the nearest cheap
eating-house. Well, how I did eat 1 When at last
I couldn't hold any more, I took out my money
and unfolded it, took one glimpse and nearly fainted.
Five millions of dollars ! Why, it made my head
swim.

I must have sat there stunned and blinking at
the note as much as a minute before I came rightly
to myself again. The first thing I noticed, then,

6 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

was the landlord. His eye was on the note, and
he was petrified. He was worshipping, with all his
body and soul, but he looked as if he conldn*t stir
hand or foot. I took my cue in a moment, and
did the only rational thing there was to do. I
reached the note towards him, and said carelessly :

' Give me the change, please.'

Then he was restored to his normal condition,
and made a thousand apologies for not being able
to break the bill, and I couldn't get him to touch
it. He wanted to look at it, and keep on looking
at it ; he couldn't seem to get enough of it to quench
the thirst of his eye, but he shrank from touching
it as if it had been something too sacred for poor
common clay to handle. I said :

'I am sorry if it is an inconvenience, but I
must insist. Please change it ; I haven't anything
else.*

But he said that wasn't any matter; he was
quite willing to let the trifle stand over till another
time. I said I might not be in his neighbourhood
again for a good while ; but he said it was of no
consequence, he could wait, and, moreover, I could
have anything I wanted, any time I chose, and let
the account run as long as I pleased. He said he
hoped he wasn't afraid to trust as rich a gentleman

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

was
ther
lood
no
old
let
he
an

as I was, merely because I was of a merry dispo-
sition, and chose to play larks on the public in the
matter of dress. By this time another customer
was entering, and the landlord hinted to me to put
the monster out of sight ; then he bowed me all
the way to the door, and I started straight for that
house and those brothers, to correct the mistake
which had been made before the police should hunt
me up, and help me do it. I was pretty nervous,
in fact pretty badly frightened, though, of course, I
was no way in fault ; but I knew men well enough
to know that when they find they've given a tramp
a million-pound bill when they thought it was a
one-pounder, they are in a frantic rage against him
instead of quarrelling with their own near-sighted-
ness, as they ought. As I approached the house
my excitement began to abate, for all was quiet
there, which made me feel pretty sure the blunder
was not discovered yet. I rang. The same servant
appeared. I asked for those gentlemen.

* They are gone.' This in the lofty, cold way
of that fellow's tribe.

* Gone ? Gone where ? *

* On a journey.*

* But whereabouts ? *

* To the Continent, I think.'

I THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

« The Continent ? *

'Yes, sir.*

' Which way — by what route ? '

' I can*t say, sir.'

' When will they be back ? *

' In a month, they said.'

' A month ! Oh, this is awful ! Give me iomt
sort of idea of how to get a word to them. It's of
the last importance.'

*I can't, indeed. I've no idea where they've
gone, sir.'

< Then I must see some member of the family.'
' Family's away too ; been abroad months — in

Egypt and India, I think.'

' Man, there's been an immense mistake made.
They'll be back before night. Will you tell them
I've been here, and that I will keep coming till it's
all made right, and they needn't be afraid ? '

< I'll tell them, if l^ey come back, but I am not
expecting them. They said you would be here in
an hour to make inquiries, but I must tell you
it's all right, they'll be here on time and expect
you.'

So I had to give it up and go away. What a
riddle it all was! I was hke to lose my mind.
They would be here ' on time.' What could that

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

not

|you

)eot

it a
id.
lat

mean? Oh, the letter would explain, maybe. I
had forgotten the letter ; I got it out and read it.
This is what it said :

* Tou are an intelligent and honest man, as one
may see by your face. We conceive you to be
poor and a stranger. Inclosed you will find a sum
of money. It is lent to you for thirty days, without
interest. Beport at this house at the end of that
time. I have a bet on you. If I win it you shall
have any situation that is in my gift-— any, that is,
that you shall be able to prove yourself familiar
with and competent to fill.'

No signature, no address, no date.

Well, here was a coil to be in ! You are posted
on what had preceded all this, but I was not. It
was just a deep, dark puzzle to me. I hadn't the
least idea what the game was, nor whether harm
was meant me or a kindness. I went into a park,
and sat down to try to think it out, and to consider
what I had best do.

At the end of an hour, my reasonings had
crystallised into this verdict.

Maybe those men mean me well, maybe they
mean me ill; no way to decide that — let it go.
They've got a game, or a scheme, or an experiment
of some kind on hand ; no way to determine what

'11/

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

it is — let it go. There's a bet on me ; no way to
find out what it is — let it go. That disposes of the
indeterminable quantities; the remainder of the
matter is tangible, solid, and may be classed and
labelled with certainty. If I ask the Bank of
England to place this bill to the credit of the man
it belongs to, they'll do it, for they know him,
although I don't; but they will ask me how I
came in possession of it, and if I tell the truth,
they'll put me in the asylum, naturally, and a lie
will land me in jail. The same result would follow
if I tried to bank the bill anywhere or to borrow
money on it. I have got to carry this immense
burden around until those men come back, whether
I want to or not. It is useless to me, as useless as
a handful of ashes, and yet I must take care of it,
and watch over it, while I beg my living. I
couldn't gfive it away, if I should try, for neither
honest citizen nor highwayman would accept it or
meddle with it for anything. Thc'se brothers are
safe. Even if I lose their bill, or burn it, they are
still safe, because they can stop payment, and the
Bank will make them whole ; but meantime, I've
got to do a month's suffering without wages or
profit — unless I help win that bet, whatever it may
be, and get that situation that I am promised. I

THE llfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

%}mM like to get that; men of their sort have
eituations in their gift that are worth having.

I got to thinking a good deal about that situa-
tion. My hopes began to rise high. Without
doubt the salary would be large. It would begin
in a month; after that I should be all right.
Pretty soon I was feeling first-rate. By this time
I was tramping the streets again. The sight of a
tailor-shop gave me a sharp longing to shed my
rags, and to clothe myself decently once more.
Gould I afford it? No; I had nothing in the
world but a million pounds. So I forced myself to
go on by. But soon I was drifting back again.
The temptation persecuted me cruelly. I must
have passed that shop back and forth six times
during that manful struggle. At last I gave in ; I
had to. I asked if they had a misfit suit that had
been thrown on their hands. The fellow I spoke
to nodded his head towards another fellow, and gave
me no answer. I went to the indicated fellow,
and he indicated another fellow with Ui head, and
no words. I went to him, and he said :

* *Tend to you presently.'

I waited till he was done with what he was at,
then he took me into a back room, and overhauled
a pile of rejected suits^ and selected the rattiest one

13 THE llfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

for me. I put it on. It didn't fit, and wasn't in
any way attractive, but it was new, and I was
anxious to have it ; so I didn't find any fault, but
said with some diffidence :

' It would be an accommodation to me if you
could wait some days for the money. I haven't
any s:^ 11 change about me.'

T.M fellow worked up a most sarcastic expres-
sion of countenance, and said :

*0h, you haven't? Well, of course, I didn't
expect it. I'd only expect gentlemen like you to
carry large change.'

I was nettled, and said :

'My friend, you shouldn't judge a stranger
always by the clothes he wears. I am quite able
to pay for !;his suit ; I simply didn't wish to put
you to the trouble of changing a large note.'

He modified his style a little at that, and said,
though still with something of an air :

' I didn't mean any particular harm, but as long
as rebukes are going, I might say it wasn't quite
your affair to jump to the conclusion that we
couldn't change any note that you might happen
to be carrying around. On the contrary, we can*

I handed the note to him, and said :

* Oh, very well ; I apologise.' \

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

«3

3n*t in
I was
lit, but

if you
laven't

dxpres"

didn't
you to

iranger
;e able
to put

said,

[a long
quite
kt we
ippen

He received it with a smile, one of those large
smiles which goes all around over, and has folds in
it, and wrinkles, and spirals, and looks like the
place where you have thrown a brick in a pond ;
and then in the act of his taking a glimpse of the
bill this smile froze solid, and turned yellow, and
looked like those wavy, wormy spreads of lava
which you find hardened on little levels on the side
of Vesuvius. I never before saw a smile caught
like that, and perpetuated. The man stood there
holding the bill, and looking like that, and the
proprietor hustled up to see what was the matter,
and said briskly :

' Well, what's up ? what's the trouble ? what's
wanting ? '

I said, ' There isn't any trouble. I'm waiting
for my change.'

'Gome, come; get him his change. Tod; get
him his change.'

Tod retorted : ' Get him his change ! It's easy
to say, sir ; but look at the bill yourself.'

The proprietor took a look, gave a low, eloquent
whistle, then made a dive for the pile of rejected
clothing, and began to snatch it this way and that,
talking all the time excitedly, and as if to himself :

' Sell an eccentrk millionaire such an unspeak-

(

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

able snit as that ! Tod*B a fool — a born fool. Al-
ways doing something like this. Drives every mil-
lionaire away from this place, because he canH tell
a millionaire from a tramp, and never could. Ah,
here's the thing I'm after. Please get those things
off, sir, and throw them in the fire. Do me the
favour to put on this shirt and this suit ; it's just
the thing, the very thing — plain, rich, modest, and
just ducally nobby; made to order for a foreign
prince — you may know him, sir, his Serene High-
ness the Hospodar of Halifax ; had to leave it with
us and take a mourning-suit because his mother
was going to die — which she didn't. But that's all
right ; we can't always have things the way we —
that is, the way they — there 1 trousers all right,
they fit you to a charm, sir ; now the waistcoat :
aha, right again ! now the coat — lord ! look at that,
now 1 Perfect, the whole thing 1 I never saw such
a triumph in all my experience.'

I expressed my satisfaction.

' Quite right, sir, quite right ; it'll do for a make-
shift, I'm bound to say. But wait till you see what
we'll get up for you on your own measure. Come,
Tod, book and pen ; get at it. Length of leg, 82 '
— and so on. Before I could get in a word he had
measured me, and was giving orders for dress-suits.

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

. Al-
y mil-
d't tell
. Ah,
things
ae the
*fl just
at, and
foreign
High-
it with
nother
Lat's all
' we —
right,
tcoat :
t that,
IT such

lake-
what
)ome,
5,82*
had
)uitS|

morning suits, shirts, and all sorts of things. When
I got a chance I said :

'But, my dear sir, I ccm*t give these orders,
unless you can wait indefinitely, or change the
biU.'

* Indefinitely ! It's a weak word, sir, a weak
word. Eternally — that's the word, sir. Tod, rush
these things through, and send them to the gentle-
man's address without any waste of time. Let the
minor customers wait. Set down the gentleman's
address and *

* I'm changing my quarters. I will drop in and
leave the new address.'

* Quite right, sir, quite right. One moment-
let me show you out, sir. There — good day, sir,
good day.'

Well, don't you see what was bound to happen ?
I drifted naturally into buying whatever I wanted,
and asking for change. Within a week I was
sumptuously equipped with all needful comforts and
luxuries, and was housed in an expensive private
hotel in Hanover Square. I took my dinners
there, but for breakfast I stuck by Harris's humble
feeding-house, where I had got my first meal on
my million-pound bill. I was the making of
Harris. The fact had gone all abroad that the

ir i

|6 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

foreign orank who carried million-pound bills in
his vest-pocket was the patron saint of the place.
That was enough. From being a poor, struggling,
little hand-to-mouth enterprise, it had become
celebrated, and overcrowded with customers.
Harris was so grateful that he forced loans upon
me, and would not be denied ; and so, pauper as I
was, I had money to spend, and was living like the
rich and the great. I judged that there was going
to be a crash by and by, but I was in, now, and
must swim across or drown. You see there was
just that element of impending disaster to give a
serious side, a sober side, yes, a tragic side, to a
state of things which would otherwise have been
purely ridiculous. In the night, in the dark, the
tragedy part was always to the front, and always
warning, always threatening ; and so I moaned and
tossed, and sleep was hard to find. But in the
cheerful daylight the tragedy element faded out
and disappeared, and I walked on air, and was
happy to giddiness, to intoxication, you may say.

And it was natural ; for I had become one of
the notorieties of the metropolis of the world, and
it turned my head, not just a little, but a good
deal. You could not take up a newspaper, English,
Scotch, or Irish, without finding in it one or more

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

)illB in
place,
ggling,
)ecom6
omerB.
9 upon
ler as I
ike the
B going
)W, and
ire was
give a
le, to a
e been
xk, the
always
ed and
in the
ed out
id was
say.
one of
dy and
good
iglish,
more

references to the ' yest-po jket million-pounder ' and
his latest doings and Hayings. A^t first, in these
mentions, I was at the bott^im of the personal
gossip column ; next, 1 was listed above the
knights, next above the baronets, next above the
barons, and so on, and so on, cUmbing steadily, as
my notoriety augmented, until I reached the
highest altitude possible, and there I remained,
taking precedence of all dukes not royal, and of all
ecclesiastics except the Primate of all England.
But, mind, this was not fame ; as yet I had achieved
only notoriety. Then came the climaxing stroke —
the accolade, so to speak — which in a single instance
transmuted the perishable dross of notoriety into
the enduring gold of fame : ' Punch ' caricatured
me 1 Tes, I was a made man, now : my place was
established. I might be joked about still, but
reverently, not hilariously, not rudely ; I could be
smiled at, but not laughed at. The time for that
had gone by. 'Punch' pictured me all a-flutter
with rags, dickering with a beefeater for the Tower
of London. Well, you can imagine how it was
with a young fellow who had never been takei^
notice of before, and now all of a sudden couldn't
say a thing that wasn't taken up and repeated
everywhere ; couldn't stir abroad without con*

I \

\\l

i8 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

stantly overhearing the remark flying from lip to
lip, * There he goes ; that's him ! ' couldn't take his
breakfast withoni a crowd to look on ; couldn't ap-
pear in an opera-box without concentrating there
the fire of a thousand lorgnettes. Why, I just
swam in glory all day long— that is the amount
of it.

You know, I even kept my old suit of rags, and
every now and then appeared in them, so as to
have the old pleasure of buying trifles, and being
insulted, and then shooting the scoffer dead with
the million-pound bill. But I couldn't keep that
up. The illustrated papers made the outfit so
familiar that when I went out in it I was at once
recognised and followed by a crowd, and if I
attempted a purchase the man would offer me his
whole shop on credit before I could pull my note
on him.

About the tenth day of my fame I went to fulfil
my duty to my flag by paying my respects to the
American minister. He received me with the en-
thusiasm proper in my case, upbraided me for being
so tardy in my duty, and said that there was only
one way to get his forgiveness, and that was to
take the seat at his dinner-party that night made
vacant by the illness of one of his guests. I said I

THE £lyOOOyOOO BANK-NOTE

lip to
nke his
n*t ap-
l there

I just
imoont

gs, and
as to
a being
id with
ep that
utfit so
at once

id if I
me his
ly note

to fulfil
to the
bhe en-
Ir being
|as only
I was to
it made
said I

would, and we got to talking. It turned out that
he and my father had been schoolmates in boy-
hood, Tale students together later, and always
warm friends up to my father's death. So then he
required me to put in at his house all the odd time
I might have to spare, and I was very willing, of
course.

In fact I was more than willing ; I was glad.
When the crash should come, he might somehow
be able to save me from total destruction ; I didn't
know how, but he might think of a way, maybe. I
couldn't venture to unbosom myself to him at this
late date, a thing which I would have been quick to
do in the beginning of this awful career of mine in
London. No, I couldn't venture it now ; I was in
too deep; that is, too deep for me to be risking
revelations to so new a friend, though not clear be-
yond my depth, as I looked at it. Because, you
see, with all my borrowing, I was carefully keeping
within my means — I mean within my salary. Of
course I couldn't know what my salary was going
to be, but I had a good enough basis for an esti-
mate in the fact that, if I won the bet, I was to have
choice of any situation in that rich old gentleman's
gift provided I was competent — and I should cer-
tainly prove competent ; I hadn't any doubt about

if '

iii

THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

I \

that. And as to the bet, I wasn't worrying about
that ; I had always been lucky. Now, my estimate
of the salary was six hundred to a thousand a
year ; say, six hundred for the first year, and so on
up year by year, till I struck the upper figure by
proved merit. At present I was only in debt for
my first year's salary. Everybody had been trying
to lend me money, but I had fought off the most of
them on one pretext or another ; so this indebted-
ness represented only :6300 borrowed money, the
other :8800 represented my keep and my purchases.
I believed my second year's salary would carry me
through the rest of the month if I went on being
cautious and economical, and I intended to look
sharply out for that. My month ended, my em-
ployer back from his journey, I should be all right
once more, for I should at once divide the two
years' salary among my creditors by assignment,
and get right down to my work.

It was a lovely dinner party of fourteen. The
Duke and Duchess of Shoreditch, and their daughter
the Lady Anne-Grace-Eleanor-Celeste-and-so-forth-
and-so-forth-de-Bohun, the Earl and Countess of
Newgate, Viscount Gheapside, Lord and Lady
Blatherskite, some untitled people of both sexes,
the minister and his wife and daughter, and his

THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

daughter's visiting friend, an English girl of twenty-
two, named Portia Langham, whom I fell in love
with in two minutes, and she with me — I could see
it without glasses. There was still another guest,
an American — but I am a little ahead of my story.
"While the people were still in the drawing-room,
whetting up for dinner, rnd coldly inspecting the
late comers, the servant announced :

* Mr. Lloyd Hastings.'

The moment the usual civilities were over, Hast-
mgs caught sight of me, and came straight with
cordially outstretched hand; then stopped short
when about to shake, and said with an embarrassed
look:

* I beg your pardon, sir, I thought I knew you.'

* Why, you do know me, old fellow.'

* No ! Are y(m the— the ? '

' Vest-pocket monster ? I am, indeed. Don't be
afraid to call me by my nickname ; I'm used to it.'

* Well, well, well, this is a surprise. Once or twice
I've seen your own name coupled with the nickname,
but it never occurred to me that you could be the
Henry Adams referred to. Why, it isn't six months
since you were clerking away for Blake Hopkins in
Frisco on a salary, and sitting up nights on an ex-
tra allowance, helping me arrange and verify the

THE llfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

Gould and Curry Extension papers and statistics.
The idea of your being in London, and a vast mil-
lionaire, and a colossal celebrity ! Why, it's the
Arabian Nights come again. Man, I can't take it
in at all ; can't realise it ; give me time to settle the
whirl in my head.'

' The fact is, Lloyd, you are no worse off than I
am. I can't realise it myself.'

* Dear me, it w stunning, now, isn't it ? Why,
it's just three months to-day since we went to the
Miners' restaurant *

* No ; the What Cheer.'

' Bight, it wa% the What Cheer ; went there at
two in the morning, and had a chop and coffee after
a hard six hours' grind over those Extension papers,
and I tried to persuade you to come to London with
me, and offered to get leave of absence for you and
pay all your expenses, and give you something over
if I succeeded in making the sale ; and you would
not listen to me, said I wouldn't succeed, and you
couldn't afford to lose the run of business and be
no end of time getting the hang of things again
when you got back home. And yet here you are.
How odd it all is ! How did you happen to come,
and whatever did, give you this incredible start ? '

'Oh, just an accident. It's a long story — a

vifi

tatistics.
'ast mil-
it's the
t take it
lettle the

ffthani

' Why,
it to the

khere at
fee after
papers,
Ion with
ou and
ng over

would
nd you
and be

again
|ou are.

come,
rt?'
)ry— a

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE %%

romance, a body may say. I'll tell you all about
it, but not now.
*When?'

* The end of this month.*

* That's more than a fortnight yet. It's too much
of a strain on a person's curiosity. Make it a
week.'

' I can't. You'll know why, by and by. But
how's the trade getting along ? '

His cheerfulness vanished like a breath, and he
said with a sigh :

* You were a true prophet, Hal, a true prophet.
I wish I hadn't come. I don't want to talk about
it.'

'But you must. You must come and stop
with me to-night, when we leave here, and tell me
all about it.'

* Oh, may I ? Are you in earnest ? ' and the
water showed in his eyes.

*Yes; I want to hear the whole story, every
word.'

'I'm so grateful! Just to find a human
interest once more, in some voice and in some eye,
in me and affairs of mine, after what I've been
through here — lord! I could go down on my
knees for it ! '

liil

III

H THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

He gripped my hand hard, and braced up, and
was all right and lively after that for the dinner —
which didn't come off. No ; the usual thing hap-
pened, the thing that is always happening under
that vicious and aggravating EngUsh system — the
matter of precedence couldn't be settled, and so
there was no dinner. Englishmen always eat
dinner before they go out to dinner, because they
know the risks they are running ; but nobody ever
warns the stranger, and so he walks placidly into
the trap. Of course nobody was hurt this time,
because we had all been to dinner, none of us being
novices except Hastings, and he having been in-
formed by the minister at the time that he invited
him that in deference to the English custom he
had not provided any dinner. Everybody took a
lady and processioned down to the dining-room,
because it is usual to go through the motions ; but
there the dispute began. The Duke of Shoreditch
wanted to take precedence, and sit at the head of
the table, holding that he outranked a minister
who represented merely a nation and not a mon-
arch ; but I stood for my rights, and refused to
yield. In the gossip column I ranked all dukes
not royal, and said so, and claimed precedence of
this one. It couldn't be settled, of course, struggle

THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

ip, and
nner —
ig hap-
under
n — the
and so
^ys eat
ise they
iy ever
lly into
3 time,
B being
sen in-
invited
om he
ook a
room,
but
editch
ead of
nister
mon-
ed to
iukes
ice of

iggle

as we might and did, he finally (and injudiciously)
trying to play birth and antiquity, and I * seeing *
his Conqueror and 'raising' him with Adam,
whose direct posterity I was, as shown by my
name, while he was of a collateral branch, as
shown by his^ and by his recent Norman origin ;
so we all processioned back to the drawing-room
again and had a perpendicular lunch — plate of sar-
dines and a strawberry, and you group yourself
and stand up and eat it. Here the religion of
precedence is not so strenuous ; the two persons of
highest rank chuck up a shilling, the one that wins
has first go at his strawberry, and the loser gets
the shilling. The next two chuck up, then the
next two, and so on. After refreshment, tables
were brought, and we all played cribbage, sixpence
a game. The English never play any game for
amusement. If they can't make something or lose
something — they don't care which — they won't
play.

We had a lovely time ; certainly two of us had,
Miss Langham and I. I was so bewitched with
her that I couldn't count my hands if they went
above a double sequence ; and when I struck home
I never discovered it, and started up the outside
row again, and would have lost the game every

; • 1

! ; >

1 1

r//E £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

time, only the girl did the samei she being in jnst
my condition, you see; and consequently neither
of us ever got out, or cared to wonder why we
didn't; we only just knew we were happy, and
didn't wish to know anything else, and didn't want
to be interrupted. And I told her — I did indeed —
told her I loved her ; and she — well, she blushed
till her hair turned red, but she liked it ; she said
she did. Oh, there was never such an evening !
Every time I pegged I put on a postscript ; every
time she pegged she acknowledged receipt of it,
counting the hands the same. Why, I couldn't
even say, * Two for his heels,' without adding, * My,
how sweet you do look ! ' And she would say,
' Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, and a pair
are eight, and eight are sixteen — do you think so ? '
peeping out aslant from under her lashes, you
know, BO sweet and cunning. Oh, it was just too-
too!

Well, I was perfectly honest and square with
her ; told her I hadn't a cent in the world but just
the million-pound note she'd heard so much talk
about, and it didn't belong to me ; and that started
her curiosity, and then I talked low, and told her
the whole history right from the start, and it nearly
killed her, laughing. What in the nation she

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

in jnst
neither
«rhy we
}y, and
I't want
ideed —
blushed
ihe said
^ening !
; every
t of it,
iouldn't
gi * My,
'd say,
a pair
kso?'
JS, you

ISt tOO'

with
it just
talk
Itarted
[d her
learly
she

could find to laugh about, / couldn't see, but there
it was ; every half minute some new detail would
fetch her, and I would have to stop as much as a
minute and a half to give her a chance to settle
down again. Why, she laughed herself lame, she
did indeed ; I never saw anything like it. I mean
I never saw a painful story — a story of a person's
troubles and worries and fears— produce juet that
kind of effect before. So I loved her all the more,
seeing she could be so cheerful when there wasn't
anything to be cheerful about ; for I might soon
need that kind of wife, you know, the way things
looked. Of course I told her we should have to
wait a couple of years, till I could catch up on my
salary ; but she didn't mind that, only she hoped
I would be as careful as possible in the matter of
expenses, and not let them run the least risk of
trenching on our third year's pay. Then she
began to get a little worried, and wondered if we
were making any mistake, and starting the salary
on a higher figure for the first year than I would
get. This was good sense, and it made me feel a
little less confident than I had been feeling before ;
but it gave me a good business idea, and I brought
it frankly out.

'Portia, dear, would you mind going with

ii THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

me that day, when I confront those old gentle-
men?*

She shrank a little, hut said :

' N-o ; if my being with you would help hearten
you. But — would it be quite proper, do you
think ? •

' No, I don't know that it would ; in fact, I'm
afraid it wouldn't; but, you see, there's so mwh
dependent upon it that '

* Then I'll go anyway, proper or improper,* she
said, with a beautiful and generous enthusiasm.
< Oh, I shall be so happy to think I'm helping.'

* Helping, dear ? Why, you'll be doing it all.
You're so beautiful, and so lovely, and so winning,
that with you there I can pile our salary up till I
break those good old fellows, and they'll naer
have the heart to struggle.'

Sho! you should have seen the rich blood
mount, and her happy eyes shine I

* You wicked flatterer I There isn't a word of
truth in what you say, but still I'll go with you.
Maybe it will teach you not to expect other people
to look with your eyes.'

Were my doubts dissipated? Was my con-
fidence restored? You may judge by this fact:
privately I raised my salary to twelve hundred the

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

first year on the spot. But I didn't tell her ; I
saved it for a surprise.

All the way home I was in the clouds, Hastings
talking, I not hearing a word. When he and I
entered my parlour he brought me to myself with
his fervent appreciations of my manifold comforts
and luxuries.

' Let me just stand here a little and look my
fill ! Dear me, it's a palace ; it's just a palace I
And in it everything a body couW. desire, in-
cluding cozy coal fire and supper standing ready.
Henry, it doesn't merely make me realise how rich
you are ; it makes me realise to the bone, to the
marrow, how poor I am — how poor I am — and how
miserable, how defeated, routed, annihilated ! *

Plague take it ! this language gave me the cold
shudders. It scared me broad awake, and made
me comprehend that I was standing on a half-inch
crust, with a crater underneath. I didn't know I
had been dreaming — that is, I hadn't been allowing
myself to know it for a while back ; but now — oh,
dear ! Deep in debt, not a cent in the world, a
lovely girl's happiness or woe in my hands, and
nothing in front of me but a salary which might
never — oh, wofM never — materialise ! Oh, oh, oh,
I am ruined past hope ; nothing can save me !

,1 ' !

1 i '.^

t ■

II!

T//E £1,000,000 BANKNOTE

'Henry, the mere unconBidced drippings of
your daily income would *

' Oh, my daily income ! Here, down with this
hot Scotch, and cheer up your soul. Here's with
you I Or, no — you're hungry ; sit down and '

' Not a bite for me ; I'm past it. I can't eat,
these days; but I'll drink with you till I drop.
Come ! '

'Barrel for barrel, I'm with you! Beady!
Here we go ! Now, then, Lloyd, unreel your story
while I brew.'

* Unreel it ? What, again ? '

' Again ? What do you mean by that ? '

'Why, I mean do you want to hear it ovtf
again ? '

'Do I want to hear it onw again? This if
a puzzler. Wait; dont take any more of that
liquid. You don't need it.'

'Look here, Henry, you alarm me. Didn't
I tell you the whole story on the way here ? '

'You?'
^ 'Yes, I.'

' I'll be hanged if I heard a word of it.'

'Henry, this is a serious thing. It troubles
me. What did you take up yonder at the
minister's ? '

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE 31

Then it all flashed on me, and I owned up, like
a man.

'I took the dearest girl in this world —
prisoner ! '

So then he came with a rush, and we shook,
and shook, and shook till our hands ached ; and he
didn't blame me for not having heard a word of a
story which had lasted while we walked three miles.
He just sat down then, like the patient, good
fellow he was, and told it all over again. Synop-
sised, it amounted to this : He had come to England
with what he thought was a grand opportunity ; he
had an 'option' to sell the Gould and Gurry
Extension for the ' locators ' of it, and keep all he
could get over a million dollars. He had worked
hard, had pulled every wire he knew of, had left no
honest expedient untried, had spent nearly all the
money he had in the world, had not been able to
get a solitary capitalist to listen to him, and his
option would run out at the end of the month. In
a word, he was ruined. Then he jumped up and
cried out :

' Henry, you can save me ! You can save me,
and you're the only man in the universe that can.
Will you do it ? WtyrCt you do it ? '

* Tell me how. Speak out, my boy.'

■ I

THE £l,OOOyOOO BANK-NOTE

* Give me a million aud my passage home for
my * option ' 1 Don't, don't refuse ! *

I was in a kind of agony. I was right on the
point of coming out with the words, * Lloyd, I'm a
pauper myself — absolutely penniless, and in debt ! *
But a white-hot idea came flaming through my
head, and I gripped my jaws together, and calmed
myself down till I was as cold as a capitalist. Then
I said, in a commercial and self-possessed way :

' I will save you, Lloyd '

' Then I'm already saved ! God be merciful to
you for ever ! If ever I *

*Let me finish, Lloyd. I will save you, but
not in that way ; for that would not be fair to you,
after your hard work, and the risks you've run.
I don't need to buy mines ; I can keep my capital
moving, in a commercial centre like London,
without that ; it's what I'm at, all the time ; but
here is what I'll do. I know all about that mine,
of course; I know its immense value, and can
swear to it if anybody wishes it. You shall sell
out inside of the fortnight for three millions cash,
using my name freely, and we'll divide, share and
share alike.*

Do you know, he would have danced the furni-
ture to kindling-wood in his insane joy, and broken

THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

ome for

on the
I, I'm a
idehtf*
igh my

calmed
;. Then
^ay:

ciful to

ou, but
to you,
^e run.
capital
london,
e; but

mine,
id can

bU sell
cash,

^e and

Ifumi-
Iroken

everything on the place, if I hadn't tripped him up
and tied him.

Then he lay there, perfectly happy, saying :

* I may use your name ! Your name — think of
it ! Man, they'll flock in droves, these rich Lon-
doners ; they'll Jight for that stock ! I'm a made
man, I'm a made man for ever, and I'll never
forget you as long as I live ! * ,

In less than twenty-four hours London was
abuzz ! I hadn't anything to do, day after day,
but sit at home, and say to all comers :

* Yes ; I told him to refer to me. I know the
man and I know the mine. His character is above
reproach, and the mine is worth far more than he
asks for it.'

Meantime I spent all my evenings at the
minister's with Portia. I didn't say a word to her
about the mine; I saved it for a surprise. We
talked salary; never anything but salary and love ;
sometimes love, sometimes salary, sometimes love
and salary together. And my! the interest the
minister's wife and daughter took in our little
affair, and the endless ingenuities they invented to
save us from interruption, and to keep the minister
in the dark and unsuspicious — well, it was just
lovely of them I

:: . I

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

When the month was up, at last, I had a
million dollars to my credit in the London and
County Bank, and Hastings was fixed in the same
way. Dressed at my level best, I drove by the
house in Portland Place, judged by the look of
things that my birds were home again, went on
towards the minister's and got my precious, and
we started back, talking salary with all our might.
She was so excited and anxious that it made her
just intolerably beautiful. I said :

* Dearie, the way you're looking it's a crime to
strike for a salary a single penny under three
thousand a year.'

* Henry, Henry, you'll ruin us ! *

* Don't you be afraid. Just keep up those
looks, and trust to me. It'll all come out
right.'

So, as it turned out, I had to keep bolstering up
her courage all the way. She kept pleading with
me, and saying :

'Oh, please remember that if we ask for too
much we may get no salary at all ; and then what
will become of us, with no way in the world to earn
our Uving ? *

We were ushered in by that same servant, and
there they were, the two old gentlemen. Of course

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

igup
with

too
rhat
learn

and
irse

they were surprised to see that wonderful creature
with me, hut I said :

'It's all right, gentlemen; she is my future
stay and helpmate.*

And I introduced them to her, and called them
by name. It didn't surprise them ; they knew I
would know enough to consult the directory. They
seated us, and were very polite to me, and very
solicitous to relieve her from embarrassment, and
put her as much at her ease as they could. Then
I said :

* Gentlemen, I am ready to report.*

* We are glad to hear it,* said my man, * for now
we can decide the bet which my brother Abel and
I made. If you have won for me, you shall have
any situation in my gift. Have you the million-
pound note ? *

* Here it is, sir,* and I handed it to him.

*I*ve won!' he shouted, and slapped Abel on
the back. * Now what do you say, brother ? *

*I say he did survive, and I've lost twenty
thousand pounds. I never would have believed
it.' ■ '

* I've a further report to make,' I said, * and a
pretty long ono. I want you to let me come soon,
and detail my whole month's history; and I

D 9

36 THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

promise you it's worth hearing. Meantime, take
a look at that.'

'What, man! Certificate of deposit for
:fi200,000? Is it yours?'

* Mine ! I earned it by thirty days' judicious
use of that little loan you let me have. And the
only use I made of it was to buy trifles and offer
the bill in change.'

'Gome, this is astonishing! It's incredible,
man! '

'Never mind, I'll prove it. Don't take my
word unsupported.'

But now Portia's turn was come to be surprised.
Her eyes were spread wide, and she said :

* Henry, is that really your money ? Have you
been fibbing to me ? '

' I have indeed, dearie. But you'll forgive me,
I know.*

She put up an arch pout, and said :

* Don't you be so sure. You are a naughty thing
to deceive me so ! '

*0h, you'll get over it, sweetheart, you'll get
over it ; it was only fun, you know. Come, let's
be going.'

' But wait, wait ! The situation, you know. I
want to give you the situation,' said my man.

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE

thing

U get
\t let's

* Well/ I said, * I'm just as grateful as I can be,
but really I don't want one.'

' But you can have the very choicest one in my

gift.'

' Thanks again, with all my heart ; but I don't
even want that one.'

* Henry, I'm ashamed of you. You don't half
thank the good gentleman. May I do it for
you?'

* Indeed you shall, dear, if you can improve it.
Let us see you try.'

She walked to my man, got up in his lap, put
her arm round his neck, and kissed him right on
the mouth. Then the two old gentlemen shouted
with laughter, but I was dumfounded, just petrified,
as you may say. Portia said :

' Papa, he has said you haven't a situation in
your gift that he'd take ; and I feel just as hurt
as '

* My darling t is that your papa ? '

' Yes ; he's my step-papa, and the dearest one
that ever was. You understand now, don't you,
why I was able to laugh when you told me at the
minister's, not knowing my relationships, what
trouble and worry papa's and Uncle Abel's scheme
was giving you ? '

If,,

THE £lfiOOfiOO BANK-NOTE

Of course I spoke right ap, now, without any
fooling, and went straight to the point.

< Oh, my dearest dear sir, I want to take back
what I said. Tou have got a situation open that I
want.*

* Name it.*

* Son-in-law.'

* Well, well, well ! But you know, if you haven't
ever served in that capacity, you of course can't
furnish recommendations of a sort to satisfy the
conditions of the contract, and so *

* Try me— oh, do, I beg of you ! Only just try
me thirty or forty years, and if *

' Oh, well, all right ; it's but a little thing to
ask. Take her along.*

Happy, we too ? There are not words enough
in the unabridged to describe it. And when London
got the whole history, a day or two later, of my
month's adventures with that bank-note, and how
they ended, did London talk, and have a good
time? Yes.

My Portia's papa took that friendly and hos-
pitable bill back to the Bank of England and cashed
it; then the Bank cancelled it and made him a
present of it, and he gave it to us at our wedding,
and it has always hung in its frame in the sacredest

THE £1,000,000 BANK-NOTE ^

place in our home, ever Bince. For it gave me my
Portia. But for it I could not have remained in
London, would not have appeared at the minister's,
never should have met her. And so I always say,
'Yes, it*s a million-pounder, as you see; but it
never made but one purchase in its life, and then
got the article for only about a tenth part of its
value.'

\\m

*•.

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

A MANUSCRIPT WITH A HISTORY

NoTB TO THB Editob. — By glancing over the enclosed bundle
of rusty old manuscript, yon will perceive that I once made
a great discovery : the discovery that certain sorts of things
which, £rom the beginning of the world, had always been
regarded as merely ' curious coincidences ' — that is to say,
accidents — were no more accidental than is the sending and
receiving of a telegram an accident. I made this discovery
sixteen or seventeen years ago, and gave it a name — * Mental
Telegraphy.' It is the same thing around the outer edges
of which the Psychical Society of England began to grope
(and play with) four or five yc ars ago, and which they named
' Telepathy.' Within the last two or three years they have
penetrated towards the heart of the matter, however, and
have found out that mind can act upon mind in a quite de*
tailed and elaborate way over vast stretches of land and
water. And they have succeeded in doing, by their great
credit and infiuence, what I could never have done — ^they
have convinced the world that mental telegraphy is not a jest,
but a fact, and that it is a thing not rare, but exceedingly
common. They have done our age a service—and a very
great service, I think.

In this old manuscript you will find mention of an extra*
ordinary experience of mine in the mental telegraphic line,
of date about the year 1874 or 1876 — the one concerning the

11!
hi

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

1
1 1

III

\ 1

H' '

' ^^1 ^

■

'^'1^9 1

1 1

j^y^.

Great Bonanza book. It was ihis experience that called my
attention to the matter under consideration. I began to keep
a record, after that, of such experiences of mine as seemed
explicable by the theory that minds telegraph thoughts to
each other. In 1878 I went to Germany and began to write
the book called A Tramp Abroad, The bulk of this old batch
of manuscript was written at that time and for that book.
But I removed it when I came to revise the volume for the
press ; for I feared that the public would treat the thing as
a joke and throw it aside, whereas I was in earnest.

At home, eight or ten years ago, I tried to creep in under
shelter of an authority grave enough to protect the article
from ridicule — the North American Review. But Mr. Met-
calf was too wary for me. He said that to treat these mere
'coincidences' seriously was a thing which the Review
couldn't dare to do ; that I must put either my name or my
nom de plume to the article, and thus save the Review from
harm. But I couldn't consent to that ; it would be the surest
possible way to defeat my desire that the public should re-
ceive the thing seriously, and be willing to stop and give it
some fair degree of attention. 80 I pigeon-holed the MS.,
because I could not get it published anonymously.

Now see how the world has moved since then. These
small experiences of mine, which were too formidable at that
time for admission to a grave magazine — if the magazine
must allow them to appear as something above and beyond
'accidents' and 'coincidences' — are trifling and oonmion*
place now, since the flood of light recently cast upon mental
telegraphy by the intelligent labours of the Psychical Society.
But I think they are worth publishing, just to show what
harmless and ordinary matters were considered dangeroiis
and incredible eight or ten years ago.

As I have said, the bulk of this old manuscript was written
in 1878 ; a later part was written from time to time, two,
three, and four years afterwards. The ' Postscript ' I add to-
day.

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

ftlled my
n to keep

seemed
ughts to

to write
>Id batch
at book.
I for the
thing as

in under
B article
»lr. Met-
se mere
Beview
e or my
3w from
le surest
ould re-
give it
e MS.,

These
at that
igazine
Ibeyond
nomon*
Imental
iooiety.
what
:eroti0

ritten

., two,

Idto-

May, 78. — Another of those apparently trifling
things has happened to me which puzzle and per-
plex all men every now and then, keep them think-
ing an hour or two, and leave their minds barren
of explanation or solution at last. Here it is — and
it looks inconsequential enough, I am obliged to
say. A few days ago I said: 'It must be that
Frank Millet doesn't know we are in Germany, or
he would have written long before this. I have
been on the point of dropping him a line at least a
dozen times during the past six weeks, but I always
decided to wait a day or two longer, and see if we
shouldn't hear from him. But now I will write.'
And so I did. I directed the letter to Paris, and
thought, * Now we shall hear from him before this
letter is fifty miles from Heidelberg — it always
happens so.'

True enough ; but why should it ? That is the
puzzling part of it. We are always talking about
letters ' crossing ' each other, for that is one of the
very commonest accidents of this Ufe. We call it
' accident,' but perhaps we misname it. We have
the instinct a dozen times a year that the letter we
are writing is going to ' cross ' the other person's
letter ; and if the reader will rack his memory a
little he will recall the fact that this presentiment

I I '

'Hi

1' I

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

had strength enough to it to make him cut his letter
down to a decided briefness, because it would be a
waste of time to write a letter which was going to
' cross/ and hence be a useless letter. I think that
in my experience this instinct has generally come
to me in cases where I had put off my letter a good
while in the hope that the other person would
write.

Yes, as I was saying, I had waited five or six
weeks ; then I wrote but three lines, because I felt
and seemed to know that a letter from Millet would
cross mine. And so it did. He wrote the same day
that I wrote. The letters crossed each other. His
letter went to Berlin, care of the American minister,
who sent it to me. In this letter Millet said he had
been trying for six weeks to stumble upon somebody
who knew my German address, and at last the idea
had occurred to him that a letter sent to the care
of the embassy at Berlin might possibly find me.

Maybe it was an ^ accident ' that he finally de-
termined to write me at the same moment that I
finally determined to write him, but I think not.

With me the most irritating thing has been to
wait a tedious time in a purely business matter,
hoping that the other party will do the writing, and
then sit down and do it myself, perfectly satisfied

MENTAL TELEGRAPHy

is letter
id be a
Ding to
ak that
7 come
a good
would

I or six
3 1 felt
; would
me day
. His
nister,
he had
ebody
e idea
) oare
me.
y de-
hat I
ot.

en to
itter,
:,and
isfied

that that other man is sitting down at the same
moment to write a letter which will * cross ' mine.
And yet one must go on writing, just the same ; be-
cause if you get up from your table and postpone,
that other man will do the same thing, exactly as if
you two were harnessed together like the Siamese
twins, and must duplicate each other's movements.
Several months before I left home a New York
firm did some work about the house for me, and did
not make a success of it, as it seemed to me. When
the bill came, I wrote and said 1 wanted the work
perfected before I paid. They replied that they were
very busy, but that as soon as they could spare the
proper man the thing should be done. I waited
more than two months, enduring as patiently as
possible the companionship of bells which would
fire away of their own accord sometimes when no-
body was touching them, and at other times wouldn't
ring though you struck the button with a sledge-
hammer. Many a time I got ready to write and
then postponed it ; but at last I sat down one even-
ing and poured out my grief to the extent of a page
or so, and then cut my letter suddenly short, be-
cause a strong instinct told me that the firm had
begun to move in the matter. When I came down
to breakfast next morning the postman had not yet

•(

• !

ii ', ^

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

taken my letter away, but the electrical man had
been there, done his work, and was gone again !
He had received his orders the previous evening
from his employers, and had come up by the night
train.

If that was an ' accident,' it took about three
months to get it up in good shape.

One evening last summer I arrived in Washing-
ton, registered at the Arlington Hotel, and went to
my room. I read and smoked until ten o'clock ;
then, finding I was not yet sleepy, I thought I would
take a breath of fresh air. So I went forth in the
rain, and tramped through one street after another
in an aimless and enjoyable way. I knew that Mr.

, a friend of mine, was in town, and I wished

I might run across him ; but I did not propose to
hunt for him at midnight, especially as I did not
know where he was stopping. Towards twelve
o'clock the stieots had become so deserted that I
felt lonesome ; so I stepped into a cigar shop far
up the Avenue, and remained there fifteen minutes
listening to some bummers discussing national poli-
tics. Suddenly the spirit of prophecy came upon
me, and I said to myself, ' Now I will go out at this
door, turn to the left, walk ten steps, and meet Mr.
face to face.' I did it, too 1 I could not see

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

his face, because he had an umbrella before it, and
it was pretty dark, anyhow, but he interrupted the
man he was walking and talking with, and I recog-
nised his voice and stopped him.

That I should step out there and stumble upon
Mr. was nothing, but that I should know be-
forehand that I was going to do it was a good deal.
It is a very cuiious thing when you come to look at
it. I stood far within the cigar shop when I de-
livered my prophecy ; I walked about five steps to
the door, opened it, closed it after me, walked down
a flight of three steps to the sidewalk, then turned
to the left and walked four or five more, and found
my man. I repeat that in itself the thing was
nothing ; but to know it would happen so beforehand,
wasn't that really curious ?

I have criticised absent people so often, and then
discovered, to my humiliation, that I was talking
with their relatives, that I have grown superstitious
about that sort of thing and dropped it. How like
an idiot one feels after a blunder Uke that !

We are always mentioning people, and in that
very instant they appear before us. We laugh, and
say, * Speak of the devil,' and so forth, and there
we drop it, considering it an * accident.' It is a
cheap and convenient way of disposing of a grave

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

and very puzzling mystery. The fact is, it does
seem to happen too often to be an accident.

Now I come to the oddest thing that ever hap-
pened to me. Two or three years ago I was lying
in bed, idly musing, one morning — it was the 2nd
of March — when suddenly a red-hot new idea came
whistling down into my camp, and exploded with
such comprehensive effectiveness as to sweep the
vicinity clean of rubbishy reflections, and fill the air
with their dust and flying fragments. This idea,
stated in simple phrase, wa^it that the time was ripe
and the market ready for a certain book ; a book
which ought to be written at once ; a book which
must command attention and be of peculiar interest
— to wit, a book about the Nevada silver mines.
The ' Great Bonanza ' was a new wonder then, and
everybody was talking about it. It seemed to me
that the person best qualified to write this book was
Mr. William H. Wright, a journalist of Virginia,
Nevada, by whose side I had scribbled many months
when I was a reporter there ten or twelve years be-
fore. He might be alive still ; he might be dead ;
I could not tell ; but I would write him, anyway.
I began by merely and modestly suggesting t^at he
make such a book ; but my interest grew as I went
on, and I ventured to map out wh»t I thought ought

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

t it does
b.

76Y hap-
ras lying
the 2nd
lea came
led with
7eep the
U the air
bis idea,
was ripe

a book
k which

interest
mines.

en, and
Id to me

ook was

irginia,

months

ars be-
dead;

•nyway.

It^at he
I went

It ought

to be the plan of the work, he being an old friend,
and not given to taking good intentions for ill. I
even dealt with details, and suggested the order and
sequence which they should follow. I was about to
put the manuscript in an envelope, when the thought
occurred to me that if this book should be written
at my suggestion, and then no publisher happened
to want it, I should feel uncomfortable ; so I con-
cluded to keep my letter back until I should have
secured a publisher. I pigeon-holed my document,
and dropped a note to my own publisher, asking
him to name a day for a business consultation. He
was out of town on a far journey. My note re-
mained unanswered, and at the end of three or four
days the whole matter had passed out of my mind.
On the 9th of March the postman brought three or
four letters, and among them a thick one whose
superscription was in a hand which seemed dimly
familiar to me. I could not ' place ' it at first, but
presently I succeeded. Then I said to a visiting
relative who was present :

*Now I will do a miracle. I will tell you
everything this letter contains — date, signature, and
all — without breaking the seal. It is from a
Mr. Wright, of Virginia, Nevada, and is dated
March 2, — seven days ago. Mr. Wright proposes

U
I i

m m

imi

III,

2 ,'

I,:

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

to make a book about the silver mines and the Great
Bonanza, and asks what I, as a friend, think of the
idea. He says his subjects are to be so-and-so, their
order and sequence so-and-so, and he will close
with a history of the chief feature of the book, the
Great Bonanza.'

I opened the letter, and showed that 1 had stated
the date and : ie contents correctly. Mr. Wright's
letter simply contained what my own letter, written
on the same date, contained, and mine still lay in
its pigeon-hole, where it had been lying during the
seven days since it was written.

There was no clairvoyance about this, if I
rightly comprehend what clairvoyance is. I think
the clairvoyant professes to actually see concealed
writing, and read it off word for word. This was
not my case. I only eeemed to know, and to know
absolutely the contents of the letter in detail and
due order, but I had to word them myself. I
translated them, so to speak, out of Wright's
language into my own.

Wright's letter and the one which I had written
to him but never sent were in substance the same.

Necessarily this could not come by accident;
such elaborate accidents cannot happen. Chance
might have duplicated one or two of the details, but

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

e Great
k of the
30, their
U close
)ok, the

d stated
Vright's
written
[1 lay in
ring the

is, if I
I thmk
)ncealed
!his was
to know
ail and
self. I
right's

Iwritten
same.

;ident ;
Chance

lils, but

she would have broken down on the rest. I could
not doubt — there was no tenable reason for doubt-
ing — that Mr. Wright's mind and mine had been
in close and crystal-clear communication with each
other across three thousand miles of mountain and
desert on the morning of March 2. I did not
consider that both minds originated that succes-
sion of ideas, but that one mind originated them,
and simply telegraphed them to the other. I was
curious to know which brain was the telegrapher
and which the receiver, so I wrote and asked for
particulars. Mr. Wright's reply showed that his
mind had done the originating and telegraphing
and mine the receiving. Mark that significant
thing, now ; consider for a moment how many a
splendid 'original' idea has been unconsciously
stolen from a man three thousand miles away 1 If
one should question that this is so, let him look
into the Cyclopaedia, and con once more that curious
thing in the history of inventions which has puzzled
everyone so much — that is, the frequency with
which the same machine or other contriv&nce has
been invented at the same time by several persons
in different quarters of the globe. The world was
without an electric telegraph for several thousand
years ; then Professor Henry, the American, Wheat-

■ 2

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

stone in England, Morse on the sea, and a German
in Munich, all invented it at the same time. The
discovery of certain ways of applying steam was
made in two or three countries in the same year.
Is it not possible that inventors are constantly and
unwittingly stealing each other's ideas whilst they
stand thousands of miles asunder ?

Last spring a literary friend of mine,^ who lived
a hundred miles away, paid me a visit, and in the
course of our talk he said he had made a discovery
— conceived an entirely new idea — one which cer-
tainly had never been used in literature. He told
me what it was. I handed him a manuscript, and
said he would find substantially the same idea in
that — a manuscript which I had written a week be-
fore. The id da had been in my mind since the pre-
vious November ; it had only entered his while I
was putting it on paper, a week gone by. He had
not yet written his ; so he left it unwritten, and
gracefully made over all his right and title in the
idea to me.

The following statement, which I have clipped
from a newspaper, is true. I had the facts from Mr.
Howells's lips when the episode was new :

^ A remarkable story of a literary coincidence is
» W. D. Howell^. I

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

German
I. The
jn was
le year,
tly and
1st they

ho lived
I in the
scovery
Lch cer-
He told
ipt, and

idea in
yeek be-
the pre-

while I
e had

in, and

in the

[clipped
)mMr.

ience is

told of Mr. Howells's <* Atlantic Monthly '* serial,
** Dr. Breen's Practice." A lady of Eochester, New
York, contributed to the magazine, after '' Dr.
Breen's Practice '* was in type, a short story which
so much resembled Mr. Howells's that he felt it
necessary to call upon her and explain the situation
of affairs in order that no charge of plagiarism might
be preferred against him. He showed her the proof-
sheets of his story, and satisfied her that the simi-
larity between her work and his was one of those
strange coincidences which have from time to time
occurred in the literary world.'

I had read portions of Mr. Howells's story, both
in manuscript and in proof, before the lady offered
her contribution to the magazine.

Here is another case. I clip it from a news-
paper :

< The republication of Miss Alcott's novel
"Moods" recalls to a writer in the Boston 'Pot.t a
singular coincidence which was brought to light
before the book was first published : " Miss Anna
M. Crane, of Baltimore, published ' Emily Chester,'
a novel which was pronounced a very striking and
strong story. A comparison of this book with
' Moods ' showed that the two writers, though entire
strangers to each other, and living hundreds of miles

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

apart, had both chosen the same subject for their
novels, had followed almost the same line of treatment
up to a certain point, where the parallel ceased, and
the denouements were entirely opposite. And even
more curious, the leading characters in both books
had identically the same names, so that the names
in Miss Alcott's novel had to be changed. Then the
book was published by Loring." '

Four or five times within my recollection there
has been a lively newspaper war in this country
over poems whose authorship was claimed by two
or three different people at the same time. There
was a war of this kind over * Nothing to Wear,*
'Beautiful Snow,' *Rock Me to Sleep, Mother,'
and also over one of Mr. Will Garleton's early bal-
lads, I think. These were all blameless cases of
unintentional and unwitting mental telegraphy, I
judge.

A word more as to Mr. Wright. He had had
his book in his mind some time ; consequently he,
and not I, had originated the idea of it. The
subject was entirely foreign to my thoughts ; I wl:.s
wholly absorbed in other things. Yet this friend,
whom I had not seen and had hardly thought of
for eleven years, was able to shoot his thoughts at
me across three thousand miles of country, and fill

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

their
.tment
d, and
ieven
books
names
len the

\ there
9untry
)y two
There
Wear/
other,'
lybal-
ses of
phy, I

.d had
ly he,
The

IWLLS

riend,
;ht of
hts at
dfill

my head with them, to the exclusion of every other
interest, in a single moment. He had begun his
letter after finishing his work on the morning paper
— a little after three o'clock, he said. When it was
three in the morning in Nevada it was about six in
Hartford, where I lay awake thinking about nothing
in particular ; and just about that time his ideas
came pouring into my head from across the con-
tinent, and I got up and put them on paper, under
the impression that they were my own original
thoughts.

I have never seen any mesmeric or clairvoyant
performances or spiritual manifestations which
were in the least degree convincing— a fact which
is not of consequence, since my opportunities have
been meagre ,* but I am forced to believe that one
human mind (still inhabiting the flesh) can com-
municate with another, over any sort of a distance,
and without any artificial preparation of ' sym-
pathetic conditions ' to act as a transmitting agent.
I suppose that when the sympathetic conditions
happen to exist the two minds communicate with
each other, and that otherwise they don't ; and I
suppose that if the sympathetic conditions could be
kept up right along, the two minds would continue
to correspond without limit as to time.

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

I '

Now there is that curious thing which happens
to everybody : suddenly a succession of thoughts
or sensations flock in upon you, which startles yon
with the weird idea that you have ages ago experi-
enced just this succession of thoughts or sensations
in a previous existence. The previous existence is
possible, no doubt, but I am persuaded that the
solution of this hoary mystery lies not there, but in
the fact that some far-off stranger has been tele-
graphing his thoughts and sensations into your
consciousness, and that he stopped because some
counter-current or other obstruction intruded and
broke the line of communication. Perhaps they
seem repetitions to you because they (we repetitions
got at second hand from the other man. Possibly
Mr. Brown, the * mind-reader,' reads other people's
minds, possibly he does not; but I know of a
surety that I have read another man's mind, and
therefore I do not see why Mr. Brown shouldn't do
the like also.

I wrote the foregoing about three years ago, in
Heidelberg, and laid the manuscript aside, purpos-
ing to add to it instances of mind-telegraphing from
time to time as they should fall under my experi-
ence. Meantime the ' crossing ' of letters has been
so frequent as to become monotonous. However, I

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

JO, in
rpos-
from
peri-
been
<^er,I

have managed to get something useful out of this
bint ; for now» when I get tired of waiting upon a
man whom I very much wish to hear from, I sit
down and compel him to write, whether he wants
to or not ; that is to say, I sit down and write him,
and then tear my letter up, satisfied that my act
has forced him to write me at the same moment.
I do not need to mail my letter — the writing it is
the only essential thing.

Of course I have grown superstitious about this
letter-crossing business — this was natural. We
stayed awhile in Venice after leaving Heidelberg.
One day I was going down the Grand Canal in a
gondola, when I heard a shout behind me, and
looked around to see what the matter was; a
gondola was rapidly following, and the gondolier
was making signs to me to stop. I did so, and the
pursuing boat ranged up alongside. There was an
American lady in it — a resident of Venice. She
was in a good deal of distress. She said :

* There's a New York gentleman and his wife
at the Hotel Britannia who arrived a week age,
expecting to find news of their son, whom they
have heard nothing about during eight months.
There was no news. The lady is down sick with
despair ; the gentleman can't sleep or eat. Their

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

son arrived at San Francisco eight months ago,
and announced the fact in a letter to his parents
the same day. That is the last trace of him. The
parents have been in Europe ever since ; but their
trip has been spoiled, for they have occupied their
time simply in drifting restlessly from place to
place, and writing letters everywhere and to every-
body, begging for news of their son; but the
mystery remains as dense as ever. Now the
gentleman wants to stop writing and go to cabling.
He wants to cable San Francisco. He has never
done it before, because he is afraid of — of he
doesn't know what — death of his son, no doubt.
But he wants somebody to admit him to cable —
wants me to do it. Now I simply can't ; for if no
news came that mother yonder would die. So I
have chased you up in order to get you to support
me in urging him to be patient, and put the thing
off a week or two longer ; it may be the saving of
this lady. Gome along ; let's not lose any time.'

So I went along, but I had a programme of my
own. When I was introduced to the gentleman I
said : ' I have some superstitions, but they are
worthy of respect. If you will cable San Francisco
immediately, you will hear news of your son inside
of twenty-four hours. I don't know that you will

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

get the news from San Francisco, but you will get
it from somewhere. The only necessary thing is
to cahle — that is all. The news will come within
twenty-four hours. Cable Pekin, if you prefer ;
there is no choice in this matter. This delay is all
occasioned by your not cabling long ago, when you
were first moved to do it.*

It seems absurd that this gentleman should
have been cheered up by this nonsense, but he
was ; he brightened up at once, and sent his cable-
gram ; and next day, at noon, when a long letter
arrived from his lost son, the man was as grateful
to me as if I had really had something to do with
the hurrying up of that letter. The son had
shipped from San Francisco in a sailing vessel, and
his letter was written from the first port he touched
at, months afterwards.

This incident argues nothing, and is valueless.
I insert it only to show how strong is the super-
stition which ' letter-crossing ' has bred in me. I
was so sure that a cablegram sent to any place, no
matter where, would defeat itself by * crossing * the
incoming news, that my confidence was able to
raise up a hopeless man, and make him cheery and
hopeful.

But here are two or three incidents which come

', .\

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

jii '

!-.

\ Hi

strictly under the head of mind-telegraphing. One
Monday morning, aboat a year ago, the mail came
in, and I picked up one of the letters, and said to
a friend : * Without opening this letter I will tell

you what it says. It is from Mrs. , and she says

she was in New York last Saturday, and was pur-
posing to run up here in the afternoon train and
surprise us, but at the last moment changed her
mind and returned westward to her home.'

I was right; my details were exactly correct.

Yet we had had no suspicion that Mrs. was

coming to New York, or that she had even a remote
intention of visiting us.

I smoke a good deal — that is to say, all the
time—so, during seven years, I have tried to keep
a box of matches handy, behind a picture on the
mantelpiece; but I have had to take it out in
trying, because George (coloured), who makes the
fires and lights the gas, always uses my matches
and never replaces them. Commands and per-
suasions have gone for nothing with him all these
seven years. One day last summer, when our
family had been away from home several months,
I said to a member of the household :

' Now, with all this long holiday, and nothing
in the way to interrupt *

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MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

<I can finish the Bentence for you/ said the
member of the household.

* Do it, then/ said I.

'George ought to be able, by practising, to
learn to let those matches alone.*

It was correctly done. That was what I was
going to say. Yet until that moment George and
the matches had not been in my mind for three
months, and it is plain that the part of the sentence
which I uttered offers not the least cue or suggestion
of what I was purposing to follow it with.

My mother ^ is descended from the younger of
two English brothers named Lambton, who settled
in this country a few generations ago. The tradi-
tion goes that the elder of the two eventually fell
heir to a certain estate in England (now an
earldom), and died right away. This has always
been the way with our family. They always die
when they could make anything by not doing it.
The two Lambtons left plenty of Lambtons behind
them ; and when at last, about fifty years ago, the
English baronetcy was exalted to an earldom, the
great tribe of American Lambtons began to bestir
themselves — that is, those descended from the
elder branch. Ever since that day one or another

* She WM Btill living when this was writtwi.

I m\

.(5h

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MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

of these has been fretting his life uselessly awaj
with schemes to get at his * rights.' The present
•rightful earl' — I mean the American one— used to
write me occasionally, and try to interest me in his
projected raids upon the title and estates by offering
me a share in the latter portion of the spoil ; but I
have always managed to resist his temptations.

Well, one day last summer I was lying under a
tree, thinking about nothing in particular, when an
absurd idea flashed into my head, and I said to a
member of the household, * Suppose I should live
to be ninety-two, and dumb and blind and tooth-
less, and just as I was gasping out what was left of
me on my death-bed '

'Wait, I will flnish the sentence,' said the
member of the household.

* Go on,* said I.

'Somebody should rush in with a document,
and say, ** All the other heirs are dead, and you are
the Earl of Durham !" '

That is truly what I was going to say. Yet
until that moment the subject had not entered my
mind or been referred to in my hearing for months
before. A few years ago this thing would have
astounded me, but the like could not much surprise
me now, though it happened every week; for I

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

«3

the

think I know now that mind can communicate
accurately with mind without the aid of the slow
and clumsy vehicle of speech.

This age does seem to have exhausted inven-
tion nearly; still, it has one important contract
on its hands yet — the invention of the phreno-
phone; that is to say, a method whereby the
communicating of mind with mind may be brought
under command and reduced to certainty and
system. The telegraph and the telephone are
going to become too slow and wordy for our needs.
We must have the thottght itself shot into our
minds from a distance ; then, if we need to put it
into words, we can do that tedious work at our
leisure. Doubtless the something which conveys
our thoughts through the air from brain to brain
is a finer and subtler form of electricity, and all we
need do is to find out how to capture it and how to
force it to do its work, as we have had to do in the
case of the electric currents. Before the day of
telegraphs neither one of these marvels would have
seemed any easier to achieve than the other.

While I am writing this, doubtless somebody
on the other side of the globe is writing it too.
The question is, am I inspiring him or is he in-
spiring me ? I cannot answer that ; but that these

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

thoughts have been passing through somebody else's
mind all the time I have been setting them down
I have no sort of doubt.

I will close this paper with a remark which I
found some time ago in Boswell's * Johnson * :

* Voltaire's " Candide " is wonderfully similar in
its plan and conduct to Johnson's '^ Basselas " ;
insomuch that I have heard Johnson say that if
they had not been published so closely one after
the other that there was not time for imitation, it
wovld have been in vain to deny that the scheme of
that which came latest was taken from the other,*

The two men were widely separated from each
other at the time, and the sea lay between.

tiu

POSTSCRIPT

In the ' Atlantic ' for June 1882, Mr. John
Fiske refers to the often-quoted Darwin-and- Wallace
* coincidence * :

' I alluded, just now, to the ** unforeseen cir-
cumstance " which led Mr. Darwin in 1859 to break
his long silence, and to write and publish the
"Origin of Species." This circumstance served,
no less than the extraordinary success of his book,
to show how ripe the minds of men had become
for entertaining such views as those which Mr.

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

olse's
down

hichi

•

ilar in
!las " ;
;hat if
) after
ion, it
erne of

1 each

John
Wallace

in cir-
break
the
jrved,
book,
)come
Mr.

Darwin propounded. In 1858 Mr. Wallace, who
was then engaged in studying the natural history
of the Malay Archipelago, sent to Mr. Darwin (as
to the man most likely to understand him) a paper
in which he sketched the outlines of a theory
identical with that upon which Mr. Darwin had
so long been at work. The same sequence of ob-
served facts and inferences that had led Mr.
Darwin to the discovery of Natural Selection and
its consequences had led Mr. Wallace to the very
threshold of the same discovery ; but in Mr. Wal-
lace's mind the theory had by no means been
wrought out to the same degree of completeness to
which it had been wrought in the mind of Mr.
Darwin. In the preface to his charming book on
Natural Select 'on, Mr. Wallace, with rare modesty
and candour, acknowledges that whatever value his
speculations may have had, they have been utterly
surpassed in richness and cogency of proof by those
of Mr. Darwin. This is no doubt true, and Mr.
Wallace has done such good work in further
illustration of the theory that he can well afford to
rest content with the second place in the first
announcement of it.

*The coincidence, however, between Mr. Wal-
lace's conclusions and those of Mr. Darwin was

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

% i\

very remarkable. But, after all, coincidences of
this sort have not been uncommon in the history
of scientific inquiry. Nor is it at all surprising
that they should occur now and then, when we
remember that a great and pregnant discovery
must always be concerned with some question
which many of the foremost minds in the world
are busy thinking about. It was so with the dis-
covery of the differential calculus, and again with the
discovery of the planet Neptune. It was so with
the interpretation of the Egyptian hieroglyphics,
and with the establishment of the undulatory
theory of light. It was so, to a considerable
extent, with the introduction of the new chemistry,
with the discovery of the mechanical equivalent of
heat, and the whole doctrine of the correlation of
forces. It was so with the invention of the electric
telegraph and with the discovery of spectrum
analysis. And it is not at all strange that it
should have been so with the doctrine of the origin
of species through natural selection.*

He thinks these * coincidences ' were apt to
happen because the matters from which they
sprang were matters which many of the foremost
minds in the world were busy thinking about. But
perhaps one man in each case did the telegraphing

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

to the others. The aberrations which gave Lever-
rier the idea that there must be a planet of such
and such mass and such and such an orbit hidden
from sight out yonder in the remote abysses of
space were not new; they had been noticed by
astronomers for generations. Then why should it
happen to occur to three people, widely separated
— Leverrier, Mrs. Somerville, and Adams — to sud-
denly go to worrying about those aberrations all at
the same time, and set themselves to work to find
out what caused them, and to measure and weigh
an invisible planet, and calculate its orbit, and hunt
it down and catch it ? — a strange project which no-
body but they had ever thought of before. If one
astronomer had invented that odd and happy pro-
ject f fty years before, don't you think he would have
telegraphed it to several others without knowing it ?
But now I come to a puzzler. How is it that
tnantmafe objects are able to affect the mind? They
Beem to do that. However, I wish to throw in a
parenthesis first— just a reference to a thing every-
body is familiar with — the experience of receiving a
clear and particular answer to your telegram before
your telegram has reached the sender of the answer.
That is a case where your telegram has gone straight
&om your brain to the man it was meant for, far out-

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MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

stripping the wire's slow electricity, and it is an
exercise of mental telegraphy which is as common
as dining. To return to the influence of inanimate
things. In the cases of non-professional clairvoyance
examined by the Psychical Society the clairvoyant
has usually been blindfolded, then some object
which has been touched or worn by a person is
placed in his hand ; the clairvoyant immediately de-
scribes that person, and goes on and gives a history
of some event with which the text object has been
connected. If the inanimate object is able to affect
and inform the clairvoyant's mind, maybe it can do
the same when it is working in the interest of men-
tal telegraphy. Once a lady in the West wrote me
that her son was coming to New York to remain
three weeks, and would pay me a visit if invited,
and she gave me his address. I mislaid the letter,
and forgot all about the matter till the three weeks
were about up. Then a sudden and fiery irruption
of remorse burst up in my brain that illuminated all
the region round about, and I sat down at once and
wrote to the lady and asked for that lost address.
But, upon reflection, I judged that the stirring up
of my recollection had not been an accident, so I
added a postscript to say, never mind, I should get
a letter from her son before night. And I did get

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

it ; for the letter was already in the town, although
not delivered yet. It had influenced me somehow.
I have had so many experiences of this sort — a dozen
of them at least — that I am nearly persuaded that
inanimate objects do not coniine their activities to
helping the clairvoyant, but do every now and then
give the mental telegraphist a lift.

The case of mental telegraphy which I am com-
ing to now comes under I don't exactly know what
head. I clipped it from one of our local papers six
or eight years ago. I know the details to be right
and true, for the story was told to me in the same
form by one of the two persons concerned (a clergy-
man of Hartford) at the time that the curious thing
happened :

<A Bbmabeablb Goincidbnob. — Strange coin-
cidences make the most interesting of stories and
most curious of studies. Nobody can quite say how
they come about, but everybody appreciates the fact
when they do come, and it is seldom that any more
complete and curious coincidence is recorded of
minor importance than the following, which is
absolutely true and occurred in this city :

' At the time of the building of one of the finest
residences of Hartford, which is still a very new
house, a local firm supplied the wall-paper for

\ \

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

I ',1

certain rooms, contracting both to furnish and to
put on the paper. It happened that they did not
calculate the size of one room exactly right, and the
paper of the design selected for it fell short just half
a roll. They asked for delay enough to send on to
the manufacturers for what was needed, and were
told that there was no especial hurry. It happened
that the manufacturers had none on hand, and had
destroyed the blocks from which it was printed.
They wrote that they had a full list of the dealers
to whom they had sold that paper, and that they
would write to each of these, and get from some of
them a roll. It might involve a delay of a couple
of weeks, but they would surely get it.

* In the course of time came a letter saying that,
to their great surprise, they could not find a single
roll. Such a thing was very unusual, but in this
".ase it had so happened. Accordingly the local
firm asked for further time, saying they would write
to their own customers who had bought of that
pattern, and would get the piece from them. But
to their surprise, this effort also failed. A long
time had now elapsed, and there was no use of de-
laying any longer. They had contracted to paper
the room, and their only course was to take ofif that
which was insufficient and put on some other of

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

which there was enough to go around. Accordingly,
at length a man was sent out to remove the paper.
He got his apparatus ready, and was about to begin
work, under the direction of the owner of the build-
ing, when the latter was for the moment called
away. The house was large and very interesting,
and so many people had rambled about it that
finally admission had been refused by a sign at the
door. On the occasion, however, when a gentleman
had knocked and asked for leave to look about, the
owner, being on the premises, had been sent for to
reply to the request in person. That was the call
that for the moment delayed the final preparations.
The gentleman went to the door and admitted the
stranger, saying he would show him about the
house, but first must return for a moment to that
room to finish his directions there, and he told the
curious story about the paper as they went on.
They entered the room together, and the first thing
the stranger, who lived fifty miles away, said on
looking about was, ** Why, I have that very paper
on a room in my house, and I have an extra roll of
it laid away, which is at your service." In a few
days the wall was papered according to the original
contract. Had not the owner been at the house,
the stranger would not have been admitted ; had

' V

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

he called a day later, it would have been too late ;
had not the facts been almost accidentally told to
him, he would probably have said nothing of the
paper, and so on. The exact fitting of all the cir-
cumstances is something very remarkable, and
makes one of those stories that seem hardly ac-
cidental in their nature.'

Something that happened the other day brought
my hoary MS. to mind, and that is how I came to
dig it out from its dusty pigeon-hole grave for pub-
lication. The thing that happened was a question.
A lady asked it : * Have you ever had a vision —
when awake ? ' I was about to answer promptly,
when the last two words of the question began to
grow and spread and swell, and presently they at-
tained to vast dimensions. She did not know that
they were important ; and I did not at first, but I
Boon saw that they were putting me on the track of
the solution of a mystery which had perplexed me
a good deal. You will see what I mean when I get
down to it. Ever since the English Society for
Psychical Besearch began its searching investiga-
tions of ghost stories, haunted houses, and appari-
tions of the living and the dead, I have read their
pamphlets with avidity as fast as they arrived. Now
one of their commonest inquiries of a dreamer or

•\>t\

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

a vision-seer is, * Are you sure you were awake at
the time ? ' If the man can't say he is sure he was
awake, a doubt falls upon his tale right there. But
if he is positive he was awake, and offers reasonable
evidence to substantiate it, the fact counts largely
for the credibility of his story. It does with the
Society, and it did with me until that lady asked
me the above question the other day.

The question set me to considering, and brought
me to the conclusion that you can be asleep— at
least wholly unconscious — for a time, and not sus-
pect that it has happened, and not have any way
to prove that it hi% happened. A memorable case
was in my mind. About a year ago I was standing
on the porch one day, when I saw a man coming
up the walk. He was a stranger, and I hoped he
would ring and carry his business into the house
without stopping to argue with me ; he would have
to pass the front door to get to me, and I hoped he
wouldn't take the trouble ; to help, I tried to look
like a stranger myself — it often works. I was
looking straight at that man ; he had got to within
ten feet of the door and within twenty-five feet of
me — and suddenly he disappeared. It was as as-
tounding as if a church should vanish from before
your face and leave nothing behind it but a vacant

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

!i;

lot. I was unspeakably delighted. I had seen an
apparition at last, with my own eyes, in broad day*
light. I made up my mind to write an account of
it to the Society. I ran to where the spectre had
been, to make sure he was playing fair, then I ran
to the other end of the porch, scanning the open
grounds as I went. No, everything was perfect;
he couldn't have escaped without my seeing him ;
he was an apparition, without the slightest doubt,
and I would write him up before he was cold. I
ran, hot with excitement, and let myself in with a
latch-key. When I stepped into the hall my lungs
collapsed and my heart stood still. For there sat
that same apparition in a chair, all alone, and as
quiet and reposeful as if he had come to stay a
year 1 The shock kept me dumb for a moment or
two, then I said, ' Did you come in at that door ? '
'Yes.*

* Did y(M open it, or did you ring ? '
' I rang, and the coloured man opened it.'
I said to myself: 'This is astonishing. It
takes George all of two minutes to answer the door-
bell when he is in a hurry, and I have never seen
him in a hurry. How did this man stand two
minutes at that door, within five steps of me, and I
did not see him ? '

MENTAL TELEGRAPHY

I should have gone to my grave puzzling over
that riddle but for that lady's chance question last
week: *Have you ever had a vision — when awake?'
It stands explained now. During at least sixty
seconds that day I was asleep, or at least totally
unconscious, without suspecting it. In that interval
the man came to my immediate vicinity, rang,
stood there and waited, then entered and closed
the door, and I did not see him and did not hear
the door slam.

If he had slipped around the house in that
interval and gone into the cellar — he had time
enough— I should have written him up for the
Society, and magnified him, and gloated over him,
and hurrahed about him, and thirty yoke of oxen
could not have pulled the belief out of me that
I was of the favoured ones of the earth, and had
seen a vision — while wide awake.

Now, how are you to tell when you are awake ?
What are you to go by ? People bite their fingerg
to find out. Why, you can do that in a dream.

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

Bt courtesy of Mr. Cable I came into possession of
a singular book eight or ten years ago. It is
likely that mine is now the only copy in existence.
Its title-page, unabbreviated, reads as follows :

* The Enemy Conquered ; or, Love Triumphant.
By G. Ragsdale McClintock,^ author of "An
Address," etc., delivered at Sunflower Hill, South
Carolina, and member of the Yale Law School,
New Haven : published by T. H. Pease, 83 Chapel
Street, 1845.'

No one can take up this book, and lay it down
again unread. Whoever reads one line of it is
caught, is chained ; he has become the contented
slave of its fascinations ; and he will read and
read, devour and devour, and will not let it go out
of his hand till it is iinisiir>d do the last line, though
the house be on fire over his head. And after a

' The name here given ii a labsiiiato for (he one actaallf
attached to the pamphlet.

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I "!i i'

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

first reading, he will not throw it aside, but will
keep it by him, with his Shakspeare and his
Homer, and will take it up many and many a
time, when the world is dark, and his spirits are
low, and be straightway cheered and refreshed.
Yet this work has been allowed to lie wholly
neglected, unmentioned, and apparently unre-
gretted, for nearly half a century.

The reader must not imagine that he is to find
in it wisdom, brilliancy, fertility of invention,
ingenuity of construction, excellence of form,
purity of style, perfection of imagery, truth to
nature, clearness of statement, humanly possible
situations, humanly possible people, fluent narra-
tive, connected sequence of events — or philosophy,
or logic, or sense. No ; the rich, deep, beguiling
charm of the book lies in the total and miraculous
ahsence from it of all these qualities — a charm
which is completed and perfected by the evident
tact that the author, whose naive innocence easily
and surely wins our regard, and almost our wor-
ship, does not know that they are absent, does not
even suspect that they are absent. When read by
the light of these helps to an understanding of the
situation, the book is delicious — profoundly and
satisfyingly delicious.

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

1 call it a book because the author calls it a
book ; I call it a work because he calls it a work ;
but in truth it is merely a duodecimo pamphlet of
thirty-one pages. It was written for fame and
money, as the author very frankly — yes, and very
hopefully, too, poor fellow — says in his preface.
The money never came ; no penny of it ever came;
and how long, how pathetically long, the fame has
been deferred — forty- seven years ! He was young
then, it would have been so much to him then ;
but will he care for it now ?

As time is measured in America, McClintock's
epoch is antiquity. In his long-vanished day the
Southern author had a passion for * eloquence ' ; it
was his pet, his darling. Hf would be eloquent,
or perish. And he recognised only one kind of
eloquence, the lurid, the tempestuous, the volcanic.
He liked words ; big words, fine words, grand
words, rumbling, thundering, reverberating words
— with sense attaching if it could be got in with-
out marring the sound, but not otherwise. He
loved to stand up before a dazed world, and pour
forth flame, and smoke, and lava, and pumice-
stone, into the skies, and work his subterranean
thunders, and shake himself with earthquakes,
and stench himself with sulphur fumes. If he

«''■

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

consumed his own fields and vineyardSi that was
a pity, yes ; but he would have his eruption at
any cost. Mr. McClintock's eloquence — and he is
always eloquent, his crater is always spouting —
is of the pattern common to his day, but he
departs from the custom of the time in one respect:
his brethren allowed sense to intrude when it did
not mar the sound, but he does not allow it to
intrude at all. For example, consider this figure,
which he uses in the village * Address ' referred to
with such candid complacency in the title-page
above quoted — 'like the topmast topaz of an
ancient tower.' Please read it again ; contemplate
it ; measure it ; walk around it ; climb up it ; try
to get at an approximate realisation of the size of
it. Is the fellow to that to be found in literature,
ancient or modern, foreign or domestic, living or
dead, drunk or sober ? One notices how fine and
grand it sounds. We know that if it was loftily
uttered, it got a noble burst of applause from the
villagers ; yet there isn't a ray of sense in it, or
meaning to it.

McClintock finished his education at Yale in
1843, and came to Hartford on a visit that same
year. I have talked with men who at that time
talked with him, and felt of him, and knew he was
real. One needs to remember that fact, and to

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

the
it, or

de in

same

time

le was

Ld to

keep fast hold of it ; it is the only way to keep
McGlintock's book from midermining one's faith in
McClintock's actuality.

As to the book. The first four pages are
devoted to an inflamed eulogy of Woman — simply
Woman in general, or perhaps as an Institution —
wherein, among other compliments to her details,
be pays a unique one to her voice. He says it
* fills the breast with fond alarms, echoed by every
rill.' It sounds well enough, but it is not true.
After the eulogy he takes up his real work, and the
novel begins. It begins in the woods, near the
village of Sunflower Hill.

'Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the
mist of the fair Chattahoochee, to spread their
beauty over the thick forest, to guide the hero
whose bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the
enemy that would tarnish his name and to win
back the admiration of his long-tried friend.'

It seems a general remark, but it is not
general ; the hero mentioned is the to-be hero of
the book ; and in this abrupt fashion, and without
name or description, he is shovelled into the tale.
*With aspirations to conquer the enemy that
would tarnish his name ' is merely a phrase flimg
in for the sake of the sound — let it not mislead the

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

reader. No one is trying to tarnish this person ;
no one has thought of it. The rest of the sentence
is also merely a phrase ; the man has no friend as
yet, and of course has had no chance to try him,
or win back his admiration, or disturb him in any
other way.

The hero climbs up over * Sawney's Mountain,*
and down the other side, making for an old Indian
* castle * — which becomes * the red man's hut ' in
the next sentence ; and when he gets there at last,
he * surveys with wonder and astonishment ' the
invisible structure, ' which time had buried in the
dust ; and thought to himself his happiness was
not yet complete.' One doesn't know why it
wasn't, nor how near it came to being complete,
nor what was still wanting to round it up and
make it so. Maybe it was the Indian ; but the
book does not say. At this point we have an
episode :

'Beside the shore of the brook sat a young
man, about eighteen or twenty, who seemed to be
reading some favourite book, and who had a
remarkably noble countenance — eyes which be-
trayed more than a common mind. This, of
course, made the youth a welcome guest, and
gained him friends in whatever condition of life he

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

might be placed. The traveller observed that he
was a well-built figure which showed strength and
grace in every movement. He accordingly ad-
dressed him in quite a gentlemanly manner, and
inquired of him the way to the village. After he
had received the desired information, and was
about taking his leave, the youth said, '' Are you
not Major Elfonzo, the great musician * — the
champion of a noble cause — the modern Achilles,
who gained so many victories in the Florida
War?" **I bear that name," said the Major,
'' and those titles, trusting at the same time that
the ministers of grace will carry me triumphantly
through all my laudable undertakings, and if,"
continued the Major, *' you, sir, are the patroniser
of noble deeds, I should like to make you my
confidant, and learn your address." The youth
looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused for
a moment, and began : '* My name is Boswell. I
have been recently admitted to the bar, and can
only give a faint outline of my future success in
that honourable profession ; but I trust, sir, like
the Eagle, I shall look down from lofty rocks upon
the dwellings of man, and shall ever be ready to

' Further on it will be seen that he is a country expert on the
fiddle, and has a t'jree-township fame.

a 2

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

\\ i

give you any assistance in my official capacity, and
whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, when-
ever it shall be called from its buried greatness."
The Major grasped him by the hand, and ex-
claimed : '' ! thou exalted spirit of inspiration —
thou flame of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-
directed blaze be the glare of thy soul, and battle
down every rampart that seems to impede your
progress ! *' *

There is a strange sort of originality about
McGlintock ; he imitates other people's styles, but
nobody can imitate his, not even an idiot. Other
people can be windy, but McClintock blows a gale ;
other people can blubber sentiment, but McClintock
spews it ; other people can mishandle metaphors,
but only McClintock knows how to make a business
of it. McClintock is always McClintock, he is
always consistent, his style is always his own style.
He does not make the mistake of being relevant on
one page and irrelevant on another ; he is irrele-
vant on all of them. He does not make the mis-
take of being lucid in one place and obscure in
another ; he is obscure all the time. He does not
make the mistake of shpping in a name here and
there that is out of character with his work ; he
always uses names that exactly and fantastically

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

fit his InnaticB. In the matter of nndeviatiug
eonsistency he stands alone in authorship. It is
this that makes his style unique, and entitles it to a
name of its own — McClintockian. It is this that
protects it from being mistaken for anybody
else's.

Uncredited quotations from other writers often
leave a reader in doubt as to their authorship, but
McClintock is safe from that accident; an un-
credited quotation from him would always be
recognisable. When a boy nineteen years old,
who had just been admitted to the bar, says, ' I
trust, sir, like the Eagle, I shall look down from
lofty rocks upon the dwellings of man,' we know
who is speaking through that boy; we should
recognise that note anywhere. There be myriads
of instruments in this world's literary orchestra,
and a multitudinous confusion of sounds that they
make, wherein fiddles are drowned, and guitars
smothered, and one sort of drum mistaken for
another sort ; but whensoever the brazen note of
the McClintockian trombone breaks through that
fog of music, that note is recognisable, and about it
there can be no blur of doubt.

The novel now arrives at the point where the
Major goes home to see his father. When McGliu-

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

tock wrote this interview, he probably beUeved it
was pathetic.

'The road which led to the town presented
many attractions. Elfonzo had bid farewell to the
youth of deep feeling, and was now wending his
way to the dreaming spot of his fondness. The
south winds whistled through the woods, as the
waters dashed against the banks, as rapid fire in
the pent furnace roars. This brought him to re-
member while alone that he quietly left behind the
hospitality of a father's house, and gladly entered
the world, with higher hopes than are often realised.
But as he journeyed onward he was mindful of
the advice of his father, who had often looked
sadly on the ground, when tears of cruelly deceived
hope moistened his eyes. Elfonzo had been some-
what of a dutiful son, yet fond of the amusements
of life— had been in distant lands, had enjoyed the
pleasure of the world, and had frequently returned
to the scenes of his boyhood almost destitute of
many of the comforts of life. In this condition
he would frequently say to his father, *<Have I
offended you, that you look upon me as a stranger,
and frown upon me with stinging looks? Will
you not favour me with the sound of your voice ?
If I have trampled upon your veneration, or have

»-

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

"\\

Bpread a humid veil of dvirkness around your ex-
pectations, send me back into the world, where no
heart beats for me — where the foot of man has
never yet trod; but give me at least one kind
word — allow me to come into the presence some-
times of thy winter-worn locks." "Forbid it.
Heaven, that I should be angry with thee,"
answered the father, " my son, and yet I send thee
back to the children of the world — to the cold
charity of the combat, and to a land of victory. I
read another destiny in thy countenance — I learn
thy inclinations from the flame that has already
kindled in my soul a strange sensation. It will seek
thee, my dear Elfonzo, it will find thee — thou canst
not escape that lighted torch, which shall blot out
from the remembrance of men a long train of
prophecies which they have foretold against thee.
I once thought not so. Once, I was blind; but
now the path of life is plain before me, and my
sight is clear ; yet, Elfonzo, return to thy worldly
occupation — take again in thy hand that chord of
sweet sounds — struggle with the civilised world,
and with your own heart ; fly swiftly to the en-
chanted ground — let the night-owl send forth its
screams from the stubborn oak — let the sea sport
upon the beach, and the stars sing together ; but

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*J CURE FOR THE BLUES

learn of these, Elfonzo, thy doom, and thy hiding-
place. Our most innocent as well as our most
lawful desires must often be denied us, that we
may learn to sacrifice them to a Higher will."

' Bemembering such admonitions with gratitude,
Elfonzo was immediately urged by the recollection
of his father's family to keep moving.'

McOlintock has a fine gift in the matter of sur-
prises ; but as a rule they are not pleasant ones,
they jar upon the feelings. His closing sentence
in the last quotation is of that sort. It brings one
down out of the tinted clouds in too sudden and
collapsed a fashion. It incenses one against the
author for a moment. It makes the reader want
to take him by his winter-worn locks, and trample
on his veneration, and deliver him over to the cold
charity of combat, and blot him out with his own
lighted torch. But the feeling does not last. The
master takes again in his hand that concord of
sweet sounds of his, and one is reconciled, pacified.

'His steps became quicker and quicker — ^he
hastened through the piny woods, dark as the
forest was, and with joy he very soon reached the
little village of repose, in whose bosom rested the
boldest chivalry. His close attention to every
important object — his modest questions about

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

whatever was new to him — his reverence for wise
old age, and his ardent desire to learn many of the
fine arts, soon brought him into respectable notice.

* One mild winter day, as he walked along the
streets towards the Academy, which stood upon a
small eminence, surrounded by native growth —
some venerable in its appearance, others young
and prosperous — all seemed inviting, and seemed
to be the very place for learning as well as for
genius to spend its research beneath its spreading
shades. He entered its classic walls in the usual
mode of Southern manners/

The artfulness of this man ! None knows so
well as he how to pique the curiosity of the reader
— and how to disappoint it. He raises the hope,
here, that he is going to tell all about how one
enters a classic wall in the usual mode of Southern
manners; but does he? No; he smiles in his
sleeve, and turns aside to other matters.

'The principal of the Institution begged him
to be seated, and listen to the recitations that were
going on. He accordingly obeyed the request, and
seemed to be much pleased. After the school was
dismissed, and the young hearts regained their
freedom, with the songs of the evening, laughing
at the anticipated pleasures of a happy home.

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90 A CURE FOR THE BLUES

while others tittered at the actions of the past day,
he addressed the teacher in a tone that indicated a
resolution — with an undaunted mind. He said he
had determined to become a student, if he could
meet with his approbation. " Sir," said he, " I
have spent much time in the world. I have
travelled among the uncivilised inhabitants of
America. I have met with friends, and combated
with foes ; but none of these gratify my ambition,
or decide what is to be my destiny. I see the
learned world have an influence with the voice of
the people themselves. The despoilers of the
remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their differ-
ences to this class of persons. This the illiterate
and inexperienced little dream of ; and now, if you
will receive me as I am, with these deficiencies —
with all my misguided opinions, I will give you
my honour, sir, that I will never disgrace the
Institution or those who have placed you in this
honourable station." The instructor, who had
met with many disappointments, knew how to feel
for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the
charities of an unfeeling community. He looked
at him earnestly, and said : " Be of good cheer —
look forward, sir, to the high destination you may
attain. Bemember, the more elevated the mark

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

at which you aim, the more sure, the more
glorious, the more magnificent the prize." From
wonder to wonder, his encouragement led the
impatient listener. A strange nature bloomed
before him — giant streams promised him success —
gardens of hidden treasures opened to his view.
All this, so vividly described, seemed to gain a new
witchery from his glowing fancy.'

It seems to me that this situation is new in
romance. I feel sure it has not been attempted
before. Military celebrities have been disguised
and set at lowly occupations for dramatic effect,
but I think McGlintock is the first to send one of
them to school. Thus, in this book, you pass from
wonder to wonder, through gardens of hidden
treasure, where giant streams bloom before you,
and behind you, and all around, and you feel as
happy, and groggy, and satisfied, with your quart
of mixed metaphor aboard, as you would if it had
been mixed in a sample-rcom, and delivered from
a jug.

Now we come upon some more McGlintockian
surprises — a sweetheart who is sprung upon us
without any preparation, along with a name for
her which is even a little more of a surprise than
Bhe herself is.

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91 A CURE FOR THE BLUES

' In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid
progress in the English and Latin departments.
Indeed, he continued advancing with such rapidity
that he was like to become the first in his class,
and made such unexpected progress, and was so
studious, that he had almost forgotten the pictured
saint of his afifections. The fresh wreaths of the
pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop
once more the dews of Heaven upon the heads of
those who had so often poured forth the tender
emotions of their souls under its boughs. He was
aware of the pleasure that he had seen there. So
one evening, as he was returning from his reading,
he concluded he would pay a visit to this en-
chanting spot. Little did he think of witnessmg
a shadow of his former happiness, though no
doubt he wished it might be so. He continued
sauntering by the road-side, meditating on the
past. The nearer he approached the spot, the
more anxious he became. At that moment a tal?
female figure flitted across his path, with a bunch
of roses in her hand; her countenance showed
uncommon vivacity, with a resolute spirit; her
ivory teeth already appeared as she smiled beauti-
fully, promenading, while her ringlets of hair
dangled unconsciously around her snowy neck«

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

Nothing was wanting to complete her beauty.
The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her
cheek; the charms of sensibility and tenderness
were always her associates. In Ambulinia's bosom
dwelt a noble soul— one that never faded — one that
never was conquered.'

Ambulinia! It can hardly be matched in
fiction. The full name is Ambulinia Valeer.
Marriage will presently round it out and perfect it.
Then it will be Mrs. Ambulinia Valeer Elfonzo. It
takes the chromo.

* Her heart yielded to no feeling but the love of
Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight,
and to whom she felt herself more closely bound,
because he sought the hand of no other. Elfonzo
was roused from his apparent reverie. His books
no longer were his inseparable companions — ^his
thoughts arrayed themselves to encourage him to
the field of victory. -U- endeavoured to speak to
his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared
not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire
that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration
and carried his senses away captive. Ambulinia
had disappeared, to make him more mindful of his
duty. As she walked speedily away through the
piny woods she calmly echoed: "0! Elfonzo,

"'h

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

thou wilt now look from thy sunbeamB. Thou
Bhalt now walk in a new path — perhaps thy way
leads through darkness; but fear not, the stars
foretell happiness." '

To McClintock that jingling jumble of fine words
meant something, no doubt, or seemed to mean
something ; but it is useless for us to try to divine
what it was. Ambulinia comes — we don't know
whence nor why ; she mysteriously intimates — we
don't know what ; and then she goes echoing away
— we don't know whither; and down comes the
curtain. McGlintock's art is subtle ; McGHntock's
art is deep.

' Not many days afterwards, as surrounded by
fragrant flowers, she sat one evening at twilight
to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered notes of
melody along the distant groves, the little birds
perched on every side, as if to watch the move-
ments of their new visitor. The bells were tolling,
when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild wood
flowers, holding in his hand his favourite instru-
ment of music — his eye continually searching for
Ambulinia, who hardly seemed to perceive him as
she played carelessly with the songsters that hopped
from branch to branch. Nothing could be more
striking than the difference between the two.

1 1

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

Nature seemed to have given the more tender bouI
to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous
to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes
of Elfonzo — such a feeling as can only be ex-
pressed by those who are blessed as admirers, and
by those who are able to return the same with
sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than
Ambulinia : she had turned a little into her seven-
teenth. He had almost grown up in the Cherokee
country, with the same equal proportions as one
of the natives. But little intimacy had existed
between them until the year forty-one — because the
youth felt that the character of such a lovely girl
was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than
that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not
always be insulted, at all times and under all
circumstances, by the frowns and cold looks of
crabbed old age, which should continually reflect
dignity upon those around, and treat the unfor-
tunate as well as the fortunate with a graceful
mien, he continued to use diligence and perseve-
rance.

'All this lighted a spark in his heart that
changed his whole character, and, like the unyield-
ing Deity that follows the storm to check its rage in
the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off

"■I,

■■, »

Air

: 1:
I"' ■

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

his embarrassmenty and return where he had before
only worshipped.'

At last we begin to get the Major's measure. We
are able to put this and that casual fact together,
and build the man up before our eyes, and look at
him. And after we have got him built, we find him
worth the trouble. By the above comparison
between his age and Ambulinia's, we guess the
war-worn veteran to be twenty- two ; and the other
facts stand thus : he had grown up in the Cherokee
country with the same equal proportions as one of
the natives — how flowing and graceful the language,
and yet how tantalising as to meaning! — he had
been turned adrift by his father, to whom he had
been ' somewhat of a dutiful son ' ; he wandered in
distant lands ; came back frequently * to the scenes
of his boyhood, almost destitute of many of the
comforts of life,' in order to get into the presence of
his father's winter-worn locks, and spread a humid
veil of darkness around his expectations ; but he was
always promptly sent back to the cold charity of the
combat again ; he learned to play the fiddle, and
made a name for himself in that line; he had
dwelt among the wild tribes ; he had philosophised
about the despoilers of the kingdoms of the earth,
and found out — ^the cunning creature — that they

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

refer their differences to the learned for settlement ;
he had achieved a vast fame as a military chieftain,
the Achilles of the Florida campaigns, and then had
got him a spelling-hook and started to school ; he
had fallen in love with Amhulinia Valeer while she
was teething, hut had kept it to himself awhile, out
of the reverential awe which he felt for the child ;
hut now at last, like the unyielding deity who
follows the storm to check its rage in the forest, he
resolves to shake off his embarrassment, and to
return where before he had only worshipped. The
Major, indeed, has made up his mind to rise up
and shake his faculties together, and to see if he
can't do that thing himself. This is not clear.
But no matter about that : there stands the hero,
compact and visible ; and he is no mean structure,
considering that his creator had never created
anything before, and hadn't anything but rags and
wind to build with this time. It seems to me that
no one can contemplate this odd creature, this
quaint and curious blatherskite, without admiring
McClintock, or, at any rate, loving him and feeling
grateful to him; for McClintock made him;
he gave him to us ; without McClintock we
could not have had him, and would now be
poor.

M ii

A CURE liOR THE BLUES

But we must come to the feast again. Here is
a courtship scene, down there in the romantic
glades among the raccoons, alligators, and things,
that has merit, peculiar literary merit. See how
Achilles wooes. Dwell upon the second sentence
(particularly the close of it), and the beginning of
the third. Never mind the new personage, Leos,
who is intruded upon us unheralded and unex-
plained. That is McOlintock's way ; it is his habit ;
it is a part of his genius ; he cannot help it ; he
never interrupts the rush of his narrative to make
introductions :

' It could not escape Ami alinia's penetrating
eye that he sought an interv. w with her, which
she as anxiously avoided, and a sumed a more dis-
tant calmness than before, seer mgly to destroy all
hope. After many efforts an struggles with his
own person, with timid steps 1 <^ Major approached
the damsel, with the same caution as he would Iiave
done in a field of battle. ** Lady Ambulinia," said
he, trembling, ** I have long desired a moment like
this. I dare not let it escape. I fear the conse-
quences ; yet I hope your indulgence will at least
hear my petition. Can you not anticipate what I
would say, and what I am about to express ? Will
you not, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain

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of Jupiter, release me from thy winding chains or

cure me " " Say no more, Elfonzo," answered

Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand as
if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the
whole world; "another lady in my place would
have perhaps answered your question in bitter cold-
ness. I know not the little arts of my sex. I care
but little for the vanity of those who would chide
me, and am unwilling as well as ashamed to be
guilty of anything that would lead you to think * all
is not gold that glitters ' ; so be not rash in your
resolution. It is better to repent now, than to do
it in a more solemn hour. Tes, I know what you
would say. I know you have a costly gift for me —
the noblest that man can make — your heart ! Ton
should not offer it to one so unworthy. Heaven,
you know, has allowed my father's house to be made
a house of solitude, a home of silent obedience,
which my parents say is more to be admired than
big names and high-sounding titles. Notwithstand-
ing all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest
heart — allow me to say in the fulness of my hopes
that I anticipate better days. The bird may stretch
its wings towards the sun which it can never reach ;
and flowers of the field appear to ascend in the same
direction, because they cannot do otherwise: but

a 3

lOO

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

man confides his complaints to the saints in whom
he believes ; for in their abodes of light they know
no more sorrow. From your confession and in-
dicative looks, I must be that person : if so, deceive
not yourself."

* Elfonzo replied, " Pardon me, my dear madam,
for my frankness. I have loved you from my
earliest days — everything grand and beautiful hath
borne the image of Ambulinia : while precipices on
every hand surrounded me, your guardian angel
stood and beckoned me away from the deep abyss.
In every trial— in every misfortune, I have met
with your helping hand ; yet I never dreamed or
dared to cherish thy love, till a voice impaired with
age encouraged the cause, and declared they who
acquired thy favour should win a victory. I saw
how Leos worshipped thee. I felt my own unworthi-
ness. I began to know jealousy, a strong guest
indeed, in my bosom, yet I could see if I gained
your admiration, Leos was to be my rival. I was
aware that he had the influence of your parents,
and the wealth of a deceased relative, which is too
often mistaken for permanent and regular tran-
quillity ; yet I have determined by your permission
to beg an interest in your prayers — to ask you to
animate mv drooping spirits by your smiles and

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

lOX

yoor winning looks ; for, if you but speak, I shall
be conqueror, my enemies shall stagger like Olympus
shakes. And though earth and sea may tremble,
and the charioteer of the sun may forget his dash-
ing steed ; yet I am assured that it is only to arm
me with divine weapons, which will enable me to
complete my long-tried intention." "Keturn to
yourself, Elfonzo," said Ambulinia, pleasantly, '' a
dream of vision has disturbed your intellect — ^you
are above the atmosphere, dwelling in the celestial
regions, nothing is there that urges or hinders,
nothing that brings discord into our present litiga-
tion. I entreat you to condescend a little, and be a
man, and forget it all. When Homer describes the
battle of the gods and noble men, fighting with
giants and dragons, they represent under this image
our struggles with the delusions of our passions.
Tou have exalted me, an unhappy girl, to the
skies ; you have called me a saint, and portrayed
in your imagination an angel in human form.
Let her remain such to you — let her continue to
be as you have supposed, and be assured that she
will consider a share in your esteem as her highest
treasure. Think not that I would allure you from
the path in which your conscience leads you ; for
you know I respect the conscience of others^ as I

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would die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of
thy love, let such oonversation never again pass
between us. Go, seek a nobler theme ! we will seek
it in the stream of time as the sunset in the
Tigris." As she spake these words she grasped
the hand of Elfonzo, saying at the same time —
"Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero:
be up and doing." Closing her remarks with
this expression, she walked slowly away, leaving
Elfonzo astonished and amazed. He ventured
not to follow, or detain her. Here he stood alone,
gazing at the stars — confounded as he was, here
he stood.'

Tes; there he stood. There seems to be no
doubt about that. Nearly half of this delirious
story haG now been delivered to the reader* It
seems a pity to reduce the other half to a cold
synopsis. Pity! it is more than a pity, it is a
crime ; for, to synopsise McClintock is to reduce a
sky-flushing conflagration to dull embers, it is to
reduce barbaric splendour to ragged poverty.
McClintock never wrote a line that was not pre-
cious ; he never wrote one that could be spared ;
he never framed one from which a word could be
removed without damage. Every sentence that
this master has produced may be likened to a

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103

perfect set of teeth — white, uniform, beautiful. If
you pull one, the charm is gone. Still, it is now
necessary to begin to pull, and to keep it up ; for
lack of space requires us to synopsise.

We left Elfonzo standing there, amazed. At
what, we do not know. Not at the girl's speech.
No ,* we ourselves should have been amazed at it,
of course, for none of us has ever heard anything
resembling it: but Elfonzo was used to speeches
made up of noise and vacancy, and could listen to
them with undaunted mind like the 'topmost topaz
of an ancient tower * ; he was used to making them
himself; he— but let it go, it cannot be guessed
out ; we shall never know what it was that aston-
ished him. He stood there awhile ; then he said,
* Alas ! am I now Griefs disappointed son at last.'
He did not stop to examine his mind, and to try to
find out what he probably meant by that, because,
for one reason, ' a mixture of ambition and great-
ness of soul moved upon his young heart,' and
started him for the village. He resumed his bench
in school, * and reasonably progressed in his educa-
tion.' His heart was heavy, but he went into
society, and sought surcease of sorrow in its light
distractions. He made himself popular with hia
violin, ' which seemed to have a thousand chords —

104

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

more symphonions than the Muses of Apollo, and
more enchanting than the ghost of the Hills.'
This is obscure, but let it go.

During this interval Leos did some unencour-
aged courting, but at last, < choked by his under-
taking,' he desisted.

Presently * Elfonzo again wends his way to the
stately walls and new-built village.' He goes to
the house of his beloved ; she opens the door her-
self. To my surprise — for Ambulinia's heart had
still seemed free at the time of their last interview
— love beamed from the girl's eyes. One sees that
Elfonzo was surprised, too; for when he caught
that light <a halloo of smothered shouts ran
through every vein.* A neat figure — a very neat
figure, indeed ! Then he kissed her. * The scene
was overwhelming.' They went into the parlour.
The girl said it was safe, for her parents were abed
and would never know. Then we have this fine
picture — flung upon the canvas with hardly an
efiort, as you will notice.

' Advancing towards him she gave a bright dis-
play of her rosy neck, and from her head the
ambrosial locks breathed divine fragrance; her
robe hung waving to his view, while she stood like
a goddess confessed before him.' \.

p Mi

A CURE FOR THE SLUES

There is nothing of interest in the couple's
interview. Now, at this point the girl invites
Elfonzo to a village show, where jealousy is the
motive of the play, for she wants to teach him a
wholesome lesson if he is a jealous person. But
this is a sham, and pretty shallow. McGlintock
merely wants a pretext to drag in a plagiarism of
his upon a scene or two in * Othello.*

The lovers went to the play. Elfonzo was one
of the fiddlers. He and Ambulinia must not be
seen together, lest trouble follow with the girFs
malignant father ; we are made to understand that
clearly. So the two sit together in the orchestra,
in the midst of the musicians. This does not seem
to be good art. In the first place, the girl would
be in the way, for orchestras are always packed
closely together, and there is no room to spare for
people's girls ; in the next place, one cannot con-
ceal a girl in an orchestra without everybody taking
notice of it. There can be no doubt, it seems to
me, that this is bad art.

Leos is present. Of course one of the first
things that catches his eye is the maddening spec-
tacle of Ambulinia ' leaning upon Elfonzo's chair.'
This poor girl does not seem to understand even
the rudiments of concealment. But she is * in her

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

seventeenth/ as the author phrases it, and that is
her justification.

LeoB meditates, constructs a plan — with per-
sonal violence as a hasis, of course. It was their
way, down there. It is a good plain plan, without
any imagination in it. He will go out and stand
at the front door, and when these two come out he
will 'arrest Ambulinia from the hands of the
insolent Elfonzo,' and thus make for himself a
'more prosperous field of immortality than ever
was decreed by Omnipotence, or ever pencil drew,
or artist imagined.' But, dear me, while he is
waiting there the couple climb out at the back
window and scurry home ! This is romantic
enough, but there is a lack of dignity in the
situation.

At this point McClintock puts in the whole of
his curious play — which we skip.

Some correspondence foUows now. The bitter
father and the distressed lovers write the letters.
Elopements are attempted. They are idiotically
planned, and they fail. Then we have several
pages of romantic powwow and confusion signi-
fying nothing. Another elopement is planned ; it
is to take place on Sunday, when everybody is at
ohurcb. But the ' hero ' cannot keep the secret ;

A CURB FOR THE BLUES

107

he tells everybody. Anothor author would have
found another infitrument when he decided to
defeat this elopement ; but that is not McOlintook's
way. He uses the person that is nearest at
hand.

The evasion failed, of course. Ambulinia, in
her flight, takes refuge in a neighbour's 'jouse.
Her father drags her home. The villagerr^ gather,
attracted by the racket.

' Elfonzo was moved at this sight. The people
followed on to see what was going to become of
Ambulinia, while he, with downcast looks, kept at
a distance, until he saw them enter the abode of
the father, thrusting her, that was the sigh of his
soul, out of his presence into a solitary apartment,
when she exclaimed, " Elfonzo ! Elfonzo ! oh 1
Elfonzo! where art thou, with all thy heroes?
haste, oh ! haste, come thou to my relief. Bide on
the wings of the wind ! Turn thy force loose like
a tempest, and roll on thy army like a whirlwind,
over this mountain of trouble and confusion. Oh,
friends ! if any pity me, let your last efforts throng
upon the green hills, and come to the relief of
Ambulinia, who is guilty of nothing but innocent
love.'* Elfonzo called out with a loud voice, ** My
God, can I stand this I arouse up, I beseech you.

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

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and put an end to this tyranny. Gome, my brave
boys," Baid he, " are you ready to go forth to your
duty ? " They stood around him. " Who,' ' said he,
'' will call us to arms ? Where are my thunderbolts
of war ? Speak ye, the first who will meet the foe I
Who will go forth with me in this ocean of grievous
temptation ? If there is one who desires to go, let
him come and shake hands upon the altar of devo-
tion, and swear that he will be a hero ; yes, a
Hector in a cause like this, which calls aloud for a
speedy remedy." ** Mine be the deed," said a young
lawyer, '* and mine alone ; Venus alone shall quit
her station before I will forsake one jot or tittle of
my promise to you ; what is death to me ? what is
all this warlike army, if it is not to win a victory ?
I love the sleep of the lover and the mighty ; nor
would I give it over till the blood of my enemies
should wreak with that of my own. But God
forbid that our fame should soar on the blood of
the slumberer.'* Mr. Yaleer stands at his door
with the frown of a demon upon his brow, with his
dangerous weapon^ ready to strike the first man
who should enter his door. *< Who will arise and
go forward through blood and carnage to the rescue
of my Ambulinia ? " said Elfonzo. '' All," exclaimed

' It is a orowbar. V .

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

109

the multitude ; and onward they went, with their
implements of battle. OtherSi of a more timid
nature, stood imong the distant hills to see the re-
sult of the contest.*

It will hardly be believed that after all this
thunder and lightning not a drop of rain fell ; but
such is the fact. Elfonzo and his gang stood up
and blackguarded Mr. Yaleer with vigour all night,
getting their outlay back with interest ; then in
the early morning the army and its general retired
from the field, leaving the victory with their soli-
tary adversary and his crowbar. This is the first
time this has happened in romantic literature.
The invention is original. Everything in this
book is original ; there is nothing hackneyed about
it anywhere. Always, in other romances, when
you find the author leading up to a climax, you
know what is going to happen. But in this book
it is different; the thing which seems inevitable
and unavoidable never happens; it is circumvented
by the art of the author every time.

Another elopement was attempted. It failed.

We have now arrived at the end. But it is not
exciting. McClintock thinks it is; but it isn't.
One day Elfonzo sends Ambulinia another note — a
note proposing elopement No. 16. This time the

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

plan IB admirable ; admirable, Bagaoious, ingenious,
imaginative, deep — oh, everything, and perfectly
easy. One wonders why it was never thought of
before. This is the scheme. Ambulinia is to
leave the breakfast table, ostensibly to * attend to
the placing of those flowers, which ought to have
been done a week ago ' — artificial ones, of course ;
the others wouldn't keep so long — and then, in-
stead of fixing the flowers, she is to walk out to
the grove, and go off with Elfonzo. The invention
of this plan overstrained the author, that is plain,
for he straightway shows failing powers. The
details of the plan are not many or elaborate.
The author shall state them himself — this good
soul, whose intentions are always better than his
English :

'"Tou walk carelessly towards the academy
grove, where you will find me with a lightning
steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off where we
shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial
rights." '

Last scene of all, which the author, now much
enfeebled, tries to smarten up and make acceptable
to his spectacular heart by introducing some new
properties — silver bow, golden harp, olive branch,
— things that can all come good in an elopemettt.

A CURE FOR THE BLUES

III

#) doubt, yet are not to be compared to an
umbrella for real handinesB and reliability in an
excuriion of tbat kind.

'And away »he ran to the sacred groye, sur-
rounded with glittering pearls, that indicated her
coming. Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow and
his golden harp. They meet—Ambolinia's counte-
nance brightens— Elfonzo leads up his winged
steed. "Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted, ye
fearless soul — the day is ours." She sprang upon
the back of the young thunderbolt ; a brilliant star
sparkles upon her head, with one hand she grasps
the reins, and with the other she holds an olive
branch. " Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they
exclaimed, " ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair host
of heaven, witness the enemy conquered." " Hold,"
said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed." "Bide on,"
said Ambulinia, " the voice of thunder is behind
us." And onward they went with such rapidity
that they very soon arrived at Bural Betreat,
where they dismounted, and were united with all
the solemnities that usually attend such divine
operations.*

There is but one Homer, there was bat one
Shakspeare, there is but one McClintock — and his
immortal book is before you. Homer could not

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A CURE FOR THE BLUES

have written this book, Shakspeare could not have
written it, I could not have done it myself. There
is nothing just like it in the literature of any
country or of any epoch. It stands alone, it is
monumental. It adds G. Bagsdale McGintock's
to the sum of the republic's imperishable names.

i. !

THE

CURIOUS BOOK

COMPLETE

■'ill

(The foregoing review of the great work of O. Bagsdale
McClintock is liberally illuminated with sample extracts, bat these
cannot appease the appetite. Only the complete book, unabridged,
can do that. Therefore it is here printed.— M. T.]

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114

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

THE ENEMY CONQUERED; OR, LOVE

TRIUMPHANT

Sweet girl, thy smiles are full of oharms,

Thy voice is sweeter still,
It fills the breast with fond alarms,

Echoed by every rill.

I BEGIN this little work with an eulogy upon woman,
who has ever been distinguished for her persever-
ance, her constancy, and her devoted attention to
those upon whom she has been pleased to place
her affections. Many have been the themes upon
which writers and public speakers have dwelt with
intense and increasing interest. Among these
delightful themes stands that of woman, the balm
to all our sighs and disappointments, and the most
pre-eminent of all other topics. Here the poet and
orator have stood and gazed with wonder and with
admiration ; they have dwelt upon her innocence,
the ornament of all her virtues. First viewing
her external charms, such as are set forth in her
form and her benevolent countenance, and then

:V>i

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

passing to the deep hidden springs of loveliness
and disinterested devotion. In every climSy and
in every age, she has been the pride of her nation.
Her watchfulness is untiring; she who guarded
the sepulchre was the first to approach it, and the
last to depart &om its awful yet sublime scene.
Even here, in this highly-favoured land, we look to
her for the security of our institutions, and for our
future greatness as a nation. But, strange as it
may appear, woman's charms and virtues are but
slightly appreciated by thousands. Those who
should raise the standard oi female worth, and
paint her value with her virtues, in living colours,
upon the banners that are fanned by the zephyrs
of heaven, and hand them down to posterity as
emblematical of a rich inheritance, do not properly
estimate them.

Man is not sensible, at all times, of the nature
and the emotions which bear that name ; he does
not understand, he will not comprehend; his
intelligence has not expanded to that degree of
glory which drinks in the vast revolution of
humanity, its end, its mighty destination, and the
causes which operated, and are still operating, to
produce a more elevated station, and the objects
which energise and enliven its consummation.

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THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

This he is a stranger to; he is not aware that
woman is the recipient of celestial love, and that
man is dependent upon her to perfect his charac-
ter; that without her, philosophically and truly
speaking, the brightest of his intelligence is hut the
coldness of a winter moon, whose beams can pro-
duce no fruit, whose solar light is not its own, but
borrowed from the great dispenser of effulgent
beauty. We have no disposition in the world to
flatter the fair sex; we would raise them above
those dastardly principles which only exist in little
souls, contracted hearts, and a distracted brain.
Often does she unfold herself in all her fascinating
loveliness, presenting the most captivating charms ;
yet we find man frequently treats such purity of
purpose with indifference. Why does he do it?
Why does he baffle that which is inevitably the
source of his better days? Is he so much of
a stranger to those excellent qualities, as not to
appreciate woman, as not to have respect to her
dignity ? Since her art and beauty first captivated
man, she has been his delight and his comfort;
she has shared alike in his misfortunes and in his
prosperity.

Whenever the billows of adversity and the
tumultuous waves of trouble beat high, her smiles

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

117

Bubdae their fury. Should the tear of sorrow and
the mournful sigh of grief interrupt the peace
of his mind, her voice removes them all, and
she bends from her circle to encourage him onward.
When darkness would obscure his mind, and a
thick cloud of gloom would bewilder its operations,
her intelligent eye darts a ray of streaming light
into his heart. Mighty and charming is that
disinterested devotion which she is ever ready to
exercise towards man, not waiting till the last
moment of his danger, but seeks to relieve him in
his early afflictions. It gushes forth from the
expansive fulness of a tender and devoted heart,
where the noblest, the purest, and the most ele-
vated and refined feelings are matured, and deve-
loped in those many kind offices which invariably
make her character.

In the room of sorrow and sickness, this un-
equalled characteristic may always be seen, in the
performance of the most charitable acts ; nothing
that she can do to promote the happiness of him
who she claims to be her protector will be omitted ;
all is invigorated by the animating sunbeams which
awaken the heart to songs of gaiety. Leaving this
point, to notice another prominent consideration,
which is generally one of great moment and of vital

V, !"

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Ii8 THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

importance. Invariably she is firm and steady in
all her pursoits and aims. There is required a
combination of forces and extreme opposition to
drive her from her position ; she takes her stand,
not to be moved by the sound of Apollo's lyre, or
the curved bow of pleasure.

Firm and true to what she undertakes, and
that which she requires by her own aggrandise-
ment, and regards as being within the strict rules
of propriety, she will remain stable and unflinching
to the last. A more genuine principle is not to be
found in the most determined, resolute heart of
man. For this she deserves to be held in the
highest commendation, for this she deserves the
purest of all other blessings, and for this she
deserves the most laudable reward of all others.
It is a noble characteristic, and is worthy the
imitation of any age. And when we look at it in
one particular aspect, it is still magnified, and
grows brighter and brighter the more we refiect
upon its eternal duration. What will she not do,
when her word as well as her affections and hve are
pledged to her lover ? Everything that is dear to
her on earth, all the hospitalities of kind and loving
parents, all the sincerity and h^ eliness of sisters,
and the benevolent devotion of brothers, who have

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

119

surrounded her with every comfort; she will forsake
them all, quit the harmony and sweet sound of the
lute and the harp, and throw herself upon the
affections of some devoted admirer, in whom she
fondly hopes to find more than she has left behind,
which is not often realised by many. Truth and
virtue all combined 1 How deserving our admi-
ration and love ! Ah ! cruel would it be in man,
after she has thus manifested such an unshaken
confidence in him, and said by her determination
to abandon all the endearments and blandishments
of home, to act a villainous part, and prove a traitor
in the revolution of his mission, and then turn
Hector over the innocent victim whom he swore to
protect, in the presence of Heaven, recorded by the
pen of an angel.

Striking as this trait may unfold itself in her
character, and as pre-eminent as it may stand
among the fair display of her other qualities, yet
there is another, which struggles into existence,
and adds an additional lustre to what she already
possesses. I mean that disposition in woman
which enables her, in sorrow, in grief, and in
distress, to bear all with enduring patience. This
she has done, and can and will do, amid the din of
war and clash of arms. Scenes and occurrences

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130

THE ENEMY CONQUERED \

which, to every appearance, are calculated to rend
the heart with the profoundest emotions of trouble,
do not fetter that exalted principle imbued in her
very nature. It is true, her tender and feeling
heart may often be moved (as she is thus consti-
tuted), but still she is not conquered, she has not
given up to the harlequin of disappointments, her
energies have not become clouded in the last
moment of misfortune, but she is continually in-
vigorated by the archetype of her affections. She
may bury her face in her hands, and let the tear of
anguish roll, she may promenade the delightful
walks of some garden, decorated with all the
flowers of nature, or she may steal out along some
gently rippling stream, and there, as the silver
waters uninterruptedly move forward, sheds her
silent tears, they mingle with the waves, and take
a last farewell of their agitated home, to seek a
peaceful dwelling among the rolling floods; yet
there is a voice rushing from her breast, that pro-
claims victory along the whole line and battlement
of her affections. That voice is the voice of
patience and resignation; that voice is one that
bears everything calmly and dispassionately ; amid
the most distressing scenes, when the fates are
arrayed against her peace, and apparently plotting

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

131

ting

for her destruction, still she is resigned. Woman's
affections are deep, consequently her troubles may
be made to sink deep. Although you may not be
able to mark the traces of her grief and the
furrowings of her anguish upon her winning
countenance, yet be assured they are nevertheless
preying upon her inward person, sapping the
very foundation of that heart which alone was
made for the weal and not the woe of man. The
deep recesses of the soul are fields for their opera-
tion. But they are not destined simply to take
the regions of the heart for their dominion, they
are not satisfied merely with interrupting her better
feelings ; but after a while you may see the bloom-
ing cheek beginning to droop and fade, her intelli-
gent eye no longer sparkles with the starry light of
heaven, her vibrating pulse long since changed its
regular motion, and her palpitating bosom beats
once more for the mid-day of her glory. Anxiety
and care ultimately throw her into the arms of the
haggard and grim monster. Death. But, oh, how
patient, under every pining influence! Let us
view the matter in bolder colours ; see her when
the dearest object of her affections recklessly seeks
every bacchanalian pleasure, contents himself with
the last rubbish of creation. With what solicitude

^il, I

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s I-

THE ENEMY CONQUERED',

she awaits his return ! Sleep fails to perforin its
office — she weeps while the nocturnal shades of the
night triumph in the stillness. Bending over some
favourite book, whilst the author throws before her
mind the most beautiful imagery, she startles at
every sound. The midnight silence is broken by
the solemn announcement of the return of another
morning. He is still absent : she listens for that
voice which has so often been greeted by the
melodies of her own ; but, alas ! stern silence is all
that she receives for her vigilauco.

Mark her unwearied watchfulness, as the night
passes away. At last, brutalised by the accursed
thing, he staggers along with rage, and, shivering
with cold, he makes his appearance. Not a mur-
mur is heard from h*^r lips. On the contrary, she
meets him with a smile — she caresses him with
her tender arms, with all the gentleness and soft-
ness of her sex. Here, then, is seen her disposition,
beautifully arrayed. Woman, thou art more to be
admired than the spicy gales of Arabia, and more
sought for than the gold of Golconda. We believe
that woman should associate freely with man,
and we believe that it is for the preservation of
her rights. She should become acquainted with
the metaphysical designs of those who condescend

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 113

to sing the siren song of flattery. This, we think,
should be according to the unwritten law of
decorum, which is stamped upon every innocent
heart. The precepts of prudery are often steeped
in the guilt of contamination, which blasts the
expectations of better moments. Truth, and beau-
tiful dreams — loveliness, and delicacy of character,
with cherished affections of the ideal woman-
gentle hopes and aspirations, are enough to uphold
her in the storms of darkness, without the trans-
ferred colourings of a stained sufferer. How often
have we seen it in our public prints, that woman
occupies a false station in the world! and some
have gone so far as to say it was an unnatural
one. So long has she been regarded a weak crea-
ture, by the rabble and illiterate — they have looked
upon her as an insufficient actress on the great
stage of human life — a mere puppet, to fill up the
drama of human existence — a thoughtless inactive
being, — that she has too often come to the same
conclusion herself, and has sometimes forgotten her
high destination, in the meridian of her glory. We
have but little sympathy or patience for those who
treat her as a mere Eosy Melinda — who are always
fishmg for pretty compliments — who are satisfied
by the gossamer of romance, and who can be

124

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

II 'Hi

;iii

alhired by the verbosity of high-flown words, rich

in language, but poor and barren in sentiment.

Beset, as she has been, by the intellectual vulgar,

the selfish, the designing, the cunning, the hidden,

and the artful — no wonder she has sometimes folded

her wings in despair, and forgotten her heavenly

mission in the delirium of imagination ; no wonder

she searches out some wild desert, to find a peaceful

home. But this cannot always continue. A new

era is moving gently onward, old things are rapidly

passing away; old superstitions, old prejudices,

and old notions are now bidding farewell to their

old associates and companions, and giving way to

one whose wings are plumed with the light of heaven,

and tinged by the dews of the morning. There is

a remnant of blessedness that clings to her in spite

of all evil influence — there is enough of the Divine

Master left, to accomplish the noblest work ever

achieved under the canopy of the vaulted skies ;

and that time is fast approaching, when the picture

of the true woman will shine from its frame of

glory, to captivate, to win back, to restore, and to

call into being once more, the object of her mission.

Star of the brave I thy glory shed,

O'er all the earth, thy army led —

Bold meteor of immortal birth 1

Why come from Heaven to dwell on earth ? V

.\.\\

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

Mighty and glorious are the days of youth;
happy the moments of the lonvr^ mingled with
smiles and tears of his devoted, and long to be
remembered are the achievements which he gains
with a palpitating heart and a trembling hand. A
bright and lovely dawn, the harbinger of a fair and
prosperous day, had arisen over the beautiful little
village of Gumming, which is surrounded by the
most romantic scenery in the Cherokee country.
Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the mist of
the fair Chattahoochee, to spread their beauty over
the thick forest, to guide the hero whose bosom
beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that
would tarnish his name, and to win back the admi-
ration of his long-tried friend. He endeavoured to
make his way through Sawney's Mountain, where
many meet to catch the gales that are continually
blowing for the refreshment of the stranger and the
traveller. Surrounded as he was, by hills on every
side, naked rocks dared the efforts of his energies.
Soon the sky became overcast, the sun buried itself
in the clouds, and the fair day gave place to gloomy
twilight, which lay heavily on the Indian Plains.
He remembered an old Indian Castle, that once
stood at the foot of the mountain. He thought if
he could make his way to this, he would rest oon-

;i lit

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ia6 7WS ENEMY CONQUERED;

tented for a short time. The mountain air breathed
fragrance — a rosy tinge rested on the glassy waters
that murmured at its base. His resolution soon
brought him to the remains of the red man's hut :
he surveyed with wonder and astonishment the
decayed building, which time had buried in the
dust, and thought to himself, his happiness was not
yet complete. Beside the shore of the brook sat a
young man, about eighteen or twenty, who seemed
to be reading some favourite book, and who had a
remarkably noble countenance — eyes which betrayed
more than a common mind. This of course made
the youth a welcome guest, and gained him friends
in whatever condition of life he might be placed.
The traveller observed that he was a well-built
figure which showed strength and grace in every
movement. He accordingly addressed him in quite
a gentlemanly manner, and inquired of him the
way to the village. After he had received the
desired information, and was about taking his
leave, the youth said, * Are you not Major Elfonzo,
the great musician — the champion of a noble cause
— the modern Achilles, who gained so many vic-
tories in the Florida War ? * * I bear that name,*
said the Major, * and those titles, trusting at the
same time, that the ministers of grace will carry

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

IVf

me triumphantly through all my laudahle under-
takings, and if,' continued the Major, * you, sir, are
the patroniser of noble deeds, I should like to make
you my confidant, and learn your address.' The
youth looked somewhat amazed, bowed low, mused
for a moment, and began : * My name is Eoswell.
I have been recently admitted to the bar, and can
only give a faint outline of my future success in
that honourable profession ; but I trust, sir, like
the Eagle, I shall look down from lofty rocks upon
the dwellings of man, and shall ever be ready to
give you any assistance in my official capacity, and
whatever this muscular arm of mine can do, when-
ever it shall be called from its buried greatness.*
The Major grasped him by the hand, and exclaimed:
* ! thou exalted spirit of inspiration — thou flame
of burning prosperity, may the Heaven-directed
blaze be the glare of thy soul, and battle down
every rampart that seems to impede your pro-
gress I '

The road which led to the town presented many
attractions. Elfonzo had bid farewell to the youth
of deep feeling, and was now wending his way to
the dreaming spot of his fondness. The south
winds whistled through the woods, as the waters
dashed against the banks, as rapid fire in the pent

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128

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

furnace roars. This brought him to remember
while alone, that he quietly left behind the hos-
pitality of a father's house, and gladly entered the
world, with higher hopes than are often realised.
But as he journeyed onward, he was mindful of the
advice of his father, who had often looked sadly on
the ground, when tears of cruelly deceived hope
moistened his eye. Elfonzo had been somewhat of
a dutiful son ; yet fond of the amusements of life
— had been in distant lands — ^had enjoyed the
pleasure of the world, and had frequently returned
to the scenes of his boyhood, almost destitute of
many of the comforts of life. In this condition he
would frequently say to his father, * Have I offended
you, that you look upon me as a stranger, and
frown upon me with stinging looks ? Will you not
favour me with the sound of your voice? If I
have trampled upon your veneration, or have spread
a humid veil of darkness around your expectations,
send me back into the world where no heart beats
for me — where the foot of man has never yet trod ;
but give me at least one kind word — allow me to
come into the presence sometimes of thy winter-
worn locks.' ' Forbid it. Heaven, that I should be
angry with thee,' answered the father, 'my son,
and yet I send thee back to the children of the

v'ita

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

129

world — to the cold charity of the combat, and to a
land of victory. I read another destiny in thy
conntenance — I learn thy inclinations from the
flame that has already kindled in my sonl a strange
sensation. It will seek thee, my dear Elfonzo, it
will find thee — thou canst not escape that lighted
torch which shall blot out from the remembrance
of men a long train of prophecies which they have
foretold against thee. I once thought not so.
Once I was blind ; but now the path of life is plain
before me, and my sight is clear ; yet, Elfonzo,
return to thy worldly occupation — take again in
thy hand that chord of sweet sounds — struggle
with the civilised world, and with your own heart ;
fly swiftly to the enchanted ground — let the night-
owl send forth its screams from the stubborn oak
— ^let the sea sport upon the beach, and the stars
sing together; but learn of these, Elfonzo, thy
doom, and thy hiding-place. Our most innocent
as well as our most lawful desires must often be
denied us, that we may learn to sacrifice them to a
Higher will.'

Remembering such admonitions with gratitude,
Elfonzo was immediately urged by the recollection
of his father's family to keep moving. His steps
became quicker and quicker — ^he hastened through

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THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

iiii'i i

Uiii:

the piny woods, dark as the forest was, and with
joy he very soon reached the little village of repose,
in whose hosom rested the boldest chivalry. His
close attention to every important object — his
modest questions about whatever was new to him
— his reverence for wise old age, and his ardent
desire to learn many of the fine arts, soon brought
him into respectable notice.

One mild winter day, as he walked along the
streets towards the Academy, which stood upon a
small eminence, surrounded by native growth —
some venerable in its appearance, others young
and prosperous — all seemed inviting, and seemed
to be the very place for learning as well as for
genius to spend its research beneath its spreading
shades. He entered its classic walls in the usual
mode of Southern manners. The principal of the
Institution begged him to be seated, and listen to
the recitations that were going on. He accordingly
obeyed the request, and seemed to be much pleased.
After the school was dismissed, and the young
hearts regained their freedom, with the songs of
the evening, laughing at the anticipated pleasures
of a happy home, while others tittered at the aotions
of the past day, he addressed the teacher in a tone
that indicated a resolution — with an undaunted

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT 131

mind. He said he had determmed to become a
student, if he could meet with his approbation.
'Sir/ said he, 'I have spent much time in the
world. I have travelled among the uncivilised in-
habitants of America. I have met with friends,
and combated with foes ; but none of these gratify
my ambition, or decide what is to be my destiny.
I see the learned world have an influence with the
voice of the people themselves. The despoilers of
the remotest kingdoms of the earth refer their
differences to this class of persons. This the
iUiterate and inexperienced Uttle dream of; and
now if you will receive me as I am, with these
deficiencies — with all my misguided opinions, I will
give you my honour, sir, that I will never disgrace
the Institution, or those who have placed you in
this honourable station.' The instructor, who had
met with many disappointments, knew how to feel
for a stranger who had been thus turned upon the
charities of an unfeeling community. He looked
at him earnestly, and said : ' Be of good cheer —
look forward, sir, to the high destination you may
attain. Eemember, the more elevated the mark at
which you aim, the more sure, the more glorious,
the more magnificent the prize.' From wonder to
wonder, his encouragement led the impatient lis-

K 2

i3a

THE ENEMY CONQUERED i

tener. A strange nature bloomed before him —
giant streams promised him success — gardens of
hidden treasures opened to his view. All this, so
vividly described, seemed to gain a new witchery
from his glowing fancy.

In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid
progress in the English and Latin departments.
Indeed, he continued advancing with such rapidity,
that he was like to become the first in his class,
and made such unexpected progress, and was so
studious, that he had almost forgotten the pictured
saint of his affections. The fresh wreaths of the
pine and cypress had waited anxiously to drop once
more the dews of Heaven upon the heads of those
who had so often poured forth the tender emotions
of their souls under its boughs. He was aware of
the pleasure that he had seen there. So one even-
ing, as he was returning from his reading, he con-
cluded he would pay a visit to this enchanting
spot. Little did he think of witnessing a shadow
of his former happiness, though no doubt he wished
it might be so. He continued sauntering by the
road-side, meditating on the past. The nearer he
approached the spot, the more anxious he became.
At that moment, a tall female figure flitted across
bis path, with a bunch of roses in her hand ; her

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

133

countenance showed oncommon vivacity, with a
resolute spirit ; her ivory teeth ahready appeared as
she smiled beautifully promenading, while her ring-
lets of hair dangled unconsciously around her
snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to complete
her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full
bloom upon her cheek ; the charms of sensibility
and tenderness were always her associates. In
Ambulinia's bosom dwelt a noble soul — one that
never faded — one that never was conquered. Her
heart yielded to no feeling but the love of Elfonzo,
on whom she gazed with intense delight, and to
whom she felt herself more closely bound because
he sought the hand of no other. Elfonzo was
roused from his apparent reverie. His books no
longer were his inseparable companions — his
thoughts arrayed themselves to encourage him to
the field of victory. He endeavoured to speak to
his supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared
not in words. No, his effort was a stream of fire,
that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration,
and carried his senses away captive. Ambulinia
had disappeared, to make him more mindful of his
duty. As she walked speedily away through the
piny woods, she calmly echoed : * ! Elfonzo, thou
wilt now look from thy sunbeams. Thou shalt now

1*'

134

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

■%

walk in a new path — perhaps thy way leads through
darkness; hut fear not, the stars foretell happi-
ness.'

Not many days afterwards, as surrounded hy
fragrant flowers, she sat one evening at twilight, to
enjoy the cool hreeze that whispered notes of
melody along the distant groves, the little birds
perched on every side, as if to watch the move-
ments of their new visitor. The bells were tolling,
when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild wood
flowers, holding in his hand his favourite instru-
ment of music — his eye continually searching for
Ambulinia, who hardly seemed to perceive him, as
she played carelessly with the songsters that
hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be
more striking than the difference between the two.
Naturr teemed to have given the more tender soul
to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous
to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes
of Elfonzo — such a feeling as can only be expressed
by those who are blessed as admirers, and by those
who are able to return the same with sincerity of
heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia,
she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He
had almost grown up in the Ciierokee country,
with the same equal proportions as one of the

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

>35

natives. But little intimacy had existed between
them until the year forty-one — because the youth
felt that the character of such a lovely girl was too
exalted to inspire any other feeling than that of
quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be
insulted, at all times and under all circumstances,
by the frowns and cold looks of crabbed old age,
which should continually reflect dignity upon those
around, and treat the unfortunate as well as the
fortunate with a graceful mien, he continued to use
diligence and perseverance. All this lighted a
spark in his heart that changed his whole character,
and like the unyielding Deity that follows the
storm to check its rage in the forest, he resolves for
the first time to shake off his embarrassment, and
return where he had before only worshipped.

It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye,
that he sought an interview with her, which she as
anxiously avoided, and assumed a more distant
calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope.
After many efforts and struggles with his own
person, with timid steps the Major approached the
damsel, with the same caution as he would have
done in a field of battle. ' Lady Ambulinia,' said
he, trembling, * I have long desired a moment like
this. I dare not let it escape. I fear the con-

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136

7W^ ENEMY CONQUERED;

Bequences ; yet I hope your indulgence will at least
hear my petition. Can you not anticipate what I
would say, and what I am about to express ? Will
you not| like Minerva, who sprung from the brain
of Jupiter, release me from thy winding chains, or

cure me * * Say no more, Elfonzo,' answered

Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand as
if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the
whole world, * another lady in my place would have
perhaps answered your question in bitter coldness.
I know not the little arts of my sex. I care but
little for the vanity of those who would chide me,
and am unwilling, as well as ashamed to be guilty
of anything that would lead you to think ** all is
not gold that glitters : " so be not rash in your
resolution. It is better to repent now, than to do
it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you
would say. I know you have a costly gift for me —
the noblest that man can make — yom heart ! you
should not offer it to one so unworthy. Heaven,
you know, has allowed my father's house to be
made a house of solitude, a home of silent obedi-
ence, which, my parents say, is more to be admired
than big names and high-sounding titles. Not-
withstanding all this, let me speak the emotions
of an honest heart — allow me to say in the fuhiesfl

OA!, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

137

of my hopes that I anticipate better days. The
bird may stretch its wings towards the son, which
it can never reach ; and flowers of the field appear
to ascend in the same direction, because they
cannot do otherwise : but man confides his com-
plaints to the saints in whom he believes: for
in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow.
From your confession and indicative looks, I must
be that person : if so, deceive not yourself.'

Elfonzo replied, ' Pardon me, my dear madam,
for my frankness. I have loved you from my
earliest days — everything grand and beautiful
hath borne the image of Ambulinia : while preci-
pices on every hand surrounded me, your guardian
angel stood and beckoned me away from the deep
abyss. In every trial — in every misfortune, I
have met with your helping hand ; yet I never
dreamed or dared to cherish thy love, till a voice
impaired with age encouraged the cause, and
declared they who acquired thy favour should win
a victory. I saw how Laos worshipped thee. I
felt my own unworthiness. I began to knxm
jealousy f a strong guest indeed, in my bosom ; yet I
could see, if I gained your admiration, Leos was
to be my rival. I was aware that he had the
influence of your parents, and the wealth of a

IIJ -K

138

THE ENEMY CONQUERED}

;r^Ff

'l/l

deceased relative, which is too often mistaken for
permanent and regular tranquillity; yet I have
determined hy your permission to beg an interest
in your prayers — to ask you to animate my droop-
ing spirits by your smiles and your winning looks ;
for, if you but speak, I shall be conqueror, my
enemies shall stagger like Olympus shakes. And
though earth and sea may tremble, and the
charioteer of the sun may forget his dashing steed;
yet I am assured that it is only to arm me with
divine weapons, which will enable me to complete
my long-tried intention.* * Return to yourself,
Elfonzo,' said Ambulinia, pleasantly, ' a dream of
vision has disturbed your intellect — you are above
the atmosphere, dwelling in the celestial regions ;
nothing is there that urges or hinders, nothing
that brings discord into our present litigation. I
entreat you to condescend a little, and be a man
and forget it all. When Homer describes the battle
of the gods and noble men, fighting with giants
and dragons, they represent under this image our
struggles with the delusions of our passions. You
have exalted me, an unhappy girl, to the skies —
you have called me a saint, and portrayed in your
imagination an angel in human form. Let her
remain such to you — let her continue to be as yon

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

139

have sapposed, and be assured that she will con-
sider a share in your esteem as her highest trea-
sure. Think not that I would allure you from the
path in which your conscience leads you ; for you
know I respect the conscience of others, as I would
die for my own. Elfonzo, if I am worthy of thy
love, let such conversation never again pass be-
tween us. Go, seek a nobler theme ; we will seek
it in the stream of time, as the sun set in the
Tigris.* As she spake these words, she grasped
the hand of Elfonzo, saying at the same time,
' Peace and prosperity attend you, my hero ; be up
and doing.' Closing her remarks with this expres-
sion, she walked slowly away, leaving Elfonzo
astonished and amazed. He ventured not to follow
or detain her. Here he stood alone, gazing at the
stars ; — confounded as he was, here he stood. The
rippling stream rolled on at his feet. Twilight had
already begun to draw her sable mantle over the
earth, and now and then the fiery smoke would
ascend from the little town which lay spread out
before him. The citizens seemed to be full of life
and good humour; but poor Elfonzo saw not a
brilliant scene. No, his future life stood before
him, stripped of the hopes that once adorned all
his sanguine desires ' Alas ! ' said he, ' am I now

ii'

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t'Hi

Hi,

140

TifE ENEMY CONQ,UEREDi

Griefs disappointed son at last ! * Ambalinia*a
image rose before his fancy. A mixture of ambi-
tion and greatness of soul moved upon his young
heart, and encouraged him to bear all his crosses
with the patience of a Job, notwithstanding he had
to encounter with so many obstacles. He still
endeavoured to prosecute his studies, and reason-
ably progressed in his education. Still he was not
content; there was something yet to be done
before his happiness was complete. He would
visit his friends and acquaintances. They would
invite him to social parties, insisting that he should
partake of the amusements that were going on.
This he enjoyed tolerably well. The ladies and
gentlemen were generally well pleased with the
Major, as he delighted all with his violin, which
seemed to have a thousand chords — more sympho-
nious than the Muses of Apollo, and more enchant-
ing than the ghost of the Hills. He passed some
days in the country. During that time Leos had
made many calls upon Ambulinia, who was gene-
rally received with a great deal of courtesy by the
family. They thought him to be a young man
worthy of attention, though he had but little in his
Boul to attract the attention, or even win the affec-
tions of her whose graceful manners had almost

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

141

made him a slave to every bewitching look that
fell from her eyes. Leos made several attempts to
tell her of his fair prospects— how much he loved
her, and how nuch it would add to his bliss if he
could but think she would be willing to share these
blessings with him; but, choked by his under-
taking, he made himself more like an inactive
drone than he did like one who bowed at beauty's
shrine.

Elfonzo again wends his way to the stately
walls and new-built village. He now determines
to see the end of the prophecy which had been
foretold to him. The clouds burst from his sight ;
he believes if he can but see his Ambulinia, he can
open to her view the bloody altars that have been
misrepresented to stigmatise his name. He knows
that her breast is transfixed with the sword of
reason, and ready at all times to detect the hidden
villainy of her enemies. He resolves to see her in
her own home, with the consoling theme : ' I can
but perish if I go. Let the consequences be what
they may,' said he, * if I die, it shall be contending
and struggling for my own rights.'

Night had almost overtaken him when he
arrived in town. Colonel Elder, a noble-hearted,
high-minded, and independent man, met him at

I 111

m
'■' ♦

,■ : Hi

142

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

111!;

his door as usual, and seized him by the hand.
'Well, Elfonzo/ said the Colonel, 'how does the
world use you in your eflforts ? ' * I have no objec-
tion to the world,' said Elfonzo, 'but the people
are rather singular in some of their opinions.'
' Aye, well,' said the Colonel, ' you must remember
that creation is made up of many mysteries : just
take things by the right handle— be always sure yon
know which is the smooth side before you attempt
your polish — be reconciled to your fate, be it what
it may, and never find fault with your condition,
unless your complaining will benefit it. Persever-
ance is a principle that should be commendable in
those who have judgment to govern it. I should
never have been so successful in my hunting ex-
cursions, had I waited till the deer by some magic
dream had been drawn to the muzzle of the gun,
before I made an attempt to fire at the game that
dared my boldness in the wild forest. The great
mystery in hunting seems to be — a good marks-
man, a resolute mind, a fixed determination, and
my word for it, you will never return home with-
out sounding your horn with the breath of a new
victory. And so jith every other undertaking.
Be confident that your ammunition is of the right
kind — always puU your trigger with a steady hand,

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

'43

hand.
)8 the
objec-
people
lions.*
lember
i: just
ire you
ttempt
t what
idition,
rsever-
able in
should
ing ex-
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le that
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with-
a new
.king,
right
hand,

and so soon as you perceive a calm, touch her off,
and the spoils are yours.'

This filled him with redoubled vigour, and he
set out with a stronger anxiety than ever to the
home of Ambulinia. A few short steps soon
brought him to the door, half out of breath. He
rapped gently. Ambulinia, who sat in the parlour
alone, suspecting Elfonzo was near, ventured to
the door, opened it, and beheld the hero, who stood
in an humble attitude, bowed gracefully, and as
they caught each other's looks, the light of peace
beamed from the eyes of Ambulinia. Elfonzo
caught the expression ; a halloo of smothered
shouts ran through every vein, and for the first
time he dared to impress a kiss upon her cheek.
The scene was overwhelming ; had the temptation
been less animating, he would not have ventured
to have acted so contrary to the desired wish of his
Ambulinia; but who could have withstood the
irresistible temptation? What society condemns
the practice, but a cold, heartless, uncivilised
people, that know nothing of the warm attach-
ments of refined society? Here the dead was
raised to his long-cherished hopes, and the lost was
found. Here all dpnbt and danger were buried in
the vortex of oblivion; sectional differences no

'■li

ii.

144

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

■•; .1

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'I '

longer disonited their opinions ; like the freed bird
from the cage, sportive claps its rustling wings,
wheels about to Heaven in a joyful strain, and
raises its notes to the upper sky. Ambulinia in-
sisted upon Elfonzo to be seated, and give her a
history of his unnecessary absence ; assuring him
the family had retired, consequently they would
ever remain ignorant of his visit. Advancing
towards him, she gave a bright display of her rosy
neck, and from her head the ambrosial locks
breathed divine fragrance ; her robe hung waving
to his view, while she stood like a goddess confessed
before him.

< It does seem to me, my dear sir,* said Ambu-
linia, ' that you have been gone an age. Oh, the
restless hours I have spent since I last saw you, in
yon beautiful grove ! There is where I trifled with
your feelings for the express purpose of trying your
attachment for me. I now find you are devoted ;
but ah! I trust you live not unguarded by the
powers of Heaven. Though oft did I refuse to join
my hand with thine, and as oft did I cruelly mock
thy entreaties with borrowed shapes : yes, I feared
to answer thee by terms, in words sincere and
undissembled. 1 could I pursue, and you had
leisure to hear the annals of my woes, the evening

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

145

dbird

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ancing
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star would shut Heaven's gates upon the impend-
ing day, before my tale would be finished, and this
night would find me soliciting your forgiveness.
* Dismiss thy fears and thy doubts,' replied Elfonzo.
' Look ! look : that angelic look of thine — bathe
not thy visage in tears ; banish those floods that
are gathering ; let my confession and my presence
bring thee some relief.' * Then, indeed, I will be
cheerful,' said Ambulinia ; * and I think, if we will
go to the exhibition this evening, we certainly will
see something worthy of our attention. One of
the most tragical scenes is to be acted that has
ever been witnessed, and one that every jealous-
hearted person should learn a lesson from. It
cannot fail to have a good effect, as it will be per-
formed by those who are young and vigorous, and
learned as well as enticing. Tou are aware. Major
Elfonzo, who are to appear on the stage, and what
the characters are to represent.' ' I am acquainted
with the circumstances,' replied Elfonzo, ' and as
I am to be one of the musicians upon that inte-
resting occasion, I should be much gratified if you
would favour me with your company during the
hours of the exercises.'

'What strange notions are in your mind?'
inquired Ambulinia. ' Now I know you have some-

■iStf '

I'M I •

< i

146

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

thing in view, and I desire you to tell me why it
is that you are so anxious that I should continue
with you while the exercises are going on ; though,
if you think I can add to your happiness and predi-
lections, I have no particular objection to acquiesce
in your request. Oh, I think I foresee, now, what
you anticipate/ * And will you have the goodness
to tell me what you think it to be ? ' inquired
Elfonzo. 'By all means,' answered Ambulinia;
* a rival, sir, you would fancy in your own mind ;
but let me say to you, fear not ! fear not ! I will
be one of the last persons to disgrace my sex, by
thus encouraging every one who may feel disposed
to visit me, who may honour me with their grace-
ful bows and their choicest comi.liments. It is
true that young men too often mistake civil polite-
ness for the finer emotions of the heart, which is
tantamount to courtship ; but, ah ! how often are
they deceived when they come to test the weight
of sunbeams, with those on whose strength hangs
the future happiness of an untried life.'

The people were now rushing to the Academy
with impatient anxiety; the band of music was
closely followed by the students ; then the parents
and guardians; nothing interrupted the glow of
spirits which ran through every bosom, tinged

i ;:

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHAhiT

147

with the songs of a Virgil and the tide of a Homer.
Elfonzo and Ambulinia soon repaired to the scene,
and, fortunately for them both, the house was so
crowded that they took their seats together in the
music department, which was not in view of the
auditory. This fortuitous circumstance added more
to the bliss of the Major than a thousand such
exhibitions would have done. He forgot that he
was man; music had lost its charms for him;
whenever he attempted to carry his part, the string
of the instrument would break, the bow became
stubborn, and refused to obey the loud calls of the
audience. Here, he said, was the paradise of his
home, the long-sought-for opportunity ; he felt as
though he could send a million supplications to the
throne of heaven for such an exalted privilege.
Poor Leos, who was somewhere in the crowd, look-
ing as attentively as if he was searching for a needle
in a haystack ; here he stood, wondering to him-
self why Ambulinia was not there. 'Where can
she be ? Oh ! if she was only here, how I could
relish the scene ! Elfonzo is certainly not in
town ; but what if he is ? I have got the wealth,
if I have not the dignity, and I am sure that the
squire and his lady have always been particular
friends of mine, and I think with this assurance I

t 2

I4t

III; '

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

shall be able to get upon the blind side of the rest
of the family, and make the heaven-born Ambu-
linia the mistress of all I possess.' Then, again, he
would drop his head, as if attempting to solve the
most difficult problem in Euclid. While he was
thus conjecturing in his own mind, a very inte-
resting part of the exhibition was going on, which
called the attention of all present. The curtains of
the stage waved continually by the repelled forces
that were given to them, which caused Leos to be-
hold Ambulinia leaning upon the chair of Elfonzo.
Her lofty beauty, seen by the glimmering of the
chandelier, filled his heart with rapture, he knew
not how to contain himself ; to go where they were
would expose him to ridicule ; to continue where he
was, with such an object before him, without being
allowed an explanation in that trying hour, would
be to the great injury of his mental as well as of
his physical powers; and, in the name of high
heaven, what must he do ? Finally, he resolved
to contain himself as well as he conveniently could,
until the scene was over, and then he would plant
himself at the door, to arrest Ambulinia from
the hands of the insolent Elfonzo, and thus make
for himself a more prosperous field of immor-

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

•49

) rest

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.in,he

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liality than ever was decreed by Omnipotence, or
ever pencil drew or artist imagined. Accordingly
he made himself sentinel, immediately after the
performance of the evening — retained his position
apparently in defiance of all the world, he waited,
he gazed at every lady, his whole frame trembled ;
here he stood until everything like human shape
had disappeared from the Institution, and he
had done nothing; he had failed to accomplish
that which he so eagerly sought for. Poor, unfor-
tunate creature ! he had not the eyes of an Argus,
or he might have seen his Juno and Elfonzo,
assisted by his friend Sigma, make their escape
from the window, and, with the rapidity of a race-
horse, hurry through the blast of the storm, to the
residence of her father, without being recognised.
He did not tarry long, but assured Ambulinia the
endless chain of their existence was more closely
connected than ever, since he had seen the virtuous,
innocent, imploring, and the constant Amelia
murdered by the jealous-hearted Farcillo, the
accursed of the land.

The following is the tragical scene, which is only
introduced to show the subject matter that enabled
Elfonzo to come to such a determinate resolution,

ii !'-
■iilill I

Mill ! n

150

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

that nothing of the kind should ever disposseBS him
of his true character, should he be so fortunate as
to succeed in his present undertaking.

Amelia was the wife of Farcillo, and a virtuous
woman ; Gracia, a young lady, was her particular
friend and confidant. Farcillo grew jealous of
Amelia, murders her, finds out that he was de-
ceived, and stabs himself. Amelia appears alone,
talking to herself.

A, Hail, ye solitary ruins of antiquity, ye sacred
tombs and silent walks ! it is your aid I invoke ; it
is to you, my soul, wrapt in deep meditation, pours
forth its prayer. Here I wander upon the stage of
mortality, since the world hath turned against me.
Those whom I believed to be my friends, alas 1 are
now my enemies, planting thorns in all my paths,
poisoning all my pleasures, and turning the past to
pain. What a lingering catalogue of sighs and
tears lies just before me, crowding my aching bosom
with the fleeting dream of humanity, which must
shortly terminate ! And to what purpose will all
this bustle of life, these agitations and emotions of
the heart, have conduced, if it leave behind it no-
thing of utility, if it leave no traces of improvement ?
Can it be that I am deceived in my conclusion ?
No, I see that I have nothing to hope for, but

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

ISI

everything to fear, which tends to drive me from
the walks of time.

Oh I in this dead night, if loud winds arise,
To lash the surge and bluster in the skies,
May the west its furious rage display,
Toss mo with storms in the watery way.

{Enter Gracia.)

G, Oh, Amelia, is it you, the ohject of grief, the
daughter of opulence, of wisdom and philosophy,
that thus complaineth ? It cannot be you are the
child of misfortune, speaking of the monuments of
former ages, which were allotted not for the reflec-
tion of the distressed, but for the fearless and bold.

A. Not the child of poverty, Gracia, or the heir
of glory and peace, but of fate. Remember, I have
wealth more than wit can number; I have had
power more than kings could encompass ; yet the
world seems a desert ; all nature appears an afflic-
tive spectacle of warring passions. This blind
fatality, that capriciously sports with the rules and
lives of mortals, tells me that the mountains will
never again send forth the water of their springs
to my thirst. Oh, that I might be freed and set at
liberty from wretchedness ! But I fear, I fear this
will never be.

G, Why, Amelia, this untimely grief? What

ii'

fi'l t^

(1r

lii

152 THE ENEMY CONQUERED i

has caused the sorrows that bespeak better and
happier days, to thus layish out such heaps of
misery? You are aware that your instructive
lessons embellish the mind with holy truths, by
wedding its attention to none but great and noble
affections.

A, This, of course, is some consolation. I will
ever love my own species with feelings of a fond
recollection, and while I am studying to advance
the universal philanthropy, and the spotless name
of my own sex, I will try to build my own upon
the pleasing belief that I have a.ccelerated the
advancement of one who whispers of departed con-
fidence.

And I, like some poor peasant fated to reside

Bemote from friends, in a forest wide.
Oh, see what woman's woes and human wants require,
Since that great day hath spread the seed of sinful fire.

Q, Look up, thou poor disconsolate ; you speak
of quitting earthly enjoyments. Unfold thy bosom
to a friend, who would be willing to sacrifice every
enjoyment for the restoration of that dignity and
gentleness of mind which used to grace your
walks, and which is so natural to yourself; not
only that, but your paths were strewed with flowers
of every hue and of every order.

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

^11

•t<

With verdant green the mountains glow,
For thee, for thee, the lilies grow ;
Far stretched beneath the tented hills,
A fairer flower the valley fills.

A, Oh, would to heaven I could give yon a
short narrative of my former prospects for happi-
ness, since you have acknowledged to be an un-
changeable confidant — the richest of all other
blessings! Oh, ye names for ever glorious, ye
celebrated scenes, ye renowned spot of my hy-
meneal moments ; how replete is your chart with
sublime reflections ! How many profound vows,
decorated with immaculate deeds, are written upon
the surface of that precious spot of earth, where I
yielded up my life of celibacy, bade youth with all
its beauties a final adieu, took a last farewell of the
laurels that had accompanied me up the hiU of my
juvenile career ! It was then I began to descend
towards the valley of disappointment and sorrow ;
it was then I cast my little bark upon a mysterious
ocean of wedlock, with him who then smiled and
caressed me, but, alas! now frowns with bitter-
ness, and has grown jealous and cold towards me,
because the ring he gave me is misplaced or lost.
Oh, bear me, ye flowers of memory, softly through
the eventful history of past times ; and ye places
that have witnessed the progression of man in the

liP

M *

nil

154

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

circle of so many societies, aid, oh aid my recollec-
tion, while I endeavour to trace the vicisHitudes of
a life devoted in endeavouring to comfort him that
I claim as the ohject of my wishes !

Ah I ye mysteriou<) men, of all the world, how few
Act just to Heaven and to your promise true !
But He who guides the stars with a watchful eyOi
The deeds of men lay open without disguise ;
Oh, this alone will avenge the wrongs I bear,
For all the oppressed are his peculiar care.

(F. makes a slight noise.)

A, Who is there — Farcillo?
G, Then I must be gone. Heaven protect you.
Oh, Amelia, farewell, be of good cheer.

May you stand, like Olympus' towers,
Against earth and all jealous powers I
May you, with loud shouts ascend on high,
Swift as an eagle in the upper sky.

A. Why so cold and distant to-night, Farcillo ?
Gome, let us each other greet, and forget all the
past, and give security for the future.

F. Security ! talk to me about giving security
for the future — what an insulting requisition!
Have you said your prayers to-night, Madam
Amelia?

A, Farcillo, we sometimes forget our duty,
particularly when we expect to be caressed by others.

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

15$

F, If you bethink yourself of any crime, or of

any fault, that is yet concealed from the courts of

Heaven and the thrones of grace, I bid you ask
and solicit forgiveness for it now.

A. Oh, be kind, Earcillo, don't treat me so !
What do you mean by all this ?

F, Be kind, you say ; you, madam, have forgot
that kindness you owe to me, and bestowed it upon
another ; you shall suffer for your conduct when you
make your peace with your God. I would not slay
thy unprotected spirit. I call to Heaven to be my
guard and my watch — I would not kill thy soul,
in which all once seemed just, right, and perfect ;
but I must be brief, woman.

A. What, talk you of killing ? Oh, Farcillo,
Farcillo, what is the matter ?

F. Aye, I do, without doubt ; mark what I say,
x\melia.

A, Then, God, Heaven, and Angels, be
propitious, and have mercy upon me !

F. Amen to that, madam, with all my heart
and with all my soul.

A, Farcillo, listen to me one moment ; I hope
you will not kill me.

F, Kill you, aye, that I will ; attest it, ye fair
host of light ; record it, ye dark imps of hell I

156

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

' M

m\ i

A, Oh, I fear you — you are fatal when darkness
covers your brow ; yet I know not why I should
fear, since I never wronged you in all my life. I
stand, sir, guiltless before you.

F, You pretend to say you are guiltless!
Think of thy sins, Amelia ; think, oh think, hidden
woman !

A, Wherein have I not been true to you?
That death is unkind, cruel, and unnatural, that
kills for loving.

F. Peace, and be still while I unfold to thee.

A, I will, Farcillo, and while I am thus silent,
tell me the cause of such cruel coldness in an hour
like this.

F, That ring, oh that ring I so loved, and
gave thee as the ring of my heart ; the allegiance
you took to be faithful, when it was presented ; the
kisses and smiles with which you honoured it. Tou
became tired of the donor, despised it as a plague,
and finally gave it to Malos, the hidden, the vile
traitor !

A. No, upon my word and honour, I never did ;
I appeal to the Most High to bear me out in this
matter. Send for Malos, and ask him.

F. Send for Malos, aye ! Malos you wish to see ;
I thought so. I knew you could not keep his

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

I??

name concealed. Amelia, sweet Amelia, take heed,
take heed of perjury ; you are on the stage of death,
to suffer for your sins,

A, What, not to die I hope, my Farcillo, my
ever beloved ?

F. Yes, madam, to die a traitor's death.
Shortly your spirit shall take its exit; therefore
confess freely thy sins, for to deny tends only to
make me groan under the bitter cup thou hast
made for me. Thou art to die with the name of
traitor on thy brow !

A, Then, Lord, have mercy upon me ; give
me courage, give me grace and fortitude to stand
this hour of trial !

F. Amen, I say, with all my heart.

A, And, oh, Farcillo, will you have mercy, too ?
I never intentionally offended you in all my life ;
never hyoed Males, never gave him cause to think
so, as the high court of Justice will acquit me before
its tribunal.

F. Oh, false, perjured woman, thou dost chill
my blood, and makest me a demon like thyself. I
saw the ring.

A, He found it, then, or got it clandestinely ;
send for him, and let him confess the truth ; let his
confession be sifted.

158

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

F, And you still wish to see him ! I tell you,
madam, he hath already confessed^ and thou know-
est the darkness of thy heart.

A, What, my deceived Farcillo, that I gave him
the ring, in which all my affections were concen-
trated? Oh, surely not.

F. Aye, he did. Ask thy conscience, and it
will speak with a voice of thunder to thy soul.

A, He will not say so, he dare not, he cannot.

F. No, he will not say so now, because his
mouth, I trust, is hushed in death, and his body
stretched to the four winds of heaven, to be torn to
pieces by carnivorous birds.

A. What, is he dead, and gone to the world of
spirits with that declaration in his mouth? Oh,
unhapy man ! Oh, insupportable hour !

F. Tes, and had all his sighs and looks and
tears been lives, my great revenge could have slain
them all, without the least condemnation.

A, Alas ! he is ushered into eternity without
testing the matter for which I am abused and sen-
tenced and condemned to die.

F, Cursed, infernal woman I Weepest thou for
him to my face ? He that hath robbed me of my
peace, my energy, the whole love of my life?
Could I call the fabled Hydra, I would have him

(' !

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

159

you,

BOW-

3 him
ncen-

hiid it

Qnot.
B6 his
J body
born to

orld of
Oh,

:s and
[e slain

^thout
id sen-

lou for
of my
Ufe?

re him

live and perish, survive and die, until the sun itself
would grow dim with age. I would make him
have the thirst of a Tantalus, and roll the wheel of
an Ixion, until the stars of heaven should quit their
brilliant stations.

A, Oh, invincible God, save me ! Oh, unsup-
portable moment ! Oh, heavy hour ! Banish me,
Farcillo — send me where no eye can ever see me,
where no sound shall ever greet my ear ; but, oh,
slay me not, Farcillo ; vent thy rage and thy spite
upon this emaciated frame of mine, only spare my
Ufe!

F. Your petitions avail nothing, cruel Amelia.

A. Oh, Farcillo, perpetrate the dark deed to-
morrow ; let me live till then, for my past kindness
to you, and it may be some kind angel will show to
you that I am not only the object of innocence, but
one who never loved another but your noble self.

F. Amelia, the decree has gone forth, it is to be
done, and that quickly ; thou art to die, madam.

A, But half an hour allow me, to see my father
and my only child, to tell her the treachery and
vanity of this world.

F. There is no alternative, there is no pause ;
my daughter shall not see its deceptive mother die ;
your father shall not know that his daughter fell

< I
I

i6o

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

(:i.

Ill'

m.y-:\

\w. -

disgraced, despised by all but her enchanting
Malos.

A, Oh, Farcillo, put up thy threatening dagger
into its scabbard ; let it rest and be still, just while
I say one prayer for thee and for my child.

F. It is too late, thy doom is fixed, thou hast
not confessed to Heaven or to me, my child's pro-
tector — thou art to die. Te powers of earth and
heaven, protect and defend me in this alone.
{Stahs heTf while imploring for mercy,)

A, Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo, a guiltless death I die.

F. Die! die! die!

(Qrada enters running, falls to her knees
weeping, and kisses Amelia,)

O, Oh, Farcillo, Farcillo ! oh, Farcillo !

F, I am here, the genius of the age, and the
avenger of my wrongs.

O, Oh, lady, speak once more ; sweet Amelia,
oh, speak again ! Gone, gone — yes, for ever gone I
Farcillo, oh, cold-hearted Farcillo, some evil fiend
hath urged you to do this, Farcillo.

F, Say you not so again, or you shall receive
the same fate. I did the glorious deed, madam —
beware, then, how you talk.

O. I fear not your implements of war ; I will

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

161

ger
tiUe

last
pro-
and
lone.

[die.

d the

lelia,

[gone !

fiend

teceivo
lam —

I will

let yoa know you have not the power to do me
harm. If you have a heart of triple brass, it shall
be reached and melted, and thy blood shall chill
thy veins and grow stiff in thy arteries. Here is
the ring of the virtuous and innocent murdered
Amelia ; I obtained it from Malos, who yet lives, in
hopes that he will survive the wound given him,
and says he got it clandestinely — declares Amelia
to be the princess of truth and virtue, invulnerable
to anything like forgetting her first devotion to
thee. The world has heard of your conduct and
your jealousy, and with one universal voice declares
her to be the best of all in piety ; that she is the
star of this great universe, and a more virtuous
woman never lived since the wheels of time began.
Oh, had you waited till to-morrow, or until I had
returned, some kind window would have been
opened to her relief. But, alas ! she is gone — yes,
for ever gone, i;o try the realities of an unknown
world !

(Farcillo leaning over the body of Amelia,)

F, MaloB not dead, and here is my ring ! Oh,
Amelia! falsely, falsely murdered! Oh, bloody
deed ! Oh, wretch that I am ! Oh, angels, forgive
me ! Oh, God, withhold Thy vengeance ! Oh,

< T
i .

! ?

k :

162 THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

Amelia^ if Heaven would make a thousand worlds
like this, set with diamonds, and all of one perfect
chrysolite, I would not havA done this for them all,
I would not have frowned and cursed as I did.
Oh, she was heavenly true, nursed in the very lap
of bright angels ! Cursed slave that I am !
Jealousy, oh ! thou infernal demon ! Lost, lost to
every sense of honour ! Oh ! Amelia — heaven-born
Amelia — dead, dead ! Oh ! oh ! oh ! — then let me
die with thee. Farewell ! farewell ! ye world that
deceived me ! (Stabs himself,)

Soon after the excitement of this tragical scene
was over, and the enlisted feeling for Amelia had
grown more buoyant with Elfonzo and Ambulinia,
be determined to visit his retired home, and make
the necessary improvements to enjoy a better day ;
consequently he conveyed the following lines to
Ambulinia :

Go tell the world that hope is glowing,
Go bid the rocks their silence break,

Go tell the stars that love is glowing,
Then bid the hero his lover take.

In (;he region where scarcely the foot of man
hath ever trod, where the woodman hath not found
bis way, lies a blooming grove, seen only by the

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

163

)rlcia
rfect

1 all,
did.
ylap
am!
DSt to
-born
et me
L that

i scene
ia had
ulinia,
make
day;
es to

){ man

It found

by the

sun when he mounts his lofty throne, visited only
by the Ught of the stars, to whom are entrusted
the guardianship of earth, before the sun sinks to
rest in his rosy bed. High clififs of rock surround
the romantic place, and in the small cavity of the
rocky wall grows the daffodil clear and pure ; and
as the wind blows along the enchanting Uttle
mountain which surrounds the lonely spot, it
nourishes the flowers with the dew-drops of heaven.
Here is the seat of Elfonzo ; Darkness claims but
little victory over this dominion, and in vain does
she spread out her gloomy wings. Here the waters
flow perpetually, and the trees lash their tops to-
gether to bid the welcome visitor a happy muse.
Elfonzo, during his short stay in the country, had
fully persuaded himself that it was his duty to
bring this solemn matter to an issue. A duty that
he individually owed, as a gentleman, to the
parents of Ambulinia, a duty in itself involving not
only his own happiness and his own standing in
society, but one that called aloud the act of the
parties to make it perfect and complete. How he
should communicate his intentions to get a favour-
able reply, he was at a loss to know ; he knew not
whether to address Squire Valeer in prose or in
poetry, in a jocular or an argumentative manner, or

164

THE ENEMY CONQUERED \

whether he should use moral suasion, legal injunc-
tion, or seize and take by reprisal ; if it was to do
the latter, he would have no difficulty in deciding
in his own mind, but his gentlemanly honour was
at stake ; so he concluded to address the following
letter to the father and mother of Ambulinia,
as his address in person he knew would only
aggravate the old gentleman, and perhaps his lady.

il I

\ I IK!

' Camming, Qa., January 39, 1844.

• Mr. and Mrs. Valbbr, —

' Again I resume the pleasing task of addressing
you, and once more beg an immediate answer to
my many salutations. From every circumstance
that has taken place, I feel in duty bound to
comply with my obligations; to forfeit my word
would be more than I dare do : to break my pledge,
and my vows that have been witnessed, sealed, and
delivered in the presence of an unseen Deity,
would be disgraceful on my part, as well as ruinous
to Ambulinia. I wish no longer to be kept in
suspense about this matter. I wish to act gentle-
manly in every particular. It is true the promises
I have made are unknown to any but Ambulinia,
and I think it unnecessary to here enumerate
them, as they who promise the most generally

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

165

perform the least. Can you for a moment doubt
my sincerity or my character ? My only wish is,
Bir, that you may calmly and dispassionately look
at the situation of the case, and if your better
judgment should dictate otherwise, my obligations
may induce me to pluck the flower that you so
diametrically opposed. We have sworn by the
saints — by the gods of battle, and by that faith
whereby just men are made perfect, to be united.
I hope, my dear sir, you will find it convenient as
well as agreeable to give me a favourable answer, with
the signature of Mrs. Yaleer as well as yourself.
* With ver> g:eat esteem,

' Your humble servant,

* J. I. Elponzo.'

The moon and stars had grown pale when
Ambulinia had retired to rest. A crowd of un-
pleasant thoughts passed through her bosom.
Solitude dwelt in her chamber — no sound from the
neighbouring world penetrated its stilhiess; it
appeared a temple of silence, of repose, and of
mystery. At that moment she heard a still voice
calling her father. In an instant, like a flash of
lightning, a thought ran through her mind, that it
must be the bearer of Elfonzo's communication.

l66

THE ENEMY CONQUERED \

■ffli!

' It is not a dream ! ' she said, ^ no, I cannot read
dreams. Oh ! I would to Heaven I was near that
glowing eloquence — that poetical language,— it
charms the mind in an inexpressible manner, and
warms the coldest heart.' While consoling herself
with this strain, her father rushed into her room
almost frantic with rage, exclaiming : ' 0, Ambu-
linia! Ambulinia!! undutiful, ungrateful daughter!
What does this mean ? Why does this letter bear
such heartrending intelligence? Will you quit a
father's house with this debased wretch, without a
place to lay his distracted head; going up and
down the country, with every novel object that
may chance to wander through this region ? He is
a pretty man to make love known to his superiors,
and you, Ambulinia, have done but little credit to
yourself by honouring his visits. wretchedness !
can it be that my hopes of happiness are for ever
blasted? Will you not listen to a father's en-
treaties, and pay some regard to a mother's tears ?
I know, and I do pray that God will give me
fortitude to bear with this sea of troubles, and
rescue my daughter, my Ambulinia, as a brand
from the eternal burning.' * Forgive me, father.
Oh ! forgive thy child,' replied Ambulinia. * My
heart is ready to break, when I see you in this

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

167

grieved etate of agitation. Oh! think not bo
meanly of me, as that I mourn for my own danger.
Father, I am only woman. Mother, I am only the
templement of thy youthful years ; but will Buflfer
courageously whatever punishment you think
proper to inflict upon me, if you will but allow me
to comply with my most sacred promises — if you
will but give me my personal right, and my per-
sonal liberty. Oh, father ! if your generosity will
but give me these, I ask nothing more. When
Elfonzo offered me his heart, I gave him my hand,
never to forsake him; and now may the mighty
God banish me before I leave him in adversity !
What a heart must I have to rejoice in prosperity
with him whose offers I have accepted, and then,
when poverty comes, haggard as it may be, — for
me to trifle with the oracles of Heaven, and change
with every fluctuation that may interrupt our
happiness, — like the politician who runs the
political gauntlet for office one day, and the next
day, because the horizon is darkened a little, he is
seen running for his life, for fear he might perish
in its ruins. Where is the philosophy; where is
the consistency ; where is the charity ; in conduct
like this? Be happy, then, my beloved father,
and forget me; let the sorrow of parting break

i68

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

down the wall of Beparation and make us equal in
our feeling ; let me now say how ardently I love
you ; let me kiss that age-worn cheek, and should
my tears bedew thy face, I will wipe them away.
Oh, I never can forget you ; no, never, never ! *

* Weep not,* said the father, * Ambulinia. I
will forbid Elfonzo my house, and desire that you
may keep retired a few days. I will let him know
that my friendship for my family is not linked
together by cankered chains ; and if he ever enters
upon my premises again, I will send him to his
long home.' * Oh, father ! let me entreat you to be
calm upon this occasion ; and though Elfonzo may
be the sport of the clouds and winds, yet I feel
assured that no fate will send him to the silent
tomb until the God of the Universe calls him
hence with a triumphant voice.'

Here the father turned away, exclaiming: 'I
will answer his letter in a very few words, and you,
madam, will have the goodness to stay at home
with your mother : and remember, I am determined
to protect you from the consuming fire that looks
so fair to your view.'

' Gamming : January 22, 1844.

* Sir, — In regard to your request, I am as I ever
have been, utterly opposed to your marrying into

«*,.,

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

169

my family ; and if you have any regard for your-
Ljslf, or any gentlemanly feeling, I hope you will
mention it to me no more ; hut seek some other
one who is not bo far superior to you in standing.

* W. W. Valbbb/

144.

lever
linto

When Elfonzo read the above letter, he became
so much depressed in spirits, that many of his
friends thought it advisable to use other means to
bring about the happy union. ' Strange,' said he,
* that the contents of this diminutive letter should
cause me to have such depressed feelings; but
there is a nobler theme than this I know not why
my military title is not as great as that of Squire
VaUer, For my life I cannot see that my ancestors
are inferior to those who are so bitterly opposed to
my marriage with Ambulinia. I know I have seen
huge mountains before me ; yet, when I think that
I know gentlemen will insult me upon this delicate
matter, should I become angry at fools and babblers
who pride themselves in their impudence and
ignorance ? No. My equals ! I know not where to
find them. My inferiors ! I think it beneath me :
and my superiors ! I think it presumption : there-
fore, if this youthful heart is protected by any of
the divine rights, I never will betray my trust.'

170

THE ENEMY CONQUERED \

y V.

He was aware that Ambulinia had a confidence
that was, indeed, as firm and as resolute as she
was beautiful and interesting. He hastened to the
cottage of Louisa, who received him in her usual
mode of pleasantness, and informed him that
Ambulinia had just that moment left. * Is it pos-
sible ? ' said Elfonzo. * Oh, murdered hour ! Why
did she not remain and be the guardian of my
secrets? But hasten and tell me how she has
stood this trying scene, and what are her future
determinations.* * You know,' said Louisa, * Major
Elfonzo, that you have Ambulinia's first love,
which is of no small consequence. She came here
about twilight, and shed many precious tears in
consequence of her own fate with yours. We
walked silently in yon little valley, you see, where
we spent a momentary repose. She seemed to be
quite as determined as ever, and before we left that
beautiful spot she offered up a prayer to Heaven
for thee.' * I will see her, then,' replied Elfonzo,
' though legions of enemies may oppose. She is
mine by foreordination— she is mine by prophecy-
she is mine by her own free will, and I will rescue
her from the hands of her oppressors. Will you
not. Miss Louisa, assist me in my capture ? ' * I
will certainly, by the aid of Divine Providence,*

liii , !:i

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

171

• 'I

mce/

answered Louisa, ' endeavour to break those slavish
chains that bind the richest of prizes ; though
a.Uow me, Major, to entreat you to use no harsh
means on this important occasion ; take a decided
stand, and write freely to Ambulinia upon this
subject, and I will see that no intervening cause
hinders its passage to her. God alone will save a
mourning people. Now is the day, and now is the
hour to obey a command of such valuable worth.'
The Major felt himself grow stronger after this
short interview with Louisa. He felt as if he
lould whip his weight in wild-cats — he knew he
wab master of his own feelings, and could now
write a letter that would bring this litigation to an
issue,

' Cumming, January 24, 1844.

• Dear Ambulinu, —

* We have now reached the most trying moment
of our lives; we are pledged not to forsake our
trust ; we have waited for a favourable hour to
come, thinking your friends would settle the
matter agreeably among themselves, and finally be
iccon oiled to our marriage; but as I have waited in
vain, and looked in vain, I have determined in my
own mind to make a proposition to you, though you
may think it not in accordance with your station, or

172

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

compatible with your rank ; yet, " sub hoc signo
vinces." You know I cannot resume my visits, in
consequence of the utter hostility that your father
hap to me; therefore the consummation of our
union will have to be sought for in a more sublime
sphere, at the residence of a respectable friend of
this village. You cannot have any scruples upon
this mode of proceeding, if you will but remember
it emanates from one who loves you better than his
own life — who is more than anxious to bid you
welcome to a new and a happy home. Your
warmest associates say, come ; the talented, the
learned, the wise and the experienced say, come ; —
all these with their friends say, come. Viewing
these, with many other inducements, I flatter
myself that you will come to the embraces of your
Elfonzo ; for now is the time of your acceptance
and the day of your liberation. You cannot be
ignorant, Ambulinia, that thou art the desire of
my heart; its thoughts are too noble, and too pure,
to conceal themselves from you. I shall wait for
your answer to this impatiently, expecting that you
will set the time to make your depsirture, and to
be in readiness at a moment's warning to share the
joys of a more preferable life. This will be handed
you by Louisa, who will take a pleasure in comma-

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OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

173

nicating anything to you that may relieve your de-
jected spirits, and will assure you that I now stand
ready, willing and waiting to make good my vows.

' I am, dear Ambulina,

' Yours truly and for ever,

* J. I. Elfonzo.*

Louisa made it convenient to visit Mr. Valeer's,
though they did not suspect her in the least the
bearer of love epistles: consequently, she was
invited in the room to console Ambulinia, where
they were left alone. Ambulinia was seated by a
small table — her head resting on her hand — her
brilliant eyes were bathed in tears. Louisa handed
her le letter of Elfonzo, when another spirit
animated her features — the spirit of renewed confi-
dence that never fails to strengthen the female
character in an hour of grief and sorrow like this ;
and as she pronounced the last accent of his name,
she exclaimed, * And does he love me yet ? I never
will forget your generosity, Louisa. Oh, unhappy
and yet blessed Louisa ! may you never feel what
I have felt — may you never know the pangs of
love ! Had I never loved, I never would have been
unhappy ; but I turn to Him who can save, and if
His wisdom does not will my expected union, I

174

THE ENEMY CONQUEREDi

\m-

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know He will give me strength to bear my lot.
Amuse yourself with this little book, and take it as
an apology for my silence/ said Ambulinia, ' while
I attempt to answer this volume of consolation.'

* Thank you,' said Louisa, * you are excusable upon
this occasion ; but I pray you, Ambulinia, to be
expert upon this momentous subject, that there
may be nothing mistrustful upon my part.' 'I
will,' said Ambulinia, and immediately rebumed
her seat and addressed the following to Elfonzo : —

'Cumming, Ga., January 28, 1844.

* Devoted Elfonzo, —

* I hail your letter as a welcome messenger of
faith, and can now say truly and firmly, that my
feelings correspond with yours. Nothing shall be
wanting on my part to make my obedience your
fidelity. Courage and perseverance will accomplish
success. Receive this as my oath, that while I
grasp your hand in my own imagination, we stand
united before a higher tribunal than any on earth.
All the powers of my life, soul, and body, I devote
to thee. Whatever dangers may threaten me, I
fear not to encounter them. Perhaps I have
determined upon my own destruction, by leaving
the house of the best o^ parents ; be it so, I flee to

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OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

175

you, I share your destiny, faithful to the end. The
day that I have concluded upon for this task is
Sabbath next, when the family with the citizens
are generally at church. For Heaven's sake let
not that day pass unimproved : trust not till to-
morrow, it is the cheat of life — the future that
never comes — the grave of many noble births — the
cavern of ruined enterprise : which like the light-
ning's flash is born, and dies, and perishes, ere the
voice of him who sees can cry, Behold ! behold I !
You may trust to what I say ; no power shall tempt
me to betray confidence. Suffer me to add one
word more.

I will soothe thee, in all thy grief,

Beside the gloomy river :
And thou^'li thy love may yet be brief,

Mine is fixed for ever.

* Eeceive the deepest emotions of my heart for
thy constant love, and may the power of inspiration
be thy guide, thy portion, and thy all. In great
haste, * Yours faithfully,

*Ambulinia.'

* I now take my leave of you, sweet girl,' said
Louisa, * sincerely wishing you success on Sabbath
next.' When Ambulinia's letter was handed to
Elfonzo, he perused it without doubting its

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176

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

contents. Louisa charged him to make bat few
confidants; but, like most young men who
happened to win the heart of a beautiful girl, he
was 80 elated with the idea, that he felt as a com-
manding general on parade, who had confidence in
all, consequently gave orders to all. The ap-
pointed Sabbath, with a delicious breeze and
cloudless sky, made its appearance. The people
gathered in crowds to the church — the streets were
filled with the neighbouring citizens, all marching
to the house of worship. It is entirely useless for
me to attempt to describe the feelings of Elfonzo
and Ambulinia, who were silently watching the
movements of the multitude, apparently counting
them as they entered the house of God, looking for
the last one to darken the door. The impatience
and anxiety with which they waited, and the
bliss they anticipated on the eventful day, is alto-
gether indescribable. Those that have been so
fortunate as to embark in such a noble enterprise,
know all its realities ; and those who have not had
this inestimable privilege, will have to taste its
sweets, before they can tell to others its joys, its
comforts, and its Heaven-born worth. Immediately
after Ambulinia had assisted the family off to
church, she took the iidvantage of that oppor-

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OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

177

tanity to make good her promiseB. She left a
home of enjoyment to be wedded to one whose
love had been justifiable. A few short steps brought
her to the presence of Louisa, who urged her to
make good use of her time, and not to delay a
moment, but to go with her to her brother's house,
where Elfonzo would for ever make her happy.
With lively speed, and yet a graceful air, she
entered the door and found herself protected by
the champion of her confidence. The necessary
arrangements were fast making to have the two
lovers united — everything was in readiness except
the Parson ; and as they are generally very sancti-
monious on such occasions, the news got to the
parents of Ambulinia beforo the everlasting knot
was tied, and they both came running, with up-
lifted hands and injured feelings, to arrest their
daughter from an unguarded and hasty resolution.
Elfonzo desired to maintain his ground, but
Ambulinia thought it best for him to leave, to
prepare for a greater contest. He accordingly
obeyed, as it would have been a vain endeavour
for him to have battled against a man who was
armed with deadly weapons ; and, besides, he could
not resist the request of such a pure heart.
Ambulinia concealed herself in the upper story of

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178

r/^^ EAEAfV CONQUERED*,

the hoasei fearing the rebuke of her father ; the
door was locked, and no chastisement was now
expected. Squire Valeer, whose pride was akeady
touched, resolved to preserve the dignity of his
family. He entered the house almost exhausted,
looking wildly for Ambulinia. * Amazed and
astonished indeed I am,' said he, ' at a people who
call themselve;^ civilised, to allow such behaviour as
this. Ambulinia, Ambulinia ! ' he cried, ' come to
the calls of your first, your best, and your only
friend. I appeal to you, sir,' turning to the gentle-
man of the house, *to know where Ambulinia has
gone, or where is she ? ' * Do you mean to insult
me, sir, in my own house ? ' inquired the con-
founded gentleman. * I will burst,' said Mr. V.,
* asunder every door in your dwelling, in search of
my daughter, if you do not speak quickly, and tell
me where she is. I care nothing about that outcast
rubbish of creation, that mean, low-lived Elfonzo, if
I can but obtain Ambulinia ! Are you not going
to open this door ? ' said he. * By the Eternal that
made heaven and earth ! I will go about the work
instantly, if it is not done.' The confused citizens
gathered from all parts of the village to know
the cause of this commotion. Some rushed into
the house ; the door that was locked flew open, and

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

179

there Btood Ambuliiiia, weeping. ' Father, be still/
said she, * and I will follow thee home.' But the
agitated man seized her, and bore her off through
the gazing multitude. ' Father,' she exclaimed, ' I
humbly beg your pardon — I will be dutiful — I will
obe^ thy commands. Let the sixteen years I have
lived in obedience to thee be my future security.'

* I don't like to be always giving credit, when the
old score is not paid up, madam,' said the father.
The mother followed almost in a state of derange-
ment, crying and imploring her to think before-
hand, and ask advice from experienced persons,
and they would tell her it was a rash undertaking.

* Oh ! ' said she, * Ambulinia, my daughter, did
you know what I have suffered — did you know how
many nights I have whiled away in agony, in pain,
and in fear, you would pity the sorrows of a heart-
broken mother.'

* Well, mother,' replied Ambulinia, * I know I
have been disobedient; I am aware that what I
have done might have been done much better;
but oh ! what shall I do with my honour ? it is so
dear to me ; I am pledged to Elfonzo. His high
moral worth is certainly worth some attention;
moreover, my vows, I have no doubt, are recorded
in the book of life, and must I give these all up ?

IMAGE EVALUATION
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Sciences

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23 WEST MAIN STRECT

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4S03

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r^^^ ENEMY CONQUERED;

must my fair hopes be for ever blasted ? Forbid it,
father ; oh ! forbid it, mother ; forbid it, heaven.*
* I have seen so many beautiful skies overclouded,'
replied the mother, * so many blossoms nipped by
the frost, that I am afraid to trust you to the oare
of those fair days, which may be interrupted by
thundering and tempestuous nights. You no doubt
think as I did — life's devious ways were strewed
with sweet-scented flowers ; but ah ! how long they
have lingered around me and took their flight in
the vivid hope that laughs at the drooping victims
it has murdered.' Elfonzo was moved at this sight.
The people followed on to see what was going to
become of Ambulinia, while he, with downcast
looks, kept at a distance, until he saw them enter
the abode of the father, thrusting her, that was the
sigh of his soul, out of his presence into & solitary
apartment, when she exclaimed, ' Elfonzo ! El-
fonzo ! oh, Elfonzo ! where art thou, with all thy
heroes ? haste, oh ! haste, come thou to my relief.
Bide on the wings of the wind ! Turn thy force
loose like a tempest, and roll on thy army like a
whirlwind over this mountain of trouble and con-
fusion. Oh, friends ! if any pity me, let your last
efforts throng upon the green hills, and come to the
relief of Ambulinia, who is guilty of nothing out

", !»(

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

i8x

innocent love.* Elfonzo called out with a loud
voice, ' My God, can I stand this ? Arouse up, I
beseech you, and put an end to this tyranny.
Come, my brave boys,' said he, * are you ready to
go forth to your duty ? * They stood around him.

* Who,' said he, * will call us to arms ? Where are
my thunderbolts of war ? Speak ye, the first who
will meet the foe ! Who will go forward with me
in this ocean of grievous temptation ? If there is
one who desires to go, let him come and shake
hands upon the altar of devotion, and swear that
he wUl be a hero ; yes, a Hector in a cause Uke
this, which calls aloud for a speedy remedy.'

* Mine be the deed,' said a young lawyer, ' and mine
alone ; Venus alone shall quit her station before I
will forsake one jot or tittle of my promise to you ;
what is death to me? what is all this warlike
army, if it is not to win a victory? I love the
sleep of the lover and the mighty ; nor would I give
it over till the blood of my enemies should wreak
with that of my own. But God forbid that our
fame should soar on the blood of the slumberer.*
Mr. Yaleer stands at his door with the frown of a
demon upon his brow, with his dangerous weapon
ready to strike the first man who should enter his
door. 'Who will arise and go forward through

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l88

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

blood and carnage to the rescue of my Ambulinia?'
said Elfonzo. ' All/ exclaimed the multitude ; and
onward they went, with their implements of battle.
Others, of a more timid nature, stood among the
distant hills to see the result of the contest.

Elfonzo took the lead of his band. Night arose
in clouds ; darkness concealed the heavens ; but
the blazing hopes that stimulated them gleamed in
every bosom. All approached the anxious spot;
they rushed to the front of the house, and with one
exclamation demanded Ambulinia. ' Away, begone,
and disturb my peace no more,' said Mr. Yaleer.
'You are a set of base, insolent, and infernal
rascals. Go, the northern star points your path
through the dim twilight of the night; go, and
vent your spite upon the lonely hills ; pour forth
your love, you poor, weak-minded wretch, upon
your idleness and upon your guitar, and your
fiddle ; they are fit subjects for your admiration,
for, let me assure you, though this sword and iron
lever are cankered, yet they frown in sleep, and let
one of you dare to enter my house this night and
you shall have the contents and the weight of
these instruments.' 'Never yet did base dis-
honour blur my name,' said Elfonzo ; ' mine is a
cause of renown ; here are my warriors, fear and

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

i8l

tremble, for this night, though hell itself should
oppose, I will endeavour to avenge her whom thou
hast banished in solitude. The voice of Ambulinia
shall be heard from that dark dungeon.' At that
moment Ambulinia appeared at the window above,
and with a tremulous voice said, ' Live, Elfonzo !
oh ! live to raise my stone of moss ! why should
such language enter your heart ? why should thy
voice rend the air with such agitation ? I bid thee
live, once more remembering these tears of mine
are shed alone for thee, in this dark and gloomy
vault, and should I perish under this load of
trouble, join the song of thrilling accents with the
raven above my grave, and lay this tattered frame
beside the banks of the Chattahoochee, or the
stream of Sawney's brook ; sweet will be the song
of death to your Ambulinia. My ghost shall visit
you in the smiles of Paradise, and tell your high
fame to the minds of that region, which is far more
preferable than this lonely cell. My heart shall
speak for thee till the latest hour ; I know faint
and broken are the sounds of sorrow, yet our souls,
Elfonzo, shall hear the peaceful songs together.
One bright name shall be ours on high, if we are
not permitted to be united here ; bear in mind that
I still cherish my old sentiments, and the poet will

■I

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i84

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

mingle the names of Elfonzo and Ambolinia in the
tide of other days.' ' Fly, Elfonzo/ said the voices
of his miited band, * to the womided heart of your
beloved. All enemies shall fall beneath thy sword.
Fly through the clefts, and the dim spark shall
sleep in death.' Elfonzo rushes forward and strikes
his shield against the door, which was barricaded,
to prevent any intercourse. His brave sons throng
round him. The people pour along the streets,
both male and female, to prevent or witness the
melancholy scene.

* To arms, to arms 1 ' cried Elfonzo, * here is a
victory to be won, a prize to be gained, that is
more to me than the whole world beside.' 'It
cannot be done to-night,' said Mr. Yaleer. * I bear
the clang of death ; my strength and armour shall
prevail. My Ambulinia shall rest in this hall
until the break of another day, and if we fall, we
fall together. If we die, we die clinging to our
tattered rights, and our blood alone shall tell the
mournful tale of a murdered daughter and a ruined
father.' Sure enough, he kept watch all night, and
was successful in defending his house and family.
The bright morning gleamed upon the hills, night
vanished away, the Major and his associates felt
somewhat ashamed that they had not been as

OR^ LOVE TRIUMPHANT

i8S

:li

fortunate as they expected to have been ; however,
they still leaned npon their arms in dispersed
groups; some were walking the streets, others
were talking in the Major's behalf. Many of the
citizens suspended business, as the town presented
nothing but consternation. A novelty that might
end in the destruction of some worthy and respect-
able citizens. Mr. Valeer ventured in the streets,
though not without being well armed. Some of
his friends congratulated him on the decided stand
he had taken, and hoped he would settle the matter
amicably with Elfonzo, without any serious injury.
* Me,' he replied, ' what, me, condescend to fellow-
ship with a coward, and a low-lived, lazy, under-
mining villain? No, gentlemen, this cannot be;
I had rather be borne off, like the bubble upon the
dark blue ocean, with Ambulinia by my side, than
to have him in the ascending or descending line of
relationship. Gentlemen,' continued he, ' if Elfonzo
is so much of a distinguished character, and is so
learned in the fine arts, why do you not patronise
such men? why not introduce him into your
families as a gentleman of taste and of unequalled
magnanimity ? why are you so very anxious that
he should become a relative of mine ? Oh, gentle-
men, I fear you yet are tainted with the curiosity

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i86

THE ENEMY CONQUERED i

of our first parents, who were beguiled by the poi-
sonous kiss of an old ugly serpent, and who, for
one aijgfpUf damned all mankind. I wish to divest
myself, as far as possible, of that untutored custom.
I have long since learned that the perfection of
wisdom and the end of true philosophy is to pro-
portion our wants to our possessions, our ambition
to our capacities ; we will then be a happy and a
virtuous people.' Ambulinia was sent off to prepare
for a long and tedious journey. Her new ac-
quaintances had been instructed by her father how
to treat her, and in what manner, and to keep the
anticipated visit entirely secret. Elfonzo was
watching the movements of everybody; some friends
had told him of the plot that was laid to carry off
Ambulinia. At night, he rallied some two or three
of his forces, and went silently along to the stately
mansion; a faint and glimmering light showed
through the windo^/s ; lightly he steps to the door,
there were many voices rallying fresh in fancy's
eye ; he tapped the shutter, it was opened instantly,
and he beheld once more, seated beside several
ladies, the hope of all his toils ; he rushed towards
her, she rose from her seat, rejoicing: he made one
mighty grasp, when Ambulinia exclaimed, ' Huzza
for Major Elfonzo I I will defend myself and you,

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

187

too, with this conquering instrument I hold in my
hand; huzza, I say, I now invoke time's broad
wing to shed around us some dewdrops of verdant
spring.'

But the hour had not come for this joyous re-
union ; her friends struggled with Elfonzo for some
time, and finally succeeded in arresting her from
his hands. He dared not injure them, because
they were matrons whose courage needed no spur ;
she was snatched from the arms of Elfonzo, with
so much eagerness and yet with such expressive
signification, that he calmly withdrew from this
lovely enterprise, with an ardent hope that he
should be lulled to repose by the zephyrs which
whispered peace to his soul. Several long days
and nights passed unmolested, all seemed to have
grounded their arms of rebellion, and no callidity
appeared to be going on with any of the parties.
Other arrangements were made by An^ u^inia ; she
feigned herself to be entirely the votary ot a mother's
care, and said, by her graceful smiles, that man-
hood might claim his stern dominion in some other
region, where such boisterous love was not so pre-
valent. This gave the parents a confidence that
yielded some hours of sober joy ; they believed that
Ambulinia would now cease to love Elfonzo, and

i88

THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

that her stolen affections would now expire with
her misguided opinions. They therefore declined
the idea of sending her to a distant land. But oh !
they dreamed not of the rapture that dazzled the
fancy of Ambulinia, who would say, when alone,
youth should not fly away on his rosy pinions, and
leave her to grapple in the conflict with unknown
admirers.

No frowning age shall control
The constant current of my soul,
Nor a tear from pity's eye
Shall check my sympathetic sigh.

With this resolution fixed in her mind, one dark
and dreary night, when the winds whistled and the
tempest roared, she received intelligence that
Elfonzo was then waiting, and every preparation
was then ready, at the residence of Dr. Tully, and
for her to make a quick escape while the family
were reposing. Accordingly she gathered her
books, went to the wardrobe supplied with a variety
of ornamental dressing, and ventured alone in the
streets to make her way to Elfonzo, who was near
at hand, impatiently looking and watching her
arrival. ' What forms,' said she, ' are those rising
before me ? What is that dark spot on the clouds?
X do wonder what frightful ghost that is, gleaming

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

189

"'1

on the red tempest ? Oh, be merciful and tell me
Tvhat region you are from. Oh tell me, yc strong
spirits, or ye dark and fleeting clouds, that I yet
have a friend.' * A friend/ said a low, whispering
voice. ' I am thy unchanging, thy aged, and thy
disappointed mother. Oh, Ambulinia, why hast
thou deceived me ? Why brandish in that hand
of thine a javelin of pointed steel? Why
suffer that lip I have kissed a thousand times, to
equivocate? My daughter, let these tears sink
deep into thy soul, and no longer persist in that
which may be your destruction and ruin. Gome,
my dear child, retrace your steps, and bear me
company to your welcome home.' Without one
retorting word, or frown from her brow, she yielded
to the entreaties of her mother, and with all the
mildness of her former character she went along
with the silver lamp of age, to the home of candour
and benevolence. Her father received her with cold
and formal politeness — * Where has Ambulinia been,
this blustering evening, Mrs. Valeer ? ' inquired he.
' Oh, she and I have been taking a solitary walk,'
said the mother ; * all things, I presume, are now
working for the best.'

Elf^nzo heard this news shortly after it hap-
pened. ' What,' said he, * has heaven and earth

"IP!' '

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190 THE ENEMY CONQUERED;

tarned against me ? I have been disappointed
times without number. Shall I despair ? Must I
give it over ? Heaven's decrees will not fade ; I
will write again — I will try again ; and if it traverses
a gory field, I pray forgiveness at the altar of
justice.'

' Desolate Hill, Cumming, Geo., 1844.

'Unoonqubrbd and Beloved Ambulinu, —

' I have only time to say to you, not to despair ;
thy fame shall not perish ; my visions are bright-
ening before me. The whirlwind's rage is past, and
we now shall subdue our enemies without doubt.
On Monday morning, when your friends are at
breakfast, they will not suspeoc your departure, or
even mistrust me being in town, as it has been
reported advantageously that I have left for the
west. Tou walk carelessly towards the academy
grove, where you will find me with a lightning steed,
elegantly equipped to bear you off where we shall be
joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights.
Fail not to do this — think not of the tedious relations
of our wrongs — be invincible. You alone occupy
all my ambition, and I alone will make you my
happy spouse, with the same unimpeaohed veracity.
I remain, for ever, your devoted friend and
admirer, 'J. I. Elfonzo.'

1 i I

OR, LOVE TRIUMPHANT

191

The appointed day ushered in undisturbed by
any clouds ; nothing disturbed Ambulinia's soft
beauty. With serenity and loveliness she obeys
the request of Elfonzo. The moment the family
seated themselves at the table—' Excuse my
absence for a short time/ said she, * while I attend
to the placing of those flowers which should have
been done a week ago.' And away she ran to the
sacred grove, surrounded with glittering pearls that
indicated her coming. Elfonzo hails her with his
silver bow and his golden harp. They meet —
Ambulinia's countenance brightens — Elfonzo leads
up his winged steed. * Mount,' said he, ' ye true-
hearted, ye fearless soul — the day is ours.' She
sprang upon the back of the young thunderbolt, a
brilliant star sparkles upon her head, with one hand
she grasps the reins, and with the other she holds
an olive branch. * Lend thy aid, ye strong winds,'
they exclaimed ; ' ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair
host of heaven, witness the enemy conquered.'
' Hold,' said Elfonzo, ' thy dashing steed.' ' Bide
on,' said Ambulinia, 'the voice of thunder is
behind us.' And onward they went, with such
rapidity that they very soon arrived at Rural
Betreat, where they dismounted, and were united
with all the solemnities that usually attend such

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193

THE ENEMY CONQUERED,

divine operations. They passed the day in thanks-
giving and great rejoicing, and on that evening
they visited their uncle, where many of their friends
and acquaintances had gathered to congratulate
them in the field of untainted bliss. The kind r^^
gentleman met them in the yard : ' Well/ said he,
' I wish I may die, Elfonzo, if you and Ambulinia
haven't tied a knot with your tongue that yon can't
untie with your teeth. But come in, come in;
never mind, all is right — the world still moves on,
and no one has fallen in this great battle.'

Happy now is their lot! Unmoved by mis-
fortune, they live among the fair beauties < f the
South. Heaven spreads their peace and fame ipon
the arch of the rainbow, and smiles propitious jr at
their triumph, throiigh the tears of the storm.

- :v...;:

193

banks-
vening
Eriends
Eitulate
nd H*'
ud he,
bulinia
•a can't
me in;
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Mi\,

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

THB MODEBN 8TBAMBB AND THB OBSOLBTB 8TBAMBB

We are viotims of one common superstition — the
superstition that we realise the changes that are
daily taking place in the world because we read
about them and know what they are. I should not
have supposed that the modern ship could be a
surprise to me, but it is. It seems to be as much
of a surprise to me as ii could have been if I had
never read anything about it. I walk about this
great vessel, the ' Havel/ as she ploughs her way
through the Atlantic, and every detail that comes
under my eye brings up the miniature counterpart
of it as it existed in the little ships I crossed the
ocean in, fourteen, seventeen, eighteen, and twenty
years ago.

In the * Havel ' one can be in several respects
more comfortable than he can be in the best hotels
on the Continent of Europe. For instance, she

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In I I

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Z94

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

has several bath-rooms, and they are as convenient
and as nicely equipped as the bath-rooms in a fine
private house in America ; whereas in the hotels of
the Continent one bath-room is considered sufficient,
and it is generally shabby and located in some out-
of-the-way corner of the house ; moreover, you need
to give notice so long beforehand that; you get over
wanting a bath by the time you get it. In the
hotels there are a good many different kinds of
noises, and they spoil sleep ; in my room in the
ship I hear no sounds. In the hotels they
usually shut off the electric light at midnight ; in
the ship one may burn it in one's room all night.

In the steamer * Batavia,* twenty years ago, one
candle set in the bulkhead between two state-rooms
was there to light both rooms, but did not light
either of them. It was extinguished at eleven at
night, and so were all the saloon lamps, except one
or two, which were left burning to help the pas-
senger see how to break his neck trying to get
around in the dark. The passengers sat at table
on long benches made of the hardest kind of wood ;
in the * Havel ' one sits on a swivel chair with a
cushioned back to it. In those old times the din-
ner bill of fare was always the same : a pint of some
simple, homely soup or other, boiled codfish and

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

19$

potatoes, slab of boiled beef ; stewed prunes for des-
sert — on Sundays * dog in a blanket,* on Thursdays
'plum duff/ In the modern ship the menu is
choice and elaborate, and is changed daily. In the
old times dinner was a sad occasion ; in our day a
concealed orchestra enlivens it with charming music.
In the old days the decks were always wet ; in our
day they are usually dry, for the promenade-deck is
roofed over, and a sea seldom comes aboard. In a
moderately disturbed sea, in the old days, a lands-
man could hardly keep his legs, but in such a sea
in our day, the decks are as level as a table. In
the old days the inside of a ship was the plainest
and barrenest thing, and the most dismal and un-
comfortable, that ingenuity could devise ; the modern
ship is a marvel of rich and costly decoration and
sumptuous appointment, and is equipped with every
comfort and convenience that money can buy. The
old ships had no place of assembly but the dining-
room; the new ones have several spacious and
beautiful drawing-rooms. The old ships offered
the passenger no chance to smoke except in the
place that was called the ' fiddle.* It was a repul-
sive den made of rough boards (full of cracks), and
its office was to protect the main hatch. It was
grimy and dirty; there were no seats; the only

o 2

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196

ABOUT ALL KINDS OP SHIPS

light was a lamp of the rancid-oil-and-rag kind;
the place was very cold, and never dry, for the seas
broke in through the cracks every little while and
drenched the cavern thoroughly. In the modern
ship there are three or four large smoking-rooms,
and they have card tables and cushioned sofas, and
are heated by steam and lighted by electricity.
There are few European hotels with such smoking-
rooms.

The former ships were built of wood, and had
two or three water-tight compartments in the hold
with doors in them, which were often left open, par-
ticularly when the ship was going to hit a rock.
The modern leviathan is built of steel, and the water-
tight bulkheads have no doors in them ; they divide
the ship into nine or ten water-tight compartments
and endow her with as many lives as a cat. Their
complete efficiency was established by the happy
results following the memorable accident to the
* City of Paris ' a year or two ago.

One curious thing which is at once noticeable in
the great modern ship is the absence of hubbub,
clatter, rush of feet, roaring of orders. That is all
gone by. The elaborate manoeuvres necessary in
working the vessel into her dock are conducted
without sound : one sees nothing of the processes.

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

197

hears no commandfl. A Sabbath stillness and so-
lemnity reign in place of the turmoil and racket of
the earlier days. The modern ship has a spacious
bridge, fenced chin-high with sail-cloth, and floored
with wooden gratings; and this bridge, with its
fenced fore-and-aft annexes, could accommodate a
seated audience of a hundred and fifty men. There
are three steering equipments, each competent if
the others should break. From the bridge the
ship is steered, and also handled. The handling is
not done by shout or whistle, but by signalling with
patent automatic gongs. There are three tell-tales
with plainly lettered dials — for steering, handling
the engines, and for communicating orders to the
invisible mates who are conducting the landing of
the ship or casting off. The officer who is astern is
out of sight, and too far away to hear trumpet
calls ; but the gongs near him tell him to haul in,
pay out, make fast, let go, and so on ; he hears, but
the passengers do not, and so the ship seems to land
herself without human help.

This great bridge is thirty or forty feet above the
water, but the sea climbs up there sometimes ; so
there is another bridge twelve or fifteen feet higher
still, for use in these emergencies. The force of water
is a strange thing. It slips between one's fingers like

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198

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

air, but upon occasion it acts like a solid body, and
will bend a thin iron rod. In the ' Havel ' it has
splintered a heavy oaken rail into broom-straws,
instead of merely breaking it in two as would have
been the seemingly natural thing for it to do. At
the time of the awful Johnstown disaster, according
to the testimony of several witnesses, rocks were
carried some distance on the surface of the stupen-
dous torrent ; and at St. Helena, many years ago, a
vast sea- wave carried a battery of cannon forty feet
np a steep slope, and deposited the guns there in a
row. But the water has done a still stranger thing,
and it is one which is credibly vouched for. A
marlinspike is an implement about a foot long
which tapers from its butt to the other extremity,
and ends in a sharp point. It is made of iron, and
is heavy. A wave came aboard a ship in a storm
and raged aft, breast high, carrying a marlinspike
point-first with it, and with such lightning-like
swiftness and force as to drive it three or four
inches into a sailor's body and kill him.

In all ways the ocean greyhound of to-day is
imposing and impressive to one who carries in his
head no ship-pictures of a recent date. In bulk
she comes near to rivalling the Ark; yet this
monstrous mass of steel is driven five hundred miles

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

199

lit ^,; I

y, and
it has
straws,
dhave
0. At
ording
s were
tupen-
t ago, a
•ty feet
re in a
thing,
or. A
)i long
remity,
»n, and
storm
inspike
tig-like
\x four

day is
in his
Q balk
)t this
1 miles

through the waves in twenty-four hours. I re-
member the brag run of a steamer which I travelled
in once on the Pacific — it was two hundred and
nine miles in twenty-four hours; a year or so
later I was a passenger in the excursion-tub
' Quaker City/ and on one occasion, in a level and
glassy sea, it was claimed that she reeled off two
hundred and eleven miles between noon and noon,
but it was probably a campaign lie. That little
steamer had seventy passengers and a crew of
forty men, and seemed a good deal of a bee-hive ;
but in this present ship we are living in a sort of
solitude, these soft summer days, with sometimes a
hundred passengers scattered about the spacious
distances, and sometimes nobody in sight at all;
yet, hidden somewhere in the vessel's bulk, there
are (including crew) near eleven hundred people.

The stateliest lines in the literature of the sea
are these :

Britannia needs no bulwark, no towers along the steep —
Her march is o'er the mountain wave, her home is on the
deepl

There it is. In those old times the little ships
climbed over the waves and wallowed down into
the trough on the other side ; the giant ship of our
day does not climb over the waves, but crushes her

iii

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300

ABOUT ALL XINDS OF SHIPS

way through them. Her formidable weight and
mass and impetus give her mastery over any but
extraordinary storm-waves.

The ingenuity of man ! I mean in this passing
generation. To-day I found in the chart-room a
frame of removable wooden slats on the wall, and
on the slats was painted uninforming information
like this :

Trim-Tank . . ,

• Empty

Double-Bottom No. 1 .

. Pull

Double-Bottom No. 2 .

PuU

Double-Bottom No. 8

. Pull

Double-Bottom No. 4

. Pull

While I was trying to think out what kind of a
ga-ie this might be, and how a stranger might best
go to work to beat it, a sailor came in and pulled
out the ' Empty ' end of the first slat and pat it
back with its reverse side to the front, marked
'Full.' He made some other change, I did not
notice what. The slat-frame was soon explained.
Its function was to indicate how the ballast in the
ship was distributed. The striking thing was, that
that ballast was water. I did not know that a ship
had ever been ballasted with water. I had merely
read, some time or other, that such an experiment
was to be tried. But that is the modern way ; be-

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

s|i]

301

tween the experimental trial of a new thing and its
adoption there is no wasted time, if the trial proves
its value.

On the wall, near the slat-frame, there was an
ontline drawing of the ship, and this betrayed the
fact that this vessel has twenty-two considerable
lakes of water in her. These lakes are in her bot-
tom ; they are imprisoned between her real bottom
and a false bottom. They are separated from each
other, thwartships, by water-tight bulkheads, and
separated down the middle by a bulkhead running
from the bow four-fifths of the way to the stern. It
is a chain of lakes four hundred feet long and from
five to seven feet deep. Fourteen of the lakes con-
tain fresh water brought from shore, and the aggre-
gate weight of it is four hundred tons. The rest
of the lakes contain salt water — six hundred and
eighteen tons. Upwards of a thousand tons of
water altogether.

Think how handy this ballast is. The ship
leaves port with the lakes all full. As she lightens
forward, through consumption of coal, she loses
trim— her ^iiead rises, her stern sinks down. Then
they spill one of the stemward lakes into the sea,
and the trim is restored. This can be repeated
right along as occasion may require. Also, a lake

N-

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ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

at one end of the ship can be moved to the other
end by pipes and steam pumps. When the sailor
changed the slat-frame to-day, he was posting a
transference of that kind. The seas had been in-
creasing, and the vessel's head needed more
weighting, to keep it from rising on the waves
instead of ploughing through them ; therefore,
twenty-five tons of water had been transferred to
the bow from a lake situated well towards the stern.

A water compartment is kept either full or
empty. The body of water must be compact, so
that it cannot slosh around. A shifting ballast
would not do, of course.

The modern ship is full of beautiful ingenuities,
but it seems to me that this one is the king. I would
rather be the originator of that idea than of any of
the others. Perhaps the trim of a ship was never
perfectly ordered and preserved until now. A ves-
sel out of trim will not steer, her speed is maimed,
she strains and labours in the seas. Poor creature !
for six thousand years she has had no comfort until
these latest days. For six thousand years she swam
through the best and cheapest ballast in the world,
the only perfect ballast, but she couldn't tell her
master, and he had not the wit to find it out for
himself. It is odd to reflect that there is nearly as

ABOUl ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

J03

much water inside of this ship as there is outsidei
and yet there is no danger.

noah's abk

The progress made in the great art of ship-build-
ing since Noah's time is quite noticeable. Also, the
looseness of the navigation laws in the time of Noah
is in quite striking contrast with the strictness of
the navigation laws of our time. It would not be
possible for Noah to do in our day what he was per-
mitted to do in his own. Experience has taught us
the necessity of being more particular, more con-
servative, more careful of human life. Noah would
not be allowed to sail from Bremen in our day.
The inspectors would come and examine the Ark,
and make all sorts of objections. A person who
knows Germany can imagine the scene and the
conversation without difficulty and without missing
a detail. The inspector would be in a beautiful
military uniform ; he would be respectful, dignified,
kindly, the perfect gentleman, but steady as the
north star to the last requirement of his duty. He
would make Noah tell him where he was bom, and
how old he was, and what religious sect he belonged
to, and the amount of his income, and the grade

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ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

and position he claimed socially, and the name and
style of his occupation, and how many wives and
children he had, and how many servants, and the
name, sex, and age of the whole of them ; and if he
hadn't a passport he would be courteously required
to get one right away. Then he would take up the
matter of the Ark :

• What is her length ? •
' Six hundred feet.'

• Depth ? •

• Sixty-five/
•Beam?*

• Fifty or sixty.*

•Built of •

'Wood.'

• What kind ? '

' Shittim and gopher.'

' Interior and exterior decorations ? '

' Pitched within and without.

'Passengers?'

•Eight.'

•Sex?'

• Half male, the others female.'

•Ages?' . V

• From a hundred years up.'

Up to where ? '

ne and
(res and
nd the
id if he
equired
up the

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS ao5

' Six hundred.'

' Ah I going to Chicago • good idea, too. Sur-
geon's name ? '

* We have no surgeon.*

' Must provide a surgeon. Also an undertaker
— ^particularly the undertaker. These people must
not he left without the necessities of life at their age.
Crew?'

' The same eight.'

* The same eight ? *
' The same eight.'

' And half of them women ? *

* Yes, sir.'

* Have they ever served as seamen V

* No, sir.'

' Have the men ? '
' No, sir.'

* Have any of you ever heen to sea ? '
' No, sir.'

* Where were you reared ? *
' On a farm — all of us.'

* This vessel requires a crew of eight hundred
men, she not heing a steamer. Tou must provide
them. She must have four mates and nine cooks.
Who is captain ? '

* I am, sir.'

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206

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

* Ton must get a captain. Also a chambermaid.
Also sick nnrses for the old people. Who designed
this vessel ? *

•I did, sir.'

* Is it your first attempt ? *
*Yes, sir.'

* I partly suspected it. Cargo 7 •
' Animals.*

'Kind?*
'All kinds.'
'Wild or tame?*

* Mainly wild.'

* Foreign or domestic ? '

* Mainly foreign.'

* Principal wild ones ? '

* Megatherium, elephant, rhinoceros, lion, tiger,
wolf, snakes — all the wild things of all climes — ^two
of each.*

* Securely caged ? *

* No, not caged.*

* They must have iron cages. Who feeds and
waters the menagerie ? '

*Wedo.'

* The old people?'

* Yes, sir.'

' It is dangerous— for both. The animals must

' -1 ■

maid,
dgned

tiger,
— ^two

s and

must

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

207

be cared for by a competent force. How many ani-
mals are there ? '

' Big ones, seven thousand ; big and little to-
gether, ninety-eight thousand.*

* You must provide twelve hundred keepers. How
is the vessel lighted ? '

* By two windows.'

* Where are they ? '

* Up under the eaves.*

* Two windows for a tunnel six hundred feet long
and sixty-five feet deep ? You must put in the elec-
tric light — a few arc lights and fifteen hundred in-
candescents. What do you do in case of leaks?
How many pumps have you ? *

* None, sir.'

*You must provide pumps. How do you get
water for the passengers and the animals ? *

* We let down the buckets from the windows.*

* It is inadequate. What is your motive power ? *

* What is my which ? *

'Motive power. What power do you use in
driving the ship ? *

'None.*

' You must provide sails or steam. What is the
nature of your steering apparatus ? *

' We haven't any.

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ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

* Haven't you a rudder ? •
•No, sir/

* How do you steer the vesflel ? *
« We don't/

* Tou must provide a rudder, and properly equip
it. How many anchors have you ? '

« None.'

' You must provide six. One is not permitted to
sail a vessel like this without that protection. How
many life-boats have you ? '

' None, sir.*

'Provide twenty-five. How many life-pre-
servers ? •

' None.'

' Tou will provide two thousand. How long are
you expecting your voyage to last ? '

< Eleven or twelve months.'

* Eleven or twelve months. Pretty slow— but
you will be in time for the Exposition. What is your
ship sheathed with — copper ? '

' Her hull is bare — not sheathed at all.*
' Dear man, the wood-boring creatures of the
sea would riddle her like a sieve and send her to the
bottom in three months. She cannot be allowed to
go away in this condition ; she must be sheathed.
Just a word more : Have you reflected that Chicago

1 1< i

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

209

IB an inland city, and not reachable with a vessel
like this?'

'Shecargo? What is Shecargo? I am not going
to Shecargo.'

'Indeed ? Then may I ask what the animals
are for?*

' Just to breed others from.'

'Others? Is it possible that you haven't
enough ? '

' For the present needs of civilisation, yes ; but
the rest are going to be drowned in a flood, and
these are to renew the supply.'

* A flood?'

* Yes, sir.' •

* Are you sure of that ? *

'Perfectly sure. It is going to rain forty days
and forty nights.'

' Give yourself no concern about that, dear sir,
it often does that here.'

' Not this kind of rain. This is going to cover
the mountain-tops, and the earth will pass from
sight.'

* Privately — but of course not officially — ^I am
sorry you revealed this, for it compels me to with-
draw the option I gave you as to sails or steam. I
must require you to use steam. Tour ship cannot

"»!;'

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ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

QBitry the hundredth part of an eleven-months*
water-supply for the animals. You will have to
have condensed water.*

* But I tell you I am going to dip water from
outside with buckets.*

' It will not answer. Before the flood reaches the
mountain-tops the fresh waters will have joined the
salt seas, and it will all be salt. You must put in
steam and condense your water. I will now bid you
good-day, sir. Did I understand you to say that
this was your very first attempt at ship-building ? '

* My very first, sir, I give you the honest truth.
I built this Ark without having ever had the slight-
est training or experience or instruction in marine
architecture.*

' It is a remarkable work, sir, a most remarkable
work. I consider that it contains more features that
are new — absolutely new and unhackneyed — than
are to be found in any other vessel that swims the
seas.*

'This compliment does me infinite honour,
dear sir, infinite ; and I shall cherish the memory
of it while life shall last. Sir, I offer my duty, and
most grateful thanks. Adieu.*

No, the German inspector would be limitlessly
courteous to Noah, and would make him feel that

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

311

11 i

months'
have to

ter from

iches the
Dined the
st put in
V bid you
say that
lilding ? •
3st truth,
be slight-
1 marine

markable
jures that
ed— than
iwims the

honour,
) memory
duty, and

imitlessly
feel that

he was among friends, but he wouldn't let him go
to sea with that Ark.

Columbus's obaft

Between Noah's time and the time of Columbus
naval architecture underwent some changes, and
from being unspeakably bad was improved to a
point which may be described as less unspeakably
bad. I have read somewhere, some time or other,
that one of Columbus's ships was a ninety-ton
vessel. By comparing that ship with the ocean
greyhounds of our time one is able to get down to a
comprehension of how small that Spanish bark was,
and how little fitted she would be to run opposition
in the Atlantic passenger trade to-day. It would
take seventy-four of her to match the tonnage of
the 'Havel' and carry the 'Havel's' trip. If I
remember rightly, it took her ten weeks to make
the passage. With our ideas this would now be
considered an objectionable gait. She probably
had a captain, a mate, and a crew consisting of
four seamen and a boy. The crew of a modern
greyhound numbers two hundred and fifty persons.

Columbus's ship being small and very old, we
know that we may draw from these two facts
several absolute certainties in the way of minor

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ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

details which history has left unrecorded. For
instance, being small, we know that she rolled and
pitched and tumbled in any ordinary sea, and stood
on her head or her tail, or lay down with her ear
in the water, when storm-seas ran high ; also, that
she was used to having billows plunge aboard and
wash her decks from stem to stern ; also, that the
storm-racks were on the table all the way over,
and that, nevertheless, a man's soup was oftener
landed in his lap than in his stomach ; also, that
the dining-saloon was about ten feet by seven, dark,
airless, and suffocating with oil-stench ; also, that
there was only about one state-room — the size of a
grave— with a tier of two or three berths in it, of
the dimensions and comfortableness of cofi&ns, and
that when the light was out, the darkness in there
was so thick and real that you could bite into it
and chew it like gum; also, that the only pro-
menade was on the lofty poop-deck astern (for the
ship was shaped like a high-quarter shoe) — a
streak sixteen feet long by three feet wide, all the
rest of the vessel being littered with ropes and
flooded by the seas.

We know all these things to be true, from the
mere fact that we know the vessel was sniidl. As
the vessel was old, certain other truths follow as

. For
led and
id stood
her ear
[bo, that
Etrd and
hat the
ly over,

oftener
[bo, that
in, dark,
Lbo, that
lize of a
in it, of
inB, and
in there
B into it
ily pro-

(for the
ihoe) — a
, all the
pes and

rom the

}llow as

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

matters of course. For instance, she was full of
rats, she was full of cockroaches, the heavy seas
made her seams open and shut like your fingers,
and she leaked like a basket; where leakage is,
there also, of necessity, is bilgewater ; and where
bilgewater is, only the dead can enjoy life. This
is on account of the smell. In the presence of
bilgewater, Limburger cheese becomes odourless
and ashamed.

From these absolutely sure data we can com-
petently picture the daily life of the great discoverer.
In the early morning he paid his devotions at the
shrine of the Virgin. At eight bells he appeared
on the poop-deck promenade. If the weather was
chilly, he came up clad from plumed helmet to
spurred heel in magnificent plate armour inlaid
with arabesques of gold, having previously warmed
it at the galley fire. If the weather was warm, he
came up in the ordinary sailor toggery of the time :
great slouch hat of blue velvet, with a flowing brush
of snowy ostrich plumes, fastened on with a flash-
ing duster of diamonds and emeralds; gold-
embroidered doublet of green velvet, with slashed
sleeves exposing under-sleeves of crimson satin ;
deep collar and cuff-ruffles of rich limp lace ; trunk
hose of pink velvet, with big knee knots of brocaded

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ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

yellow ribbon ; pearl-tinted silk stockingSi clocked
and daintily embroidered ; lemon-coloured buskins
of unborn kid, funnel-toppedi and drooping low to
expose the pretty stockings; deep gauntlets of
finest white heretic skin, from the factory of the
Holy Inquisition, formerly part of the person of a
lady of rank ; rapier with sheath crusted with
jewels, and hanging from a broad baldric upholstered
with rubies and sapphires.

He walked the promenade thoughtfully; he
noted the aspects of the sky and the course of the
wind ; he kept an eye out for drifting vegetation
and other signs of land ; he jawed the man at the
wheel for pastime; he got out an imitation egg
and kept himself in practice on his old trick of
making it stand on its end ; now and then he hove
a life-line below and fished up a sailor who was
drowning on the quarter-deck; the rest of his
watch he gaped and yawned and stretched and
said he wouldn*t make the trip again to discover
six Americas. For that was the kind of natural
human person Columbus was when not posing for
posterity.

At noon he took the sun and ascertained that
the good ship had made three hundred yards in
twenty-four hours, and this enabled him to win

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

11$

slocked
mskinfl
low to
lets of
ol the
)n of a
i with
mistered

ly; he
I of the
;etation

at the
on egg
rick of
le hove
ho was

of his
led and
liscover
natural
sing for

ed that
ards in
to win

the pool. Anybody can win the pool when nobody
but himself has the privilege of straightening out
the ship's run and getting it right.

The Admiral has breakfasted alone, in state :
bacon, beans, and gin ; at noon he dines alone in
state : bacon, beans, and gin ; at six he sups alone
in state : bacon, beans, and gin ; at 11 p.m. he
takes a night relish, alone, in state : bacon, beans,
and gin. At none of these orgies is there any
music; the ship-orchestra is modern. After his
final meal he returned thanks for his many blessings,
a little over-rating their value, perhaps, and then
he laid off his silken splendours or his gilded hard-
ware, and turned in, in his little coffin-bunk, and
blew out his flickering stencher, and began to re-
fresh his lungs with inverted sighs freighted with
the rich odours of rancid oil and bilgewater. The
sighs returned as snores, and then the rats and the
cockroaches swarmed out in brigades and divisions
and army corps and had a circus all over him.
Such was the daily life of the great discoverer in
his marine basket during several historic weeks ;
and the difference between his ship and his
comforts and ours is visible almost at a glance.

When he returned, the King of Spain, marvel-
ling, said — as history records :

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ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

1111!

'This ship Beems to be leaky. Did she leak
badly?*

< You shall judge for yourself, sire. I pumped
the Atlantic Ocean through her sixteen times on the
passage.'

This is General Horace Porter's account. Other
authorities say fifteen.

It can be shown that the differences between
that ship and the one I am writing these historical
contributions in, are in several respects remarkable.
Take the matter of decoration, for instance. I
have been looking around again, yesterday an<? to-
day, and have noted several details which I con-
ceive to have been absent from Columbus's ship, or
at least slurred over and not elaborated and per-
fected. I observe state-room doors fchree inches
thick, of solid oak, and polished. I note com-
panionway vestibules with walls, doors, and ceilings
panelled in polished hard-woods, some light, some
dark, all dainty and delicate joiner-work, and yet
every joint compact and tight; with beautiful
pictures inserted, composed of blue tiles — some of
the pictures contdning as many as sixty tiles —
and the joinings of those tiles perfect. These are
daring experiments. One would have said that
the first time the ship went straining and labour-

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

317

ing throngh a storm-tumbled sea those tiles would
gape apart and drop out. That they have not
done so is evidence that the joiner's art has
advanced a good deal since the days when ships
were so shackly that when a giant sea gave them a
wrench the doors came unbolted. I find the walls
of the dining-saloon upholstered with mellow pic-
tures wrought in tapestry, and the ceiling aglow
with pictures done in oil. In other places of
assembly I find great panels filled with embossed
Spanish leather, the figures rich with gilding and
bronze. Everywhere I find sumptuous masses of
colour — colour, colour, colour — colour all about,
colour of every shade and tint and variety ; and as
a result, the ship is bright and cheery to the eye,
and this cheeriness invades one's spirit and con-
tents it. To fully appreciate the force and spiritual
value of this radiant and opulent dream of colour, one
must stand outside at night in the pitch dark and
the rain, and look in through a port, and observe it
in the lavish splendour of the electric lights. The
old-time ships were dull, plain, graceless, gloomy,
and horribly depressing. They compelled the
blues; one could not escape the blues in them.
The modem idea is right: to surround the pas-
senger with conveniences, luxuries, and abundance

ai8

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

of inspiriting colour. As a result, the ship is the
pleasantest place one can be in, except, perhaps,
one's home.

A VANISHED BENTIMBNI

One thing is gone, to return no more for ever —
the romance of the sea. Soft sentimentality about
the sea has retired from the activities of this life, and
is but a memory of the past, already remote and
much faded. But within the recollection of men
still living, it was in the breast of every individual ;
and the further any individual lived from salt water
the more of it he kept in stock. It was as per-
vasive, as universal, as the atmosphere itself. The
mere mention of the sea, the romantic sea, would
make any company of people sentimental and mawk-
ish at once. The great majority of the songs that
were sung by the young people of the back settle-
ments had the melancholy wanderer for subject, and
his mouthings about the sea for refrain. Picnic
parties, paddling down a creek in a canoe when the
twilight shadows were gathering, always sang

Homeward bound, homeward bound
From a foreign shore ;

and this was also a favourite in the West with the

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

319

pasBengers on sternwheel Bteamboats. There wai
another —

Mj boat ii by the ihore,

And my bark is on the ma,
But before I go, Tom Moore,

Here's % doable health to the««

And this one, also —

Oh, pilot, 'tis a fearful night,
There's danger on the deep.

And this —

A life on the ocean wave,

And a home on the rolling deep,
Where the scattered waters rave,

And the winds their revels keep 1

And this —

A wet sheet and a flowing sea.
And a wind that follows fair.

AndthiB—

My foot is on my gallant deck,
Once more the rover is free I

And the ' Larboard Watch * — the person referred to
below is at the masthead, or somewhere up there —

Oh, who can tell what joy he feels.
As o'er the foam his vessel reels.
And his tired eyelids slmnb'ring fiEdl,
E« rouses at the welcome call

Of * Larboard watch — ahoy I '

if r lift

320

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

Yes, and there was for ever and always some
jackass-voiced person braying out—

Booked in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleep I

Other favourites had these suggestive titles:
' The Storm at Sea ; " The Bird at Sea ; " The Sailor
Boy's Dream ; * * The Captive Pirate's Lament ; *
' We are far from Home on the Stormy Main ' — and
BO on, and so on, the list is endless. Everybody on
a farm lived chiefly amid the dangers of the deep on
those days, in fancy.

But all that is gone now. Not a vestige of it is
left. The iron-clad, with her unsentimental aspect
and frigid attention to business, banished romance
from the war-marine, and the unsentimental steamer
has banished it from the commercial marine.
The dangers and uncertainties which made sea
life romantic have disappeared and carried the
poetic element along with them. In our day
the passengers never sing sea-songs on board a
ship, and the band never plays them. Pathetic
songs about the wanderer in strange lands far
from home, once so popular and contributing
such fire and colour to the imagination by reason
of the rarity of that kind of wanderer, have

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

221

some

titles :
I Sailor
lent ; *
' — and
ody on
leep on

of it is
aspect
»manc6
teamer
larine.
ie sea
3d the
ir day
oard a
athetio
ds far
bating
reason
have

lost their charm and fallen silent, because every-
body is a wanderer in the far lands now, and the
interest in that detail is dead. Nobody is worried
about the wanderer; there are no perils of the
sea for him, there are no uncertainties. He is safer
in the ship than he would probably be at home, for
there he is always liable to have to attend some
friend's funeral, and stand over the grave in the
sleet, bareheaded — and that means pneumonia for
him, if he gets his deserts ; and the uncertainties
of his voyage are reduced to whether he will arrive
on the other side in the appointed afternoon, or have
to wait till morning.

The first 3hip I was ever in was a sailing vessel.
She was twenty-eight days going from San Fran-
cisco to the Sandwich Islands. But the main reason
for this particularly slow passage was, that she got
becalmed, and lay in one spot fourteen days in the
centre of the Pacific, two thousand miles from land.
I hear no sea-songs in this present vessel, but I heard
the entire layout in that one. There were a dozen
young people — they are pretty old now I reckon—
and they used to group themselves on the stern, in
the starlight or the moonlight, every evening, and
sing sea-songs tiU after midnight, in that hot, silent,
motionless calm. They had no sense of humour,

'■}W

232

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

and they always sang 'Homeward Bound/ with-
out reflecting that that was practically ridiculous,
since they were standing still and not proceeding
in any direction at all ; and they often followed that
song with 'Are we almost there, are we almost
there, said the dying girl as she drew near home ? '

It was a very pleasant company of young people,
and I wonder where they are now. Gone, oh, none
knows whither ; and the bloom and grace and beauty
of their youth, where is that ? Among them was a
liar ; all tried to reform him, but none could do it.
And so, gradually, he was left to himself, none of us
would associate with him. Many a time since I have
seen in fancy that forsaken figure, leaning forlorn
against the taffrail, and have reflected that perhaps
if we had tried harder, and been more patient, we
might have won him from his fault and persuaded
him to relinquish it. But it is hard to tell ; with him
the vice was extreme, and was probably incurable.
I like to think — and, indeed, I do think — that I did
the best that in me lay to lead him to higher and
better ways.

There was a singular circumstance. The ship
lay becalmed that entire fortnight in exactly the same
spot. Then a handsome breeze came fanning over
the sea, and we spread our white wings for flight.

ABOUT ALL KINDS OF SHIPS

223

:i vl

with-
ulous,
Beding
)dthat
almost
Dme?*
people,
1, none
beauty
iwasa
1 do it.
le of us
3 1 have
forlorn
perhaps
ent, we
'suaded
ithhim
lurable.
it I did
er and

But the vessel did not budge. The sails bellied out,
the gale strained at the ropes, but the vessel moved
not a hair's breadth from her place. The captain
was surprised. It was some hours before we found
out what the cause of the detention was. It was
barnacles. They collect very fast in that part of the
Pacific. They had fastened themselves to the ship's
bottom ; then others had fastened themselves to the
first bunch, others to these, and so on, down and
down and down, and the last bunch had glued the
column hard and fast to the bottom of the sea, which
is five miles deep at that point. So the ship was
simply become the handle of a walking-cane five
miles long — yes, and no more movable by wind and
sail than a continent is. It was regarded by every
one as remp :kable.

Well, the next week — however, Sandy Hook is
in sight.

■ai

he ship
lesame
Qg over
: flight.

aas

'If

PLAYING COURIER

■Mt

A TiMB would come when we must go from Aix-
les-Bains to Geneva, and from thence, by a series
of day-long and tangled journeys, to Bayreuth
in Bavaria. I should have to have a courier,
of course, to take care of so considerable a party
as mine.

But I procrastinated. The time slipped along,
and at last I woke up one day to the fact that we
were ready to move and had no courier. I then re-
solved upon what I felt was a foolhardy thing, but
I was in the humour of it. I said I would make the
first stage without help— I did it.

I brought the party from Aix to Geneva by my-
self — four people. The distance was two hours and
more, and there was one change of cars. There
was not an accident of any kind, except leaving a
valise and some other matters on the platform — a
thing which can hardly be called an accident, it is

; \^.\

; J

336

PLAYING COURIER

80 common. So I offered to conduct the party all
the way to Bayreuth.

This was a blunder, though it did not seem so
at the time. There was more detail than I thought
there would be : 1. Two persons whom we had left
in a Genevan pension some weeks before must be
collected and brought to the hotel. 2. 1 must notify
the people on the Grand Quay who store trunks to
bring seven of our stored trunks to the hotel and
oarry back seven which they would find piled in the
lobby. 8. I must find out what part of Europe
Bayreuth was in and buy seven railway tickets for
that point. 4. I must send a telegram to a friend
in the Netherlands. 5. It was now two in the
afternoon, and we must look sharp and be
ready for the first night train, and make sure of
sleeping-car tickets. 6. I must draw money at the
bank.

It seemed to me that the sleeping-car tickets
must be the most important thing, so I went to the
station myself to make sure ; hotel messengers are
not always brisk people. It was a hot day and I
ought to have driten, but it seemed better economy
to walk. It did not turn out so, because I lost my
way and trebled the distance. I applied for the
tickets, and they asked me which route I wanted to

^■, '.

PLAYING COURIER

237

rty all

em BO
lought
ad left
mat be
5 notify
inks to
;el and
din the
Europe
tets for
h friend
in the
,nd be
sure of
at the

tickets

it to the

rers are

and I

Iconomy

I lost my

for the

mted to

go by, and that embarrassed me and made me lose
my head, there were so many people standing around,
and I not knowing anything about the routes, and
not supposing there were going to be two ; so I
judged it best to go back and map out the road and
come again.

I took a cab this time, but on my way upstairs
at the hotel I remembered that I was out of cigars,
so I thought it would be well to get some while the
matter was in my mind. It was only round the
comer and I didn't need the cab. I asked the cab-
man to wait where he was. Thinking of the tele-
gram and trying to word it in my head, I forgot the
cigars and the cab, and walked on indefinitely. I
was going to have the hotel people send the tele-
gram, but as I could not be far from the Post Office
by this time, I thought I would do it myself. But
it was further than I had supposed. I found the
place at last, and wrote the telegram and handed it
in. The clerk was a severe-looking, fidgety man,
and he began to fire French questions at me in such
a liquid form that I could not detect the joints be-
tween his words, and this made me lose my head
again. But an Englishman stepped up and said
the clerk wanted to know where he was to send
the telegram. I could not tell him, because it was

I '

J r

''i

■1 \

■Hi:

228

PLAYING COURIER

'Hi ^ '

not my telegram, and I explained that I was
merely sending it for a member of my party. But
nothing would pacify the clec]^ but the address ; so
I said that if he was so particular I would go back
and get it.

However, I thought I would go and collect those
lacking two persons first, for it would be best to do
everything systematically and in order, and one
detail at a time. Then I remembered the cab was
eating up my substance down at the hotel yonder ;
BO I called another cab, and told the man to go
down and fetch it to the Post Ofi&ce and wait till I
came.

I had a long hot walk to collect those people,
and when I got there they couldn't come with me
because they had heavy satchels, and must have a
cab. I went away to find one, but before I ran
across any I noticed that I had reached the neigh-
bourhood of the Grand Quay — at least, I thought I
had — so I judged I could save time by stepping
around and arranging about the trunks. I stepped
around about a mile, and although I did not find
the Grand Quay, I found a cigar shop, and remem-
bered about the cigars. I said I was going to Bay-
reuth, and wanted enough for the journey. The
man asked me which route I was going to take.

•\"'l

PLAYING COURIER

319

I was
. But

3BS; 80

;o back

Dt those
3t to do
ud one
cab was
yonder ;
m to go
ait tiU I

people,
with me
t have a
e I ran
e neigh-
lought I
stepping

stepped
not find

remem-

to Bay-
)y. The

to take.

I said I did not know. He said he would recom-
mend me to go by Zurich and various other places
which he named, and offered to sell me seven
second-class through tickets for $22 apiece, which
would be throwing off the discount which the
railroads allowed him. I was abready tired of
riding second class on first-class tickets, so I took
him up.

By-and-by I found Natural & Oo.'s storage
office, and told them to send seven of our trunks
to the hotel and pile them up in the lobby. It
seemed to me that I was not delivering the whole
of the message ; still, it was all I could find in my
head.

Next I found the bank, and asked for some
money, but I had left my letter of credit somewhere
and was not able to draw. I remembered now that
I must have left it lying on the table where I wrote
my telegram ; so I got a cab and drove to the Post
Office and went upstairs, and they said that a letter
of credit had indeed been left on the table, but that
it was now in the hands of the police authorities,
and it would be necessary for me to go there and
prove property. They sent a boy with me, and we
went out the back way and walked a couple of miles
and found the place ; and then I remembered about

330

PLAYING COURIER

I 1'

i .

I
I 1

iny cabSi and asked the boy to send them to me
when he got back to the Post Office. It was night-
fall now, and the Mayor had gone to dinner. I
thought I would go to dinner myself, but the officer
on duty thought differently, and I stayed. The
Mayor dropped in at half past ten, but said it was
too late to do anything to-night— come at 9.80 in
the morning. The officer wanted to keep me all
night, and said I was a suspicious-looking person,
and probably did not own the letter of credit, and
didn't know what a letter of credit was, but merely
saw the real owner leave it lying on the table, and
wanted to get it because I was probably a person
that would want anything he could get, whether it
was valuable or not. But the Mayor said he saw
nothing suspicious about me, and that I seemed a
harmless person, and nothing the matter with me
but a wandering mind, and not much of that. So I
thanked him and he set me free, and I went home
in my three cabs.

As I was dog-tired, and in no condition to
answer questions with discretion, I thought I would
not disturb the Expedition at that time of night,
as there was a vacant room I knew of at the other
end of the hall ; but I did not quite arrive there, as
a watch had been set, the Expedition being anxious

ill

'I!

%if^''

PLAYING COURIER

331

to me
aight-
er. I
officer

The
it was
.80 in
ne all
erson,
t, and
nerely
e, and
person
ther it
e saw
med a
th me

Sol
home

on to
would
night,
I other
re, as
Hxioos

about me. I was placed in a galling situation.
The Expedition sat stiff and forbidding, on four
chairs in a row, with shawls and things all on,
satchels and guide-books in lap. They had been
sitting like that for four hours, and the glass going
down all the time. Tes, and they were waiting —
waiting for me. It seemed to me that nothing but
a sudden, happily contrived, and brilliant tov/r deforce
could break this iron front and make a diversion
in my favour ; so I shied my hat into the arena,
and followed it with a skip and a jump, shouting
blithely :

' Ha, ha, here we all are, Mr. Merryman 1 '
Nothing could be deeper or stiller than the
absence of applause which followed. But I kept on ;
there seemed no other way, though my confidence,
poor enough before, had got a deadly check, and
was in effect gone.

I tried to be jocund out of a heavy heart; I
tried to touch the other hearts there and soften
the bitter resentment in those faces by throwing
off bright and airy fun, and making of the whole
ghastly thing a joyously humorous incident ; but
this idea was not well conceived. It was not the
right atmosphere for it. I got not one smile ; not
one line in those offended faces relaxed ; I thawed

ri :1

! i

l!r' 1 1

; ' I

I i >

"iill ! 1

ii.

233

PLAYING COURIER

nothing of the winter that looked out of those frosty
eyes. I started one more breezy, poor effort, but
the head of the Expedition out into the centre of
it, and said :

* Where have you been ? *

I saw by the manner of this that the idea was
to get down to cold business now. So I began my
travels, but was cut short again.

'Where are the two others? We have been
in frightful anxiety about them.'

' Oh, they're all right. I was to fetch a cab. I
will go straight ofif, and *

' Sit down ! Don't you know it is 11 'clock ?
Where did you leave them ? '

* At the pension.'

« Why didn't you bring them ? •

< Because we couldn't carry the satchels. And
60 I thought •

' Thought 1 Tou should not try to think.
One cannot think without the proper machinery.
It is two miles to that pension. Did you go there
without a cab ? '

* I — well, I didn't intend to ; it only happened

BO.'

* How did it happen so ? ' ^

'Because I was at the Post Office, and I re-

PLAYING COURIER

«33

frosty
rt, but
itre of

3a was
an my

e been

!ab. I

'dock ?

And

think,
linery.
there

}pened

I re-

membered that I had left a cab waiting here,
and so, to stop the expense, I sent another oab to—
to •

•To what?*

•Well, I don't remember now, but I think the
new cab was to have the hotel pay the old oab, and
send it away. '

' What good would that do ? *

* What good would it do ? It would stop the
expense, wouldn't it ? '

'By putting the new cab in its place to con-
tinue the expense ? '

' I didn't say anything.

* Why didn't you have the new cab come back
for you ? '

'Oh, that is what I did! I remember now.
Yes, that is what I did. Because I recollect that
when I *

' Well, then, why didn't it come back for you ? *

* To the Post Office ? Why, it did.'

' Very well, then, how did you come to walk to
the pension ? '

' I — I don't quite remember how that happened.
Oh, yes, I do remember now. I wrote the despatch
to send to the Netherlands, and '

* Oh, thank goodness, you did accomplish some-

■*, 'I

's\

234

PLAYING COURIER

I! >

Bt;', I

thing I I wouldn't have had you fail to send

What makes you look like that ? You are trying
to avoid my eye. That despatch is the most im-
portant thing that Tou haven't sent that

despatch ! '

' I haven't said I didn't send it.'

' You don't need to. Oh, dear, I wouldn't have
had that telegram fail for anything. Why didn't
you send it ? '

' Well, you see, with so many things to do and
think of, I — they're very particular there, and after
I had written the telegram '

' Oh, never mind, let it go, explanations can't
help the matter now — what will he think of us ? '

'Oh, that's aU right, that's all right! He'll
think we gave the telegram to the hotel people, and
that they '

*WLy, certainly! Why didn't you do that?
Thdre was no other rational way.'

' Yes, I know, but then I had it on my mind
that I must be sure and get to the bank and draw
some money '

* Well, you are entitled to some credit, after all,
for thinking of that, and I don't wish to be too
hard on you, though you must acknowledge yourself
that you have cost us all a good deal of trouble,

PLAYING COURIER

335

and some of it not necessary. How much did yon
draw?*

' Well, I— I had an idea that— that '

« That what ? '

* 11i?*t — ^well, it seems to me that in the circum-
stances — so many of us, you know, and — and '

' What are you mooning about ? Do turn your

face this way and let me Why, you haven't

drawn any money ! *

* Well, the banker said *

' Never mind what the banker said. Tou must
have had a reason of your own. Not a reason,
exactly, but something which *

< Well, then, the simple fact was that I hadn't
my letter of credit.'

* Hadn't your letter of credit ? '
' Hadn't my letter of credit.'

* Don't repeat me like that. Where was it ? '
' At the Post Office.'

* What was it doing there ? '

< Well, I forgot it, and left it there.'

* Upon my word, I've seen a good many couriers,
but of all the couriers that ever I '

' I've done the best I could.'

* Well, BO you have, poor thing, and I'm wrong
to abuse you so when you've been working yourself

) w

% 'I

236

PLAYING COURIER

to death while we've been sitting here, only think-
ing of ooi vexations instead of feeling grateful for
what you were trying to do for us. It will all come
out right. We can take the 7.80 train in the
morning just as well. You've bought the tickets ? *

* I have — and it's a bargain, too. Second class.*

* I'm glad of it. Everybody else travels second
class, and we might just as well save that ruinous
extra charge. What did you pay ? '

* Twenty-two dollars apiece — through to Bay-
reuth.*

*Why, I didn't know you could buy through
tickets anywhere but in London and Paris.'

' Some people can't, maybe ; but some people
can — of whom I am one of which, it appears.'

< It seems a rather high price.'

<0n the contrary, the dealer knocked off his
commission.'
« Dealer ? '

* Yes — I bought them at a cigar shop.*

< That reminds me. We shall have to get up
pretty early, and so there should be no packing to

do. Your umbrella, your rubbers, your cigars

What is the matter ? '

' Hang it ! I've left the cigars at the bank.'

* Just think of it ! Well, your umbrella ? '

f think-
eful for
ill come

in the
ckets ? '
i class.'

second
ruinous

to Bay-
through

people
s.*

off his

get up
dng to
rs

PLAYING COURIER

237

* I'll have that all right. There's no hurry.'

* What do you mean by that ? '

* Oh, that's all right ; I'll take care of '

•Where is that umbrella ? '

•It's just the merest step— it won't take

me-

'Where is it?'

• Well, I think I left it at the cigar shop ; but
any way '

< Take your feet out from under that thing. It's
just as I expected ! Where are your rubbers ? *
i They— well '

• Where are your rubbers ? '

•It's got so dry now — well, everybody says

there's not going to be another drop of *

•Where — are — your — rubbers?'

• Well, you see — well, it was this way. First,
the officer said *

•What officer?'

• Police officer ; but the Mayor, he *

• What Mayor ? '

• Mayor of Geneva ; but I said '

• Wait. What is the matter with you ? '
•Who, me? Nothing. They both tried to

persuade me to stay, and—'

•Stay where?' ^

/'. 1

338

PLAYING COURIER

i I

,ii,tii

Jill

* Well— the fact is

* Where have you been ? What*fl kept you out
till half past ten at night ? '

< Oh, you see, after I lost my letter ol credit,
I •

*Tou are beating around the bush a good deal.
Now, answer the question in just one straightfor-
ward word. Where are those rubbers ? '

* They — well, they're in the county jail.'

I started a placating smile, but it petrified.
The climate was unsuitable. Spending three
or four hours in jail did not seem to the Expe-
dition humorous. Neither did it to me, at hot-
torn.

I had to explain the whole thing, and of course
it came out then that we couldn't take the early
train, because that would leave my letter of credit
in hock still. It did look as if we had all got to go
to bed estranged and unhappy, but by good luck
that was prevented. There happened to be mention
of the trunks, and I was able to say I had attended
to that feature.

< There, you are just as good and thoughtful and
painstaking and intelligent as you can be, and it's
a shame to find so much fault with you, and there
•han't be another word of it ! You've done beauti-

oaont

credit,

1 deal,
ghtfor-

trified.
three
Expe-
rt bot-

coorse

early

credit

to go

Id luck

mention

;ended

tuland

id it's

there

»eauti-

PLAYING COURIER

239

fiilly, admirably, and I'm sorry I ever said one mi-
grateful word to you.'

This hit deeper than some of the other things,
and made me uncomfortable, because I wasn't feel-
ing as solid about that trunk errand as I wanted
to. There seemed, somehow, to be a defect about
it somewhere, though I couldn't put my finger on
it, and didn't like to stir the matter just now, it
being late and maybe well enough to let well enough
alone.

Of course there was music in the morning, when
it was found that we couldn't leave by the early
train. But I had no time to wait ; I got only the
opening bars of the overture, and then started out
to get my letter of credit.

It seemed a good time to look into the trunk
business and rectify it if it needed it, and I had a
suspicion that it did. I was too late. The con-
cierge said he had shipped the trunks to Zurich
the evening before. I asked him how he could do
that without exhibiting passage tickets.

*Not necessary in Switzerland. You pay for
your trunks and send them where you please.
Nothing goes free but your hand baggage.'

* How much did you pay on them ? *

* A hundred and forty francs.'

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240

PLAYING COURIER

'Twenty-eight dollars. There's Bomething
wrong about that trunk business, sure.'

Next I met the porter. He said :

* You have not slept well, is it not ? You have
the worn look. If you would like a courier, a good
one has arrived last night, and is not engaged for
five days already, by the name of Ludi. We recom-
mend him ; '* das heisst," the Grande Hotel Beau
Bivage recommends him.*

I declined with coldness. My spirit was not
broken yet. And I did not like having my condi-
tion taken notice of in this way. I was at the county
jail by nine o'clock, hoping that the Mayor might
chance to come before his regular hour ; but he didn't.
It was dull there. Every time I offered to touch
anything, or look at anything, or do anything, or
refrain from doing anything, the policeman said it
was 'defendu.' I thought I would practise my
French on him, but he wouldn't have that either.
It seemed to make him particularly bitter to hear his
own tongue.

The Mayor came at last, and then there was no
trouble ; for the minute he had convened the Su-
preme Court — which they always do whenever there
is valuable property in dispute — and got everything
shipshape, and sentries posted, and had prayer, by

I ;

nothing

on have
, a good
Eiged for
3 recom-
;el Beau

7f&Q not
y condi-
3 county
•r might
LB didn't.
;o touch
hing, or
1 said it
tise my
t either,
hear his

I was no
the Su-
er there
irything
lyer, by

PLAYING COURIER

341

the chaplain, my unsealed letter was brought and
opened, and there wasn't anything in it but some
photographs : because, as I remembered now, I had
taken out the letter of credit so as to make room for
the photographs, and had put the letter in my other
pocket, which I proved to everybody's satisfaction
by fetching it out and showing it with a good deal
of exultation. So then the court looked at each
other in a vacant kind of way, and then at me, and
then at each other again, and finally let me go, but
said it was imprudent for me to be at large, and
asked me what my profession was. I said I was a
courier. They lifted up their eyes in a kind of
reverent way and said, * Du h'eber Gott ! ' and I said
a word of courteous thanks for their apparent ad-
miration and hurried off to the bank.

However, being a courier was already making
me a great stickler for order and system and one
thing at a time and each thing in its own proper
turn ; so I passed by the bank and branched off and
started for the two lacking members of the Expedi-
tion. A cab lazied by and I took it upon persuasion.
I gained no speed by this, but it was a reposeful
turn out and I liked reposefulness. The week-long
jubilations over the six-hundredth anniversary of
the birth of Swiss liberty and the Signing of the

i'l

341

PLAYING COURIER

Compact was at flood tide, and all the streets wsre
clothed in fluttering flags.

The horse and the driver had heen drunk three
days and nights, and had known no stall nor bed
meantime. They looked as I felt — dreamy and
seedy. But we arrived in course of time. I went
in and rang, and asked a housemaid to rush out the
lacking members. She said something which I did
not understand, and I returned to the chariot. The
girl had probably told me that those people did not
belong on her floor, and that it would be judicious
for me to go higher, and ring from floor to floor till
I found them ; for in those Swiss flats there does
not seem to be any way to find the right family but
to be patient and guess your way along up. I calcu-
lated thpt I must wait fifteen minutes, there being
three details inseparable from an occasion of this
sort : 1, put on hats and come down and climb in ;
2, return of one to get * my other glove ' ; 8, pre-
sently, return of the other one to fetch ' my French
Verbs at a Glance.' I would nuse during the
fifteen minutes and take it easy.

A very still and blank interval ensued, and then
I felt a hand on my shoulder and started. The in-
truder was a policeman. I glanced up and per-
ceived that there was new scenery. There was a

PLAYING COURIER

«43

eetfl wsre

ank three
1 nor bed
iamy and
I, I went
ih out the
hich I did
riot. The
lie did not

judicious
;o floor till
there does
'amily but
I calcu-

ere being
on of this

climb in;
8, pre-

ly French

uring the

and then
Thein-
and per-
^re was a

good deal of a crowd, and they had that pleased
and interested look which such a crowd wears when
they see that somebody is out of luck. The horse
was asleep, and so was the driver, and some boys
had hung them and me full of gaudy decorations
stolen from the innumerable banner poles. It was
a scandalous spectacle. The officer said :

' I'm sorry, but we can't have you sleeping here
all day.*

I was wounded, and said with dignity:

' I beg your pardon, I was not sleeping ; I was
thinking.'

* Well, you can think, if you want to, but you've
got to think to yourself; you disturb the whole
neighbourhood.'

It was a poor joke, and it made the crowd laugh.
I snore at night sometimes, but it is not likely that
I would do such a thing in the daytime and in such
a place. The officer undecorated us, and seemed
sorry for our friendlessness, and really tried to be
humane, but he said we mustn't stop there any
longer or he would have to charge us rent — it was
the law, he said, and he went on to say in a sociable
way that I was looking pretty mouldy, and he
wished he knew

I shut him off pretty austerely, and said I hoped

! i'l

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244

PLAYING COURIER

one might celebrate a little, these days, especially
when one was personally concerned.

* Personally ? * he asked. * How ? *

' Because six hundred years ago an ancestor of
mine signed the Compact.'

He reflected a moment, than looked me over and
said:

' Ancestor f It's my opinion yon signed it your-
self. For of all the old ancient relics that ever I —
but never mind about that. What is it you are
waiting here for so long ? '

I said :

' I'm not waiting here so long at all. I'm waiting
fifteen minutes till they forget a glove and a book
and go back and get them.' Then I told him who
they were that I had come for.

He was very obliging, and began to shout in-
quiries to the tiers of heads and shoulders pro-
jecting from the windows above us. Then a woman
away up there sang out :

* Oh, they ? Why, I got them a cab and they left
here long ago — half-past eight, I should say.'

It was annoying. I glanced at my watch, but
didn't say anything. The officer said :

' It is a quarter of twelve, you see. You should
have inquired better. You have been asleep three-

■r

PLAYING COURIER

945

►ecially

)8tor of

^er and

ityour-
iver I —
jroa are

waiting

[ a book

im who

lOut in-
rs pro-
woman

iheyleft

ch, but

should
three-

quarters of an hour, and in such a sun as this !
You are baked — baked black. It is wonderful. And
you will miss your train, perhaps. You interest me
greatly. What is your occupation ? *

I said I was a courier. It seemed to stun him,
and before he could come to we were gone.

When I arrived in the third story of the hotel I
found our quarters vacant. I was not surprised.
The moment a courier takes his eye off his tribe
they go shopping. The nearer it is to train time
the surer they are to go. I sat down to try and
think out what I had best do next, but presently the
hall boy found me there, and said the Expedition
had gone to the station half an hour before. It was
the first time I had known them to do a rational
thing, and it was very confusing. This is one of the
things that make a courier's life so difficult and un-
certain. Just as matters are going the smoothest,
bis people will strike a lucid interval, and down go
all his arrangements to wreck and ruin.

The train was to leave at twelve noon sharp. It
was now ten minutes after twelve. I could be at
the station in ten minutes. I saw I had no great
amount of leeway, for this was the lightning
express, and on the Continent the lightning
expresses are pretty fastidious about getting

? A

■A

:i ;. i

346

PLAYING COURIER

III:

!':'
%

away some time during the advertised day. My
people were the only ones remaining in the waiting
room; everybody else had passed through and
' mounted the train/ as they say in those regions.
They were exhausted with nervousness and fret,
but I comforted them and heartened them up, and
we made our rush.

But no ; we were out of luck again. The door-
keeper was not satisfied with the tickets. He ex-
amined them cautiously, deliberately, suspiciously :
then glared at me awhile, and after that he called
another official. The two examined the tickets and
called another official. These called others, and the
convention discussed and discussed, and gesticulated
and carried on until I begged that they would con-
sider how time was flying, and just pass a few
resolutions and let us go. Then they said very
courteously that there was a defect in the tickets,
and asked me where I got them.

I judged I saw what the trouble was, now.
Tou see, I had bought the tickets in a cigar shop,
and of course the tobacco smell was on them:
without doubt the thing they were up to was to
work the tickets through the Custom House and to
collect duty on that smell. So I resolved to be per-
fectly frank: itis sometimes the best way. I said :

ay. My
9 waiting
agh and
) regions,
and fret,
i api and

Che door-
He ez-
piciously :
he called
ckets and
'B| and the
sticulated
oold con-
iSB a few
Isaid very
,e tickets,

ras, now.

;ar shop,
them :
was to

^e and to
be per-
Isaid:

P LAVING COURIER

847

'Gentlemen, I will not deceive yon. These
railway tickets '

' Ah ! pardon, monsieur ! These are not rail-
way tickets.'

< Oh,' I said, < is that the defect ? '

'Ah, truly yes, monsieur. These are lottery
tickets, yes; and it is a lottery which has been
drawn two years ago.'

I affected to be greatly amused ; it is all one
can do in such circumstances; it is all one can
do, and yet there is no value in it ; it deceives no-
body, and you can see that everybody around pities
you and is ashamed of you. One of the hardest
situations in life, I think, is to be full of grief and a
sense of defeat and shabbiness that way, and yet
have to put on an outside of archness and gaiety,
while all the time you know that your own expedi-
tion, the treasures of your heart, and whose love and
reverence you are by the custom of our civilisation
entitled to, are being consumed with humiliation
before strangers to see you earning and getting a
compassion, which is a stigma, a brand-~a brand
which certifies you to be — oh, anything and every-
thing which is fatal to human respect.

I said, cheerily, it was all right, just one of those
little accidents that was likely to happen to any-

lit

III

) I

PLAYING COURIER

body — I would have the right tickets in two minutes,
and we would catch the train yet, and, moreover,
have something to laugh about all through the
journey. I did get the tickets in time, all stamped
and complete; but then it turned out that I
couldn't take them, because, in taking so much
pains about the two missing members, I had skipped
the bank and hadn't the money. So then the train
left, and there didn't seem to be anything to do but
go back to the hotel, which we did ; but it was kind
of melancholy and not much said. I tried to start
a few subjects, like scenery and transubstantiation,
and those sorts of things, but they didn't seem to
hit the weather right.

We had lost our good rooms, bat we got some
others which were pretty scattering, but would
answer. I judged things would brighten now, but
the Head of the Expedition said, 'Send up the
trunks.' It made me feel pretty cold. There
was a doubtful something about that trunk busi-
ness. I was almost sure of it. I was going to
suggest

But a wave of the hand sufficiently restrained
me, and I was informed that we would now camp for
three days and see if we could rest up.

I said all right, never mind ringing ; I would go

PLAYING COURIER

249

minutes,
loreover,
)agh the
stamped
that I
BO much
I skipped
the train
bo do but
eiras kind

to start
ntiation,

seem to

;ot some
\ would
low, but
up the
There
k busi-
oing to

trained
kmp for

>uld go

down and attend to the trunks myself. I got a cab
and went straight to Mr. Charles Natural's place,
and asked what order it was I had left there.

< To send seven trunks to the hotel.'
' And were you to bring any back ? '
•No.'

< Tou are sure I didn't tell you to bring back
seven that would be found piled in the lobby ? '

' Absolutely sure you didn't.*

< Then the whole fourteen are gone to Zurich
or Jericho or somewhere, and there is going to be
more debris around that hotel when the Expedi-
tion '

I didn't finish, because my mind was getting to
be in a good deal of a whirl, and when you are
that way you think you have finished a sentence
when you haven't, and you go mooning and
dreaming away, and the first thing you know you
get run over by a dray or a cow or something.

I left the cab there — I forgot it — and on my
way back I thought it all out and concluded to
resign, because otherwise I should be nearly sure
to be discharged. But I didn't believe it would be
a good idea to resign in person ; I could do it by
message. So I sent for Mr. Ludi and explained
that there was a courier going to resign on account

•I:

III

■■!

n!'.: '■'

'lii'

Hi'

llilM

2$0

PLAYING COURIER

of incompatibility or fatigue or something, and as
he had four or five vacant days, I would like to
insert him into that vacancy if he thought he could
fill it. When everything was arranged I got him
to go up and say to the Expedition that, owing to
an error made by Mr. Natural's people, we were
out of trunks here, but would have plenty in
Zurich, and we'd better take the first train,
freight, gravel, or construction, and move right
along.

He attended to that and came down with an
invitation for me to go up — ^yes, certainly; and,
while we walked along over to the bank to get
moneyj and collect my cigars and tobacco, and to
the cigar shop to trade back the lottery tickets and
get my umbrella, and to Mr. Natural's to pay that
cab and send it away, and to the county jail to get
my rubbers and leave p. p. c. cards for the Mayor
and Supreme Court, he described the weather to
me that was prevailing on the upper levels there
with the Expedition, and I saw that I was doing
very well where I was.

I stayed out in the woods till 4 p.m., to let the
weather moderate, and then turned up at the
etation just in time to take the three o'clock express
for Zurich along with the Expedition, now in the

and as

like to
16 could
got him
wing to
we were
enty in
I; train,
^e right

with an

ly; and,

i to get

L and to

lets and

)ay that

il to get

i Mayor

ither to

8 there

s doing

let the
at the

[express
in the

PLAYING COURIER

251

hands of Ludi, who conducted its complex affairs
with little apparent effort or inconvenience.

Well, I had worked like a slave while I was in
office, and done the very hest I knew how ; yet all
that these people dwelt upon or seemed to care to
remember was the defects of my administration,
not its creditable features. They would skip over
a thousand creditable features to remark upon and
reiterate and fuss about just one fact, till it seemed
to me they would wear it out ; and not much of a
fact, either, taken by itself — the fact that I elected
myself courier in Geneva, and put in work enough
to carry a, circus to Jerusalem, and yet never even
got my gang out of the town. I finally said I
didn't wish to hear any more about the subject, it
made me tired. And I told them to their faces
that I would never be a courier again to save any-
body's life. And if I live long enough I'll prove it.
I think it's a difficult, brain-racking, overworked,
and thoroughly ungrateful office, and the main
bulk of its wages is a sore heart and a bruised
spirit.

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

I FBBL lost, in Berlin. It has no resemblance to
the city I had supposed it was. There was once a
Berlin, which I would have known, from descriptions
in books — the Berlin of the last century and the
beginning of the present one: a dingy city in a
marsh, with rough streets, muddy and lantern-
lighted, dividing straight rows of ugly houses all
ali! >, compacted into blocks as square and plain
and uniform and monotonous and serious as so
many dry-goods boxes. But that Berlin has dis-
appeared. It seems to have disappeared totally,
and left no sign. The bulk of the Berlin of to-day
has about it no suggestion of a former period. The
site it stands on has traditions and a history, but
the city itself has no traditions and no history. It
is a new city, the newest I have ever seen. Chicago
would seem venerable beside it; for there are
many old-looking districts in Chicago, but not

'i fJ

854

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

many in Berlin. The main mass of the city looks
as if it had been built last week ; the rest of it has
a just perceptibly graver tone, and looks as if it
might be six or even eight months old.

The next feature that strikes one is the spacious-
ness, the roominess of the city. There is no other
city, in any country, whose streets are so generally
wide. Berlin is not merely a city of wide streets,
it is thA city of wide streets. As a wide-street city
it has never had its equal, in any age of the world.
' Unter den Linden ' is three streets in one ; the
Fotsdamerstrasse is bordered on both sides by
sidewalks which are themselves wider than some
of the historic thoroughfares of the old European
capitals; there seem to be no lanes or alleys;
there are no short-cuts; here and there, where
several important streets empty into a common
centre, that centre's circumference is of a magni-
tude calculated to bring that word spaciousness
into your mind again. The park in the middle of
the city is so huge that it calls up that expression
once more.

The next feature that strikes one is the straight-
ness of the streets. The short ones haven't so
much as a waver in them ; the long ones stretch
out to prodigious distances and then tilt a little to

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

355

city looks

of it has

B as if it

spacious-

) no other

generally

le streets,

street city

ihe world.

one; the

sides by

iian some

[European

»r alleys;

re, where

common

a magni-

ciousness

niddle of

xpression

straigbt-
iven't so
s stretch
little to

the right or left, then stretch oat on another im-
mense reach as straight as a ray of light. A result
of this arrangement is, that at night Berlin is an
inspiring sight to see. Gas and the electric light
are employed with a wasteful liberality, and so,
wherever one goes, he has always double ranks of
brilliant lights stretching far down into the night
on every hand, with here and there a wide and
splendid constellation of them spread out over an
intervening ' Platz ' ; and between the interminable
double procession of street lamps one has the
swarming and darting cab lamps, a lively and
pretty addition to the fine spectacle, for they
counterfeit the rush and confusion and sparkle of
an invasion of fire-flies.

There is one other noticeable feature — the ab-
solutely level surface of the site of Berlin. Berlin
— to capitulate — is newer to the eye than is any
other city, and also blonder of complexion and
tidier ; no other city has such an air of roominess,
freedom from crowding; no other city has so
many straight streets ; and with Chicago it con-
tests the chromo for flatness of surface and for
phenomenal swiftness of growth. Berlin is the
European Chicago. The two cities have about the
same population — say a million and a half. I

iji

t ■

2S6

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

cannot speak in exact terms, because I only know
what Chicago's population was week before last ;
but at that time it was about a million and a half.
Fifteen years ago Berlin and Chicago were large
cities, of course, but neither of them was the giant
it now is.

But now the parallels fail. Only parts of
Chicago are stately and beautiful, whereas all of
Berlin is stately and substantial, and it is not
merely in parts but uniformly beautiful. There
are buildings in Chicago that are architecturally
finer than any in Berlin, I think, but what I have
just said above is still true. These two flat cities
would lead the world for phenomenal good health
if London were out of the way. As it is, London
leads, by a point or two. Berlin's death rate is
only nineteen in the thousand. Fourteen years
ago the rate was a third higher.

Berlin is a surprise in a great many ways — in
a multitude of ways, to speak strongly and be exact.
It seems to be the most governed city in the world,
but one must admit that it also seems to be the
best governed. Method and system are observable
on every hand — in great things, in little things, in
all details, of whatsoever size. And it is not
method and system on paper, and there an end —

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

«57

y know
e last ;
a half,
e large
le giant

arts of

s all of

is not

There

eturally

i I have

a,t cities

I health

London

rate is

years

ys— in
exact,
world,
he the
ervahle
ngs, in
is not
end —

it is method and system in practice. It has a rule
for everything, and puts the rule in force ; puts it
in force against the poor and powerful alike, without
favour or prejudice. It deals with great matters
and minute particulars with equal faithfulness,
and with a plodding and painstaking diligence
and persistency which compel admiration — and
sometimes regret. There are several taxes, and they
are collected quarterly. Collected is the word ;
they are not merely levied, they are collected —
every time. This makes light taxes. It is in cities
and countries where a considerahle part of the
community shirk payment that taxes have to
be lifted to a burdensome rate. Here the police
keep coming, calmly and patiently, until you pay
your tax. They charge you five or ten cents
per visit after the first call. By experiment you
will find that they will presently collect that
money.

In one respect the million and a half of Berlin's
population are like a family ; the head of this large
family knows the names of its several members,
and where the said members are located, and when
and where they were born, and what they do for a
living, and what their religious brand is. Whoever
comes to Berlin must furnish these particulars to

k: 1

258

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

the police immediately ; moreover, if he knows how
long he is going to stay, he must say so. If he
take a house he will be taxed on the rent and taxed
also on his income. He will not be asked what
his income is, and so he may save some lies for
home consumption. The police will estimate his
income from the house-rent he pays, and tax him
on that basis.

Duties on imported articles are collected with
inflexible fidelity, be the sum large or little; but
the methods are gentle, prompt, and full of the
spirit of accommodation. The postman attends to
the whole matter for you, in cases where the article
comes by mail, and you have no trouble, and suffer
no inconvenience. The other day a friend of mine
was informed that there was a package in the
post-office for him, containing a lady's silk belt with
gold clasp, and a gold chain to hang a bunch of
keys on. In his first agitation he was going to try
to bribe the postman to chalk it through, but acted
upon his sober second thought and allowed the
matter to take its proper and regular course. In
a little while the postman brought the package and
made these several collections : duty on the silk
belt, 7i cents ; duty on the gold chain, 10 cents ;
charge for fetchin^^ the package, 5 cents. These

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

359

DWfl ho^
. If he
[id taxed
ed what

lies for
nate his

tax him

jted with
ttle; but
11 of the
ittends to
le article
.nd suffer
I of mine
in the
belt with
unch of
g to try
ut acted
iwed the
irse. In
:age and
the silk
cents ;
These

devastating imposts are exacted for the protection
of German home industries.

The calm, quiet, courteous, cussed persistence
of the police is the most admirable thing I have
encountered on this side. They undertook to per-
suade me to send and get a passport for a Swiss
maid whom we had brought with us, and at the
end of six weeks of patient, tranquil, angelic daily
effort they succeeded. I was not intending to give
them trouble, but I was lazy, and I thought they
would get tired. Meanwhile they probably thought
I would be the one. It turned out just so.

One is not allowed to build unstable, unsafe, or
unsightly houses in Berlin ; the result is this comely
and conspicuously stately city, with its security from
conflagrations and break-downs. It is built of
architectural Gibraltars. The Building Commis-
sioners inspect while the building is going up. It
has been found that this is better than to wait till
it falls down. These people are full of whims.

One is not allowed to cram poor folk into
cramped and dirty tenement houses. Each indi-
vidual must have just so many cubic feet of room-
space, and sanitary inspections are systematic and
frequent.

Everything is orderly. The fire brigade march

8 2

!j I

26o

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

in rank, ouriouBly nniformed, and bo grave is their
demeanour that they look like a Salvation Army
under conviction of sin. People tell me that when
a fire alarm is sounded, the firemen assemble
calmly, answer to their names when the roll is
called, then proceed to the fire. There they are
ranked up, military fashion, and told off in detach-
ments by the chief, who parcels out to the detach-
ments the several parts of the worli which they are
to undertake in putting out that fire. This is all
done with low- voiced propriety, and strangers think
these people are working a funeral. As a rule the
fire is confined to a single floor in these great
masses of bricks and masonry, and consequently
there is little or no interest attaching to a fire here
for the rest of the occupants of the house.

There are abundance of newspapers in Berlin,
and there was also a newsboy, but he died. At
intervals of half a mile on the thoroughfares there
are booths, and it is at these that you buy your
papers. There are plenty of theatres, but they do
not advertise in a loud way. There are no big
posters of any kind, and the display of vast type
and of pictures of actors and performance, framed
on a big scale and done in rainbow colours, is a
thing unknown. If the big show-bills existed there

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

361

^e is their
on Army
hat when

aesemble
he roll is

they are
n detach-
e detach-
1 they are
[his is all
;ers think
\ rule the
lese great
isequently
\ fire here

in Berlin,
died. At
xes there
buy your
t they do
:e no big
vast type
B, framed
)urs, is a
ted there

would be no place to exhibit them ; for there are no
poster-fenceH, and one would not be allowed to dis-
figure dead walls with them. Unsightly things are
forbidden here ; Berlin is a rest to the eye.

And yet the saunterer can easily find out what
is going on at the theatres. All over the city, at
short distances apart, there are neat round pillars
eighteen feet high and about as thick as a hogs-
head, and on these the little black-and-white
theatre bills and other notices are posted. One
generally finds a group around each pillar read-
ing these things. There are plenty of things in
Berlin worth importing to America. It is these
that I have particularly wished to make a note
of. When Buffalo Bill was here his biggest poster
was probably not larger than the top of an ordinary
trunk.

There is a multiplicity of clean and comfortable
horse-cars, but whenever yon think you know where
a car is going to, you would better stop ashore,
because that car is not going to that place at all.
The car-routes are marvellously intricate, and often
the drivers get lost and are not heard of for years.
The signs on the cars furnish no details as to the
course of the journey ; they name the end of it, and
then experiment around to see how much territory

' \\

262

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

they can cover before they get there. The con-
ductor will collect your fare over again, every few
miles, and give you a ticket which he hasn't
apparently kept any record of, and you keep it till
an inspector conies aboard by-and-by and tears a
corner off it (which he does not keep), then you
throw the ticket away and get ready to buy another.
Brains are of no value when you are trying to
navigate Berlin in a horse-car. When the ablest of
Brooklyn's editors was here on a visit he took a
horse-car in the early morning and wore it out try-
ing to go to a point in the centre of the city. He
was on board all day and spent many dollars in
fares, and then did not arrive at the place which
he bad started to go to. This is the most thorough
way to see Berlin, but it is also the most expensive.
But there are excellent features about the car
system, nevertheless. The car will not stop for you
to get on or off, except at certain places a block or
two apart, where there is a sign to indicate that
that is a halting station. This system saves many
bones. There are twenty places inside the car;
when these seats are filled, no more can enter.
Four or five persons may stand on each platform —
the law decrees the number — and when these
standing places are all occupied the next applicant

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

263

rhe con-

ivery few

e hasn't

eep it till

1 tears a

tihen you

r another.

brying to

I ablest of

le took a

t out try-

jity. He

LoUars in

ce which

thorough

spensive.

k the car

p for you

block or

sate that

es many

the car;

n enter.

tform —

sn these

.pplicant

is refused. As there is no crowding, and as no
rowdyism is allcwed, women stand on the platforms
as well as men ; they often stand there when there
are vacant seats inside, for these places are com-
fortable, there being little or no jolting. A native
tells me that when the first car was put on, thirty
or forty years ago, the public had such a terror of
it that they didn't feel safe inside of it, or outside
either. They made the company keep a man at
every crossing with a red flag in his hand. Nobody
would travel in the car except convicts on the way
to the gallows. This made business in only one
direction, and the car had to go back light. To
save the company, the city government transferred
the convict cemetery to the other end of the line.
This made traffic in both directions, and kept the
company from going under. This sounds like some
of the information which travelling foreigners are
furnished with in America. To my mind it has a
doubtful ring about it.

The first-class cab is neat and trim, and has
leather-cushion seats and a swift horse. The
second-class cab is an ugly and lubberly vehicle,
and is always old. It seems a strange thing that
they have never built any new ones. Still, if such
a thing were done everybody that had time to flock

264

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

ail. ti

ii'

would flock to see it, and that would make a crowd,
and the police do not like crowds and disorder here.
If there were an earthquake in Berlin the police
would take charge of it, and conduct it in that sort
of orderly way that would make you think it was a
prayer meeting. That is what an earthquake
generally ends in, but this one would be different
from those others ; it would be kind of soft and
self-contained, like a republican praying for a
mugwump.

For a course (a quarter of an hour or less), one
pays twenty-five cents in a first-class cab, and fifteen
cents in a second-class. The first-class will take
you along faster, for the second-class horse is old —
always old — as old as his cab, some authorities say
— and ill-fed and weak. He has been a first-class
once, but has been degraded to second-class for
long and faithful service.

Still, he must take you as fcur for fifteen cents
as the other horse takes you for twenty-five. If he
can't do his fifteen-minute distance in fifteen
minutes, he must still do the distance for the
fifteen cents. Any stranger can check the distance
off — by means of the most curious map I am ac-
quainted with. It is isDued by the city government
and can be bought in any shop for a trifle. In it

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

36$

every street is sectioned off, like a string of long
beads of different colours. Each long bead repre-
sents a minute's travel, and when you have covered
fifteen of the beads you have got your money's
worth. This map of Berlin is a gay-coloured
maze, and looks like pictures of the circulation of
the blood.

The streets are very clean. They are kept so —
not by prayer and talk, and the other New York
methods, but by daily and hourly work with
scrapers and brooms ; and when an asphalted street
has been tidily scraped after a rain or a light snow-
faU, they scatter clean sand over it. This saves
some of the horses from falling down. In fact, this
is a city government which seems to stop at no
expense where the public convenience, comfort, and
health are concerned — except in one detail. That
is the naming of the streets and the numbering of
the houses. Sometimes the name of a street will
change in the middle of a block. You will not find
it out till you get to the next corner and discover
the new name on the wall, and of course you don't
know just >vhen the change happened.

The names are plainly marked on the corners —
on all the corners — there are no exceptions. But
the numbering of the houses — there has never been

266

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

anything like it since original chaos. It is not pos-
sible that it was done by this wise city government.
At first one thinks it was done by an idiot ; but
there is too much variety about it for that ; an idiot
could not think of so many different ways of making
confusion and propagating blasphemy. The num-
bers run up one side the street and down the other.
That is endurable, but the rest isn't. They often
use one number for three or four houses — and some-
times they put the number on only one of the houses,
and let you guess at the others. Sometimes they
put a number on a house— 4, for instance — then put
4a, 4&, 4c, on the succeeding houses, and one be-
comes old and decrepit before he finally arrives at
5. A result of this systemless system is, that
when you are at No. 1 in a street, you haven't any
idea how far it may be to No. 150 ; it may be only
six or eight blocks, it may be a couple of miles.
Frederick Street is long, and is one of the great
thoroughfares. The other day a man put up his
money behind the assertion that there were more
refreshment places in that street than numbers on
the houses — and he won. There were 254 numbers
and 257 refreshment places. Yet, as I have said, it
is a long street.

But the worst feattii^e of all this complex busi-

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

267

busi-

ness is, that in Berlin the numbers do not travel in any
one direction ; no, they travel along until they get
to 60 or 60, perhaps, then suddenly you find your-
self up in the hundreds — 140, maybe ; the next will
be 139 — then you perceive by that sign that the
numbers are now travelling towards you from the
opposite direction. They will keep that sort of
insanity up as long as you travel that street ; every
now and then the numbers will turn and run the
other way. As a rule there is an arrow under the
number, to show by the direction of its flight which
way the numbers are proceeding. There are a
good many suicides in Berlin — I have seen six re-
ported in a single day. There is always a deal of
learned and labo^ 'ous arguing and ciphering going
on as to the cause of this state of things. If they
will set to work and number their houses in a
rational way, perhaps they will find out what was
the matter.

More than a month ago Berlin began to prepare
to celebrate Professor Virchow's seventieth birth-
day. When the birthday arrived, the middle of
October, it seemed to me that all the world of science
arrived with it ; deputation after deputation came,
bringing the homage and reverence of far cities and
centres of learning, and during the whole of a long

368

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

day the hero of it sat and received such witness of
his greatness as has seldom been vouchsafed to any
man in any walk of life in any time ancient or
modem. These demonstrations were continued in
one form or another day after day, and were
presently merged in similar demonstrations to his
twin in science and achievement, Professor Helm-
holtz, whose seventieth birthday is separated from
Yirchow's by only about three weeks ; so nearly as
this did these two extraordinary men come to being
born together. Two such births have seldom sig-
nalised a single year in human history.

But perhaps the final and closing demonstra-
tion was peculiarly grateful to them. This was a
Commers given in their honour the other night,
by a thousand students. It was held in a huge
hall, very long and very lofty, which had five
galleries, far above everybody's head, which were
crowded with ladies — four or five hundred, I
judged.

It was beautifully decorated with clustered flags
and various ornamental devices, and was brilliantly
lighted. On the spacious floor of this place were
ranged, in files, innumerable tables, seating twenty-
four persons each, extending from one end of the
great hall clear to the other, an*! with narrow aisles

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

269

tness of
1 to any
cient or
nned in
id were
s to his
r Helm-
ed from
early as
to being
[om sig-

lonstra-
3 was a
ir night,
a huge
lad five
3h were
dred, I

ed flags
illiantly
ce were
twenty-
. of the
w aisles

between the files. In the oentre, on on^ side, was a
high and tastefully decorated platform twenty or
thirty feet long, with a long table on it behind which
sat the half dozen chiefs of the givers of the Gom-
mers in the rich medisBval costumes of as many dif-
ferent college corps. Behind these youths a band
of musicians was concealed. On the floor, directly
in front of this platform, were half a dozen tables
which were distinguished from the outlying conti-
nent of tables by being covered instead of left naked.
Of these the central table was reserved for the two
heroes of the occasion and twenty particularly emi-
nent professors of the Berlin University, and the
other covered tables were for the occupancy of a
hundred less distinguished professors.

I was glad to be honoured with a place at the
table of the two heroes of the occasion, although I
was not really learned enough to deserve it. In-
deed there was a pleasant strangeness in being in
Buch company ; to be thus associated with twenty-
three men who forget more every day than I ever
knew. Yet there was nothing embarrassing about
it, because loaded men and empty ones look about
alike, and I knew that to that multitude there I was
a professor. It required but little art to catch the
ways and attitude of those men and imitate them,

ni !

■ I

370

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

V -n

Bud I had no difficulty in looking as much like a
professor as anybody there.

We arrived early ; so early that only Professors
Virchow and Helmholtz and a dozen guests of the
special tables were ahead of us, and three or four
hundred students. But people were arriving in
floods, now, and within fifteen minutes all but the
special tables were occupied, and the great house
was crammed, the aisles included. It was said that
there were four thousand men present. It was a
most animated scene, there is no doubt about that ;
it was a stupendous beehive. At each end of
each table stood a corps student in the uniform of
his corps. These quaint costumes are of brilliant-
coloured silks and velvets, with sometimes a high
plumed hat, sometimes a broad Scotch cap, with a
great plume wound about it, sometimes— oftenest —
a little shallow silk cap on the tip of the crown, like
an inverted saucer ; sometimes the pantaloons are
snow-white, sometimes of other colours ; the boots
in all cases come up well above the knee ; and in
all cases also white gauntlets are worn ; the sword
is a rapier with a bowl-shaped guard for the hand,
painted in several colours. Each corps has a uniform
of its own, and all are of rich material, brilliant in
colour, and exceedingly picturesque ; for they are

i«i .i

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

Barvivals of the vanished costumes of the Middle
Ages, and they reproduce for us the time when men
were beautiful to look at. The student who stood
guard at our end of the table was of grave coun-
tenance and great frame and grace of form, and he
was doubtless an accurate reproduction, clothes
and all, of some ancestor of his of two or three
centuries ago — a reproduction as far as the out-
side, the animal man, goes, I mean.

As I say, the place was now crowded. The
nearest aisle was packed with students standing up,
and they made a fence which shut off the rest of
the house from view. As far down this fence as
you could see, all these wholesome young faces were
turned in one direction, all these intent and wor-
shipping eyes were centred upon one spot — the place
where Virchow and Helmholtz sat. The boys
seemed lost to everything, unconscious of their own
existence ; they devoured these two intellectual
giants with their eyes, they feasted upon them, and
the worship that was in their hearts shone in their
faces. It seemed to me that I would rather be
flooded with a glory like that, instinct with sincerity,
innocent of self-seeking, than win a hundred battles
and break a million hearts.

There was a big mug of beer in front of each of

373

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

I. r

, US, and more to come when wanted. There was
also a quarto pamphlet containing the words of the
Bongs to be sung. After the names of the officers
of the feast were these words in large type :

Wakftnd, de» Kommer$e$ herrscht aUgemeiner
Btt/rgfriede,

I was not able to translate this to my satisfaction,
but a professor helped me out. This was his ex-
planation : The students in uniform belong to dif-
ferent college corps; not all students belong to
corps ; none join the corps except those who enjoy
fighting. The corps students fight duels with swords
every week, one corps challenging another corps to
furnish a certain number of duellists for the occasion,
and it is only on this battle-field that students of
different corps exchange courtesies. In common life
they do not drink with each other or speak. The
above line now translates itself: There is truce
during the Gommers, war is laid aside, and fellow-
ship takes its place.

Now the performance began. The concealed
band played a piece of martial music ; then there
was a pause. The students on the platform rose to
their feet, the middle one gave a toast to the Emperor,
then all the house rose, mugs in hand. At the call

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

a73

ire was
3 of the
officers

[faction y
his ex-
g to dif-
ilong to
10 enjoy
1 swords
I corps to
coasion,
ients of
mon life
k. The
is truce
fellow-

mcealed
)n there

rose to
fmperor,

the call

• One — two — three ! ' all glasses were drained and
then brought down with a slam on the tables in
unison. The result was as good an imitation of
thunder as T have ever heard. From now on,
during an hour iliere was singing, in mighty chorus.
During each interval between songs a number of the
special guests — the professors — arrived. There
seemed to be some signal whereby the students on
the platform were made aware that a professor had
arrived at the remote door of entrance; for you
would see them suddenly rise to their feet, strike an
erect military attitude, then draw their swords ; the
swords of all their brethren standing guard at the
innumerable tables would flash from the scabbards
and be held aloft — a handsome spectacle. Three
clear bugle notes would ring out, then all these swords
would come down with a crash, twice repeated, on
the tables, and be uplifted and held aloft again ;
then in the distance you would see the gay uniforms
and uplifted swords of a guard of honour, clearing
the way and conducting the guest down to his place.
The songs were stirring ; the immense outpour from
young life and young lungs, the crash of swords and
the thunder of the beer-mugs, gradually worked a
body up to what seemed the last possible summit of
excitement. It surely seemed to me that I had

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274

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

reached that summit, that I had reached my limit,
and that there was no higher lift desirahle for me.
When apparently the last eminent guest had long
ago taken his place, again those three hugle blasts
rang out, and once more the swords leaped from their
scabbards. Who might this late comer be ? No-
body was interested to inquire. Still, indolent eyes
were turned towards the distant entrance ; we saw
the silken gleam and the lifted swords of a guard of
honour ploughing through the remote crowds. Then
we saw that end of the house rising to its feet ; saw
it rise abreast the advancing guard aU along, like a
wave. This supreme honour had been offered to no
one before. Then there was an excited whisper at
our table — * Mommsbn ! * and the whole house rose.
Bose and shouted and stamped and clapped, and
banged the beer-mugs. Just simply a storm. Then
the little man with his long hair and Emersonian
face edged his way past us and took his seat. I
could have touched him with my hand — Mommsen !
— think of it !

This was one of those immense surprises that can
happen only a few times in one's life. I was not
dreaming of him, he was to me only a giant myth,
a world-shadowing spectre, not a reality. The sur-
prise of it all can be only comparable to a man's

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

275

tny limit,
e for me.
had long
gle blasts
rom their
)e ? No-
jlent eyes
; we saw
b guard of
is. Then
feet ; saw
ng, like a
3red to no
hisper at
mse rose.
)ped, and
m, Then
lersonian
seat. I
)mmsen !

3 that can

was not

nt myth,

The sur-

a man's

suddenly coming upon Mont Blanc, with its awful
form towering into the sky, when he didn't suspect
he was in its neighbourhood. I would have walked
a great many miles to get a sight of him, and here
he was, without trouble or tramp or cost of any kind.
Here he was, clothed in a Titanic, deceptive modesty
which made him look like other men. Here he
was, carrying the Boman world and all the Gsesars
in his hospitable skull, and doing it as easily as
that other luminous vault, the skull of the universe,
carries the Milky Way and the constellations.

One of the professors said that once upon a time
an American young lady was introduced to Momm-
sen, and found herself badly scared and speechless.
She dreaded to see his mouth unclose, for she was
expecting him to choose a subject several miles
above her comprehension, and didn't suppose he
coM, get down to the world that other people lived
in ; but when his remark came, her terrors disap-
peared : * Well, how do you do ? Have you read
Howells's last book ? I think it's his best.'

The active ceremonies of the evening closed with
the speeches of welcome, delivered by two students,
and the replies made by Professors Yirchow and
Helmholtz.

Yirchow has long been a member of the city

■;; i;^

876

THE GERMAN CHICAGO

government of Berlin. He works as hard for the
city as does any other Berlin alderman, and gets
the same pay — nothing. I don't know that we in
America could venture to ask our most illustrions
citizen to serve in a board of aldermen, and if we
might venture it I am not positively sure that we
could elect him. But here the municipal system is
such that the best men in the city consider it an
honour to serve gratis as aldermen, and the people
have the good sense to prefer these men, and to elect
them year after year. As a result, Berlin is a
thoroughly well-governed city. It is a free city;
its afifairs are not meddled with by the State;
they are managed by its own citizens, and after
methods of their own devising.

•77

or the
d gets
\i we in
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I if we
[lat we
stem is
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in is a
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State;
d after

A PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF

ENGLAND

Habtfobd: Nov, 6, 1887.

Wldam, — ^Ton will remember that last May Mr.
Edward Bright, the clerk of the Inland Bevenue
Office, wrote me about a tax which he said was due
from me to the Government on books of mine pub-
lished in London — that is to say, an income tax on
the royalties. I do not know Mr. Bright, and it is
embarrassing to me to correspond with strangers ;
for I was raised in the country and have always
lived there, the early part in Marion county,
Missouri, before the war, and this part in Hartford
county, Connecticut, near Bloomfield, and about eight
miles this side of Farmington, though some call it
nine, which it is impossible to be, for I have walked
it many and many a time in considerably under
three hours, and General Hawley says he has done
it in two and a quarter, which is not likely ; so it has

878 PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND

seemed best that I write your Majesty. It is true
that I do not know your Majesty personally, but I
have met the Lord Mayor, and if the rest of the
family are like him, it is but just that it should be
named royal ; and likewise plain that in a family
matter like this, I cannot better forward my case
than to frankly carry it to the head of the family
itself. I have also met the Prince of Wales once, in
the fall of 1878, but it was not in any familiar way,
but in a quite informal way, being casual, and was,
of course, a surprise to us both. It was in Oxford
Street, just where you come out of Oxford into Re-
gent Circus, and just as he turned up one side of the
circle at the head of a procession, I went down the
other side on the top of an omnibus. He will re-
member me on account of a grey coat with flap
pockets that I wore, as I was the only person on
the omnibus that had on that kind of a coat; I re-
member him, of course, as easy as I would a comet.
He looked quite proud and satisfied, but that is not
to be wondered at, he has a good situation. And
once I called on your Majesty, but you were out.

But that is no matter, it happens with everybody.
However, I have wandered a Uttle away from what
I started about. It was this way. Young Bright
wrote my London publishers, Chatto and Windus —

PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 279

their place is the one on the left as you come dow n
Piccadilly, about a block and a half above where
the minstrel show is — he wrote them that he wanted
them to pay income tax on the royalties of some
foreign authors, namely, *Miss De La Kame
(Ouida), Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, Mr. Francis
Bret Harte, and Mr. Mark Twain.' Well, Mr.
Chatto diverted him from the others, and tried to
divert him from me, but in this case he failed. So
then young Bright wrote me. And not only that,
but he sent me a printed document the size of a
newspaper, for me to sign, all over in different
places. Well, it was that kind of a document that
the more you study it the more it undermines you,
and makes everything seem uncertain to you ; and
80, while in that condition, and really not respon-
sible for my acts, I wrote Mr. Chatto to pay the tax,
and charge to me. Of course my idea was, that it
was for only one year, and that the tax would be
only about one per cent, or along there somewhere,
but last night I met Professor Sloane of Princeton
— you may not know him, but you have probably
seen him every now and then, for he goes to Eng-
land a good deal ; a large man and very handsome,
and absorbed in thought, and if you have noticed
Buch a man on platforms after the train is gone.

((

r: ■

280 PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND

that is the one, he generally gets left, like all those
specialists and other scholars who know everything
hat how to apply it — and he said it was a back tax
for ^ree years, and not one per cent, bat two and a
half!

That gave what had seemed a little matter a
new aspect. I then began to study the printed docu-
ment again, to see if I could find anything in it
that might modify my case, and I had what seems
to be a quite promising success. For instance, it
opens thus — polite and courteous, the way those
English Government documents always are — I do
not say that to hear myself talk, it is just the fact,
and it is a credit :

'To Mb. Mabk Twain: IN PURSUANCE of
the Acts of Parliament for granting to Her Majesty
Duties and Profits,' &c.

I had not noticed that before. My idea had
been that it was for the Government, and so I wrote
to the Government ; but now I saw that it was a
private matter, a family matter, and that the pro-
ceeds went to yourself, not the Government. I
would always rather treat with principals, and I am
glad I noticed that clause. With a principal one
can always get at a fair and right understanding,
whether it is about potatoes, or continents, or any

PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND aSi

of those things, or something entirely different ; for
the size c nature of the thing does not affect the
fact ; whereas, as a rule, a subordinate is more or
less troublesome to satisfy. And yet this is not
against them, but the other way. They have their
duties to do, and must be harnessed to rules, and
not allowed any discretion. Why, if your Majesty
should equip young Bright with discretion — I mean
his own discretion — it is an even guess that he would
discretion you out of house and home in two or three
years. He would not mean to get the family into
straits, but that would be the usphot,just the same.
Now then, with Bright out of the way, this is not
going to be any Irish question ; it is going to be settled
pleasantly and satisfactorily for all of us, and when
it is finished your Majesty is going to stand with the
American people just as you have stood for fifty years,
and surely no monarch can require better than that
of an alien nation. They do not all ^:\^ a British
income tax, but the most of them will in ime, for we
have shoals of new authors coming along every year ;
and of the population «f your Canada, upwards of
four-fifths are wealthy Americans, and more going
there all the time.

Well, another thing which I noticed in the docu-
ment was an item about ' Deductions.' I will come

282 PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND

to that presently, your Majesty. And another thing
was this: that Authors are not mentioned in the
document at all. No» we have 'Quarries, Mines,
Iron Works, Salt Springs, Alum Mines, Water
Works, Canals, Docks, Drains, Levels, Fishings,
Fairs, Tolls, Bridges, Ferries,' and so forth and so
forth and so on — well, as much as a yard or a yard
and a half of them, I should think — anyway a very
large quantity or number. I read along — down, and
down, and down the list, further, and further, and
further, and as I approached the bottom my hopes
began to rise higher and higher, because I saw that
everything in England, tyiat far, was taxed by name
and in detail, except, perhaps, the family, and may
be Parliament, and yet still no mention of Authors.
Apparently they were going to be overlooked. And
sure enough, they were ! My heart gave a great
bound. But I was too soon. There was a footnote,
in Mr. Bright's hand, which said : * You are taxed
under Schedule D, Section 14.' I turned to that
place, and found these three things : * Trades, Offices,
Gas Works.' •

Of course, after a moment's reflection, hope came
up again, and then certainty : Mr. Bright was in
error, and clear off the track; for Authorship is
not a Trade, it is an inspiration ; Authorship does

ILAND

her thing
d in the
I, Mines,
8, Water
Fishings,
b and so
►r a yard
ly a very
own, and
her, and
ay hopes
saw that
by name
md may
Authors,
d. And

a great
botnote,
re taxed

to that
, Offices,

pe came
i was in
rship is
lip does

PETITION TO i:iE QUEEN OF ENGLAND J83

not keep an Office, its habitation is all out under
the sky, and everywhere where the winds are blow-
ing and the sun is shining and the creatures of God
are free. Now then, since I have no Trade and
keep no Office, I am not taxable under Schedule D,
Section 14. Your Majesty sees that ; so I will go on
to that other thing that I spoke of, the 'Deductions*
— deductions from my tax which I may get allowed,
under conditions. Mr. Bright says all deductions
to be claimed by me must be restricted to the pro-
visions made in Paragraph No. 8, entitled 'Wear and
Tear of Machinery or Plant.* This is curious, and
shows how far he has gotten away on his wrong
course after once he has got started wrong; for
Offices and Trades do not have Plant, they do not
have Machinery, such a thing was never heard of;
and, moreover, they do not wear and tear. You
see that, your Majesty, and that it is true. Here
is the Paragraph No. 8 :

'Amount claimed as a deduction for diminished
value by reason of Wear and Tear, where the Machi-
nery or Plant belongs to the Person or Company
carrying on the Concern, or is let to such Person or
Company so that the Lessee is bound to maintain
and deliver over the same in good condition : —

ArrKnmt £ '

t84 PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND

There it is — the very words.

I could answer Mr. Bright thus :

It is my pride to say that my Brain is my Plant;
and I do not claim any deduction for diminished
value hy reason of Wear and Tear, for the reason
that it does not wear and tear, but stays sound and
whole all the time. Tes, I could say to him, my
Brain is my Plant, my Skull is my Workshop, my
Hand is my Machinery, and I am the Person carry-
ing on the Concern ; it is not leased to anybody,
and so there is no Lessee bound to maintain and
deliver over the same in good condition. There !
I do not wish to any way overrate this argument
and answer, dashed off just so, and not a word of
it altered from the way I first wrote it, your Majesty,
but, indeed, it does seem to pulverise that young
fellow, you can see that yourself. But that is all
I say ; I stop there ; I never pursue a person after
I have got him down.

Having thus shown your Majesty that I am not
taxable, but am the victim of the error of a clerk
who mistakes the nature of my commerce, it only
remains for me to beg that you will of your justice
annul my letter that I spoke of, so that my publisher
can keep back that tax-money which, in the con-
fusion and aberration caused by the document, I

PETITION TO THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND 385

ordered him to pay. Toa will not miBB the sum,
but this is a hard year for authors; and as for
lectures, I do not suppose your Majesty ever saw
Buch a dull season.

With always great, and ever increasing, respect,
I beg to sign myself your Majesty's servant to com-
mand, Mabk Twain.

Hbb Majesty thb Quum, Londom.

987

A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

If I were required to gaess off-hand, and without
collusion with higher minds, what is the hottom
cause of the amazing material and intellectual
advancement of the last fifty years, I should guess
that it was the modern-born and previously non-
existent disposition on the part of men to believe
that a new idea can have value. With the long
roll of the mighty names of history present in our
minds, we are not privileged to doubt that for the
past twenty or thirty centuries every conspicuous
civiUsation in the world has produced intellects able
to invent and create the things which make our
day a wonder; perhaps we may be justified in
inferring, then, that the reason they did not do it
was that the public reverence for old ideas and
hostility to new ones always stood in their way,
and was a wall they could not break down or climb
over. The prevailing tone of old books regarding

|i' ' il

W m\v

288 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

new ideas is one of suspicion and uneasiness at
times, and at other times contempt. By contrast,
our day is indifferent to old ideas, and even con-
siders that their age makes their value question-
able, but jumps at a new idea with enthusiasm and
high hope — a hope which is high because it has
not been accustomed to being disappointed. I
make no guess as to just when this disposition was
born to us, but it certainly is ours, was not possessed
by any century before us, is our peculiar mark and
badge, and is doubtless the bottom reason why we
are a race of lightning-shod Mercuries, and proud
of it — instead of being, like our ancestors, a race of
plodding crabs, and proud of that.

So recent is this change from a three or four
thousand year twilight to the flash and glare of open
day that I have walked in both, and yet am not old.
Nothing is to-day as it was when I was an urchin ;
but when I was an urchin, nothing was much
different from what it had always been in this
world. Take a single detail, for example — medi-
cine. Galen could have come into my sick-room at
any time during my first seven years — I mean any
day when it wasn't fishing weather, and there
wasn't any choice but school or sickness — and he
could have sat down there and stood my doctor's

A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL 289

siness at
contrast,
ven con-
g[uestion-
lasm and
36 it has
inted. I
ition was
30ssessed
aark and
\ why we
id proud
a race of

I or four
B of open
not old.
urchin;
a much
in this
( — medi-
roomat
ean any
d there
-and he
doctor's

watch without asking a question. He would have
smelt around among the wilderness of cups and
bottles and phials on the table and the shelves, and
missed not a stench that used to glad him two thou-
sand years before, nor discovered one that was of a
later date. He would have examined me, and run
across only one disappointment — ^I was already sali-
vated ; I would have him there ; for I was always
salivated, calomel was so cheap. He would get out
his lancet then ; but I would have him again ,* our
family doctor didn't allow blood to accumulate in
the system. However, he could take dipper and
ladle, and freight me up with old familiar doses that
had come down from Adam to his time and mine ;
and he could go out with a wheelbarrow and gather
weeds and offal, and build some more, while those
others were getting in their work. And if our
reverend doctor came and found him there, he would
be dumb with awe, and would get down and worship
him. Whereas, if Galen should appear among
us to-day, he could not stand anybody's watch ; he
would inspire no awe ; he would be told he was a
back number, and it would surprise him to see
that that fact counted against him, instead of in
his favour. He wouldn't know our medicines;
he wouldn't know our practice; and the first

11!

U'Ji

I ill"

lli

290 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

time he tried to introduce his own, we would hang
him.

This introduction brings me to my literary
relic. It is a DicUoncury ofMedicine^ by Dr. James,
of London, assisted by Mr. Boswell's Doctor Samuel
Johnson, and is a hundred and fifty years old, it
having been published at the time of the rebellion
of '45. If it had been sent against the Pretender's
troops there probably wouldn't have been a sur-
vivor. In 1861 this deadly book was still working
the cemeteries — down in Virginia. For three
generations and a half it had been going quietly
along, enriching the earth with its slain. Up to
its last free day it was trusted and believed in, and
its devastating advice taken, as was shown by
notes inserted between its leaves. But our troops
captured it and brought it home, and it has been
out of business since. These remarks from its
preface are in the true spirit of the olden time,
sodden with worship of the old, disdain of the
new:

' If we inquire into the Improvements which
have been made by the Moderns, we shall be forced
to confess that we have so little Beason to value
ourselves beyond the Antients, or to be tempted to
contemn them, that we cannot give stronger or

A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 291

more convincing Proofs of our own Ignorance, as
well as onr Pride.

< Among all the systematical Writers, I think
there are very few who refuse the Preference to
Hieron, Fdbricius ah Aquapendente, as a Person of
unquestioned Learning and Judgment ; and yet is
he not asham'd to let his Readers know that Celaua
among the Latins, Paiilvs Aegineta among the
Greeks, and AUmcasia among the Arabians, whom
I am unwilling to place among the Modems, tho'
he liv*d but six hundred Tears since, are the
Triumvirate to whom he principally stands in-
debted, for the Assistance he had receiv'd from
them in composing his excellent Book.

' [In a previous paragraph are puffs of Galen,
Hippocrates, and other debris of the Old Silurian
Period of Medicine.] How many Operations are
there now in Use which were unknown to the
Antients ?'

That is true. The surest way for a nation's
scientific men to prove that they were proud and
ignorant was to claim to have found out something
fresh in the course of a thousand years or so.
Evidently the peoples of this book's day regarded
themselves as children, and their remote ancestors
as the only grown-up people that had existed. Con-

291 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

Bider the contrast : without offence, without over-
egotism, our own scientific men may and do regard
themselves as grown people and their grandfathers
as children. The change here presented is pro-
bably the most sweeping that has ever come over
mankind in the history of the race. It is the utter
reversal, in a couple of generations, of an attitude
which had been maintained without challenge or
interruption from the earliest antiquity. It
amounts to creating man over again on a new
plan ; he was a canal boat before, he is an ocean
greyhound to-day. The change from reptile to
bird was not more tremendous, and it took longer.

It is curious. If you read between the lines
what this author says about Brer Albucasis, you
detect that in venturing to compliment him he has
to whistle a little to keep his courage up, because
Albucasis * liv*d but six hundred Years since,' and
therefore came so uncomfortably near being a
'modem' that one couldn't respect him without
risk.

Phlebotomy, Venesection — terms to signify
bleeding — are not often heard in our day, because
we have ceased to believe that the best way to
make a bank or a body healthy is to squander its
capital; but in our author's time the physician

A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL 293

went around with a hatful of lancets on his person
all the time, and took a.hack at every patient wham
he found still alive. He robbed his man of pounds
and pounds of blood at a single operation. The
details of this sort in this book make terrific reading.
Apparently even the healthy did not escape, but
were bled twelve times a year, on a particular day
of the month, and exhaustively purged besides.
Here is a specimen of the vigorous old-time practice ;
it occurs in our author's adoring biography of a
Doctor Aretaeus, a licensed assassin of Homer's time,
or thereabouts :

< In a Quinsey he used Venesection, and allow'd
the Blood to flow till the Patient was ready to faint
away.'

There is no harm in trying to cure a headache —
in our day. Tou can't do it, but you get more or
less entertainment out of trying, and that is some-
thing ; besides, you live to tell about it, and that is
more. A century or so ago you could have had
the first of these features in rich variety, but you
might fail of the other once— and once would do.
I quote :

< As Dissections of Persons who have died of
severe Headachs, which have been related by
Authors, are too numerous to be inserted in this

t94 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

Place, we shall here abridge some of the most
ourious and important Observations relating to
this Subject, collected by the celebrated Banetus,*

The celebrated Bonetus*s ' Observation No. 1 '
seems to me a sufficient sample, all by itself, of
what people used to have to stand any time between
the creation of the world and the birth of your father
and mine when they had the disastrous luck to get
a ' Head-ach ' :

' A certain Merchant, about forty Years of Age,
of a Melancholic Habit, and deeply involved in the
Cares of the World, was, during the Dog-days,
seiz'd with a violent pain of his Head, which some
time after obliged him to keep his Bed.

'I, being call'd, ordered Venesection in the
Arms, the Application of Leeches to the Vessels of
his Nostrils, Forehead, and Temples, as also to
those behind his Ears; I likewise prescrib'd the
Application of Cupping-glasses, with Scarification,
to his Back : But, notwithstanding these Precau-
tions, he dy'd. If any Surgeon, skill'd in Arteri-
otomy, had been present, I should have also order'd
that Operation.'

I looked for ' Arteriotomy ' in this same Dic-
tionary, and found this definition, * The opening of
an Artery with a View of taking away Blood.'

A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL 195

Here was a person who was being bled in the anns,
forehead, nostrils, back, temples, and behind the
ears, yet the celebrated Bonetus was not satisfied,
but wanted to open an artery, * with a View ' to
inserting a pump, probably. < Notwithstanding
these Precautions' — he dy'd. No art of speech
could more quaintly convey this butcher's innocent
surprise. Now that we know what the celebrated
Bonetus did when he wanted to relieve a Head-
ach, it is no trouble to infer that if he wanted to
comfort a man that had a Stomach-ach he disem-
bowelled him.

I have given one * Observation ' — a single Head-
ach case; but the celebrated Bonetus follows it
with eleven more. Without enlarging upon the
matter, I merely note this coincidence — they all

* dy'd.' Not one of these people got well ; yet this
obtuse hyena sets down every little gory detail of
the several assassinations as complacently as if he
imagined he was doing a useful and meritorious
work in perpetuating the methods of his crimes.

* Observations,' indeed ! They are confessions.

Accordirg to this book, * the Ashes of an Ass's
hoof mix'd with Woman's milk cures chilblains.'
Length of time required not stated. Another
item: 'The constant Use of Milk is bad for the

296 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

Teeth, and causes them to rot, and loosens the
Gums/ Tet in our day babies use it constantly
without hurtful results. This author thinks you
ought to wash out your mouth with wine before
venturing to drink milk. Presently, when we
come to notice what fiendish decoctions those
people introduced into their stomachs by way of
medicine, we shall wonder that they could have
been afraid of milk.

It appears that they had false teeth in those
days. They were made of ivory sometimes, some-
times of bone, and were thrust into the natural
sockets, and lashed to each other and to the neigh-
bouring teeth with wires or with silk threads.
They were not to eat with, nor to laugh with,
because they dropped out when not in repose.
You could smile with them, but you had to prac-
tise first, or you would overdo it. They were not
for business, but just decoration. They filled the
bill according to their lights.

This author says *the Flesh of Swine nour-
ishes above all other eatables.' In another place
he mentions a number of things, and says ' these
are very easy to be digested ; so is Fork.' This is
probably a lie. But he is pretty handy in that
line ; and when he hasn't anything of the sort in

A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL 197

stock himself he gives some other expert an open-
ing. For instance, under the head of ' Attractives'
he introduces Paracelsus, who tells of a nameless
* Specific * — quantity of it not set down — which is
able to draw a hundred pounds of flesh to itself —
distance not stated — and then proceeds, ' It hap-
pened in our own Days that an Attractive of this
Kind drew a certain Man's Lungs up into his Mouth,
by which he had the Misfortune to be suffocated.*
This is more than doubtful. In the first place, his
Mouth couldn't accommodate his Lungs — in fact,
his Hat couldn't ; secondly, his Heart being more
eligibly Situated, it would have got the Start of his
Lungs, and being a lighter Body, it would have
Sail'd in ahead and Occupied the Premises ; thirdly,
you will Take Notice, a Man with his Heart in his
Mouth hasn't any Boom left for his Lungs — he has
got all he can Attend to; and, finally, the Man
must have had the Attractive in his Hat, and when
he saw what was going to Happen he would have
Bemov'd it and Cat Down on it. Indeed he would ;
and then how could it Choke him to Death? I
don't believe the thing ever happened at aU.

Paracelsus adds this effort: 'I myself saw a
Plaister which attracted as much Water as was
suf&cient to fill a Cistern; and by these very

298 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

Attractives Branches may be torn from Trees ;
and, Tnrhich is still more surprising, a Cow may be
carried up into the Air.' Paracelsus is dead now ;
he was always straining himself that way.

They liked a touch of mystery along with their
medicine in the olden time ; and the medicine-man
of that day, like the medicine-man of our Indian
tribes, did what he could to meet the require-
ment :

* Arcanvm, A Kind of Bemedy whose Manner
of Preparation, or singular Efficacy, is industriously
concealed, in order to enhance its Value. By the
Ohymists it is generally defined a thing secret, in-
corporeal, and immortal, which cannot be Known
by Man, unless by Experience ; for it is the Virtue
of every thing, which operates a thousand times
more than the thing itself.'

To me the butt end of this explanation is not
altogether clear. A little of what they knew about
natural history in the early times is exposed here
and there in the Dictionary,

' The Spider, It is more common than welcome
in Houses. Both the Spider and its Web are used in
Medicine : The Spider is said to avert the Paroxysms
of Fevers, if it be apply'd to the Pulse of the
Wrist, or the Temples ; but it is peculiarly recom-

A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 299

mended against a Quartan, being enclosed in the
Shell of a Hazlenut.

'Among approved IU)i£iriies, I find that the
distill'd Water (tl Blaok Spiders is an excellent
Gore for Wounds, ttod that this was one of the
choice Secrets of Sir Walter Baleigh.

'The Spider which some call the Catcher, or
Wolf, being beaten into a Flaister, then sew'd up
in Linen, and apply'd to the Forehead or Temples^
prevents the Returns of a Tertian.

' There is another Kind of Spider, which spins
a white, fine, and thick Web. One of this Sort,
wrapp'd in Leather, and hung about the Arm, will
avert the Fit of a Quartan. Boil'd in Oil of Boses,
and instilled into the Ears, it eases Fains in those
Parts. D%o9conde$, Lib, 2, Cwp. 68.

'Thus we find that Spiders have in all Ages
been celebrated for their febrifuge Virtues ; and it
is worthy of Bemark, that a Spider is usually
given to Monkeys, and is esteem'd a sovereign
Bemedy for the Disorders those Animals are princi-
pally subject to.'

Then follows a long account of how a dying
woman, who had suffered nine hours a day with
an ague during eight weeks, and who had been
bled dry some dozens of times meantime without

300 A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL

apparent benefit, was at last forced to swallow
several wads of * Spiders-web,* whereupon she
straightway mended, and promptly got well. So
the sage is full of enthusiasm over the spider-webs,
and mentions only in the most casual way the
discontinuance of the daily bleedings, plainly never
suspecting that this had anything to do with the
eure.

* As concerning the venomous Nature of Spiders,
Scaliger takes notice of a certain Species of them
(which he had forgotten), whose Poison was of
so great Force as to affect one Vincentinus thro'
the Sole of his Shoe, by only treading on it.*

The sage takes that in without a strain, but
the following case was a trifle too bulky for him, as
his comment reveals :

* In Gascony, observes Scaliger, there is a very
small Spider, which, running over a Looking-glass,
will crack the same by the Force of her Poison. {A
mere Fable,) *

But he finds no fault with the following facts :
'Bemarkable is the Enmity recorded between
this Creature and the Serpent, as also the Toad :
Of the former it is reported, That, lying (as he
thinks securely) under the Shadow of some Tree,
the Spider lets herself down by her Thread, and,

A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 301

striking her Proboscis or Sting into the Head,
with that Force and Efficacy, injecting likewise her
venomous Juice, that, wringing himbelf about, he
immediately grows giddy, and quickly after dies.

' When the Toad is bit or stung in Fight with
this Creature, the Lizard, Adder, or other that is
poisonous, she finds relief from Plantain, to which
she resorts. In her Combat with the Toad, the
Spider useth the same Stratagem, as with the
Serpent, hanging by her own Thread from the
Bough of some Tree, and striking her Sting into
her enemy's Head, upon which the other, enraged,
swells up, and sometimes bursts.

' To this Effect is the Belation of Erasmua,
which he saith he had from one of the Spectators,
of a Person lying along upon the Floor of his
Chamber, in the Summer-time, to sleep in a supine
Posture, when a Toad, creeping out of some green
Bushes, brought just before in, to adorn the
Chimney, gets upon his Face, and with his Feet
sits across his Lips. To force off the Toad, says
the Historian, would have been accounted sudden
Death to the Sleeper ; and to leave her there, very
cruel and dangerous ; so that upon Consultation it
was concluded to find out a Spider, which, together
with her Web, and the Window she was fastened

302 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

to, was brought carefully, and bo contrived as to
be held perpendicularly to the Man*B Face ; which
was no sooner done, but the Spider, discovering his
Enemy, let himself down, and struck in his Dart,
afterwards betaking himself up again to his Web ;
the Toad swell'd, but as yet kept his Station:
The second Wound is given quickly after by the
Spider, upon which he swells yet more, but re-
mained alive still. — The Spider, coming down again
by his Thread, gives the third Blow ; and the Toad,
taking off his Feet from over the Man's Mouth,
fell off dead.'

To which the sage appends this grave remark,
' And so much for the historical Fart.' Then he
passes on to a consideration of 'the Effects and
Cure of the Poison.'

One of the most interesting things about this
tragedy is the double sex of the Toad, and also of
the Spider.

Now the sage quotes from one Turner :

* I remember, when a very young Practitioner,
being sent for to a certain Woman, whose Custom
was usually, when she went to the Cellar by Candle-
light, to go also a Spider-hunting, setting Fire to
their Webs, and burning them with the Flame of
the Candle still as she pursued them. It happen'd

A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 303

at length, after this Whimsy had been followed a
long time, one of them sold his Life much dearer
than those Hundreds she had destroyed ; for, light-
ing upon the melting Tallow of her Candle, near the
Flame, and his legs being entangled therein, so that
he could not extricate himself, the Flame or Heat
coming on, he was made a Sacrifice to his cruel
Persecutor, who, delighting her Eyes with the
Spectacle, still waiting for the Flame to take hold
of him, he presently burst with a great Crack, and
threw his Liquor, some into her Eyes, but mostly
upon her Lips ; by means of which, flinging away
her Candle, she cry'd out for Help, as fansying her-
self kill'd already with the Poison. However, in
the Night, her Lips swell' d up excessively, and one
of her Eyes was much inflam'd ; also her Tongne
and Gums were somewhat affected ; and, whether
from the Nausea excited by the Thoughts 0! the
Liquor getting into her Mouth, or from the poison-
ous Lnpressions communicated by the Nervous
FihriUa of those Parts to those of the Ventricle, a
continual Vomiting attended : To take off which,
when I was call'd, I ordered a Glass of mull'd Sack,
with a Scruple of Salt of Wormwood, and some
hours after a Theriacal Bolus, which she flung up
again. I embrocated the Lips with the Oil of

304 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

Scorpions mix'd with the Oil of Eoses ; and, in
Consideration of the Ophthahny, tho' I was not
certain but the Heat of the Liquor, rais'd by the
Flame of the Oandle before the Body of the Crea-
ture burst, might, as well as the Venom, excite the
Disturbance, (altho* Mr. BoyWs Case of a Person
blinded by this Liquor dropping from the living
Spider, makes the latter sufficient ;) yet observing
the great Tumefaction of the Lips, together with
the other Symptoms not likely to arise from simple
Heat, I was inclined to believe a real Poison in the
Case ; and therefore not daring to let her Blood in
the Arm [If a man*s throat were cut in those old
days, the doctor would come and bleed the other
end of him]. I did, however, with good Success,
set Leeches to her Temples, which took off much
of the Inflammation ; and her Pain was likewise
abated, by instilling into her Eyes a thin Mucilage
of the Seeds of Quinces and white Poppies extracted
with Rose-water; yet the Swelling on the Lips
increased ; upon which, in the Night, she wore a
Cataplasm prepared by boiling the Leaves of Scor-
dium, Bue, and Elderflowers, and afterwards
thicken'd with the Meal of Vetches. In the mean
time, her Vomiting having left her, she had given
her, between whiles, a little Draught of distill'd

A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL 305

Water of Oarduus BenediotuB and Scordium, with
some of the Theriaca dissolved ; and upon going off
of the Symptoms, an old Woman came luckily in,
who, with Assurance suitable to those People
(whose Ignorance and Poverty is their Safety and
Protection), took off the Dressings, promising to
core her in two Days' time, altho' she made it as
many Weeks, yet had the Reputation of the Oure ;
applying only Plantain Leaves bruis'd and mixed
with Cobwebs, dropping the Juice into her Eye,
and giving some Spoonfuls of the same inwardly,
two or three times a day.'

So ends the wonderful affair. Whereupon the
sage gives Mr. Turner the following shot — strength-
ening it with italics — and passes calmly on :

*I must remark upon this History, that the
Plantain, as a Cooler, was much more likely to
ev/re this Disorder than warmer Applications and
Medicines**

How strange that narrative sounds to-day, and
how grotesque, when one reflects that it was a grave
contribution to medical 'science' by an old and
reputable physician ! Here was all this to-do — two
weeks of it — over a woman who had scorched her
eye and her lips with candle grease. The poor
wench is as elaborately dosed, bled, embrocated,

3o6 A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL

and otherwise harried and bedevilled, as if there
had been really something the matter with her ;
and when a sensible old woman comes along at last,
and treats the trivial case in a sensible way, the
edacated ignoramus rails at her ignorance, serenely
unconscious of his own. It is pretty suggestive of
the former snail pace of medical progress that the
spider retained his terrors during three thousand
years, and only lost them within the last thirty or
forty.

Observe what imagination can do. * This same
young Woman * used to be so affected by the strong
(imaginary) smell which emanated from the burning
spiders that * the Objects about her seem'd to turn
round ; she grew faint also with cold Sweats, and
sometimes a light Vomiting.* There could have
been Beer in that cellar as well as Spiders.

Here are some more of the effects of imagina-
tion : ' Sennerim takes Notice of the Signs of the
Bite or Sting of this Insect to be a Stupor or Numb-
ness upon the Fart, with a sense of Cold, Horror,
or Swelling of the Abdomen, Paleness of the Face,
involuntary Tears, Trembling, Contractions, a
(••*•), Convulsions, cold Sweats ; but these latter
chiefly when the Poison has been received inwHidly ;'
whereas the modem physician holds that a few

A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL yvj

spiders taken inwardly, by a bird or a man, will do
neither party any harm.

The above * Signs * are not restricted to spider
bites — often they merely indicate fright. I have
seen a person with a hornet in his pantaloons ex-
hibit them all.

* As to the Cure, not slighting the usual Alexi-
pharmics taken internally, the Place bitten must
be immediately washed with Salt Water, or a
Sponge dipped in hot Vinegar, or fomented with a
Decoction of Mallows, Origanum, and Mother of
Thyme ; after which a Cataplasm must be laid on
of the Leaves of Bay, Bue, Leeks, and the Meal of
Barley, boiled with Vinegar, or of Garlick and
Onions, contused with Goat's Dung and fat Figs.
Mean time the Patient should eat Garlick and
drink Wine freely.'

As for me, I should prefer the spider bite. Let
us close this review with a sample or two of the
earthquakes which the old-time doctor used to in-
troduce into his patient when he could find room.
Under this head we have 'Alexander's Golden
Antidote,' which is good for — weU, pretty much
everything. It is probably the old original first
patent-medicine. It is built as follows :

* Take of Afarabocca, Henbane, Garpobalsamumi

308 A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL

each two Drams and a half; of Cloves, Opium,
Myrrh, Cyperus, each two Drams; of Opobal-
samum, Indian Leaf, Cinnamon, Zedoary, Ginger,
Coftus, Coral, Cassia, Euphorbium, Gum Traga-
canth. Frankincense, Styrax Calamita, Celtic,
Nard, Spignel, Hartwort, Mustard, Saxifrage, Dill,
Anise, each one Dram; of Xylaloes, Bheum,
Fonticum, Alipta Moschata, Castor, Spikenard,
Galangals, Opoponax, Anacardium, Mastich, Brim-
stone, Feony, Eringo, Fulp of Dates, red and white
Hermodactyls, Roses, Thyme, Acorns, Fennyroyal,
Gentian, the Bark of the Boot of Mandrake,
Germander, Valerian, Bishops Weed, Bay-Berries,
long and white Fepper, Xylobalsamum, Carna-
badium, Macodonian, Farsley-seeds, Lovage, the
Seeds of Bue, and Sinon, of each a Dram and a
half; of pure Gold, pure Silver, Fearls not per-
forated, the Blatta Byzantina, the Bone of the
Stag's Heart, of each the Quantity of fourteen
Grains of Wheat; of Sapphire, Emerald, and
Jasper Stones, each one Dram ; of Hasle-nut, two
Drams ; of Fellitory of Spain, Shavings of Ivory,
Calamus Odoratus, each the Quantity of twenty-
nine Grains of Wheat; of Honey or Sugar a
sufficient Quantity.*

Serve with a shovel. No; one might expect

A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL 309

Bach an injunction after such formidable prepara-
tion ; but it is not so. The dose recommended is
' the Quantity of an Hasle-nut.' Only that ; it is
because there is so much jewellery in it, no doubt.
' Aqm lAmactim. Take a great Peck of Garden-
snails, and wash them in a great deal of Beer, and
make your Chimney very clean, and set a Bushel
of Charcoal on Fire ; and when they are tho-
roughly kindled, make a Hole in the Middle of the
Fire, and put the Snails in, and scatter more
Fire amongst them, and let them roast till they
make a Noise ; then take them out, and, with a
Knife and coarse Cloth, pick and wipe away all the
green Froth : Then break them. Shells and all, in a
Stone Mortar. Take also a Quart of Earth-worms,
and scour them with Salt, divers times over. Then
take two Handfuls of Angelica and lay them in the
Bottom of the Still; next lay two Handfuls of
Celandine; next a Quart of Bosemary-flowers ;
then two Handfuls of Bears-foot and Agrimony;
then Fenugreek; then Turmerick; of each one
Ounce: Bed Dock-root, Bark of Barberry-trees,
Wood-sorrel, Betony, of each two Handfuls. — Then
lay the Snails and Worms on the Top of the Herbs ;
and then two Handfuls of Goose-dung, and two
Handfuls of Sheep-dung. Then put in three

310 A MAJESTIC UTERARY FOSSIL

Gallons of Strong Ale, and place the pot where yon
mean to set Fire under it : Let it stand all Night,
or longer ; in the Morning put in three Ounces of
Gloves well heaten, and a small Quantity of Saffron,
dry'd to Powder ; then six Ounces of Shavings of
Hartshorn, which must be uppermost. Fix on the
Head and Refrigeratory, and distil according to
Art/

There ! The book does not say whether this is
all one dose, or whether you have a right to spilt
it and take a second chance at it, in case you
live. Also, the book does not seem to specifjr
what ailment it was for; but it is of no conse-
quence, for of course that would come out on the
inquest.

Upon looking further, I find that this formidable
nostrum is *good for raising Flatulencies in the
Stomach ' — meaning from the stomach, no doubt.
So it would appear that when our progenitors
chanced to swallow a sigh, they emptied a sewer
down their throats to expel it. It is like dislodging
skippers from cheese with artillery.

When you reflect that your own father had to
take such medicines as the above, and that you would
be taking them to-day yourself but for the intro-
duction of homoeopathy, which forced the old-school

A MAJESTIC LITERARY FOSSIL 311

doctor to Btir around and learn something of a
rational nature about his businesB, you may
honestly feel grateful that homoeopathy survived
the attempts of the aUopathists to destroy it, even
though you may never employ any physician but
an allopathist while you live.

PBINTHD BT

BPOTTZBWOOSB AND 00. LTD., OOLOHBBTBlt

liOKSON AND ETON